30.JAN.04
    SOPORIFIC

To sleep, atlas! To rain beating against an iron roof, to the caress of the midsummer night's breeze, to inhale the rich aroma of wet soil. To succumb naked to darkness, to subside to the rhythmic rise and fall of the chest, to be mellowing with preliminary Death. How the dour hours crawl, minute by minute...into oblivion.


28.JAN.04
    AGREED

I stumbled across this little passage on the act of love-making and thought it rather bona fide. It seems, of late, that all this reading has taken the words right out of my fingertips.

"Yes, this was love, this ridiculus bouncing of the buttocks, and the wilting of the poor, insignificant, moist little penis. This was the divine love! After all, the moderns were right when they felt contempt for the performance, for it was a performance. It was quite true, as some poets said, that the God who created man must have had a sinister sense of humour, creating him a reasonable being, yet forcing him to take this ridiculus posture, and driving him with blind craving for this ridiculus performance."
-D.H Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover


25.JAN.04
    REMINISCE

Everything has changed. I was reminded again today. In retrospect, I am happier. Yet i can still vividly recall that sweet suckle taste of the past that time cannot erase. I particularly like this verse from A.I. Watts (1674-1748)

Time, like an ever rolling stream,
bears all its sons away;
they fly forgotten as a dream
dies at the opening day.


23.JAN.04
    POETIC

I held it as it slithered and thrashed wildly. A creature displaced from its comfort zone. I watched it as it flipped and vaulted in spasms. Its pained frozen eyes, bulging out in total fear. Here, in my outstretched palms as its death bed, it faces its final moments. Open. Shut. Open. Mouth ajar. Each breathe of air enters its lungs like stabbing blades. It gave life one more kick. Shut.

The big white belly of Hope, upturned.


20.JAN.04
    SUBLIMINAL

Around 2.00am last night, i was woken up by a mysterious caller, who titled himself Peter...last name Pan. I was still transiting between the consciousness and the subliminal state. Unacutely aware of the identity of the person i was conversing with, I didnt persist on a background check. Funny thing was, i dont know anyone named Peter...or Peter Pan for that matter. Anyway, after a calculated 2 min talk with this anon, he abruptly suggested that he shall call back. During the waiting process, i was completely awake and dwelling on the fact that perhaps the phone conversation i just had was a dream. This propelled me further into anxiety as i was certain i heard the mobile ring, and certain that i heard the caller's voice and the conversation certainly made sense as he responded CLEARLY to my questions. In addition, i was holding onto my phone as the call took place. However, as i checked my recieved call list, it displayed that no one had called me at 2.00am this morning.

I am in utter stupor. The pure existence of the caller remains in a labyrinth. And I am not being neurotic...


18.JAN.04
    TUMULTUOUS

I feel remotely sick. I close my eyes and the world spins back and forth and around and around. I'm trying desperately to suppress this nausea that keeps on sweeping forward. Dammit. I think my alcohol tolerance is strengthening. Currently, I feel narcotically dependent. In my head, i have murcury sloshing side to side, i feel heavy trying not to spill this yolk. Dammit. I really shouldnt have.


17.JAN.04
    PREOCCUPIED

My extension 2 major work calls for attention, i must submit myself completely. But effort is rewarded with with progress. This is a little exert from my piece.

The crimson glow of the cigarette dispersed into a thousand fleeting fireflies. They twirled and danced to the silent melodies of the whirling wind. Like a kaleidoscope of luminous beauty gone in an ephemeral waltz. Ultimate death.

Franklin let the cigarette butt fall.


14.JAN.04
    ARTICULATE

There are some things I know.

Like when you look into the mirror for too long, you get a cramped neck.
Like when you cross Liverpool Road without looking, you will most likely get hit by a car, and not a horse.
And like when i'm upset, gelato icecream helps soothe away the misery.

I like green tea ice-cream.


13.JAN.04
    INARTICULATE

He wears glasses! (furthering emphasizism on his scholarly handsome nature) And today, we were concidently romantised in electric blue. Although, due to a late entrance to class, we were separated by a fair distance. So far, the only relationship thats been established between him and me, are the nods of acknowledgement of each other's presence. A polite smile of greeting and a ephemeral gesture of goodbye. Oh, how i wish he speaks again...

These fleeting days leave me nothing but a dying novelty. What a child i've become of the late, too elated and yet too scared to approach and initiate a simple conversation. Why has this insignificant liking propagated in this hostile milieu of exams? And how is it that this sublime fluttering feeling reconciles with an elapsed heartache?
Damn this!


