Thursday, January 20

An Elegy for the Ages

Black Swan was the shit, definitely top 10 movies for me. I miss acting. Anyways, after literally 20+ fictional, situational stories, this is the concept I created and decided to publish under this particular title. I apologize for the wait. Working diligently on this one took a bit longer with the whole process, so I hope it's well worth my procrastination. Here is the 6th novella.

It is now 2:27 P.M. January 23, 2011. She's still resting, and I'm lucky to be among her presence, much less the only one lying with her. At this tranquil state, we could capture this moment forever and end my story here, but we won't. In her bed that they made for her, you've never seen something so peaceful. "Quiet!" I yell to an empty crowd to assure that she sleeps without distractions. I only lie facing downward, in hopes that we're connecting face to face in an inseparable realm of an ethereal home. The garden that encompasses you is tainted from daily raindrops descending from the cheeks, forcing petals to retract and stems to bend gloomily, while hydrating the Earth. With me are gardening tools: soil scoop, gardening knife, folding saw, etc. Some to plant new flowers and rid weeds, and others to fix divots, craters, and indention caused by the insensitive, ignorant visitors who know not of your grace. Odd that I recourse to the foot of a marble tombstone as a source of solace. This engraved rock with everything that you were: loving mother, faithful wife, loyal friend, and unconditional lover of the arts. This is my everyday vacation resort to which I resort to.

Rain drops fall from the heavens as if they know of my sentiment. So they mask my salty tears and heaving breaths. I upwardly come to my knees, on one knee exactly, as an act of surrender, as I scold the beings above for my circumstances. My face descends because I should not be angry, as you would not have that. Seems like it's either misery or frustration that accompanies me. I try to get myself in a state worthy to speak to you. Deep breathes and steady movements follow. So, I begin, "Hey you." There holds a long pause before I sob and mumble lividly. "It's me again. Sorry if it seems that I 'm so desperately seeking your attention by accompanying you here. Seems like I lost my way somewhere along the lines of life since your departure. So, I find serenity in the only place that seems fit, next to your beautifully decaying body. I no longer dwell in the mistakes unresolved, chances not taken, nor malicious truths. The biggest things in life you'll ever have to come to terms with is that at one point you weren't good enough. I've read those conditions, come to terms, and signed away my regrets. All I have left is your permanent venue to dwell in. One less angel has construct a humanity a little more barbaric and cruel, no longer with the view you provided for uneasy hearts all around the world. I miss you!!! Seems like everyone misses you. Your husband still walks about soulless, your kids motherless, and the world youless. I see them around from time to time, but I'm not at any right to talk to them or serve as comfort. Your son has your talkative lips, and your daughter has your hopeful eyes and avid ears. I never told you, but I saw you play at your concerto. Sitting in the back of the hall, able to faintly hear what is seemingly Gabriel's Horn through strings of your instrument. I would love to have sat in the front, with the rest of your immediate family, but my low income could only vouch for the most distant section. Nevertheless, you were brilliant as you've been and your progression has come a long way. In every octave, it hit home. It's such a wonderful catharsis. The foundation for your house is just as strong as you left it. It's always well furnished and decorated seasonally, as you would have it. I still live in my one bedroom studio, a lifestyle short of extravagant. Probably a lifestyle that wouldn't suit your penthouse life." I fall victim to my own shortcomings at this point. Still on one knee, my face falls forward upon your stone. My heart feels like it wants to escape rigorously out of my chest to swim through the soil deep into your casket right now. It doesn't seem too impossible while closing my eyes.

