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Showing posts from August, 2013

Day 21: Manipulation, Isolation, Apologies

The snake slithered down my neck, teeth clashing, bones shaking, tiptoes ringing the hallways in the dark. The lack of sleep and rest weakened my senses waiting for the moment that she'd wake up and rise to the call -- whatever. My libido was all that mattered to me, the snake said, when it crawled down to my heart. Hisssssssssssssss, it did, and hissssssssssssssssss, it beckoned. My heart tasted bittersweet with the essence of its venom rising through my neurosensory networks. Death awaits you, it whispered. No escape.
I looked towards my side. My muscles aren't half as bad as they think it is. Three bottles of urine greeted my sight. I turn away in disgust. I rise again to watch my whispers coming. Whispers of she, whispers of a familiar time I long to return. It's over, the snake whispered again.
Is this like a breakup? I voiced to the whispers.
The snake replied, even when not spoken to. Do you wish it was?
No, no, no, not at all, that's what I said. My being was st…

The Drama of Truth

The bed was all unkempt when Christian woke up. He'd have been staying naked in bed for an entire week after she left him, trying to struggle going back to reality and basic everyday life. His eyes were all blackened and bagged by severe lack of sleep. Four filled one-litre bottles sit in a table next to the bed, some used plates and scattered kitchen utensils here and there, and cigarette butts making an unsightly view. The laptop connected to a flatscreen LED television had been running for as long as anyone knew. But for all these things dirtying up the room, Christian's Moleskines can be found stacked neatly on a corner, with a red Cath Kidston one noticeably dangling out signifying frequent use.
The first thing Christian does whenever he wakes up is to check the web for news updates, both for himself and the world around him, so that despite his voluntary solitary confinement he wouldn't feel left out from the world outside. He opens up his Facebook to check for mess…

Day 8: Slow Burn

Hikikomori. The first hours back into civilisation was fatal to my morale. There was nothing for me out there, only distractions. My mind was full of blank desolation, and my wallet too. One week. It's like a coal parasite starting to profuse the flame, conducive to heat, slowly inching its way to my heart clutching it like nothing else can. Two, three hours gone, I go mental. Every absence of response I begin doubting everything.
After meeting old faces I could not hope to contain my depression. They completely ignored me when they personally asked me to come. I did ignore them first though, just because I could not swallow the defeat. After a couple of hours I went back home immediately, nothing in hand but solitude. The flat was brimming with sadness. I belong here, whether I like it or not.

Day 7: Fail at coping

Fourth day spent wallowed in self-pity. I miss my Mioseon tremendously, I could break heads of people passing by who just happens to even look at me the wrong way. It's been a week since then and it already felt like months, years. It's funny how time flies so fast, my scalp itches from the lack of proper hygiene. My mood swung back and forth this past couple of days not even my parents could understand what's really going on. Nutshell: That's me. I wouldn't have done all the things that I've done if I knew this day would come. So many regrets, so little time, and coping up is really moving slow.
We've been talking a lot over Facebook since her arrival in Busan. I've been doing my own studies to pass my time, learning Hangul and whatnot. It's very difficult to sport a smile on my face, it's weird. I went to work three days and it somehow helped keep my mind off of things. But still, when the painful images of the last hours we spent together co…

Day One: Hello, Sadness

I only had twenty-four hours to see Mioseon and only six hours to discover that she was leaving me to go back home to South Korea. Somehow I wasn't surprised by her abrupt decision. I kind of expected it but I didn't want to believe it. Remorseful, regretful, sure, but not surprised. When she told me, I could still manage to breathe. When she slowly started running, that was the end of me. The next six hours was painful beyond words and feelings. I did not deserve to be dealt with that just yet. Not by her. Couldn't be.
It took me what little of what's left in my pride to beg her to stay. Think it over; think it through; handle this together; promise I'll do anything; whatever you want; I love you; have mercy; I'm dying. My desperation was reeking and my laughter slowly faded out. One by one, the person began to fade away as well. Only in my wildest dreams could I possibly imagine that such a moment like this would come. Exactly a year ago I began this journey…

It's over

Thursday turned out to be the shittiest day of my life ever. Nothing will ever be the same. Nothing will ever be forgiven.