12.JAN.04
    PHANTASM

Attended my first lecture today. Read all the graffti engraved across the benches. And swooned over the guy sitting adjacent. In an attire of a casual yellow Polo t-shirt with ample pants and "loafers" (which Susie mocked at ostensibly and which i thought was exuberantly smart), we exchanged clumsy stares. His smile unfolded mine, and most striking thing was, he appeared so comfortable by himself. So pleasantly satisfied and well-bred. Infatuation has transiently crept onto the Unaware again. Perhaps i should just live in oblivion until something happens...in the next few days.
Duncan.


11.JAN.04
    HUSTLER

Let me tell you about Larry Flynt. He was the Abe Lincoln of porn and one of the most wealthiest men in the industy. Bred in Licksville, Kentucky, one of the poorest counties in America. It was an area so rural that when one of the its residents saw the first airplane, she said, "Oh, Lord, I knew you was comin', but I didnt know it was goin' to be so soon." Anyhow, when lil Larry was seven, he said to his dad, "Betcha can't guess what i did. I just fucked Imogene!"-one of his first girlfriends. And at the tender age of nine, he had sex with a chicken, told by his friends that "its egg bag was as hot as a girl's pussy" and that "chickens wiggle around a lot more."

He was assulted by a policeman who was a pedophile when he was a teenager, and between 15 to 17 he joined the army which afterwards Larry bounded for the navy. Once, at a French whorehouse, he picked all twenty of the girls, had them strip naked and bend over to their ankles...and went down the line until his back went into spasms. Flynt got married to a young woman at 18 and after discovering her infidelities he fired a gun at her. He spent his 18th year in a state psychiatric hospital, with extensive electroshock therapy.

Once he was released with a stamp that read, "SANE", he prospered by opening bars in the Dayton area. He almost killed a man when he kicked him over and over again in the groin, the ribs, the stomach and the face. He almost killed another man when he brought down the butt of his gun between the man's eyes and the gun went off. He set up a bar called the Hustler Club, and he was doing so much speed that he'd go for four days without sleeping. Sometimes, he'd have sex with a different woman every four or five hours. His secretary kept count one week and told him he'd had sex with 18 women. After becoming bored with bars which accommodated topless go-go dancers, he went into the magazine business. He called his new magazine HUSTLER.

Later, he fell in love with a young woman, Althea Leasure, who's father killed her entire family. They got married on the vows that he could have sex with any woman - so long as he does not kiss them- whilst she was allowed to engage in sexual conducts with other women (for she prefered females). They loved each very much. He was sentenced to 25 years in prison for "pandering, obscenity, and organised crime"- all for publishing Hustler.

In March 1978, Larry was struck in the back by two bullets which disabled him from walking. For the rest of his life, he would be in a wheelchair. He was in excruiciating pain, "No one could get an erection while suspended in a vat of boiling water." He went to hospitals all over the country seeking relief for the pain. He was eating Dilaudid, Valium, Percocet, Librium, Demerol, morphine and drinking morphine-cocaine compounds for breakfast, lunch and dinner. He was rushed to the emergency room six times and his heart stopped twice.

At his hearing, he spat at the judge. The judge had him gagged. As soon as he was ungagged, he told the judge "Go and fuck yourself!". The judge yelled "I'm sentencing you to six months in a federal psychiatric prison!" Larry screamed, "Give me more, you chickenshit son of a bitch! Is that the best you can do?" The judge yelled, "Twelve months!" Larry screamed, "Give me more, motherfucker! Is that all you can give me you chickenshit cocksucker?!" The judge yelled, "Fifteen months!" Larry screamed, "Give me life without parole! You dumb motherfucker! Fuck you in your ass!"

That's Larry Flynt for you. A true Hustler.
Facts derived from "American Rhapsody"-Joe Eszterhas


10.JAN.04
    BOMBARDMENT

I feel like an isotope in a cyclotron, accelerating at high speeds and fired at with particles, forcing me to mutate and alter into something angry and radioactive. Similar to the Hulk, only way less hideous.
I feel like an oblique function, convoluted and sprawled awkardly across a graph. Almost as cryptic as "iterative methods for numerical estimation of the roots of an equation".
I feel like an astray heroine wallowing in someone else's bullshit plot. Like Emma, Elizabeth and Anna Karenina, whom all ended up archetyped, marrying well-to-do men and raising kids anyway.
I feel like an English knight of the 15th Century, misleading a crusade into Japan because i brought the wrong flight. And ludicrously trying to get a refund.
Too many avant-garde analogies make me tiresome. I feel like i should do some work.


