Of thin lines

You know how sometimes you know you are not supposed to do something you're not supposed to. No, I'm not talking about murder, of theft, or any criminal offences like those. I'm talking bout reaction. Like how sometimes you're supposed not to make a comeback, and take some jokes as it is. Or sometimes you should be ashamed of somethings, instead of further glorifying it and make a nuisance out of myself.

Its not my way recently. Somtimes, i feel that i'm too caught up with my need to be me, that i feel perhaps a little too crazy, too wierd, even obnoxious at times. It is after all, a fine line, a fine line between eccentric and lunacy, between indie and wierd, between unique and different. And in my moments of eccentricity, my hours of madness, and my crazy days, i beg you all for your forgiveness, for perhaps a sentence too much, or an action too wierd, or a tad too noisy.

Thanks for your understanding, sorry for the inconvenience caused. And may my madness boil over soon.

Till next time.

[3 mins after the post] And i miss home for some sudden reason. and me mum.

Formspring

http://formspring.me/marquisDCarabas

Apparently this thing is pretty cool where you get to ask questions and i get to answer them. Created it as i continued my trend of creating something, probably not using it until more of my friends are on it, then start using it after quite some time. Like Facebook, or twitter, or even blogs for that matter.

So go on, shoot me a question. And no, No 'why is your stomach so big'.

till nxt time.

A year

Its a year now. more or less so anyway. Since everything started snowballing. Offers, ORD, everything. Was just reading through my posts from a year ago as i looked for inspiration, for something, A story perhaps. A song.

I need a drink, my friends. A drink with you guys.

2 songs.

Don't let the silence get you down
Though you've been sitting here for hours
Hoping a voice could soon be found that speaks much louder than this music

For you're a little off colour and out for the count
Don't let that get you down

Don't let the talking keep you up
If they're your friends they'll share your vision
And as the phone rings break the silence they don't figure out that you
Don't want to answer

For you're a little off colour and tired of the sound
Don't let it get you down

Don't let the people make you think that just because you're young you're useless
You know it's not naive to think that you can change the things around and that no man is an island

For I'd rather be a pebble in an ocean vast and drown alone
Than make no sound

-One more with feeling, GCWCF

Life is hard
And so am I
You'd better give me something
So I don't die
Novocaine for the soul
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
Life is white
And I am black
Jesus and his lawyer
Are coming back
Oh my darling
Will you be here
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
Guess who's living here with the great undead
This paint by numbers life is fucking with my head, once again
Life is good
And I feel great
Cuz mother says I was
A great mistake
Novocaine for the soul
You'd better give me something to fill the hole
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out

-Novocaine for the soul, Eels

I need time to either speed up or rewind. That was my conclusion after a great long borning day that was preceeded by a dream that was kinda screwed in a way.

You know how sometimes in dreams you could control what happens next and where everything is but somehow that whacked mind of yours have to make all the worst decisions possible. Like putting a maze in the middle of a road, or summoning a giant troll while you're trying to run and catch the train, or yet sometimes by simply refusing to wake up. But the worst of all, the very worst, is if the dreams decides to choose all the right things, all how things are supposed to be and should've been or would be. I had the same kind of dream once before, but unlike this time, i was not able to choose at that time. This time i could, and i chose all the wrong choices.

And perhaps yet again, its a sign.

Hopefully.

Till next time.

Thanks.

The beatles got it right, didn’t they. They said “I wanna hold your hand”. And there ain’t actually much else I wanna do.

I believe that we as human beings, are able to feel strong emotions across our physical limitations, beyond language and speech, across cultures, backgrounds and our varied histories. Feelings not of negativity, but of trust and belief, of holding another’s hand and knowing that she believes in your fully. Of knowing what trust she has behind that innocent smile. I admit, I do not understand what she was trying to say, nor what was she pointing at. She pointed at the house, was she asking me about my home? And she pointed at faces, was she asking me why do I look so different? And she pointed at my watch. Was she asking me how old am I, or how long will I be there for? Or could she be telling me to feel at home here, and that we are all the same, and that such things are timeless? I could never know. But what I do know is that moment when she grabbed my hand, I feel that immediate bond between us that transcended all our differences. That simple gesture of one’s hand in another, perhaps it's a physiological thing involving our nerve corpuscles and things like that, but yet perhaps it’s something soulful, something that shouts ‘We’re one’. There an unexplained bond there that I felt, something that made me wanna just hold on to her hand and just watch her point to me the wonders of her world. Of when she rode a horse, or when she worked in the garden and drew a painting, or when it was time to go home. Of the bright colours surrounding the room, or the different sounds that different objects make when she knock on them with her little hands, and of that smile, painted bright blue on a picture that made no sense to none other, shining forever in my memory. I do not have a picture, but hopefully your face would never fade from my memory. You’re wonderful, girl.

Thanks Greta. And yes. I Wanna hold your hand.

