there's this thing called learning helplessness.
there might as well be a loving hopelessness.
then i can identify with it.

really,
i don't see the possibility of anyone ever liking me. (or liking back.)
girls don't like me because,
i'm not totally masculine, or feminine.
same with guys.

i'd just have to learn to deal with living without love.

complications of things never get to the point of the working of a girls mind.
such as -
when someone unrelevant likes them: girl make them like her even more without ever thinking of requiting it
when someone relevant likes them: girl doesn't do much in return but eventually like them as well.
when girl likes someone irrelvant: girl makes them like girl then ignore them the moment she finds out they do.
when girl loves someone: girl doesn't do anything but silently weep.

ps. jang geun suk is amazingly beautiful and makes me feel straight and i hate exams.


later on:
i've stayed at home to do math review.
i've done what. 2 pages.
the rest of the day lusting model agency websites. and camera gear updates.
and realizing i've got to catch up on fashion shoots.
i'm an ultra fail.

the perfect people tend to love one another. but there are also people who aren't perfect, who love perfect people, including me.

for these days when i lay flatchested on frosted solitude. i miss my impossible person. he swims in another direction, towards another ocean but we swim in parallel paths, in perfect symmetry. perfect symmetry. sometimes i want to climb over to that river and press my lips against his, and explore the wonderland behind his lips. but that wonderland isn't mine to explore. my tongue doesn't fit in like a piece of puzzle, it doesn't stick out far enough from my distribute of the river.

im swimming through every little thing that can poison and intoxicate my head with thoughts of what's under the water on the other side. how warm the movement of the wave on the other side could be, rushing like a thousang sensation in and out of my skin. it can collapse softly on my veins in no constant pace. except im not fit for that river.

like a straight line trying to intertwine with a curve, it just doesn't work that way. not in this dimension or any other dimension of thought.

and for once in my life i'm not spilling my jars of thoughts like a child's scraping knee. there is always a little bit of sacrifice in every lip bite, in every nevermind and any forced laugh afterward. luckily i don't need to do all that, because of the illusion created by the layers of glass built through time. to the point of perfect distortion.

layers of glass so strong it not only needs to distort vision but also to seperate the force created by false sources. when something cannot start it cannot end. it can only cease to possibly exist in any circumstance. which is what it started with, and supposed will end with.

there is a long, very long list of why it should exist. except there is just one thing, it can't. somethings don't fit in the very nature no the impossibility of imposibility. somethings are perfect match but not a perfect fit. it's just circumstance.

it's just incredibily funny to find an exact piece that matches doesn't fit. it's like two pieces of puzzles that fit perfectly but are part of different pictures. that's it. that must be why.

love doesn't consider sex, only gender. but again, that's just me.
nobody should speak of love these days anyway, for nobody really values that word as they slip it between their tongues anymore.

im not the only one born in the wrong body.
and yet i feel like i have not rambled enough this time. for i am always refraining from i truly have to say. i just can't spill it anymore.

1. Do you sleep in your bra?
never.

2. Do you sleep with socks on?
....no.

3. Would you rather sleep alone or with someone else?
with someone else, so i don't have to sleep with the lights on.

4. Do you enjoy drama?
i like acting.

5. Are you a girly girl?
i'd hope not.

6. Who was the last person you hugged?
ermm..who?

7. Small or large purses?
small. purses are meant to be small.

8. Are you short?
yes. :(

9. Do you like somebody?
hmm.

10. Does your Facebook password have to do with a boy?
yeaaaars ago. i'm just too used to typing it.

13. Do you dress up on Halloween?
no not really.

15. Where is the weirdest place you have slept?
i sleep anywhere.

16. Has anyone touched/smacked your butt in the past 24 hours?
probably.

18. Do you call anybody by their last name?
nay and hoy?

19. How many guys will read this just because it says- Girl Confessions?
i'm skipping this.

1. What color is the bra your wearing?
black white stripes.

2. Do you prefer light or dark haired guys?
dark.

3. Are you currently frustrated with a boy?
...no.

4.What's one thing a guy can do to make you like them?
be gay.

5. Do you have a best friend?
no.

6. Have you ever had your heart broken?
hmm. yes.

7. Have you ever thought of having plastic surgery?
more like sex change.

8. Do you like your life?
not most of the time.

10. Has one of your friends ever stolen a boy from you?
...hmm no.

11. Have you ever jumped into a pool with your clothes on?
indeed.

12. Do you have more friends that are girls or boys?
probably not. i don't get along as well with girls.

13. How long have you had a facebook?
grade 9?

16. Have you ever cried yourself to sleep?
for years.

17. Have you ever not been able to get someone off of your mind?
yeah.

18. Do you believe in the saying “once a cheater, always a cheater?
100%.

19. Have you ever had a good feeling about something?
hmmm. new cameras?

20. Do you ever wish you were famous?
not really. not if that means they find out about my past.

21. Are you currently missing someone?
yes. loads of people.

IN A GUY...