Vel: Draft One

Still rough around the edges, needs proofreading and geographical critique. For now this is the first continent. I also have the draft for the second and third, but this one's just about good to go.

Throwback Thursday

I'm dying in anticipation for what's coming on Thursday. It's going to be special.
The flat is ready, my body is ready, -- my wallet isn't but what the hey -- and my mind's ready.

Move along

I finished eating a can of fish. Now I stink so bad, my fingers stink harder, no matter how much cranberry juice I drink. The fish leftovers are still beside me stinking as well, ironically, beside my cologne.

Jajjeungna

I've never had a panic attack. I had a panic attack. Now the panic attack is gone, and thank god I'm still alive.
One day of work; without Mioseon, everything seems more smooth. I never let the exterior burn me inside out, though. I still need her; she's just somewhere else right now doing what's necessary. Sometimes I wonder if this was all such a good idea to begin with, you know. So I work and spend less money, what of it? My happiness and sadness is her. That's the point. She makes me feel all these things. Life, my dear Watson.
Now I'm just a cage of emotions waiting for her to release it.
The weather is nice. Good grief. Now I need to travel sooner than later.

Figuring out if I am cut out for this show business a year after everything in my minutiae existence changed for something else much surreal than I imagined it to be

What a rush. It's been a year now. Times have changed dramatically since then. Too much to ponder and the memories are slowing fading. Green grass, Victoria station, my bags were topsy-turvy and barely made a modicum of sense, having chips in a middle of nowhere, thinking my death was inevitable, and finally Edinburgh.
It's another month for the Edinburgh Fringe. It was where it all began last year. I just finished my studies in LISPA, this and that, prior to leaving the flat. It was heartbreaking. My father was telling me how everything was monumentally fucked up and he couldn't save it for the both of us. I clenched my fist, the Olympics was coming, Chiara and Gianmaria gave me enough money to leave, and that was that. I left without any intention to come back. Fuck the visa, I said. Fuck it all.
I got to the coach station in Victoria and had zero idea what was in store. I had with me very few supplies to last a month. I had booked a flat a couple of days ago in advance…

Less than expected

No word from the half. I'm guessing they're on course to the newfoundlands somewhere by now. It's the first day of the month and just exactly what I'm waiting for for some time now. Scratch that debt when it's due, all that. By tomorrow I'll be out of here as you know it, when all's been said and done. Somewhere far away from all of this. Didn't think I'd miss the solstar, feeling blue and sick, rushing to fetch a glass of natural water by the quayside. I'm frightened now, and I miss it, and I miss them all.

Mace Tyrell

In a surprising turn of events, Mark Gatiss is not Mace Tyrell. I suppose now he will probably be either a Greyjoy or a Frey. Considering he is also doing Doctor Who and Sherlock, it's safe to assume that he'll probably play a one-off character, like Merrett Frey or Randyll Tarly. Giddy.
British actor Roger Ashton-Griffiths has been cast as Dame Diana Rigg's son, the bumbling fool, Mace Tyrell. This gives us another reason why the casting choice of the show is outstanding. He's a bit more than I expected as Mace, but he may be able to easily pull it off. He's not getting that many scenes though, that's for sure.

Phys

My two-week-old cough is now completely gone. That's one reason to smile.

Whatever sera

And on the third day, I had no idea what to do.
After spending two straight days travelling about here and there, I find myself trapped between losing something important and trying to prove a point. After Cambridge, and then Bicester, today was supposed to be Richmond Day. The closer ones always get the boot. Everyone's mood except me is neck-deep, and the only way to handle it was to hide beneath the comforts of my sheets.
Then there's the issue of the old flame. Business, she says. Joint business with me, she wants. I'm not really sure. I don't even have budget to begin with. This just sounds to me like a lame attempt at trolling. There's danger in us falling into each other's company, and I know it's wrong. I feel it's wrong. She was history and my present blossomed into serendipity. There's no other point.
Then I need to worry about Cotswolds for tomorrow. Maybe even Edinburgh. Friday has me working for one full day with Cora. All these have n…