Lazy from C-Z

One time we were one She was both my moon and the sun Every day was for me fun Until one day she was gone;
He followed his heart Even though he tore hers apart What he did wasn't very smart He did not know where to start;
Sadness, it spoke hello Hello, hello, and off I go The trip I took to see her grow She slipped away, even though;
Three months trapped waiting Near her commiserating Days spent on love and hating Days against my brain debating;
One sun and the fun was gone; Our heart apart was no smart start; Hello, I go, I never grow though Waiting and commiserating Nothing worse than hating and debating.

I suck.

I had a dream.
A dream in medias res. The last five-minutes before fully awakening actually, so it's not technically medias. We were in a mall-like place, a grand Victoria Plaza, with beautiful girls, sisters, and some guys in this universe that I somehow knew, but all were faceless. Just people. A vivid dream with no clarity beyond the shapes and sizes. But I liked them, and they happened to like me back, and one of them appreciated me more than the others.
"It's nine," she said, referring to the time. We still have time. I have a gut instinct this one is calling for the movies. I could not for the life of me remember what film it was.
And so we hurried off to the back, running the roundabout until we reached it, and sadly there wasn't a lift to be found. It was just a huge leafy gazebo that are normally found in dreams, totally fake and pretentious. And so all of them ran again, towards the higher steps, the Wonderland-esque escalators and other snakey bits of…

People are always looking for things to endure. Suffering is mostly self-inflicted. Like a madman looking for a cure to dwarfism and hypertrophy. Mingling and meandering and spinning round and round. What would be fun is when the crows come to town for their annual hunt; destroying countless pigeons along the way, taking cigarette butts and ashes from our doorsteps, and chewing off the bones left from those cretins down at the back alley quay.
"We need some words from our sponsors," the high fisher said, in a raspy voice.
And all the dolphins leapt from the pond screaming NEVER! NEVER! NEVER! repeatedly until one of the speakers exploded from the sky, fell down into the giraffe's face, causing the lions to laugh hysterically.
"Bring in the man," said the high fisher, the raspiness now gone, becoming more sinister.
The man came out, gagged within an inch of his flesh, eyes bulged, and his teats intact for all to see. He was nothing more but a spectacle now for …

Week ago, Kate messaged. Invited me to a night out on a Wednesday night. It's been months since our last correspondence. I would have figured myself out of the equation by now. But there she was.
I missed it. Viewed it on the Thursday. The day after. Shrugged it off. Had a frolick with my rogue on retail. Couldn't call it fun because it had recently become a tedious routine. An obvious no choice, alternative. Couldn't even leave a word to Nina yet. Or Yeji. People that I miss most that I haven't seen in person. Fucking knobhead, I am.
Replied to Kate on the Monday. We sorted stuff out on the Tuesday, and met on Wednesday. Blues night, we thought.
Weeks and months came and went. This was my first social interaction in a long time. Body got knackered easily at the effort involved with commuting alone, hellish. No trousers available. It's been months, like I said. I don't even have clothes any longer. Had to snatch one that fits, however ghastly. Sky blue denims.…

Halfway through the month and I realise how much I despise November. November. I devoted my moustache to your demand. A demand unreciprocated, unappreciated. Same time last year, I considered my life forfeit, grasping straws, breathing rubble, hoping for a glimpse, an answer, mercy. And just now thoughts of her still linger by.
First year. How many years more to endure? It's all blank since then, embalmed back into irrelevance. No sincere happiness. Shallowest smiles swing some sunny Sunday. Sunny Sunday. Followed by a year of Holiday. The gloomiest of Sundays.
I can breathe. Waking up is improving by a nanometre. Fry trivia drive my day, source of smile, endless. Dirty as fuck, unkempt, with a whiff of unglamorous scent. Ass stuck to bed. The thought of separating from this cramp shithole of a bedroom makes my skin crawl in panic, head asplodes, joy turned to ashes. The outside world reminds me of a certain person. My mind screams AVOID. Everything in it reminds me of that. Wish…