09.JAN.04
    WAITING

There is a bus stand near my house. I walk past it everytime I leave or return home. And there is a woman. All she has is a cartful of black garbage bags and the bus stand. She has a crown of fluxing grey hair that hangs down like strands of string. She wears a forlorned face, weather-beaten and bland. And she sits, underneath the roof of her shelter, luminated by a sadonic fluorescent stream from the street lamp. Her clothes cling loosely, grey and worn like her expression. Her only company stares back, dumb and frozen, a voluptuous babe pouting sensually for some multimillion beverage coperate ad. They both sit like a paradoxical comedy. Theres a shopping cart congested with large opaque garbage bags to which she guards. Her hand is always clenched firmly onto the handle of the trolley with paternal affliction. Buses roll past her every 20 minutes, none of which, can take her to her destination whereever that may be. She does not conjure for money nor does she preach for faith. She simply sits, staring vacantly, inside the bus stand. Everyday and everynight.

I dont know why she's there nor do I know her name. But with benevolence, I hope that whatever she's waiting for, will arrive ere long, for we all know waiting is perpetual.


08.JAN.04
    3.21AM THE NEXT DAY

This is crazy, i feel obliged to blog every day. A few great things.
My cheesecake is great.
Japanese Teppanyaki is great.
Getting tipsy on heavy dosages of sake is great.
Being close with close friends is great.
Watching Cold Mountain after a high night is not so great.


07.JAN.04
    BIRTHDAY

Finally. SEVENTEEN!

I should thank my parents, despite the occassional, "you were an accident" comments, they still love me unfailingly and unconditionally.
I should thank my friends, despite the frequent, "you're sad" criticisms, they continued standing by my side unyieldingly.

Without further delay. I thank you all, for everything!


06.JAN.04
    FAKE

There's a lack of integrity in people these days. Words ricoheting out of mouths like stray bullets without pior consideration. Promises are as insubstantial and intangible as air. Apologies are euphemistically produced with little or no intention of giving. When did the value of equity plummet so far down, that it has fallen in a black lagoon of deciet and superficiality. And when did we begin prostituting our credibilities for popularity and self gratificaction? Is there no more moral obligation left to keep ones' word? When you consent in the arduous terrain of an agreement, you ought to accept responsiblity for your decision, not just momentarily, but for the entire period to which the agreement lasts till.

For all the, aficionados of prevarication, its people like you who have oppressed the "respectable half" to expect nothing (if not the worst) of human character. It's creatures like you who created mistrust and betrayal. What an outright humiliation you are to yourselves. To the new beget of the sordid crawlers of society. I detest you.


05.JAN.04
    NINE

This academic gestation of strife will hopefully eventuate in a victorious achievement. I am determined to do my best.


04.JAN.04
    SCORCHED

I am a patchwork of red, brown and white. Mental note to nominate self for National-search-for-a-new-flag series.
Nevertheless, it was worth it. The price of beach-ing.




03.JAN.04
    ELUSIVE

A "good tasting" cigar. A stained blue dress. A unprecedented downfall.

Clinton's hunger for fellatios and Monica's appetite to appease cognated one of the most celebrated scandals of our century. One man's great descent was brought down by his rectal-cranial yearnings, which could neither be gratified nor neglected. The lubricous lust that swelled inside his pants were too big to be denied of impeachment. Whilst her oral fixation left him jokes such as "Why does Bill Clinton wear boxer shorts? To keep his ankles warm" spawning through the whole country. This was how he plunged out of office, and this was how he was going to be remembered. He just couldn't keep away from a few moments of sweet solace with his pants unzipped. "Billy can't help it, he likes doing it".
Men. They were built with one flaw. Their carnal sting.

"Out of the ash, I rise with my red hair, And I eat men like air."
One of my favourite lines from Lady Lazarus Slyvia Plath.


02.JAN.04
    ALOOF

Sometimes, he became the b¨ºte noire of my dearest reminiscence.
Only to be brushed away with a frown, I walk forward.


01.JAN.04
    RESOLUTION

Well, heres the list.
1. HSC is priority
2. Must look after self...(Maintain health, if not, improve)
3. Reduce internet activity
4. Treat others amiably (decline gossip)
5. Be more charitable
6. Be thankful
7. Develop beneficial financial habits (overcoming spending excessively)
8. Lie less
9. Improve communication skills
10. Try not to procrasinate... (TRY...try)
11. Learn the definition of long-term relationship
12. Find self (this is a search i should commence)

What a burden.