simple lives where passion runs real, free from pretensions of needing an answer.
Hello, Lovine.com
Wherever you go, there you are.
i really really really want to get a nixie clock. it would be ever cooler if i built it myself... rawr!
and while there's something foul abrew between israel and lebanon, everyone else is talking about what pissed zidane off.
i wonder if the world lives in abstract, while the limits of our reason try to embrace it like the cup of water overflowing in the ocean. we like to conjure the notion that everything can in fact be measurable by some metric - sound, weight, size, energy. that the world rotates in structured elegance, but allows the overflow of logic to come past over the heads of the smartest people as inexplicable beauty. but the funny part is that the world exhibits the best gifts through the simplest of means. sometimes there's no point in overcomplicating, overbearing, over analyzing, being over and above the other person. when we start to realize the implications of simply being, then most probably the questions won't need any answers.
some walk with chips on their shoulders, the weight of imaginary days bearing down like molten clouds of lead. and some walk with no lack of fancy, happy soles on their feet.
the danger is that i stopped writing like i did in between lines in college. even in the listless ramble of incoherent words that were never meant to be read lest understood. hello, world.. the senses are our canvas.
the shins, belle and sebastian with the LA philharmonic orchestra last night with nannoo, kelly and denise. i miss my old friends :'c
off to the bay! woot!
what keeps him going are the small things she pops out from the rabbit hat. invisible hands that tender and deal the truth no one could ever muster before. the traps of daily life are transcending, but her comfort provides a true escape. and not a placebo.
tomorrow night the house will be alone again, when the parents fly back to the jungles of manila. the whispers of summer years come and gone bequeath sleepy nights, voices trapped in worn footsteps and stories kept in memories. someday the house might forget, but as long as there's a dream silently running through it's soliloquy, it's job is complete until the next day.
the drone of wanting, echoes through the walls of bigger dreams. when he dreams. when he's awake. he needs you, miss kat. he loves you.
my threshold of absolute boredom is being tested.
i want to run. do something crazy. paint? maybe write music. but today is weird - the boredom seems to have latched onto myself like a leech, sapping all the interest in anything that i can muster. never really felt it before. normally i'd have pangs of cleaning, or making some new knick knack. admittedly i still have half-projects laying around my room (grammar?), but these are on hiatus for necessary supplies.
i need more friends. :'c
beck was an awesome show at the wiltern! the vibe was different, might i even dare say that the crowd wasn't typical los angeles snubbery. or maybe it's cos everyone around me actually paid attention to the show and weren't acting like the normal idiots i get surrounded with when i watch shows. except for that girl in front of me who started the night by rubbing her butt on JJ and eventually started to dance like a crackhead half of the night. beck was an awesome awesome show though, lots of fun indeed!! i would explain but of course it's never the same after the fact.. anyway..
happy birthday to my hero who makes-out in the restrooms of NASA, nannoo nazzal :)
i just placed my order for an initial set of neodymium discs. the NiMH batteries and ball bearings just arrived in the mail today. i'm picking up the acrylic and masonite from the shop this saturday. my bedroom is starting to turn into a workshop slash mad scientist lab :D i love my plankton!!
king benny just left my room, after a half hour of 'the talk'. i don't know if the trembles are of excitement or fear, but i really feel like there's something spectacularly grand about his underlying endeavors. not in the obvious lines of his vision, but more along the lines of a running patriarch opening doors for generations, an astute frizel of common sense amongst a sea of fools. not playing by rules of capitalistic greed that so easily corrupt our souls, but by games of hard work, common sense, unwavering core values and the occasional exploitation of good luck.
he may fart at the dinner table and occasionally have bad breath, but he's still the real king, nonetheless.