Funny or Serious?
serious.

Romantic or Daredevil?
romantic.

Dark Eyes or Light Eyes?
light eyes?

Long Hair or Short Hair?
long hair.

Curly Hair or Straight Hair?
curly.

Drunk or Sober?
drunk.

Has a Motorcycle or Has a Sports Car?
motorcycle.

Ever walked into the guy's bathroom?
i belong in there.

If you ever want to live to see another day, you're forced to snort cocaine, would you do it?
why wouldn't i? haha

When is the last time you were in a photo booth taking pictures with a friend?
binh lita so young?

Have you ever seen someone you knew and purposely avoided seeing them?
loads of time.

Who was the last guy you talked to?
....i don't know.

Do you think best friends can be replaced?
no.

Do you think you have made a difference in anyone's life ?
i boosted the weird factor in their life to a whole new level.

Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?
oh. myself.

Where's the weirdest place you've changed clothes?
...anywhere.

Are you shy?
i wish.

Are you talkative?
depends on who. i ignore people alot of times. i enjoy annoying people too.

Do you secretly like someone?
no.

Are you good at hiding your feelings?
i am now.

How is life going for you right now?
could be alot better.

Do you trust people easily?
no. not anymore.

Where were you at 11 o'clock last night?
shower?

Do you smile a lot?
no.

Have you ever cried from being so mad?
...yes.

Are you happy?
no.

Do you prefer to be around people or by yourself?
alone.

How are you feeling at this moment?
i feel. i want sushis.

How did you get the shirt you're wearing?
what tshirt.

How much money did you spend last month?
...nice question.

Your mothers name?
which one.

What did you do last weekend?
why would i remember that.

What always makes you feel better when you’re upset?
new shoes.

What did you have for breakfast?
not today. brunch day.

Have you ever liked someone who had a girlfriend/boyfriend?
...haha. yeah...

Have you ever done something outrageously dumb?
do i do smart things?

Have you ever read an entire book in one day?
it doesn't take a day.

Who was the last person you saw?
my sister who's next to me?

Who was the last person you hung out with?
people.

Where did you last go?
dvds place

Where did you sleep last night?
bed. :o

Do you like someone right now?
no. sadly.

Does the future scare you?
no. i don't like to think too much about it.

Why did you get a facebook?
i don't remember things.

Why are you doing this survey?
because new moon was fucking boring.

If you could have one super power what would it be?
time travel.

If you could go back in time and change one thing, would you?
yes. that one thing i've always regretted.

em ước gì anh để cho em chết
chết bình yên, và chỉ chêt một lần thôi.
để không cứ mãi đắm chìm vào những thứ xa xôi
để trôi mãi về biển xanh, trôi từ từ, mất xác.
=))

you confuse me
yet you amaze me

a little stingy pleasurable pain.

June 18th 2008
I woke up to the dripping sunlight,
as real as if I went to sleep last night.
With twisted truths turned into dreams of blood,
With beautiful lies in a space full of fright.

" Tell me when you're done being in love with me"
I told you so much more than twice.
You listened or not , we both knew.
Your caring pretending is an useful device.

Abandoned by choice, a subtle decision.
I closed my eyes to explore the truth on my own.
Holding hope like a bible, a distorted vision.
You shattered me in a loving tone.

" I only ever want you to be happy"
Your excuse, vain to be brief.
I'd prefer to remain scrappy,
Catching reminiscing times along with grief.

You lied once, you'll lie again.
You remain respectable in the past
You make love a verb of feign
That's not meant to happen, not meant to last.

một ngày trốn học

tôi thức dậy, một mình.
ngòai cửa sổ là tràn lan một thứ ánh sáng trắng, thứ ánh sáng duy nhất tôi thích. tôi ghét ánh sáng vàng của mùa hè, nó làm cho mọi thứ trở nên ấm áp một cách giả tạo. chỉ có ánh sáng trắng là thật. ánh sáng cũng xuyên qua những bức vẽ nghuệch ngọac tôi để trên cửa sổ, làm cho những khung gỗ tạo nên khỏang tối trên toan, lạ lẫm.

trời hơi lạnh, nên tôi có thể, quàng khăn, có thể mặc cardigan với không gì cả nữa. đầu gối và khớp ngón tay tôi có thể lạnh vì ở trần, và tôi thích thế.

và trà thì ngon hơn bất kỳ hôm nào khác, hơi nóng tỏa lên mặt, mùi thơm quấn lấy mặt. nhẹ nhàng mà dồn dập tới mức hơi nước dường như làm cho lông mi nặng thêm.