Before I could continue with the conversation, a familiar sound presents itself. Is it possible that I'm here? It's my alarm clock sounding, I'm sure of it. Then, I lethargically open my saturated eyes to confirm my surroundings. I am no longer at the cemetery, but instead on my twin sized bed with a dampened pillow. Has one of those realistic dreams just past? The alarm clock reads 2:27 P.M. So this means that maybe you're still alive; maybe you're out and about and not lying in a casket; maybe I didn't get to say those things to you; maybe you're life is still in progression; maybe you're husband is not a widow; and the world is still as bright. This means that just maybe you're alive, and I'm not able to see and talk to you every day. There are no text messages asking me if I am okay about your death or wall post denoting that people miss you dearly. So I guess this means that your awake living the most fulfilled life undocumented, and I'm here wishing you were not. *Sigh*

If there were any reasoning towards appropriate circumstances to wish death upon someone, maybe this would be it. Hopefully, these would be the conditions. In my own selfish ideology, this would not be far-fetched nor illogical, but rather sensible and comforting. There isn't too much wrong with wanting to be able to lie next to the one you love on a rainy Sunday morning, is there? You don't know how much easier it is to see her while she's lying in a six foot deep abyss of a funerary box than walking around with her husband. Six feet, I wish I could be within six feet from her at my own convenience. Six fcuking feet is much closer than I'll ever be to her in present day, opposing to when she used to be no farther than an arm's length. With all that she has, it would seem almost life threatening for me to come within six measly feet. It's as if her husband, house, children, capital assets and sentimental assets serve as restraining order within itself, telling me to keep away from their foundation. So at this point her death wouldn't be so bad in my favor. Why is it so horrid to be granted such privilege? All that I'm asking for is the chance to talk to her everyday and be within six feet in distance without the world reprimanding me and being cumbersome. For now, I still wished she'd die, preferably by natural causes. However, I'll just have to watch her, at distances farther than six feet, live her life in happiness among a sea of company and fortunate circumstances only short of myself. Maybe she'll hear my thoughts sooner than never, an elegy for the ages. Fall asleep while the world falls at your feet.

Wednesday, January 12

To Each His Own

I'm waiting for a second... How do you take that? Waiting for a second as an order of time, only waiting for a literally one second. Waiting hypothetically for a second, denoting that you better snappy about it, whatever you're doing. After that second is gone, do you urge to leave? Are you referencing opportunity, like awaiting for another presumed chance to come along? Is someone currently first and you wish to be chronologically second? In this manner, second would need a precursor. So many interpretations to mention.
Anyways, I'm waiting for two "second"s.

Sunday, January 9

Movies are like Time Machines

So, I watched Paris Je'taime, which was the movie that New York, I Love You was based on. I guess you can say that it's more of an artsy type movie. However, Je l'ai aimé, don't know if that's the correct translation; the aid of freetranslations.com was at my convenience for that one. Muahahaha. Phatom of the Opera was going to be my subject of matter for today, but I decided not to write a blog of a well-known movie. I don't want to say that vintage movies and music are better than the present day's, but it's always good to feel a bit nostalgic occasionally. Here is another one of my top 5 movies:



This movie is a must watch. Casablanca is one of those black and white films that has its posters all over gimmick restaurants as decor, such as Apple Bees. Honestly, I'm not a movie connoisseur by any means, especialy pretaining to older movies, nor do have the right to criticize. This movie, however, just happens to have been completed in 1942 and possibly my favorite movie of all time!! Humphrey Bogart is in this movie, don't know it that means anything to you. It's filled with quotable script writing and relatable predicaments, what movies today lack. Don't want to give you the full plot of the movie in hopes that you might actually watch it. Also, I don't know if anyone knows it but Prytania Theatres in New Orleans still shows classic movies, usually during noon or midnight, that you can watch. I've always wanted to catch one, but not too many people are willing to watch black/white movies. -_-.

