Complexity is so simple

we all need something to work with. be it that little concern, that illusive look or that hello at the start of the day- we need something to work with. the concept of selfless giving escapes me. maybe it's all me but it's really hard to know if that person is interested or not if nothing is done. nothing stems from nothing, zero multiply by a million remains tragically zero. life is hard as it is, and to suppose and second guess really doesn't help at the end of the day. i have reiterated infra time and time again but i don't understand why things cannot be as simple as they get- or simply as good as it gets. more often than not, such things are obfuscated by emotional entanglements and unnecessary mind games. minus all these and we will have a bare enough understanding of the human-dating psyche. if life is supposed to be made exciting by all these intrusive elements, i will be made a better person without all these, thank you very much.

i stand saddened and heartened, with what i am presented with. as my dearest mich will know by now after a most sombering evening (i do apologise), too many things are being said. verbosity does spell that dearth of an action we should have taken if not hesistancy be that very devil of execution. and also just launch forward if the heart says yes. of course that in itself is idealism at its apogee. it's rather depressing that we are made cynics by the very age that we live in, when everything moves at internet speed and expectations are presupposed on the factum that since search is so simple, there must be someone better. when are we going to stop looking? when are we going to be satisfied with what fate presents? but really, we are mere humans eh? a perennial easy excuse out.

oh sandy rocks, like a bottle of divine rosso montalcino, she just gets better with age. and she's just pure 1997 with this album. bless that woman.

Etching Anniversaries

a day etched forever into the blood-stained, painful history of mankind, and i thought it an almost human obligation, to remember.

september eleventh, since the metaphysical and symbolic (of course the woefully obvious physical accounted for) collapse of the twin towers and its addendum damages at the pentagon and a pennsylvanian field, has taken on a life of its own. it became the mother of anniversaries where the hyperboles of pain, terror, evil and misery were dispensed at will and ever so readily. it became the day when evil started wearing a tudang and Machiavellian took on a Muslim middle name. this in turn evolved into a constant state of fear/suspicion, which today we still fight an unwinning war against, fuelled by a taken-for-granted-incompetent and naïvely-hegemonic bush presidency and people who are only philosophically boldened to challenge this. the inconveniences of flight check-ins are one thing but to be inconvenient with our should-be-brazen actions against a poor leadership cannot be condoned. the threat that evil might manifest itself again in the ugliest of human form is hardly a versimilitude but the threat of perpetual talk or taking actions not germane to our cause in defeating what we set out to defeat, is more potent.

why do people celebrate anniversaries? of course if they are felicitious occasions, i'm all up for it. but otherwise, it seems like a annual masochistic exercise to mentally hurt oneself into forcefully remembering that that painful day is here.

'oh this is the third year since i broke up with that thug';
'i've lost [insert formerly-adorned item] on the same day exactly one year ago';
'it's september eleventh today'.

before accusations are shot at me for being a blithe unsentimentalist, i'm all for sentiments and memories. but i guess i'm more private than most people are. we don't need the physical embodiment of this vigilanting of memories- the whole shebang is almost entirely unnecessary. i always believed that when one's at the apogee of calamitous sadness, tears do not properly enunciate the impact anymore. when one has energy to outwardly manifest this, it means the impact has not done its job. it should completely destroy you, till a point where it is almost impossible to breathe and your insides are wrecked and your mind a complete disarray that normal anatomical processes become redundant. i think that's happened to those who have lost someone at a gross tragedy as such. and combined with a complete bewilderment at something so incredibly nefarious could crash right into the human heart so effectively and with such haste, i would have thought that i, myself, would not feel more 'mere human' than this. sometimes i wonder why being humans and thus applying the common axiom of 'i'm only human', we're put through such gargantun emotions that proves so much bigger than life.

then i slap myself awake, and realise the faculties of hope, concern, spiritual anchors in the form of blind faith/religion and the ever-propounded concept of human love. as cliché as they come, these are things that make life that little bit better, and if managed properly they can indeed overcome plenty of hurdles that proved insurmountable. not forgetting they mitigate the effects of painful anniversaries. and alleviate the crumbling weight of the burden of ashes.