tôi bê cốc trà lên uống, và ngồi viết, ngồi đọc, nghiên cứu và viết tiếp. thỉnh thỏang, tôi cảm máy ảnh chụp được nửa cuộn phim lên và chụp một kiểu, nhấm nháp thứ ánh sáng trắng đẹp đẽ từng thứ một.

ga giường nhàu nhĩ, xộc xệch. màu tím nhạt, hơi giống màu ghi.
khăn màu đỏ mâm xôi, áo màu xanh den.
cốc trà mùi việt quất.dưới chân giường là những chiếc máy ảnh xếp lại thành hàng.
thỉnh thỏang lắm tôi có một ý nghĩ thóang qua, rồi biến mất.

có thể thật nhạt nhẽo, những tôi muốn quãng đời còn lại của tôi cứ chỉ trôi qua như thế này.

i miss warmth.
and light.

i'll love you on some days, not everyday
not specifically good days or bad days
rainy days or sunny days
foggy days or clear days
lively days or dead days.

i just love you some days
because that's all my heart is capable of.

ps. sometimes i want you a very big amount, with barely any other feelings ever.

one of these further days,
i'll go on those very long trips - to find myself.
and i'll send you a postcard wherever i go.
when i finally find wherever it is i want to be,
i'll still send you postcards.

they'll say things that make sleeping easy for you,
they'll say things that make breathing easy for you.
something i never experienced.
not even postcards

they'll smell like me,
but in different scents.
they can be wrapped around your fingertips without you even knowing it.

they can taste salty of different seas, and my eyewaters.
they can taste sweet of kisses, and different pastries because i am a sweettooth.

i then can be created to make you fall asleep.

i like the idea of doing that.

after the many years of experience in losing people,
i've come to a conclusion,
the greatest,easiest,fastest,most painful, and overall
most effective way to lose people is
stay the same while they change.

they'll find someone else who'll fit them more after they've changed.

you know those people that don't live in the present, but in the past, and the future.
i'm one of those people.
i've talked too much about my past, so here's for a change.

there's a white house, in it, two people of uncertain genders. one of them is me.
they smell like vanilla, and the scent chains itself to the purple bedsheets.
and between the bedsheets, lies too insominiacs soaking themself in white lights of morning.
perfect occasion for me to drag them out of bed, out of their clothes and onto my camera viewfinder.
after i finish reading to them another chunk from baudelaire.

we have tea. vanilla, raspberry, caramel, blueberry, whichever we have left.
i go bake for them. because we breakfast at its best, cake and tea.

we then could be splattering paint, going to the library, working on the photographs, or on the typewriters.
all this while we would of course be snorting some sort harmful chemicals because someone once told me;
you look like a heroine addict back then, it's beautiful.

and everyone who knows me, would know i will have this life.

I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.

I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.

I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.

We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.

I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.

I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.

I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.

I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.

We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.

I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.

I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.

I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.

I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.

I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.

I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I didn’t have to always deal with society hating me.

I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don’t believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.

I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.

Post this on your blog or website if you think homophobia is wrong.

from http://luftschloss.free.fr/

no wonder i feel so very down all the time.
i think they all notice the first part too.

except sometimes,
you don't need to wake up to realize you miss someone.

khi chăn lạnh, em nhắm mắt lại cắn cho ngón tay chảy máu.
em ngậm dưới lưỡi giọt máu từ ngón tay, mơ ngày tím ngắt;
có hai cực âm cứ vậy hút mãi nhau, không rời ra, không rạn nứt, không trôi nổi.

một ân huệ đầy kiểu diễm bay đến trong một cánh hoa màu tối.
em chỉ mơ thân mình trôi nổi trên da anh ấm, cứ ấm mãi thế.
có những tiếng thét mãn nguyện trên môi anh, cứ ấm mãi thế.

còn em càng muốn thốt lên càng thấy mình tan ra,
cứ đau, và tan chảy ra mãi thế.
như rồi cả thân thể em làm đẫm ướt tất cả,
như rồi cả thân thể em chỉ là một vũng nướt thơm, phập phồng thế bên gối anh.

tất cả những gì lạnh lẽo nhất, đắng nhất đặc quánh lại từ tủy em. em chìm dần. một sự kéo xuống tự nhiên. đến gần hơn với ân huệ kiều diễm. trao trả lại mọi yêu đương cho nơi không ánh sáng.

chết chìm chết nổi vẫn là một sự bồng bềnh mênh mông khó tả.

at times, i find it hard to identify which part of this feeling hurts most or which part of me is going to break down first. There is a new jar in the drawer and again it's full of loneliness and insecurity.

