Sunday, 30 October 2016

And then...

Four hours and ticking and I cannot seem to be copacetic to the privacy of her suspicious absence. How could I be when frightening tremors had shook their country just earlier today? It has been quite common to read about earthquakes rocking Italy recently, and the more these events take place, the more people feel less surprised about the fatalities. At the moment, I can sit on this chair being bothered by Starbucks personnel every half an hour or so, waiting for updates of Miriam's whereabouts. Surely she would be safe. I suppose my fears always come back to bite me in my arse. This is a farcry from mine fears. Far be it from the truth, I will not let it tear me asunder. She will be back to me soon enough, and then it would not take long before she will be in my arms, singing praises of our love, beneath the starry sky and our duvet. There is this unusual feeling of dread knowing that tomorrow I will be once again immersed into a job that I do not love; a return to form; of being factotum. Also, I fear that I may have grown a little bit attached to the idea of me calling my hedge home. It sure feels to me that the more I spend nights there, the more I lose my sense of shame. When I had come back at six in the morning after spending the entire night watching the final showdown between SK Telecom T1 and Samsung Galaxy at Westfield Shepherds Bush, there was no ounce of discomfort felt within me, as if I should be, but I did not.

Regardless, now I should learn to love again. Miriam has come back, and I must needs entertain my principessa.

Friday, 28 October 2016

The unbearable lightness of the smell of myrrh

So the sun rose up and I had to awaken due to bladder issues outside my realm of control. There is no place any more hellish than being caught with your pants down on a park hedge while rangers are out there trimming it for the fast coming of winter. I had to budge my lazy butt when I overheard one said that he noticed someone living there. It would have made for an awkward conversation, one I could not for long want to suffer.

As usual I try to fight off the disease as I make my way to a cosy Starbucks near Holborn. The day went by so fast, and it so happened to be the second day I succumbed to surrender, having left my spot at a wonderful job opportunity in O2 Arena in Greenwich for more time with Esprit. It is as if our fate and tangled for quite some time. Mark had sent me a message earlier today congratulating me of a job well done last week. But the only highlight of my day was having Miriam and I tackle our anxieties right before our day-ender.

Most of the time before our late conversation was spent by me trying to avoid a fast conversation. It was as if I was trying to intentionally cause her guilt, which I always do with everyone. I have troubles vocalising my own temperament, and the pride of knowing I can take it all in takes over me like Hyde. We had exchanged sweet pleasantries, warm regards. I had even introduced her to the universe of Milan Kundera with l'Insostenibile Leggerezza dell'Essere. She happened to love it. But I was still troubled by the fear in me knowing that she can still fall off my grasp, and that sentiment became increasingly troublesome with each passing day until December. Reassuring Miriam of my love hopefully is enough to convince someone like her of something so fleeting of me. Last night, it was as if I was trying to let her go. Tonight it felt a reassurance that our potential still can reach above a high ceiling, if I manage to tuck away my insecurities and anxieties beneath a masquerade of jeers and japes.

Tomorrow my goal is redemption, and perhaps a draw of fresh experience, while inside Tate Modern for a late escapade.

Thursday, 27 October 2016

Certagruni, a history of, a worldbuilding project

The Benevoli were all still preoccupied by the news of death of the Lordfather when the children of Tulussa invaded Loppianeu. It was discovered that the Lordfather had secretly conspired with neighbour Poruscsh sometime in ca 00.9, successful in setting up a diplomatic truce wherein the much-awaited unification of Certagruni was at stake. A single cohesive nation of a united Certagruni would understandably put Tulussa on red alert, especially when not too long ago they had soured their relationship with Poruscsh by taking the Strait of Marus for themselves, a strategical point of contention that benefited Tolussa greatly by diminishing their former ally's strength. Poruscsh did not take this betrayal well, it seems.

No one can truly verify what was discussed during that clandestine sessions between the two biggest national rivals.

It was reported that when the Dux of Tulussa, Archibalt Sivi, had discovered this, he sent his recsons to assassinate the Lordfather of Loppianeu, three days before Tulussa unleashed the full might of her warsons upon the troubled archipelago. The Benevoli were able to withstand an overwhelming attack for merely two moons before every single one of them were extirpated. 

Poruscsh could only stand back and hear the word in passing of the massacre being done to their southern rival. They knew that an uncalled intervention only invited forth trouble.

