> out of sync

i sometimes wonder; why is there a need to communicate?. and of coz i know this question in itself is ridiculous and thoroughly stoopid, as i am trying right now to express it across to the masses of no one ... strangers even ... when i can't even talk properly with an ol' friend on the phone! ... twisted-tongues and a mushed-mind drawing a blurred-blank; or to be fair and precise (to gawd knows whom, i know not), a mind retarded-in-motion = every response and reaction coming out a few seconds slower than what your mind had thought of before ... doing a double-take; "didn't i just said that before?" ... no, you'd only just "thought" of it just, doofus ... a life out of sync.

phones buzzing their miniscule-battery-life away, dancing their perverted little vibrator-dance on my hollowed-wooden-ikea-table; echoes reverberating into my subconscious ~ while i slumber ... why dun i just simply turn it off? > becoz someone might wanna call me up to offer me a job; that's why! > but the pathetic-irony is such that im turning down jobs left/right/center ... emails not replied, calls not answered ... and with (non-existent) funds diminshing fugging rapidly (faster than you can say "broke again") i'm stuck in another perpetual-cycle of inertia glossed over as "a need to take a rest" ... but which is truer? ... "dreaming" or the luxury of it all, has fallen carelessly along the side, while a new battle emerges along the mind's horizon: "Reality" VS "Practicality" ... Health versus Finance ... another ironies of ironies, last medical-checkup a coupla days back "revealed" an improvement on my "health" ... blood pressure lowered and everything else seems dandy ... which is again very worrying (not least becoz i can't get out of the fugging army *PUI*) becoz i sure ain't feelin' that great, ya know? in fact, as serene (with a nervous *twitch*) as i do feel at home, once i am out, i can literally feel myself surpressing my anger and disdain toward the bigbadoutdoors, the manic-herds of mindless bipeds milling around public spaces (otherwise known as "crowds on a weekend") and the chitter-chatter of mindless drones exclaiming the virtues of shopping and of designer labels/jaychou/ipods/christian bale is hot/i have a blog too/do as zeus says/mambo/beer/blood ~ bombards my every senses and i tune everything out ... or at least try to ... and in times like these, why go towards the loudspeakers? when ya can just go away ... like mozzies they buzz around you and ya know ya just can't simple escape ... temperature and anger rising now, even as i type these, with mozzies buzz-bombing my weary-body ... fcuk.

i dun need a mountain-ridge with a cottage beside a lake.
i dun need a penthouse suite atop the highest building in the city.
i dun need a private isle with a beachfront bungalow.

i have my own prison cell private bedroom with a simple wooden door. with dank air of leftover nicotine-smoke. and mozzies. lottsa mozzies ...

nah i know what i want:

a soundproof and padded cell room; floor to ceiling, with nothing but a bed (king or queen-sized, where i can tumble around), a comfy-armchair and a table with a computer (Mac, of coz) atop. no windows around. no one to talk to me, if i dun want to. that's it ... that's all ... of coz there's the toiletbowl around the corner ... otherwise im fine. im good.

... but if itz a choice between the computer or toiletbowl? i'd take the toiletbowl ... for at least i can still stick my head in it ... *pulls lever* ...


why is there a need to communicate? > gimme 5 good reasons.


BAH
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