Rick, Humphrey Bogart's character, is one of those chronically depressed, player type, one night standing individuals. No resemblance to me *cough cough.* He's quick witted and apathetic when it comes to life. Yet again, no resemblance to moi *sneeze sneeze.* On the other hand, he does own his own bar in "Casablanca" and does have a rendezvous with the girl to whom he is sprung on, as T-Pain would say it. If you would like to watch this critically acclaimed, academy award winning movie, I would suggest you stop readng now. Because, little did he know that during their whole short intimate relation that she was married to another. Epic stuff right? So she comes back asking for a favor. Sounds like every ex-girlfriend you know huh? I kid I kid. Scenes (moments) happen and sparks fly that's undeniable and semi-romantic like. But aside from the gestures and reoccurig emotions, she is still with her husband. She offers to leave him towards the end of the movie for Rick, but just like all good movie, circumstance change ad it doesn't end as happily as yo would like it to. So that makes Rick my idol male character, sacrificial enough and melancholic throughout. No resemblance to me *sigh sigh.* Isn't it an unsought responsibility to be able to break someone with any word or action at any given time.

Ilsa's character is my idol female character. She's admist unavoidable circumstances at the expense of love. This isn't another blog about a love movie, because things don't work out in the end. I learn to really appreciate her character in her own attributes of attractiveness. It's a bit complicated for her, but all's well ends well. What was she thinking right? Going to Rick's bar, far from her residential area, to ask for an uncanning favor that accompanies her husband. I'll tell you what she's thinking. She's utilizing her resources to make best of a unfortunate situation while rekindling old flames. Smart girl she is, because I would've done the same. Hehe. The next motion pictures blog will be about a character quite similar to her. Till then, I hope you watch and enjoy as much as I did.

So, I posted this song sung by Frank Sinatra once before. This one is the original version by Sam Dooley Wilson from the movie from which I fell in love with. Guess this song could've sucked me into watch it alone. God I miss Sinatra, but I have near enough vinyls to remember him by. Drop more hit Frank!!!



Post script, it's funny how people write certain indirect sentences for others to read. I may be guilty of it, but it is usually only directed to my bloggers, no one that I'm afraid to say to his or her face. FWM.

Post script script, I don't get tired of apologizing if/when necessary, because I am young and reckless. Doesn't give me the right to keep fcukign up though. Oh wells, live and let live. =P

Tuesday, January 4

Blogging Bo·lo·gna

Sorry for the delayed requested entries; I'll get to them I promised *girl scout honor*. I'm kinda, sorta in a mood to babble blog.

I don't like to talk about myself. I guess because I don't want to be like everyone else, boasting about themselves and/or gloating about what they've done, where they've been, or whom they seen. Everyone's always out to differentiate themselves from one another to retain a sense of superiority. I'm different because I'm this and tha I'm special because I've done this and that to/with him or her here and there. After they're done reading your documentations in fascination, I'm sure they might, just maybe, start living their own lives. So you can save it and shove it. Lol. Sounds like something Nancy would say. I'm blogging about neither of those things in the former sentences.