"For now we are in no position to make any demands. Doom crawls upon our walls," said Proteus, Dux vitium of Poruscsh, announcing the fall of Loppianeu to his people, the other half of what was once Certagruni, an ancient imperial nation that gave birth to the contemporary ideology and dogma of Carthiticism. "We have gambled our liberty with the wrong side, and now I truly see the tragedy of it all."

The full occupation of Loppianeu lasted for four days despite the technological advancement of the Benevoli. In the end, Tulussa simply outmanned and outgunned them to oblivion. Poruscsh stood silent on the other side of the archipelago, wary of the development in the south.

It was not until four months later when the mages came from out of nowhere, bringing with them a behemoth of legend that gave Poruscsh a fighting drive, thus causing the war and birth of Certagrunivrun.

Testimony of Dastarioa, a worldbuilding project

The singing clouded my ears and I lost my sense of hearing the moment she rang the first bell. By the time the second bell sounded, I was on the floor bleeding from my ears. Everything around me was about to collapse. The world around me blurred little by little, and I felt as if this was my ultimate adieu. The third bell rang and I still lied stiff to the side. Another body fell in front of me. Could have smashed me to my end, but there seemed no rush. Everything slowed down. I no longer noticed the fourth bell sound. My entire senses caved in. But I knew all was lost.

Basangra has once again awakened.

The mages who earlier formed a huge turtle formation to counter our moorguards finally dissipated once the might of Basangra went into full throttle. No one was spared, not even those fools that summoned him from the portal whence he came from. The rest of the moorguards remained, fending the gargantuan beast all by themselves to no avail. It was a futile massacre. We were largely outmatched, and the mages took one home, eager to pursue the victory that they had been chasing for a long time.

  • excerpt written by Dastarioa, the only surviving moorguard during the Advent of Basangra, ca 00.8 (before crusades)

Wednesday, 26 October 2016

Con gli occhi chiusi

If I could just draw luck and find another job before December, my anxiety would decrease tenfold. Tomorrow I have another registration with a new company. Hospitality and the same shit, over and over, again and again. Sick to death with a machination that clearly does not work to my favour, paining me with early terminations in a month or so, not even giving me any benefit of doubt. I am no asset to anyone, only to a rare few, and even then once my ooze sets in, no one dares to step in. I truly am alone. This realisation is the first time I have ever felt so isolated. Miriam clearly does not deserve me.

I fear for a future that my scarred self allows to happen. All I wanted was a place to call my own. But I am through and through a villain. Modern necessities share with me the desire to put myself above all others. Given the chance, I would see the world burn and left to snigger, eyes closed, no guns needed.

Behind closed doors, across distant worlds, day to night, I will retake the light of my soul back, whether or not the darkness consumes me.

Monday, 24 October 2016

If only love can make me fly...

Fourteen hours of Esprit last night was a bit overkill for my mind and body. Today's soiree happened to be not such a blast after all. It was much too difficult to bounce my head around it with. My phone had died for more than half a day since, and tried to sleep it off within the confines of a public park hedge that I now call home. It was much of a tragedy for some time. For now I wonder what it would actually be like when shit finally reaches the fan a month from today. Where do I go and who do I turn to for help? Nobody except myself as always.

Miriam was with me once more. She is almost always with me as much as possible. Now I fear for my sanity again. To do the same mistakes as I did before. To live and die with one purpose and sticking by my weak mantra like a sore thumb with no direction and no worries in life. At the very least this woman makes me feel a very happy and lucky man, and sometimes I do ask myself whether I deserve such a painfully honest and loving heart. I was doomed by this same insecurity once before, and I will be damned if I let this win over me a second time. My world is in such a fragile state of affairs that even though I keep telling myself how copacetic I think I am or regardless of how I think about the state of my own existence, I remain grasping at straws with each step, and one wrong costs an awful lot more than a hundred rights. One day is all it takes. My worst enemy is my own self, and I have known this titbit for quite some time now.

While I went out to find a place to recharge myself and my electronic accessories, not much actually happened, save for being bothered by kids who know very little as I woke up from a very traumatic battery, suffered merely hours before, within my meagre hedge. I still had my look-good attire on while being homeless. Quite a contradiction if you ask me. But I was too tired to work up a mood, or even care a bit. Sleep to me has become a survival instinct that I could no longer even dream of losing my hedge even if it is proven to be inevitable. It has clung to me like the slugs that own the fucking soil and spoil me at night.