Who I am to say that maybe sometimes people should draw the line between the humour that i share and plain hurting. But if it doesn't matter to anyone but me then maybe it just doesn't matter at all anyway.

I'm invisible and shrinking mentally. Sometimes I wish someone was warm enough could come and warm things up but my sheets are still cold. I always seem to go for the wrong people and the right people at the wrong time. That's not very wise. I've never grown wise, just bitter. I never grew proud, just insecure.

Maybe I jumped underwater again, but the view was so lovely I didn't realize how cold the water is. It's soaking onto my skin and soaking underneath too. Now I'm too heavy to float and reach light again. And in darkness I'll remain. And in darkness, you'll always feel alone.



This is why I sleep with the lights on.



once i slept with a mint on my tongue, i dreamt i was chewing my teeth. The moment I thought that I just kept on chewing anyway.

these days,
are mostly days of sadness, and moments of laughter.
are mostly of confusion, and blinks of clarity.
are mostly of loneliness, and nanoseconds of warmth.

Come up on differents streets they both were streets of shame
Both dirty both mean yes and the dream was just the same
And I dreamed your dream for you and your dream is real
How can you look at me as if I was just another one of your deals ?


I cant do the talk like they talk on tv
And I cant do a love song like the way its meant to be
I cant do everything but Id do anything for you
I cant do anything except be in love with you


And all I do is miss you and the way we used to be
All do is keep the beat and bad company
All I do is kiss you through the bars of a rhyme
Julie Id do the stars with you any time

-dire straits

------------------------------------------------------

even though i, as usual, always try to hide it
i'm really tired of clenching, and tensely stretching out all my veins showing i'm made of metal.

well, i'm not.

as much as i'd like to be, i'm not.

although.

i have evolved from one who walks fast, to one that takes time
from one that believes in love, to one that doesn't.

in this direction, soon i will have veins imprinted on my forehead, complimenting my growing grey hair.

i've grown to know, nobody said it was easy.

i'm shutting down my eyelids and any possible organs that might be secretly aching.

bố: hôm nay bố nhìn thấy 2 đứa con gái sợ thế.
chíp: lại cạo trọc xăm trổ chứ gì
bố: ừ, chúng nó kinh quá. phản cảm.
chíp: chả có gì. như thế mới thú vị. bố thích bọn nhạt nhẽo à? *cười*
bố: ừ cứ cho là chúng nó thế, nhưng cái trò đấy phản cảm, xăm trổ ấy.
chíp: người của người ta, làm gì với người của người ta là việc của người ta.
bố: cũng tùy gia đình, như gia đình mình là không thể chấp nhận được. bố thấy chíp hình như cũng thích cái trò đấy.
chíp: *cười - nghĩ, làm gì có chuyện gia đình người ta chấp nhận. nhưng rồi thì sao, haha."

không chấp nhận thì sao nhỉ? :))


mực thấm từ não thấm ra, chạy qua mạch máu rồi đọng lại trên da cơ mà. có phải cứ miết cái kim lên rồi nhân cách người ta thay đổi đâu.

i am unconsciously attached to the experience that anybody that leaves, will never come back.
really, my experience of departures constantly whispers into my ears that, until my ear bleeds and it won't stop until it bleeds elsewhere.

i don't know what to do with myself. i like haunting and torturing my own floating self with memories that i'm likely the only one keeping.

my words are not nor ever was of insanity or ramble, they are truly words of a breathing heart on a different frequency, half expressing half hiding.

----
không còn dò dẫm cắn ngón tay trong đêm tối nữa,
chỉ chạy vòng tròn đắm đuối tìm nhau.

một bể tình mênh mông và yếu đuối
bị rò rỉ chả biết thoát về đâu.
một vệt sáng màu xanh,
hiện lên nhanh rồi vụt tắt.

những đầu ngón tay rỉ máu,
bám lấy nước bọt trôi về trời.
những khủy tay thâm tím,
bám lấy nước bọt trôi về trời.
kẻ bám lấy máu nhau mà sống.
say mê mực trên giấy nhàu,
bám lấy hơi nhau mà đi tìm hoan lạc,
trói nhau trong hân hoan trong lòng.

gót chân rỉ máu,
đi tìm gió trôi lạc mất kiếm hơi cũ,
đợi khi mệt rồi lại kiếm những ngón tay rỉ máu gợi nhớ mùi nhau.
những mạch máu trập trùng xanh rờn màu mắt nhớ nhau.

ép hồn khô lại tưởng mùi đêm là mùi cũ,
để chảy ra hoan lạc nơi kẽ mắt tím đen từng sợi.
đắng dần từng giọt kẻ sợ chết đi trong nhau chưa kịp làm tình.