Immersion @ Borean Tundra

I should have known by now how different my life would have been had I not laid my eyes upon you. Our first-chance meeting was serendipitous by nature and yet calamitous upon time. We should have known it would lead us both astray, and I can no longer move on in order to accept all of that which is wrought upon my soul.
When you walked outside of that door, I followed you to the very end until I can no longer, and yet as my tears rolled and as I begged for my final words to make you stay, you laughed in my face, walked to the opposite direction and didn't look back. I couldn't understand. The eighth of August was tattooed into me forever wrapped with all the pain and the rage. I fell down the steps, one by one, each step losing a part of me. My life would never be the same.
Pray for me, Artecia. You will always be dear to my heart. Pray to me as I would towards your future endeavours. Pray for me that I may not give in to devious thoughts, to juvenile instincts, to the whimsi…

Saturday Smile ®

I dig my toes into the sand. The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds strewn across the blue blanket. I wish to dig my own toes into that sand. I'm ready. I've been trying to prepare myself mentally for weeks on end now. Only that my body fails to push what my mind procrastinates to do. Now is as good a time as any to heal. The process of healing is long overdue.
Before my father left the country this past week, I realised now that I have two folding bicycles in possession. How ironic it is then that that's the case. I just want let go of a tear swelling up in my eye that just wouldn't let go, but it hesitates. There is no reason to do it. If a tear falls down in an empty forest and no one was there to see it fall, does it still fall?
Purpose. That was the intention the last time before the last time I was away. The last time I was away it was out of necessity. A mummer in a stranger's land: South Korea, where my joy turned to ashes and swallowed by a gaping pit of…

That is, if Floyd Mayweather, Jr. and company ends up co-owning the Los Angeles Clippers from the big bozo, Donald Sterling. It's like choosing to have a castration or a beheading. In the end, heads will roll.

\ [+] /
My grossly incandescent tips for you young souls:
Learn to die and laugh at yourself. Playing any Souls games with a bad temper will diminish your lifespan by 70%, and I'm not talking about your character.Always remember that dying is part of the game, but it's never the game's fault -- you die because you made a mistake. Learn from it, and don't blame the stupid controller or any of the mechanics of the game.Learn from the tutorial near the first bonfire. Do not skip it. Allocate 80% on offense, 20% on defence. Defence does not matter much when you die a lot anyway. Might as well bring the other down before it brings you down. It wouldn't matter a lot if you wear the starting armour set from beginning to end. Consider it more aesthetic than necessary. But consider a sturdy shield as part of the offence. This applies on all Souls games.Evading is better than blocking, but not always. Learning how to manoeuvre your movements to your advantage is a plus. On the…

Love.

There are contrails in the orange sky as I look out the window. It makes me contemplate for a moment. It seems to me that my reduction into the lowest form of depression has manifested itself quite rapidly, perhaps at the loss of purpose and love, as a result of the mundane things -- which were not mundane at all -- that I took for granted. My aggression towards the end sealed my fate, and now I am left barenaked to witness the gradual loss of my persona. I shudder to think of what lies ahead. All I want, all I still want, all that I have ever wanted, is a new purpose.
I cannot blame everything on Mioseon. That was on me. It was my biggest mistake. The things that I did, I did because I grew desperate. It consumed the totality of my being. From the moment that we met, I was sure that my life had begun, that that was it. My life found meaning and purpose. The joy and the pain eventually came, but I grew complacent. We were meant to be together, I thought. None of us could have anticip…

Baby steps. Tiny tiptoes coming from a grown boy. Pretentious cocksucker looking for a jive shave. Tomorrow is the first day out in a long while, as if the planet just lost its gift of sunshine. And don't mention anything about the sunshine, because there ain't got one when she's gone.
Despite the blunder I'm slowly surviving, finding and inching my way out from the misery. Whatever remained of the memories remain etched in history. Nothing too important, nothing too shabby. Just a pile of sadness waiting to erode, one-by-one because she's gone.
Westminster Pier. Make something happen. Birthdays come and pass. Little memories come and gone. New people, new sadness, new trauma.
I say, "Bring it on." 
No. The only cause of euphoria now is slow acceptance for this tragedy. I learnt to love and live the tears and pain. Her face inhibits my soul, and I know, it's really over. It's really fucking over. The hardest button I'd ever had to button. I&#…

