I'm On Sinking Sand, Gravity

Her dark, turbulent world was a canvas upon which she drew the brightest flowers and spun the most intricate of yarns. Then one fateful day, she found happiness, and the art finally died.



There was mambo night, and then there was some. Was I thinking? Now I'm back at the end of the line, losing control; there's no escaping gravity. On a side note, while the DJ was adventurous in trying to introduce That's Not My Name by The Ting Tings, the music transitioning did leave a lot to be desired.



When it does rain, it pours. So I found myself back at Richard's place, twice in 3 days. The first was when we had the PS2 gathering; DDR under the influence of alcohol should be quite fun. :] Anyway, there I was bunking over after mambo when I was really supposed to be 'overnighting in school for some faculty event', to spare myself the hassle of having to deal with the folks.

When I was a primary school kid, I started lying that I had remedial lessons so that I could sneak over to my friends' places where all the Sega Saturns and Nintendo 64s were. I feared that some unwitting classmate of mine would call to ask about homework while I was out, and I lived in mortal fear, on a regular basis for awhile, of the mental image of my mom answering the phone and asking him or her why he or she was home already while I wasn't, and then giving me a good one when I got home.

But that fear eroded after awhile, diluted and made insignificant by the many times I got away with it, as well as other things I regularly keep from my parents, especially my strict, traditional dad. I know many people, up to the young adults they are now, never ever get over this fear. Either that, or the guilt of the lie committed becomes too overbearing a burden to carry, no matter how small it is. It is like putting your finger very near the spot between your eyebrows, almost in contact but never touching, and leaving it there. A pressure that typically shouldn't be there takes form, and quickly becomes more than a niggling gnaw. Though I'm not proud to say it, I suppose I'm numb and past that already where the folks are concerned, where a white lie in place of a troublesome truth quickly suffices in an instant gratification kinda way.

"... there is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft. Do you understand that? When you kill a man, you steal a life."

"You steal his wife’s right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness."

In that restless morning where I did have a really random and fleeting dream of meeting Assef the sociopath from The Kite Runner, as the light crept past the curtains while lying on the living room sofa, I wondered if this'll ever catch up with me one day. That, amidst listening to the myriad of interesting morning sounds of the postman shoving letters rhythmically into metallic mailboxes, rusty trolleys rolling along and bumping up kerbs and the ringing of bells on dog collars amongst other lively noises, which come along with living on the 2nd storey.



Just drift. :]




Quidquid latine dictum sit, altum sonatur. (Whatever said in Latin sounds profound.)

Audio Candy:
Yung Joc Feat. 3LW - 'Bout It