So here I am 10 run-on sentences and 15 minutes later and still without a noteworthy sentence, the power of distraction. By the way, I do that. I distract people from the core conversation just to get past it, becomingly extra skilled at creating those "what were we talking about?" situations. To those who know me, I'm known to use extrovert tactics. Avoiding things is too common, but if you find a way to work around it, you're gold. Giving ultimatums, not excuses, is another tactic. For example, what if I told you I'm writing this blog to make you think that I'm actually cerebral and practice and utilize these methods, when really I'm actually just simple-minded trying to "differentiate myself." Now that I've said that you're considering that option. Now what if I said I'm kidding and I'm really that way. Too many choices to pick!!! This is how I initiate the confuse and conquer *recent named.* Sometimes I say what I mean and sometimes I kid so that it's hard to pinpoint out what I really mean, which leads me to my next bullet. Almost every action and word exchanged is premeditated and comes from reasoning and foresight. However, I can improv your ass pretty well if something comes as unexpected. Try to mind-fcuk me! JK. Moreover, you'll never figure me out, point blank. *not gloating because it's nothing I'm proud of.* I may bullshit you and have these thought out acts towards expected results, but if you ever asked me ANYTHING, I will more than likely tell you the TRUTH, whatever it maybe. I am subject to "going around the answer," and, in the most extreme case, am subject to lying. If you ask the same question twice, I will not and god forbid, lie to you unless it hinders YOUR future progression. People say I'm manipulative and several say I'm over-analytical. Believe me when I say that I'm not doing it because I want to, but because can't stop and am fairly decent at it. Always do your homework when you're getting into something, it'll give you the upper-hand, but you'll risk counter-productiveness. Sorry that I constantly critique. Last bullet because I'm getting tired, especially of talking about myself. I'm afraid of how intelligent or skillful I can be. So, I hide behind sub-par grades, lethargic mind-frame, and mediocre lifestyle so that maybe I won't be shocked at how how productive and fulfilling life can be, scared to be not considered normal. I dibble dabble in things here and there to which I barely boast about, but now I'm learning to get my shit together. To stop with all the mind games and worry about a future to which I'm creating for myself. I used to love genius like Kelly Tsai once said, but now I'm defining and sculpting a thing called my future. It is only just the most pivotal step I'll ever make into a place called stability, not to be mistaken for as success. I'm trying to get better daily and rid these antics of careful mind thought towards useless returns. Who cares if I can fool you or if you can't pinpoint me? Who cares if I've met the most renown artist, actor, pope, songwriter, etc.? What makes their lives more important than my own? People don't care as much as you think, they just want to satisfy their curiosity about you. I'm done "differentiating" myself. I'm not looking for any ecstatic moment or any single life-altering event. I'm trying to find stability that doesn't require me to mindfcuk people into getting what I want to suit my selfishness of misplaced happiness. I don't care if no one is with me, but the more the merrier. If there isn't anyone to witness my dreams come true, I'm sure I'll survive. I'm not here to be the best at anything: moneymaker, event goer, boyfriend, friend, athlete, best dressed, or best looking. Being important doesn't make me stable, it shortly alters my emotions. Fcuk being important and be well known as, which only gets me so far. I'm not looking for missing aspects of life; I'm just trying to get to a point where I can be glad to die at any given day, preferably with kids. Once I find that type of stability, you'll see even less of me because that is where I'll be residing, a new dwelling. Don't keep tabs on me, but I'm getting my career down first. Sorry if you're second, even for a second.

"Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference." - Robert Frost

This might be worthless to you or a bad read or whatever classified. It'll be, to me, more than you know, my secrets.

Saturday, January 1

Quote the Raven Nevermore

What is behind you is not too far away

Somewhere above the atmosphere lies a world of our own making, self-sufficient and self-sustained.

Sometimes not thinking is most reasonable

Seems a bit arbitrary to not abide by the laws of attraction.

It is the distance that separate us, not the miles.

The best erection is that of a stimulated mind.

Don't underestimate innate thinkers; they're just as dangerous to themselves.

See me being yellow it adds more depth into your color spectrum. My eyes are brown, my hair is black, my lips are pink, my skin is yellow,
and teeth are eh well an off white. That means you can get a glimpse half the color wheel just looking at me. So spare your kaleidoscopes.

Too often and swiftly regrets come. Seldom they leave, at least in a timely manner.

Do well for yourself but do good for others.

Ignore ignorance and acknowledge knowledge. Simple and plan.

When you question a person's motives, think about convenience.

If you don't quench your thirst for knowledge, you may just dehydrate & faint of ignorance.

Where everyone claims the victim, where are all the villians?

If you must, flirt with a little bit of purpose, but make love to reasoning.

You're a great actor; for when the blind can't see and the deaf can't hear, they will always feel.

Picking up on magnifying images of shattered, scattered mirror shards as water reflects light. Scabs on her hand from mishandling teardrops.

We celebrate for those who can't. We apologize for those who can't, for our selflessness in debaucheries.

When someone advises you "not to let it go to your head." Simply reply, "It doesn't always go that far up, it yields at the heart.