tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31307772011-04-21T18:55:52.695-07:00new endingsi let go off the world that was holding, a passenger, that couldn't fly. In search of souls. Maybe, maybe... but we both wanted to find why the world wasn't glowing.jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comBlogger3711100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1118633725252195862005-06-12T20:34:00.000-07:002005-06-12T20:35:25.260-07:00flippant. schflippant. concupiscience.blogspot.comjonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1092535606601883532004-08-14T19:05:00.000-07:002004-08-14T19:06:46.600-07:00i've made a new cicrumvallation.
the new url is at http://voice-of.blogspot.com
jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1087139477360958842004-06-13T08:10:00.000-07:002004-06-13T08:11:17.360-07:00oh and for those of you who asked me to get msn, i have it now. go ahead and add.jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1087138230857834622004-06-13T07:45:00.000-07:002004-06-13T07:50:30.856-07:00myasma is dead. long live myasma.
I created 'myasma' as a concept to base this blog upon. but now i've realised that this concept has been stolen and mangled beyond recognition by cruel coincidence. as such, my blabberings no longer have any value (i started out hoping that they have some intrinsic value) and therefore, 'myasma' is now kitsch.
am looking for a new home soon. will let you all jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1086534796595314632004-06-06T07:46:00.000-07:002004-06-06T08:13:16.596-07:00dusk is saccharine.
crimson is tangy.
russet is piquant.
niveous is vanilla.
verdigris is sapid.
beryl is mellow.
and your voice is ambrosia.
jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1085762834181717982004-05-28T09:37:00.000-07:002004-05-28T09:47:14.180-07:00i played doctor for a day.
pushed my eyes in and splayed open my heart today.
but all i found
was three pounds of dust
and a dead bug.
there wasn't much room for thoughts anyway
because i made an indecision
about everything
and nothing.
there is a virus. somewhere.
microcosm of something diabolic. (i think.)
time never saves. it festers.
till your mind collapses in gangrene.
so i jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1084116401824911772004-05-09T08:26:00.000-07:002004-05-09T08:29:57.873-07:00the glitter on the Cimmerian void outside was just cheerless.
up, up, in the sky so high. stars shining there so bright.
why is it that elation and happiness, is always so fleeting? maybe you knew what you had wanted, but yet, time and circumstance never congealed anything into fruition. the slippery sands shifts and disappears between the cracks of your fingers and down into the earth.
a jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1083428787362261312004-05-01T09:26:00.000-07:002004-05-01T09:29:35.496-07:00why is it that some people are not always that sharp in their daily lives, but are superhumanly phantasmally omnipotently fast when running to the food queue, or away from artillery shells, leaving your poor comrades behind and your section I/C blown to bits when trying to evacuate an injured comrade?
xiang xing wo ba sin jia bo! (believe me, singapore!)
ha.
jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1079968073167448672004-03-22T07:07:00.000-08:002004-03-22T07:10:21.280-08:00the smoke on the mirrors: glacial frostings of belated exhalations of an acheronian heart. you blew on the glass, causing a frosted spot of warm breath to form on the frigid glass that was shockingly cold to touch, when you tried to finger paint a doodle in that warm, fuzzy spot.
and then it began to fade away, like wisps of light shredding away, enervating into the night that was as oppresive jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1079714835614362142004-03-19T08:47:00.000-08:002004-03-19T08:49:41.153-08:00threadbare edges of the evanascent day wisps past like blue smoke. that is the perfect time of the day where photographs and still frames coalesce. but it is frustrating when you are holding keys to which could not open any locks. and it is frustrating to play and rewind video tapes that you probably recognise, but only from dreams and not reality.
'erase and rewind.' you said.
but too often jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1078552681439794752004-03-05T21:58:00.000-08:002004-03-05T22:00:12.513-08:00change.
a scene in a living room. subject a is staring at the flickering static lines of the television. he glances up at the wall clock, and discovers that it was 3 a.m. or that he had been staring, without a clue to his destination or motive, for 5 hours. subject a feels like a half-eaten sandwich. a strange analogy, but subject a knew that he was in a strange mood. or was a strange person. jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1078068139116522992004-02-29T07:22:00.000-08:002004-02-29T07:24:25.140-08:00The Reason
I'm not a perfect person
As many things I wish I didn't do
But I continue learning
I never meant to do those things to you
And so I have to say before I go
That I just want you to know
I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
and the reason is you
I'm sorry that I hurt you
It's something I must live with everyday
And all the pain I put you jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1077637423623658712004-02-24T07:43:00.000-08:002004-02-28T05:43:49.810-08:00Hole in my head
It was a just a matter of the placement of circumstance. Pure coincidence. Nothing of the kismetic twist of fate whatever thingamagick. Still, questions are still left hanging and the doorways are still empty. Its 3 am, but where's the party?
