Lazy from C-Z

Would there have been any easier way to say it, I would, but there really is not. I swam all the way back to square one. An inch farther from where I was when I had lost everything in a fell swoop. My only hope is to do this one better than the last time around. The whole process of spiritual recuperation really is as exhausting as I had imagined it to be. On top of that there is an uneasy feeling in the background that nothing is still tagged to end, meaning all that came before now has the potential to smack me right back in. Where I was, at my most miserable, but only this time this loss completely destroys me permanently. Wherever I go I fear the smell of rabbits, of bulls, and of stars, and anything resembling niceties. Nothing nice is ever really nice. Everything nice comes at a cost. I still stand tall, eager for the new, but scarred so very internally that the mere feeling of microrejection bites me hard, and it coils me into foetal, and wallowing into self-despair becomes my o...

To live, and to breathe, in the fortune of sadness, To die, in the solace of an old soul's another; To walk, in the shadow of someone else's heartbreak, And to struggle, when the moon chases for cold blood. Redemption comes to us all; but, for all of its glory, is only ever sweeter for the wicked.

1.               INT. ROSE'S HOUSE     -     NIGHT Five persons sit at the dinner table. The ambience is somewhat awkward and gloomy. ROSE sits beside her boyfriend THEO, her sister, ELISE, sits by herself across the table. Their father PETE sits at the head of the table, and his wife MORGAN on the other side of table. MORGAN The turkey should be ready by now. ELISE Don't worry about it, mum. I'll go take it myself. Elise walks over to the kitchen. ROSE Mum, dad, me and Theo have something to tell you. PETE ( chewing ) What is it? ROSE Theo and I... we're going to Madrid in spring next year. We're going to find a place of our own, find jobs. Well, I'm finding a job. Theo's already found one as a chef de partie in a restaurant, and I want to do something related to HR. MORGAN That... sounds amazing, Rose. A bit unexpected. Pete continues to eat, just staring, listening in. THEO Rose always wanted to go to Madrid. I can be blamed...

Time after time Nothing that I can do Knowing your ways and Loving your ways But not getting through at all For a bit, I had gotten used to the sky and its alluring blue. I had forgotten how it is to walk the earth, to toil, to sow, and for the past few days I had purposefully wanted to forget a lot of things, to lose myself once again to a fit of berserk. Some days I convince myself that this is worth it, and some days I tell myself it is all a fluke. In the cradle of this verdant external embrace, it had just been a sweet few days, but in the anxiety-ridden internal struggle of my heart, its rok had been eternal. I have never ever been more tired merely resting.  Day after day Leaving the past behind Coming to terms with Stitches and burns and Learning to fly again

The cold season has come. No longer will I be able to wear my flip flops out and about. Shame. I adore the chill of the wind, it burns. The walls in the watchtower of my senses beckon against the silence. "If I had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great and would suffice." I do have to hurry. There is a small meeting I have to do, and I must needs, at the very least, look the part. Why am I thinking of bulls? That's because rabbits are hideous beasts. All they do is multiply by the dozens and hop really fast. Bulls on the other hand are strength in one. Bulls are prohibited inside a china shop, but rabbits are welcomed, for they become feast. Bulls feast upon china, dancing to the tune of cling and clang. In three minutes I have to go. The thought of ice and bulls excite me. It has given me a whole new reason for being, renewed, and revitalised. I will be back again.

My shoulders throttle from the workload done in the previous evening's kitchen parade, and my stomach suffers from all of its endeavours. Today was as calm as a printed blue sky. I guess my life now revolves around dealing with the aftermath of the Rabbit Soiree, so work becomes my querida , and my mobile phone becomes the only source of my emotional bacchus, beholden to it now as I was then to the tether I once attached to the woman who now proudly flaunts having had betrayed me. It has been a few weeks since then... the day my life stood still amongst great circumstances. And in these new circumstances offer new potential and even greater risk of losing it all again to an ecstasy of cyclical patterns, most of which have already presented itself to me in my previous encounters. Getting older has its boons. You live and let live and you learn. I am become truth, and to others I can now provide inspiration, or a warning, or everything else in between, for I have had my fill of happi...

A bloodied angel lies roadside near Chiswick High Road just as I was walking past. The weary soul took no notice of me; its gaze locked shut on a faraway front, July weather and all. If only I can look away. The sheer amount of effort it takes to feign normality under strange circumstances allow me to dwell upon mine own weak determination. Five minutes I thought of nothing and dragged my feet forward heavily one after the other, and only finally then she was gone, out of sight. What strange circumstances would I have landed upon had I chosen to take a path clearly less taken. No soul in that moment would have stopped to think to notice. I did, if only for a while. Saving stray cherubs are no work for the likes of me. Certainly not me. Obviously not me. Leave the strange to the strangers.