"Ngày xưa ngày xưa, rất lâu rồi có một cô bé bình thường ngốc nghếch sống ngay cạnh một cậu bé rất thú vị nhưng cô không hề biết. Rồi cậu bé đi rất xa, và cô bé nhận ra mình vừa đánh rơi mất thứ quý giá nhất. Sau đó cô bé uống rất nhiều rượu, nhưng chẳng bao giờ quên được cậu bé."
-cô bé

"Ngày xửa ngày xưa, rất lâu rồi có một có bé rất xinh đẹp sống xa thật xa một câu bé tầm thường nhưng hút quá nhiều cần sa. Buồn thay, cậu bé lại rất rất thích cô bé, rất rất nhiều nhưng nhận ra số phận thật cứt đái vì họ sống quá xa nhau. Thế nên cậu bé hút càng nhiều cần sa hơn, và quên luôn chuyện đó."
-cậu bé

everyone once in a while, no matter how hard i try to avoid -
i see an old clip, an old picture, or your handwriting -
and i can't breathe.

or her, the people smell of vanilla on their skin.

but mostly you,
and weed with morning tea.

one day i'll be brainwashed,
with vanilla still lingering under my skin,
with tea drowning my brain.

with floating fragments of almost-humans that i tried to forget.
time is never ticking when it comes to times like this.

old things in the past are hard, present things are equally hard.
i had an odd but not so odd dream last night. not so odd as true it is one thing i recently long for. odd as i've been telling myself more than enough about the impossibility of such events.

people like messing with my brain.
memories like messing with my brain.
i don't like to, but i also mess with my brain.

the best passion is one you can never really fulfill.
mine, is gay boys.



new favourite picture of irrelevance.

let's see how bad my timing gets this time.
but then again maybe all these years it wasn't completely my bad in timing.
butterflies, butterflies, death of my eyes.

oh the impossibility of feelings.

my type of prince charming;
has longer hair than me
is skinner than me
has done more drugs than i'll ever be able to look up
skates from young age
plays guitar but prefers bass
is perfectly fine with sitting/sleeping/living on the streets
can talk shakespeare with me
is like a cigarette to me, just as unhealthy, and me being perfectly fine without it but never really get it off my mind or having the ability to resist it at all.
doesn't know how my heart jumps everytime i hear his name after an amount of years not worthy when he left me choking and rotting in my dirty little coffin passing by every once in a while making my grass green but never stop and come to me as he promised.

"Lòng người luân lưu thay đỏi như những cây dương xỉ vàng sẫm, như hoa bát tiên chóng tàn, như những ngày xế bóng thoi đứa, như những con ong khô chết."

" Đuổi theo họ để làm gì? Ai đợi anh? Anh đang một mình. Đơn giản sự hiện diện của những con người khác, những câu hỏi và những tiếng kêu của họ đoi khi làm cho anh quên đi sự cô đơn của mình, lại dựng lên giữa anh và họ một cái gì giống một tấm màn trong suốt và hư ảo."

"Con người ích kỷ không biết yêu chính mình."

Có chút gì may mắn, về sự tồn tại một cuốn sách. Một cuốn sách được viết ra để ôm trọn nỗi buồn, nỗi cô đơn muôn thuở hay nỗi thao thức của những tâm hồn không toại nguyện. Rất có thể nỗi lòng của Huguenin là một bãi hoang khi ông viết nó, cũng như tôi khi đọc nó. Có một nỗi buồn tràn ngập ánh sáng xoắn chặt lấy từng câu chữ. Cái nỗi ấy, cũng xiết lấy những kẻ cô đơn giấu mình sau khói thuốc, sau thứ ánh sáng lạ lẫm do mình tạo ra. Đôi khi, những kẻ ấy nhắm mắt mình lại, cho luồng ánh sáng tràn qua mi như một cơn ác mộng sắp tàn. Nó không được trải ra một cách mịn màng, nhẵn nhụi. Nó được dồn nén, nhưng những cánh cửa sổ thì vẫn mở toang. Người ta có thể dễ dàng thấy bên trong những cánh cửa ấy, trống dỗng đầy những dồn nén đang mục nát. Có thể, những kẻ ấy là những kẻ đam mê thời gian, như Piere.

" Và Olivier chợt hiểu ra rằng lòng dửng dưng cũng là một đam mê, một đam mê khốn khổ trong mọi thứ đam mê, một đam mê không thể nào thỏa mãn được bởi đối tượng ủa nó buộc ta phải đuổi theo nó: đó là đam mê thời gian."

Có những người rất buồn. Và mọi câu chữ họ nói đều mang một điều gì đấy cũng buồn. Có điều, những điều ấy rất bình thường. Như con ong chết, một mặt khác của mùa hè. Như trời mau tối, một đặc điểm của mùa đông ngoài cái giá rét. Sự chua chát ấy, chẳng phải cố ý, cũng chẳng phải vô tình. Cũng như con người ta, làm sao cố ý cười, hay vô tình òa khóc. Chỉ có những người, buộc lòng phủ nhận những xúc cảm của mình và phủ vải thô lên, để cho chúng mục nát trong yên bình.

