Stuff that might interest you more than this post:
(Two posts for a day is too much. Ugh. Fuck this.)
Specs[iii][ ii][ i]. Everything might be a work of fiction. This is fiction. Sad.
Fourth of the Spectacles
My lenses are windshields under the harsh, merciless, inconsiderate splashes of a tempest that comes not just from my core but from the wrath of the heavens, further blurring my vision whether it is day or most when it is night. Like the temperature that was once humid or muggy leaving an icky dampened feeling on the skin and an oily haggardness on the faces with smiles borne out of stars and hearts despite the stress and unwanted heat, you turn cold.
The sudden turn was a pang not just in the ego but also in the worlds that we are to create, or conquer had they been created. Worlds that expect us to either create or conquer them. Or, maybe, I am daydreaming. I was daydreaming. There were no spectacles. There was just me and my yearning for the point where our eyes shall meet after our foresight and insight and hindsight breaks through the barriers, ie, our spectacles. For now, it seems like our line of sight are parallel lines. Hoping for parallel lines to intersect is no different from praying to mainstream gods.
Fete vs. Falcon
I have been having second thoughts since yesterday whether I'll brave Falcon for Fete de la Musique. You on the other hand could have been having no thoughts anymore about going or not because-- Even Fete herself has been bothered by Falcon. There are even rumours of an adjustment with regards to venue due to legal shiznit. Weird how legal whatsoevers matter more than the weather disturbance named after a ...bird. Well, he proved his being a bird, or a dick by flapping his wings so hard that a lot of weekend events and gettogethers and bondings and other such type of warmth are cancelled. Cold. Cold is the new black. Cold treatment. Harsh. [News said he'd stop being a dick in a while, tho.]
Or, maybe, I'm just thinking too much of things I should not be thinking about, hence I shouldn't write about or disclose. But, also, remember that you are here because you chose to be here. I am not shoving blog entries such as this up your throat--as I have begun not posting "series" (or, to euphemize, "bullshit teenage-angst rant that wouldn't accomplish anything or reach anyone or satisfy any need of anyone but my need to vent out, motherfuckers") even on my personal accounts in social networking sites that fuck the hell out of me most of the time. That is all. Ending this post during a gloomy, rainy day with--