> afloat in a sea of grey
a sunday and mother's day rolled into one? *URGH* THE PRESSURE! and in the end, nothing much happened. in fact, NOTHING happened. didnt even bring me mum out for a meal. thy finances are depleting mondo-fast and very soon i'll be flatoutbroke again. looks like i'll be settingup stall at ye ol' fleamarket perhaps soon ... before all the work linedup from midmay onwards (i hope i hope) ... anyways, the prezzie was already given to her last sunday (we all darned blur and thot last sunday was mother's day!) tho i had very little to do with her prezzie. im such a useless son. and all i could do was to hole myself up in myroom thewholeday and worked on my onlineportfolio. a distraction from my stillturbulentmind - thinking i had it all worked out, but alas my senility is working against me mayhaps. or perhaps itz that ever stubborn feeling i still harbour and cannot quell as easily imagined.
a person filled with passion+ideas+ideals; laid waste in a sea of grey mediocrity creeping in seeping thru the cracks of thy subconscious filling it wif randomdoubts and constant displacedanger now calmed floating unto the greyseas debris of pastworks halfsunken around me taunting me with their indifference and false past glories now glaringly mediocre by any standards and i grimace at everyimage i crop+contrast and save for my hungrywebsite a warped reflection of my career tho so young and yet so ancient ... i scrounge thru my olden drawings of two decades past and see the promises that i have not livedup to and i sigh a silent sigh in the dead of night, 25-long minutes before 5am and i wonder whythefcuk am i still awake? filling the room with my gloom and cigarettesmoke and im suprisingly lucid. i think i know the reason tho i might not like nor agree with it, i accept it for now. for what else can i do? sleep? i wish i could. but what of it? for tomorrow will happen regardless and i have no choice but to take each and everyday as it comes slapping hurting nuturing caring i tell myself over and over and over again until i myself am sick and muthafcuking tired of hearing it ... i want to escape it all i admit. i want to go away. i want to live my life. and i have and i will and i mayyetdoso. so strange, this sudden silence. a calmed inner anger an amber burning but not enough to cause a bushfire i laugh to myself. i started this entry not knowing where it'll take me. like brother destiny in his garden of endless chained to his book of fate a blankpage waiting to be flipped a life at a time. peace.
a person filled with passion+ideas+ideals; laid waste in a sea of grey mediocrity creeping in seeping thru the cracks of thy subconscious filling it wif randomdoubts and constant displacedanger now calmed floating unto the greyseas debris of pastworks halfsunken around me taunting me with their indifference and false past glories now glaringly mediocre by any standards and i grimace at everyimage i crop+contrast and save for my hungrywebsite a warped reflection of my career tho so young and yet so ancient ... i scrounge thru my olden drawings of two decades past and see the promises that i have not livedup to and i sigh a silent sigh in the dead of night, 25-long minutes before 5am and i wonder whythefcuk am i still awake? filling the room with my gloom and cigarettesmoke and im suprisingly lucid. i think i know the reason tho i might not like nor agree with it, i accept it for now. for what else can i do? sleep? i wish i could. but what of it? for tomorrow will happen regardless and i have no choice but to take each and everyday as it comes slapping hurting nuturing caring i tell myself over and over and over again until i myself am sick and muthafcuking tired of hearing it ... i want to escape it all i admit. i want to go away. i want to live my life. and i have and i will and i mayyetdoso. so strange, this sudden silence. a calmed inner anger an amber burning but not enough to cause a bushfire i laugh to myself. i started this entry not knowing where it'll take me. like brother destiny in his garden of endless chained to his book of fate a blankpage waiting to be flipped a life at a time. peace.