And that's not forgetting you too little Tiff. Thanks for showing me what painting is all about. The process and not the product. Until now, I still have no idea what are you trying to draw. Was that a rainbow that you couldn’t find enough colour to draw? Or was that the garden outside, with its brilliant hues of green painted on a background of brownish dirt? And those little shapes you made from that dough, are they sheep? Or are they snow? Or are they rocks you saw on the road? And then I turned, and I wonder, were those clouds? I’m still wondering, perhaps one day, you could tell me?

And I do not believe its your fault Tiff, for you and Alex shown me that its mine. With my so called knowledge and ‘normality’, things have became too solid for me, of lines and solid colours, that I could not recognize all the little things that made them what they are. Like it's the smiles that make us human, not proper shapes and faces or things like that. Like it's the ability to fly to make a rocket a rocket, not that it has wings or a giant exhaust and a pointed nose. Sometimes in our pursuit of greater heights, we forget the little things.

And Matt, could you please tell what what’s the story about? I see your fingers moving and your expression changing. It certainly looks interesting, I am genuinely interested in what are your fingers playing. Tell me won’t ya?

The four of you probably won’t get a chance to read or understand this. But let me say that I meant everything I wrote. And I wish you guys the best of luck in your futures. And may our futures cross paths again.

Just back from rural attachment. not actually back actually. sitting on the bus typing this making my way to southern cross. Foster has been a wonderful experience. Time past real fast there, i would definitely go back there if given the chance. Was at one point really affected by my visit to the specialist school, as i always am when i visit such places.

Till next time.

There are times where you feel that you need to do something that defines you over a period of time. Like performing at some awesome gig or scoring a perfect score at something, or be the hero of a winning team.

And there are times which are not like that.

Balancing on
One wounded wing
Circling the edge
Of the neverending
The best of the vanished marvels have gathered inside your door

More than begin
But less than forget
But spirits born
From the not happened yet
Gathering there
To pay off a debt brought back from the wars

We thought we lost you
We thought we lost you
We thought we lost you
Welcome back

Sleeping for years
Pick through what is left
Through the pieces that fell and rose from the depth
From the rainwater well
Deep as a secret nobody knows

Less than forget
But more than begun
These adventures in solitude never done
To the names of our wounds
We send the same blood back from the wars

We thought we lost you
We thought we lost you
We thought we lost you
It will all come back

I know you want to
Run far away from one more
And that it's coming at a bad time
Some cold place
Heartless ways
For all we know

I know you need to
Breathe through
Come back
Come too
But it's coming at a bad time
Tangled day
For all we know

I know you want to
Run far away from one more
And that's coming at a bad time
Some cold race
Heartless ways
For all we know

I know you want to
Breathe through
Come back
Come too
But it's coming at a bad time
Old scarred face
Survivor's guilt
For all we know

Adventures.

lol

Some call me a wagabond, and some say i'm a wigilante. As i striwe for wictory against the world against me at such a welocity.in this wacant wacuum we call humankind. I stand wanguished, a wagrant and a wagabond, a poor wapour of a man. But in this waricose wein of a wampid world, i know one day, i would be windicated and awenged, and then i will stand wenerable and inwincible.

enough of jokes about me not being able to pronouce the letter v.

wrong side.

There's a old saying about getting out of bed the wrong way or the wrong side or something on a particular day and that particular day turning out to be somewhat shitty. Well, those days are a dime a dozen since i came over here. Sure they're awesome days that i've been blogging about, but little shitty incidences have littered my life here.

like today. I woke up 15 mins late, not a damn much you say. but seeing i take 45 mins in the morning to get from half-awake drunkeness to full power rockstardom, 15 mins is a third of the time. After my ORD, i am now fully incapable of waking up and being battle ready in like 5 mins. I need my time to check soccernet, have my cup of coffee, and wander around the room and finally settle for my choice of breakfast crackers, and then to bathe, not the army wash down where i use one soap literally from head to toe. But to slowly and meticulously wash and ready each part of my body for the oncoming day. so 15mins wander, 15 mins breakfast and 15 mins bathe. waking up 15 mins late means i've to shave 5 mins off everything. which totally sucked. And to add to that, i have to sorta lose my watch today of all days. Granted, it may just be at rusdens, but yeah, in my 15-mins-too-early state in the morning, trying to recall where i took off my watch is of great difficulty.

What followed was running, searching, and more running. Which in this cold weather, resulted in me catching a cold. Which left me facing the dilemma whether to hack off my nose or to get a scapel and take out my whole respiratory system. Its only for that last remnant of logical thought despite its obvious hypoxia that stopped me from doing so.

And let's just say this is not the first time i 'woke up at the wrong side of the bed'.

How the hell i get off the wrong side when i there's only one side of my bed that i could get out from.

Damn i hate my nose.

And bloody crazy angmohs are blasting party music a couple of rooms away.

One more time i hear that 'break , break your heart' song, i'm going to get my knife and show them exactly that. lol.