The salty zephyr and the wistful ambiance...
The artist sensed a mirage in the depths of his being...his masterpiece.
That smile...those eyes, craving a form...to be immortalized on canvas...
Ah yes, by the sound of words never spoken,
The artist felt alive...for he never completed his masterpiece.

- 9 Jun '07

Jeeka Jeeka

"jeeka jeeka...I'm a sexy girl..."

Yeah...I know, cheesy. But that's how the song goes...according to the 'fuck fuckchod fucker from fuckity fuckville' who heard it on some cheesy bong radio station.

Hmm...

...

By all the inanity around me...
...I define my sanity.
I stare at the white animals upon the blue canopy and laugh...
...laugh at the world...or myself, I know not.
Dialectics within deprive me of a place in space and time.
And the obvious suffocates me, for I'm not one.

Free

Are we becoming simpler people?
Are we losing those idiosyncrasies with which we color our lives?
Would we ever settle down into that dreary monotonous existence we despise at this point of time?
I have no answers, and I don't care.

I feel free...free of myself...
My identity...an assortment of perspectives is suddenly inchoate...and I feel free to contradict everything I believe I am.
Yes. Life is good.

The Block

Writer's Block. Block. Block. Blocked.

Well, everything is basically a big fuckin block. Period.