| it's been a while |
[08/12; Wednesday|04:17 am] |
and i miss seeing things with serifs so here we go.
in the four hours of today i have managed to consume fire and ice. i have also nodded to breeze, lightness and music in a car ride.
i have given panadol flu max a second chance.
i want to study. yes you heard me right. |
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| i pimped gmail. |
[29/08; Sunday|03:09 am] |
i'm never opening apple mail again.
in other news, i have a whole immuno book (not abbas cos i'm a noob) to read asap and a stethoscope to buy. a forehead to wash and a baby step solo to practise if i indeed do play kiss me tomorrow.
must also design first draft of set by tuesday, and email kemedia bosses.
i love being pensive at 3am in the morning but not today. i'm an immuno soldier. |
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| dentist waiting room, 2010 |
[22/07; Thursday|07:46 pm] |
there is a man with a glossy shirt and candled hair. his spectacle frames are lip-red and his lips are tube-pink. the green lacquer slash over his (accessory) left eye (accessory) is as calculated as the single upturn of his suede-matte trousers. a paunch simmers through the hundreds of TV thumbnails laid out over the shirtcloth like rows of film reel.
the staff are uniformly female and togged in a dull, pinstripe cousin tone of the lobby walls. they are trained and equipped to exhibit politeness, complimentary drink offers and the ability to perform simple hardware repairs if required. the lattermost smile at passers-by as she squats over once-inset floor lamp innards.
the view outside is panoramic. |
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| early in the day |
[04/07; Sunday|12:40 am] |
i lost again the camera charger component which i found prior to trial camp and put away because i didn't have the time to use it at the time. i would go and look for it but my broken social scene hamstrings are going to riot. weak flesh. biceps eff, semi-membra, semi-tendin, semi-useful.
i'm reminded how i almost wrote that the arm upper limb contains the biceps femoris during spots.
come on, focus. resort to cheap med references if you have to. foveaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh.
my goodness LJ you actually REMEMBER me choosing the rich text editor. hail safari. screw you apple.
this is quite clearly effluent but i want it out of my system. i want to spend tomorrow afternoon looking for things and not stopping till i find them. i will scour my room for charger and other lost items and so help me saint anthony i will be showing my grand uncles europe photos at dinner.
i sound like an incoherent, schizophrenic maniac. i need a fix of good writing now.
speaking of which i read an article on town councils' performance and it did nothing to suggest that the system isn't a whole load of bull. |
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| today, i painted |
[03/07; Saturday|12:05 am] |
i'm tired because i didn't quite eat lunch and was caught in strange squatting positions for the good part of six or so hours. my feet are red in blotches and my nails dirty black-lined. my forehead is oilier than emulsion and i want to take a shower now.
i loved every minute of it and would like to paint again soon. |
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| of hush and incense |
[02/07; Friday|03:26 am] |
in smoke i'll thrive.
my lungs will fail.
but not till i've
gone through the gale.
funny how things seldom turn out the way i want them to be. it's not that they are unsatisfactory, or that i'm dissatisfied - most times surprise compensates, pleasantly.
to you i must stay true. o my hate of hate and love of nothing.
i should read some austen, too. and finally claim my stake on having studied lit for four years in an all-girls school.
in this order:
- institutional duties to the erstwhile uninitiated (aka medicamp)
- clean house for fucking real this time (baby i feel bulletproof!)
- logic pro
- draw
- meet some cool people
- move back into hall
- and throughout (fine, i cheated), read. dig deep, discover (hah) discipline.
there are some things i should really start to outgrow. obviously being 154 cm isn't one of them since even acromegaly seems more likely at this stage.
it's surreal to feel almost at an beginning so often misconstrued as an end. when you've prepared yourself for the climax you realise that the denouement is a whole new episode. it sucks to predict (and be predicted) so we should perhaps go along and let our feelings be enjoyed.
retrospect and a great deal of other shit have shown that what i should really be looking for is focus. |
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| serials and musicals |
[22/06; Tuesday|02:01 am] |
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they make me soppy. one day i'm going to OD and disintegrate into a pool of liquid fluff. |
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| eljay is buggy with my account |
[19/06; Saturday|08:35 pm] |
in habit i've managed to forget what i wanted to write five minutes ago.
fanfic is a time sucker. the round orange kind with hidden wheels and a self-retracting plug. you pull it around by the handle and adjust the nozzle implements as appropriate for the kind of dust you want to remove.
i like my fanfic with a handle.
my sister's gone and bought the starbucks cup-bottle that looks like the cup they use for chilled drinks. my mum has starbucks vouchers, somewhere.
it's going to rain and part of me wants to stay in. it helps that there is (probably going to be) company.
i should start writing my euroshit soon. |
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| i've managed to find several old selves today |
[19/06; Saturday|04:43 am] |
first among them being a closet penchant for fanfiction. i'll chew through cheese if it is paired with wine and story-people that i like. i'm pathetic that way.
in looking for an old journal entry i've reviewed my IB LJ-life. as with most online diaries it is embarrassing, cringe-worthy at parts and i will not delete it for as long as i can.
it still stands, however, that i would like two daughters named francesca and juliet, and a son named tom.
today i also met a you. and as in the case of most good things this is likewise kept to you, and me, and you alone.
( i still want to be a cosmonaut )
one day i will trudge through my wasteland of failed internet writing romances and pull out anything i feel- in 7 years of retrospect- worth saving. with my being strange a given it might actually fill a single page.
in july, i am going to move back into hall, huddle myself up in my newly sought sixth-floor cell, plaster its walls and ceilings with posters, buy a can of green spray paint, and become the wicked witch of the west.
of course i won't pon school. |
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antestorm's journal