Time has slowed me down drastically. I feel my mind slowly deteriorating with every ordeal, every heartache, every bad news the mainstream media is willing to construe as truth. Truth seems to be conflated with reality most of the time. These two concepts are not mutually exclusive, though the similarities are deceivingly very familiar. The situation at home is far from the ideal view I have of it. Miriam and I continue to have relatively minor squabbles over mundane tasks or experiences, albeit no cause for concern as our past infractions. Our challenges are mostly financial; me having to struggle being parsimonious while she struggles as usual to remain stingy. The only time I have ever gotten peeves over her spending was what I feel to be her struggles with smoking addiction. The constant need to supply herself with tobacco, purchasing a pack each and every time she visits the an off licence, at the risk of eventually running out and driving her to madness, while my advice fall to d...

It is a rather dull affair to bequeath our day-by-days to the uncharted new world of pandemia. Not long ago it was but a fleeting sentiment to want to be free; free from work, from responsibilities, free from the interference of external stimulus. Now the contrary is a rather permissibly more desirable outcome. This uncertainty offers us no reprieve. We still have to crawl somehow back to reality. And in so doing would punch us with the realisation that our woes have never parted ways, it resumes, accumulates over the absence of attention. The payback is intense. It is going to be a sordid affair, one that we had thought relinquished upon the onset of this persistent outbreak. If, by any chance, a miracle struck me down from where I currently sit  and bless me with redemption or solace, my gratitude, which has eluded me for the longest time now, would be most appreciated. It has taken a toll for the lot of us, and it is indeed so banal that my teeth gnash at the memory of it, sight...

Dear Miriam, Things may be very difficult for the both us at the moment, and I may not show it at all, but that doesn't change the fact that the foundation of our relationship remains steadfast in my heart. You did what you had to do, regardless of my feelings towards that. I do not wash myself of any wrongdoing. That was pretty much evident through our final interactions. I would love to apologise, although I very much doubt that means much now if at all. I wish you well and wish you nothing but the best. My days without you will be long, and it will remain longing for quite some time. You... were the best thing that came into my life. You completed me, you complemented me, and you wound me. Perhaps it was my fault all along, expecting too much from you for too soon. I failed you. But for every fail, together we both had ten times more success. Do not neglect that. Do not forget what made us special. We did not have much in common, for sure, but we didn't define our...

I failed her. Yet again. And now I am afeared all may be forever lost, for the second time for me now. Could not sleep. Thoughts flood my mind like a crashing wave, each sharper than the one previous. It hasn't been that long, but every minute already feels like a ten-tonne truck pounding on my membrane, waiting for solutions and answers, wanting regrets and misery to pass me by. There is no passing by with this. Not anymore. Miriam is gone. I think it's for good this time. I did something earlier today that I never would have done if it were otherwise. To open old wounds, not right now, I thought, but, I said to myself, to hell with it. It had been quite a long time, so I searched for Mioseon in Facebook hoping to peek at how her life had fared since we parted. At the beginning, I would have reckoned she would use the nom-de-plume that she previously used to totally distance herself from me, I suppose. A shame. Meeting Miriam had made me lose thoughts of her completel...

Both me and Miriam have now leveled up our lives a bit better and, let's just say, more economically stable than ever. I can not help but wonder though at what cost all of this is to our lives and will it all be worth it? The only reasonable explanation as to why I drove Miriam into this insanity was my own selfish desire for a better life for both of us, although there are times when I truly doubt my very own self-worth. I despise how this all came about, though to be sure, I am very thankful for the opportunity. It had been a rough patch for us both due to my incapability to provide my share of responsibilities in this relationship. Miriam is hard carrying us both for almost since she came here, and if it were someone else, I would have surely found myself kissing dust once more at a bushy hedge at Hyde Park, away from the prying eyes of the judgemental and temperamental hoi polloi and the likes. To think that most of the issues that plague me at most workplaces I have been ...

Some things in my life are doing really good right now; so good, it's suspect. I smell a tragedy brewing in the background; waiting, brewing, gesticulating. I am scared but I am ready. My holidays starting tomorrow will be quite something then, if nothing else. Actually, someone else's holidays of which I merely am riding with their coattails on. But the real story is how the development of absolutely nothing has become the motif of me all of a sudden. This is my third pilgrimage now. Once, when all was lost. Second, when thought of love was found. And, finally, when hope reigned me in after thinking all was lost. Of course, I am still that same old. It has been years long now since the first. I had to convince myself how terribly repetitive I really am. The joys of being mediocre at best.

Dark, darker, darkest, there is no difference. All hurts the same. Pain, everlasting, lingering. Pain, day and night. The hours are uncertain. Anything can happen now. Thinking about it hurts. Truth is unreliable. The romance is dead. My heart, it is lost. Unrecoverable, hateful, distrusting. Wishful, perhaps, but I have lost everything before and survived still. This one was special. So special. Embittered, the tip of my tongue tastes. The flavour of my life. Cuisine of kitchens unwanted. It burns, to the heart. I do not understand. I do not understand.