Trong khi bàn tay vẫn còn trắng muốt và mềm mại, có những khung cửa sổ đang lung lay, mờ đi vì sương và bạc màu vì mưa gió nhiều mùa.

Tomorrow when I wake up
I’m finding my brother
And making him take me back down to the water
That lake where we sailed and laughed with our father
I will not desert him. I will not desert him

No matter how I may wish for a coffin so clean
Or these trees to undress all their leaves onto me
I put my face in the dirt and then finally I see
The sky that has been avoiding me

I started this letter I’m going to send it to Ruba
It will be blessed by her eyes on the gulf coast of Florida
With her feet in the sand and one hand on her swimsuit
She will recite the prayer of my pen
Saying, ..time take us forward
Relief from this longing
they can land that plane on my heart
I don’t care
just give me November, the warmth of a whisperin
the freezing darkness of my room

But no matter what I would do in an attempt to replace
All the pills that I take trying to balance my brain
I have seen the curious girl with that look on her face
So surprised she stares out form her display case.

-bright eyes

there are silk hanging from the dead tree. marks and bruises on bleeding silk, when i close my veins to keep breathing on the coldest bed on earth.

"I looked upon the scene before me - upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain - upon the bleak walls - upon the vacant eye-like windows - upon a few rank sedges - and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees - with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveller upon opium - the bitter lapse into everyday life - the hideous dropping off of the veil. There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart - an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime. What was it - I paused to think - what was it that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House of Usher?"

-edgar allan poe

photos from ratatat:

how estatic it is. when hugged and offered a drink by one of my favourite bands.

bonus: paolo nutini - candy

i might swallow wings and let them grow out of my necks.

or i might die to see the generations of fondness grow and die, only to be wiped away in one fell swoop.

i might conquer land, travel through time, see a ghost of be a ghost.

as i fell inlove with a dead boy.

walking, sleeping and howling in silence all at once.
entirely naked, wrapped around with a blanket of loneliness,
it's warmth crawling on bare skin.

a body, wet and dry at the wrong, or maybe the right places.
drawn with light and handbuilt with lead.
moving in, and out of my head.

there is no abstract thought,
just needles, thin ones and thinner ones,
pressing on tight, transparent skins.
embracing green strings that run, popping from the very inside of our skins.
our skins.

and bones. little silver bones.
that crack when they're not twisted. and not crack when they are twisted.
with gaps filled with glue, burrying them into our skins.
a white, sticky, static death.

and absolut darkness.
that runs slowly from vein to vein,
and tickles the corpus callosum until it snaps.
until -
our very mind is black, hidden behind these eyeballs,
and bleed onto our hopeless strands of hair.

then our synapses,
are rusty iron bars,
sweet like april grapes,
dissolve into a mind blowing sweet discourse -
and disappear.

there is a strange wind,
tumbling, rolling onto these skins.
rustling, and restling the neverending resistance
of blood.

You, diluted solution of crimson red.
Will stain now.
On top of nervous trembling green strings of tenderness.
On rusty iron bars, still rusting.
On broken bones that are turning into glass. piece by piece.
On wet skins and dry eyes,
turning into black lace.

you, diluted salty solution on my face.

sometimes, the sad thing is -

when i lack special people in my life;

i look back at life and miss some people so much.

Không đề 1

Tôi tặng em một phiếm đàn buồn
Để vang lên vào ngày mưa gió.
Để tiếng lòng tôi rã rời cùng gió,
Hun hút vào những sâu thẳm nơi em.

Tôi tặng em một giọt nắng phai,
Để sớm mai này em giữ xuân ở lại.
Để rồi khi bớt u mê hoang dại,
Em thấy lòng mình vọng tiếng tên tôi.

Không đề 2

Em mang tình đi thuở còn thơ,
Đến với trời sao,
Phơi tình, đong tình cho đỡ nhớ.

Em về tinh khôi tự khi nào,
Trời khuya có nhớ
Quấn lấy em tôi lúc quay về.

Em gói kinh cầu với trời sao,
Gửi lên ngàn mong manh,
Thổi tình đi trong mênh mang là thế.

Để khi em về,
Mang theo bao nhiêu bóng nắng,
Và long lanh trời sao đang khóc sau em.

"the problem is not that things are broken. the problem is that they can't be mended again."

it's ridiculous to baffle with someone's head, so that they are made of iron and steel tolerance of pain then come back and ask to do the favours that are no longer needed.

the concept of healing or fixing is often too simple to most who have done hurting.

i just wanted to save this somewhere so i can take a read when i completely lose faith in love/marriage/things of the sort. not like i have faith in it now anyway.