Just came back from my visit, and here are some bloopers and non-bloopers that I personally have experienced:


Jjimjilbang: Nothing prepared me for what I had experienced. I did not know anything about it, nor was I familiar what was in store until someone told me you can spend a night there for cheap. As a foreigner, it was really intimidating and awkward. Every single time I make a mistake (like forgetting to remove shoes) was like a open grenade that I had just swallowed.What is it with Koreans (older women especially) and their tendency to shy away whenever a foreigner such as me passes by. I have experienced this every single day. Like, say, a flyer or a coupon handler in a street labours on with their work, and then all of a sudden act like I'm invisible whenever I pass by and decide outright that I have no need for their services. It goes on without saying that this also happens with other foreigners as well.Staring. Head to toe creepy fucking eyes making me turn my sixth se…

The clock rewinds, my pattern of sleep reverts. Ten to three I labour awake while everyone else fades. The other side of the planet serves their luncheons, enjoying a momentous date; smiles flicker with reflections coming from the fluorescent bulb; yellow and acidic, torturous and barbaric. A smile is worth a day's notice; a privilege that I can no longer afford. I wake up, blood pumping, to the beats of the pulse, "Where is she?" No longer to be seen, much harder to be felt. It felt as if all the remaining goodness in me had been torn asunder. Yes, the end is neigh, but the pain is eternal.
A broken-hearted man leaves no room to grow; the love we shared shall always remind.

Still here, alive, nothing works. I'd be lying if I say I'm moving on. Nothing moves on. I yearn and yearn. Constantly. I torture myself endlessly, banging my head on solid ground. Is it because I am so deeply in love with her? It's brutal, this love is. My love for her, I feel, is eternal. What was done was done, Amie. Nothing else matters, and I'd give up everything to be with her one last chance -- not that I haven't already -- and yet, all is seemingly lost. Lost like a falling petal in a forest with no one in sight. Like a bird caught swimming in a swamp, haunted by the ghouls of the arborical bogs that catches our hero unawares.

Any way the wind blows.
I've been dealt a strong hand here. Celebratory days affect me the most. It started with the fireworks festival in Busan. Halloween came and nothing. Pepero Day pierced me within me like a sod on a spike. If a corkscrew could tighten a grip over the situation between me and my life, I'd be drowned in a bottle of grape juice. Nothing prepared me for anything. Living spontaneously is a hit and miss. It went on until Christmas and New Year. I went home as a bottle of bitter tears clinging to the rage and hopes and fears that keep me alive.
Tomorrow is Valentines. What use is it now to worry about its significance. Pepero Day was the same. I remember the look upon the mother when she found me from behind the glass door. She was stressfully dialling for someone, I don't know who. But from then on, time slowly greased away from my grasp tenfold. Weeks passed without any update. I was left to rot without a chance to know why.
Tomorrow I wonder if on the o…

Apparently there isn't anything particularly of interest for me back here in London. It's been a week or two since my return and it hasn't contributed to my ever-improving feeling of longingness for that one person. I try to stir something in me, but so far nothing has helped. There is no sign of depression, only a weird sense of wanting to find a valuable friendship with someone, anyone. Nothing. And it seems to me that there is no sense of interest coming from the world to do just that. So I contribute to myself however way I can, making sure that my sanity stays intact for the remainder of my days.
I try not to think of the other party -- I'm pointing my finger at Mioseon -- but most of the time it only reminds me how much I still want an answer. The why to my now, and even though my rage is still fresh, some part of me still wants that sweet, masochistic hardship back into my life, while she now revels in an orgy of self-fulfilling happiness. She finally figured o…

We see our hero fall from grace He was ne'er happy in the first place He sits and loathes and kneads the pain He drives and feeds himself insane His love has flown away from him She left him cold as ice and dim She never even said goodbye She stole his phone without a why

Year-ender

Hampstead  

I woke up in a PC stall on the first day of January. Apparently I had been incapacitated the night before from a drunken stupor. I have no recollection of what had happened the night before, only that Rina and who I believe is Mischa brought me in there to rest. Atrocious. Back to reality. New year, new melancholy. What can I do now in this city? I only have two weeks remaining. Mioseon feels so far away.