SwingSpring

Orange lipstick. Vintage shades. Pitch black hair. INTENSE foundation.

Red-top. Pastel Chalkish-grey leather vest/jacket.

white teeth, big smile
i'm all set and ready!

,,,

"A better view of personhood should understand many kinds of particulars
—one’s politics, work, religion, family, love, sexuality, friendships, altruism,
experiences, wisdom, moral commitments, character and personal
attributes—as integral to the self. To understand any of these as monetizable
or as completely detachable from the person . . . is to do violence to
our deepest understanding of what it is to be human"

please label this as bullshit

Words of mediocre leather should never be made public-
Because somewhere between the accustomed thoughts and intimate faces, you lose the notion that words leave you vulnerable.
vulnerable to the judgement of public.


Who is this public we talk about?
uh-not there,

back:
I have an exam tomorrow. I didn't study, at all.
so,  scared.
and i've been hungary. :|


 

Large Hadron Rap

In order to fall in love..

...with Tyler Durden,
it takes two quotes.

"Warning: If you are reading this then this warning is for you. Every word you read of this useless fine print is another second off your life. Don't you have other things to do? Is your life so empty that you honestly can't think of a better way to spend these moments? Or are you so impressed with authority that you give respect and credence to all that claim it? Do you read everything you're supposed to read? Do you think every thing you're supposed to think? Buy what you're told to want? Get out of your apartment. Meet a member of the opposite sex. Stop the excessive shopping and masturbation. Quit your job. Start a fight. Prove you're alive. If you don't claim your humanity you will become a statistic. You have been warned"

Man, I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off.

TearyPuddles, my love.

I feel mellow in the true-est sense of the word.

Ripe. Happy. Filled to the brim.

Happiness overflowing, inexplicable joy. Serene.

And Green. Lighter variations of green, especially that of the dew-y trees contrasted with light-brown bark-that's my colour; that's how i feel, today.

It's a cute. cute. awesome-day....everybreath comes in as sweet packets of joy, i'm happy, i'm about happy being alive. I'm happy about every thing.

Everything that exists/ever existed.

About the moving/changing lithosphere, about the very fact that the tectonic-plates exist. And they are moving-moving. I'm happy about the idea of perpetual-change.

I'm happy about every insect who ever crawled on the earth, every herb that bathed in the sun, i'm happy about the perpetually-evolving biosphere, the oceans, the groundwater, the rain, the water-cycle.

Oh, i love earth.

This very moment, i can shun all my worries about the lovely-planet being destroyed..i just can't help, but revel, revel in the awesom-ness that this is.

Onebigfat NatureGasm.

I'm happy about the idea of love, of god, of religion, of blind-faith. I don't care about the negative impacts, of anything. Rightnow, let me revel in the beauty.

I'm happy about the idea of poetry, of words, of texture.

I'm happy about the idea of food, of cooking-oil, of salad, of herbs, of masalas.

It ...hurts, yes, it hurts very much

He is staring at the prayer-mat, staring-staring, opeth groans loud-loud metal, ambivalence: a mad-mad thing. Drawing circles on the pristine fabric, untouched for ages. Staring. Still. Blank.

'Break of the morning, coldness lingers on..'

'...Luring, you are luring me into the night...'

Uncertain, tracing infinity with his finger tips, turning-twisting the fabric. Agitated. Bleak.

'Slight twist, shivering corpse

Ornated with water, fills the cracks

Clasped in limbs by tradition,

This is all you need'

He leaves the mat -now, folding it a little at the top-right corner, as a gesture that he'll return-sooner or later-he will. Poisoning-soul. Stark-determination.

Recalling how he used to imitate his mother, the values she conferred, the very values he twisted -deformed-contorted, gave them away to the trash can, but they kept haunting him...