Hyun Joong:

"Hwang Buin, she hates being cute so don't make her act cute. She's a good cook, but don't make her cook too much, she finds that bothersome. And don't lie to her. Phone her twice a day. Don't look at anyone else as a woman... And you must never talk about the first love. And... make lots of money so she doesn't have to work the events... and diligently deposit paycheck every month. When she's that age, she won't be doing her events anymore.

He's a future spouse who'll treat you well even if I don't tell him anything... Just treat her well.. Unconditionally... Don't come to Jeju Island for the honeymoon though... She'll remember.. Since she'll remember if you come here for honeymoon.. For the next husband, I think this is a place he won't need to come."


"To tell you the truth... I didn't express it but in my heart you helped me a lot when things were really hard. There were a few times,.. I looked at you for those times and changed the way I was thinking. I think I did. Before I met you, wife... I want to tell you this, I used to live a very confined life. I don't know if you'll believe this, but outside of my friends nobody knew me, what kind of person I am... But I think wife now knows.

A lot of my dark and gloomy ways, really... This goes on TV, but I'm not just saying this... I really think you changed me a lot. At the right timing. In a way, I strongly felt like you were someone sent by God. Honestly I wanted to tell you this... When things were the hardest.

I'm relieved that wife will be the last woman I'll do mountain hiking with."

Hwang Bo:

"Hyunjoong is.. he's a kid who loves to win... so please keep losing to him... But you can't make it obvious that you're losing to him.. You have to make it seem like you tried really hard but lost... He can't wake up well... so if you tickle him, he wakes up well.. He hates mushy things.. so don't expect too much.. Even if he doesn't express it, just feel it with your heart..."

Hyun Joong:

"We always filmed on Tuesdays... I think Tuesdays will seem really empty from now on... If we have work on something else on Tuesdays, that feels really sad. If I think like nothing had happened, it would feel so empty.. I think I'll feel like there's a hole in my daily life..."

one night he decided to blur out history in his iris and set the stars on fire for me.
a rain of ash falls from the sky, flickering moonlight.

and when he decides to glide into me, with his little silver bones.

my glassy bones tremble and crack. little cracks running to the very core.

we collide into a dull shade of china blue, condensed on a concrete wall, and hidden in the very folds of lilac bed sheets.

and we dissolve into ash.

you keep coming back like a permanent sickness revisiting on cold gloomy days.

" we wrote together,

i love you - in the sand.

but the sea,

it didn't leave it alone.

do you want to write

it one more time -

with me?

i stand by the sea - don't want to do anything."

Sur - re - al - ism (n.) -(often l.c.) a style of art and literature developed principally in the 20th century, stressing the subconscious or nonrational significance of imagery arrived at by automatism or the exploitation of chance effects, unexpected juxtapositions, etc.

I woke up after somebody whispered in my dream ; "the days that we are living pass are only to end when we die for longer days."
There is a fishbowl in my dream. the base is broken and leaking. the bleeding feathers and bleeding. some are floating some are sinking, to the vaccuum of yesterday that sleeps its deathly sleep in between my fingers.

I've got a jar of insecurities. Where I take the coins of time and save up. You see, everychild would hide their precious belongings. I would hide mine. I wouldn't even take it out on a sunny day.I don't even like sunny days. They're so annoying in their own annoying little ways. I prefer to stay in bed. With a lump a gloomyness hanging above my head. I need to guard myself.
Because that's just the way i prefer it.
My eyes are dry now. Ha. Can't help my wonder why.
Sometimes I see girls with cold feet walking in my dreams, walking on ice.

I've got glass all over me. I've got glass all under me. Little fragments of glass float in my veins with their little journeys to their little happiness on the tip of my finger where they bleed. But happiness has dried out like a flower on the hands of time, do they hear the lights coming? Let's forget. The leaves forget the season. The sunlight forget the shadows of the day. Why wouldn't we forget? The little frames of dreams will also die. We should forget, to kill the velvet box full of sound and fury. Our stage was full of tragic scenes that never came to an end.

My days of happiness are only to remain in great bitterness. Oh but I'll forget. Everything fades.They are all gone as the actors leave the stage when the curtain falls. I have ached ones, as I have ached before. Life is only an opportunity to be sad, and then only to be sadder again. Spring rushes over my head, they heard the rays of light fading out. Everything is left to be a hazy violet time.

Summer is still warm and warmer. But under my veins these soldiers of little piees of glass are getting their share of frosting. the rain watched me, walk pass across to the other side. it still watches me. i have loved and finished with my sad and comical heart, i said to have finished with my sad and comical heart. I have kept them in a teary eye, probably my rights one as i watch my days blur in solitude. Now my eyes are dry I can lock them even safer.

