iron blood

as the winds blew, the cold weather had become more dampening.... my complexion, a rustful pink, almost like a pink salmon slab coming out of the fridge of wharfs fish market.

the weather, was ominous and it was too late to be myself again...  my mind had already become cold and stale.  not able to think the way i used to, my heart had become glazed with frost, from the cold....   My heart had become like a lifeless sack of potatoes that were placed under the sink that morning, and my blood was probably the closest thing to being alive...

ham and cheese

i ate a ham/cheese sandwich for lunch...

hmmm....anyways..I think alot of ex-bloggers have become bored of xanga-ing because nobody looks at their blogs anymore.  And, i think its safe to generalize that in our day and age-people hunger, desire, and almost tickle inside, for recognition..

Articulating oneself has become less of a human outlet, but almost a commercialized license to attention whoring. And alot of us, including myself have struggled with this issue internally, some more than others. 

BUT, then again this is just me thinking out loud, so just think what may, come what may, be what may... but in all seriousness, online blogs/networks should continue because of its entertaining face value.  so keep posting them crazy pictures, posting the drama, and political and religious controversies fellow xangans

never break

at the height of it all, i look outside..  down there, the world functions, spins, and revolves through calamity and pains, we do life...we do what life is.   beneath the facade of the jabba masks and the feet that walk along the hot california pavement, its the same all around.  there is more bull shit then genorisity to claim..more fake in people  than there was yesterday..but its the most disheartening when we see what the characteristics we hate, in the very people we love the most..i dont know

if you are what you say you are, a superstar

Outside the bedroom window the weather did what it wanted.  just like spasms-a volcanous thunder followed by an out pouring of a thousand drops, then other lazy drops rolled down one of the pipelines that were glued to the fern wall of the residency. The old man lay in his bed, in his body-the cramps of life, the inflexible pain in his right shoulder, his neck feeling stiff like the hard wood boarding; the man who was known for his accolades in academia, accomplishments in worldly issues, and success in his wealth and fortune felt a numbness in his eyes.

diary 10