In a few I will be there once again, biting the cold, waiting for a spin doctor to talk me into believing it is my god-given right.

Friday, 21 October 2016

Beaten why for

There remained a lingering, springy pain from underneath my testicles that made standing up feel quite a chore. It has been two days now. An open wound that would just not heal, menacing me with every step.

No one gets it. I begin to stink and no one blinks an eye. No one tells me straight to my face how disgusting a human being I truly am. No, no one has the audacity. Cowards living under a safe rock.

So now that I have sorted out my bling, and so the situation calls for me to move forward and step ahead of the game. I need to earn more for the sake of whatever fuckery is on the way. A month left before the cue ticks reminding me of my interpersonal responsibilities. Miriam made sure that her libido is kept intact while mine floats all over the ba-dee-ya highway to the boulevard of broken dreams and anticlimactic disappointment. My sense of security is definitely out of loop as you see, but this is just my midlife dilemma blaring at a loudspeaker inside my head. Somehow if I could find a way to survive this excursion with Miriam in December, I will be free of this anxiety, and only then will I be able to freely open up myself to whatever. But until then my problem is primarily financial.

Most problems usually are. 

Bones made of love

Fancies were tickled, but no one actually bothered checking to see whether or not I would last another month under cold and miserable duress. The army of slugs were upon me day and night, as if my next day migraine was caused by a stray, microscopic infant slug who had lost its way. It saddens me to think my demise would be caused by an irreparable factor such as this. Perhaps it is a long shot, one that I am willing to ignore for now in order for me to enjoy what is left of my life outside the threat of constant paranoia.

I cannot even leave this McDonald's now. I have just consumed food once again without exercising in return. What form would my physical beside my countenance have in store for Miriam come December when she lands her gaze upon mine? It would be tremendously embarrassing. One that I hope to downplay for fear of disappointment. Once again I come across the threshold of falling in love like a maniac. A few weeks ago Miriam had told me of her brother's fears that I may end up being as such, a maniac. Well, it is not the first time I will exhibit such tendencies. But I digress, there is a fundamental requisite for me to rest, as my hedge of slugs await me with such vile contempt. There is something else that I need to do despite the fact that my failure in keeping arduous jobs remain constant. It is the only thing left that has remained the case; my short journey Ping Pong is the fifth or sixth in line with the same result in a span of, what, three months? Sweet Christmas.

I have fourteen minutes left before I forcepush myself to walk back to my hedgehome. By then it will be a short walk from the McDonald's across High Street Kensington station. The sky will soon melt back to milky white a few minutes from now. The darker it is when I get back, the better. My challenge is to push me away from the desire to partake in more sinful vices, such as wasteful cigarettes. It pains me to admit that my once pride has now been overtaken. It has already been a year, and I have stuck with very little gain. Mother help me. Homelessness is a cruel thing. If there ever was one thing I could not tell Miriam without cringing hard from the hardship, it would be this. Yes, yes, she likes me, and yes, yes, she would care less, but I have learned an awful lot in my relationship with Mioseon to know that honesty is careless abandon whose only intent is to sway us to a more preferable path. Honesty will bow to no man nor woman, much less if the intention to utilise it was mainly to sway favour towards yourself. Fuck honesty!

Three minutes left to go. Might as well get myself going. My head is beginning to spiral out of control. Tomorrow should provide me more time to spin my head even more with thoughts of December; what to do, where to go, and how to fucking live my life properly.

Thursday, 20 October 2016

And little by little

Work had been done in small doses. I now feel like a huge load had been lifted from my back. It is however never enough. That is life's greatest Catch-22. You get to do some work, have some life, and still you need to work more to have more life. Apparently one can only have so little in life before everything else implodes. We are all made with built-in time bombs after all to diminish the value of what we have done in our lives.

The road to mine is paved with wide indifference. Everyone else is too bothered about themselves to be bothered by mine. I have literally been living in a hedge for months now, and for what? For a chance to feel something better come December, when the thing that matters most actually culminates into something special. Miriam is a name that will become a household commodity, and I have moved on from the other M for quite some time now, which sickens me to think I have even bothered with it. I am imprisoned by my own past, and now I long for this new potential.

Search and destroy