I have led a sad and lonely path. I draw them now as million of old love words and send them back to the life they came from.

"I wish I could touch you again
I wish I could still call you friend
I'd give anything

I'll keep you locked in my head
Until we meet again
And I won't forget you my friend"

hãy thôi xoắn vặn. :-<

i dreamt of you. talking and laughing so cheery.
but i don't talk to you anymore, nor see you,

it was barely a choice, but i made a choice not to make an effort.
because i'm the only one who ever seem to make the effort from the start anyway.

they were wrong, i was right.

i can't sit there waiting for you to change and take your step. because you never do.

nothing was ever done and nothing is going to be done.

bye-bye little crushsation.

Generally, the idea of nude [photography] is unambiguously identified with the image of female body. Only naked woman looks naturally. Naked man looks not dressed. - Wladyslaw Pawelec -

You cannot expect to appreciate good photography instantly. It takes time and study to appreciate the feeling of the photographer. - David Hurn

a photograph gives us the naked truth,which has to be clothed by the imagination. - Frank Meadow Sutcliffe

It is part of the photographer's job to see more intensely than most people do. He must have and keep in him something of the receptiveness of the child who looks at the world for the first time or of the traveller who enters a strange country. - Bill Brandt

Artists don't owe the world anything, least of all explanations. - Sam Haskins

A model can only be successfully directed by talking her into a mood or attitude. The moment you physically place a limb into position you may as well be photographing a shop dummy. - Sam Haskins,

What I work for nowadays is almost entirely myself. I hardly do anything for international magazines, for the Sunday color supplements. They don't, after all, live in the same world. They live in a world where everything is larger than life (...) and I am not interested. - David Hurn

You know how you can read a book or watch a movie and get a shiver, laugh or cry. The ultimate goal in my life is to photograph works that can create such an effect to viewers. - Meeeeee.

although i don't give so much of a shit about how my future turns out to be, i still have some preferences.

i'd go to some art/music college with lita where we are swarmed with hot skater boys around that town. i will finally spend most of the days around the concept of the photography and the rest of it slacking or goofy off in some apartment with her where i occasionally bake and get paint smudged everywhere even in the kitchen. i can smoke in my house, by the window though, in the morning and the boys that live there half of the time really don't mind. Lita and her bass guitarist will be gaming her ass off on the couch when me and the skater are having a quality bonding time with some cigs.

i graduate with a stunning portofolio.
mai graduates. she buys a gorgeous white beach house on Crete. We spend the first few days painting the shutters green and sticking the wallpaper inside. there is a garden, full of tiny flowers in the middle of the house, plenty of sunlight. And i, at last won't despise sunlight. i finally get my cutest kitchen on earth and spend most of my day either cooking, writing, painting or photographing. we can get on the roof some day, goof off, and i can fall into the sea and die a happy death.

:( :( :(

i don't know anything at all. i hate it when this happen.

i'm in an airtight glass box. i don't know if the rush inside is real, or is it good for me.

i keep making myself feel so fucking low.

i've never been this low before. i don't chase around any fucking one.
i am too proud. i need to remain proud.
i don't even want it to become a fucking crush, the tiniest one.

nonononononono.

does the fucktard get occasional headrush and short of breath moments like me tooooooo?
shit. i'm so fucked.
this needs to stop.

- how can you miss someone you barely even know.
listen to a song they used to sing and get your guts twisted inside out from missing them, their voice, their neck, their thigh.

the very same things that made me so happy makes me so shit.

i can't trust the feelings i can't explain.

:(

alot,
too much
vodka.

a singer,
a drunk,
a sexy
cop.

a youngster,
a drunk,
dressed all in black
girl -
reaching out.

they held hands.
they dance.
their necks sensually touch.
they vomit.

BLEURGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.


ps. i have came to realization,
for me, it doesn't starts with a kiss, it never starts with a kiss at all.
everything starts with holding hands.
once you are close enough to hold hands, you are close enough for anything.

he's always;

10 steps ahead of me

10 cliff tops ahead of me.

he's always reached it before me.

insanity or being content, he's always been there.

he's always been unreachable highness for me.

"Ta cảm ơn trần gian này lắm lắm
Nhờ nơi đây ta biết được đau thương
Ta cứ ngỡ trần gian là cõi thật
Thế cho nên tất bật đến bây giờ
Ta cứ ngỡ xuống trần chơi chốc lát
Nào hay đâu ở mãi tới hôm nay"

-bùi giáng

argh.argh.argh.

ew i think i need to starve myself.

that's all i gotta say today.

they gave the red cake i made away.

just pictures.