My important wishes always happen to fall on deaf ears, and now something really, really bad (that has already happened before) is happening to me again. Beneath all the charade of misleading coulrotic bliss is a sad sap of a man merely wanting a bit of trust from everyone around him. Yesterday's news was Mioseon all over again, and it has drained me of all strength. The worst really has come, and heaven knows I'm miserable now. So it goes without saying that the biggest tragedy I have ever undergone in my life is fighting for the life of my child whose face I will never see. The most perplexing event was having to beg over and over unknowingly oblivious to the fact that my words carry no weight at all. Mioseon had trapped me into a corner and made me complicit to a sin I tried very hard to disavow. Regardless, she had found a way, and judging from that experience, Miriam herself will submit me to the same torture all over again, guilty by association. For some reason ...

The wind was cold today, a Sunday, a proper start to September. We are within these months again. The road to the end of a very short year. A year for me where very little was accomplished. At the very least, compared to the previous one, this was a surprise blessing. Not without its challenges. Not without its pains. Miriam went to work an hour ago. We left each other at Starbucks after a mild break. I was trying to help her with the buses. She never seems to catch on with the intricacies of the public transportation. I let her know that the easiest (not necessarily the fastest) way to work is to take the 260 bus from across the street in our new place in East Acton and stop at the underground station in Shepherds Bush. From there, she can then take bus 94 going to Piccadilly Circus where she can easily walk to her workplace in Soho in about five minutes or so. She begged me to join her. I was still groggy and asleep at two in the afternoon. That seems to be our common waking...

Me sitting down in this room trying to write this piece is Dunkirk on wheels. The ticks and tocks of life going slow-motion and clockwise rotating beyond the control of mere clockhands, slowly spinning, spiralling, perhaps, out of grasp. I will never find solace for tonight's manic episodes, and I fear for the days beyond tomorrow; where I will end up, in what state would I be in, or how the game plays out, etc. The game with which plays over and over in my head. The game with which there is no winning nor losing. I will never know the truth, and probably it is best for me to keep these thoughts to myself. I have been in the past guilty of so many mistaken intuitions. The sky is darkening. No stars in the sky could mean rain, and that thought scares me so. The same rain that drenched my flesh from within the hedge I had taken for myself not too long ago. The same hedge from where I waited, and waited, and waited, and waited some more, for a miracle to happen. What if the mirac...

Voices of strange busybodies could be heard on the other side of the edifice. Elaine reckoned she recognised one of them. An old friend. Perhaps not necessarily a friend, or not technically a friend. A friend is a rare commodity for her these days. She could walk right past them and not blink an eye, but Elaine waited for a little bit more until the lot toned down. Having a group of opposites around her, poking her skin through their eyes, meticulously making sure she was an enabler who to them an abundant source of entertainment, was all the reason needed to convince herself to back away from the complexity of it all. Home is an awful lot more awful than this place though , Elaine thought, as she gripped her handbag tightly, hoping the ray of darkness from the moon would envelope her and shield her from the attention of the lonesome trail. "This would not have happened had you only listened to me, Elaine," complained Darco. "Half the people out there would skin us ...

It could be that if I had said no, my life would move on free from the cachinnations of random fury, but what seemed like a hopeless evening turned hopeful on the spot when the man on the other line asked her what I wanted to drink. Cocktails just are not my thing. They have never stirred a salivating thirst in me, but free is free and fireworks displays were promised upon purchase. So me and Andrea said yes. Was I happy that I stayed with them both? Hard to say. The Sunday roast we had dined a few moments ago had quickly digested, and then I was hungering for something else. I had zero expectations going in, only glad that I had found good pep. But good pep adds nothing to the occasion. I am unlike Mauritius over here, who appeared more predatory than a direwolf the first time I saw him emerge from the shadows in a separate hostel in Russell Square. It is my only deep regret of finding him again by coincidence staying here in Lord Southampton. It is really not in my best inte...

Bits and pieces of things long lost have started appearing out of nowhere all of a sudden. Memories of people, places, and thoughts associated with my belongings knock at the door waiting to be let in, never to be left on its own accord. I am to be the master puppeteer of this cerebral construct, of nightmares I wish were forgotten, of people I wish to rid all manner of associations with. Mother had surprised Miriam with a message for me. Of a very far-fetched idea on how to maximise my potential to become something which I totally am not. A preacher for a religion I have absolutely no faith of of all things. Perhaps as a way to once again fuck up and atone for the totality of my insufferable existence. Fortunately for me I now have total control of my destiny. Something of which has never brought me much satisfaction, in fairness, true, but still the freedom to be a clueless and monumental buffoon is much more satisfying than to be a scholar trapped in the confines of virility, p...