'Who are you?' That is something that I cannot divulge to you immediately. And you probably know what is the logic behind that mystery. I jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1077075530419101952004-02-17T19:38:00.000-08:002004-03-08T23:44:11.560-08:00I'm still here.
I have a question to the world,
Not an answer to be heard.
All a moment that's held in your arms.
And what do you think you'd ever say?
I won't listen anyway…
You don't know me,
And I'll never be what you want me to be.
And what do you think you'd understand?
I'm a boy, not a man.
You can take me and throw me away.
And how can you learn what's never shown?
Yeah, you stand here jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1075654278283265112004-02-01T08:51:00.000-08:002004-02-05T08:31:55.216-08:00if only...
i know you heard that before. you catch yourself asking that two innocuous words. well, innocuous until they sharpen in front of your vision. what comes after that can only be expressed in a tortuous volvulous of your heart.
what if...
ruefully, or shamefully, you pick yourself up and dust yourself down. yeah, you're alright. maybe. maybe not. well, a smile can hide everything. but jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1075652595643225062004-02-01T08:23:00.000-08:002004-02-05T08:31:10.483-08:00on songs and poems
songs are the simplest synthesis of the most complex of thoughts
poems are the most complex synthesis of the simplest of thoughtsjonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1074788139357789392004-01-22T08:15:00.000-08:002004-01-22T08:17:07.356-08:00have you ever seen the new tv ads for singapore airlines? it boasts a classic line:
the singpapore girl. what a great way to fly.
i'm sure. reaaaaaally sure you can FLY them pretty well. FLY. together.
gees who the hell writes all these ads?jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1074787785943868042004-01-22T08:09:00.000-08:002004-01-22T08:11:14.013-08:00i think you remembered that it was just yesterday, though, it really wasn't, that you felt the sand sticking to your feet. you squatted down to build yourself the grandest of forts to guard yourself against... something. maybe it was the monsters under your bed. maybe it was that bully in the playground at lunchtime. maybe it was dad fueled on alcohol. whatever it was, you were terrified by it. jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1072623957077117912003-12-28T07:05:00.000-08:002003-12-28T07:07:00.450-08:00burying starseeds
corner of clark and kent
sometimes. no, actually all the time, i wonder what it is like to just light up a paper angel and just mull over acrid smoke and degenerate with vapid rumination. the momentous lift is like a funereal salvation; for a few seconds you felt invincible, and later, you falter into a crumbling heap of tears. the combination of both, with the full jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1072015078092182502003-12-21T05:57:00.000-08:002003-12-21T06:08:06.513-08:00Love
*Love* *Actually* *Is* *All* *Around* *Us*
It's just that
Probably
Fairy tales are just meant to be
Fairy tales
So the Love
We are left with
Is all
Hollow
Carnal
Self-indulgent:
And time stood
S T I L L
Nervous twitchings
Parallel corners of the eye
Freelance extemporised works
Of grandiloquent expressions
Of undying delcarations of love
Pale
jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1071414701267579412003-12-14T07:11:00.000-08:002003-12-14T07:12:30.716-08:00Not Waving but Drowning Revisited
I'm sorry i have to say this
But everytime I smile
And tell you everything is fine
I am faking it
(But I don't mean it)
You walk by the quagmire
And asked me whether I was swimming in it
You may remember
That I smiled and told you
That the water was fine
But those are not my words
Not mine
Someone else's
As you walk further away
You see me waving at you
And youjonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1070635816024871492003-12-05T06:50:00.000-08:002003-12-05T06:50:56.826-08:00maybe leaving the repressive iron-wrought gates would have been a much happier experience. instead, he found stepping through them and taking his place, like many others before him, made returning through the portals very inviting.
he thought he knew he was finally shedding old skins. old skins that would finally crumble and dissolve into nothingness, and leave them commited to a stale and jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1069769627831289002003-11-25T06:13:00.000-08:002003-11-25T06:16:16.200-08:00fall
sleets of gray falling from the saturated sky.
frosted exhalations on the cold glass.
migrating droplets on the outside.
draining moxie from the inside.
iwishiknewiwanttoknow
icravetobelieveitrusttobelieve
i hear
clean sheets (and a dirty mind).
Take my sorrow
Take my patience
In your eyes I surrender contagious
With clean sheets and a dirty mind.
endo(genous)
but desire is jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1069767350286108892003-11-25T05:35:00.000-08:002003-11-25T05:36:20.560-08:00i want a shotgun. i've been wanting one since pri 5. to shoot my head off.
but then again, i think i would shoot off yours first. haha.jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1069254425326798552003-11-19T07:07:00.000-08:002003-11-19T07:07:30.123-08:00eyes awake in pitch black darkness. but its still day.
... i think i made you up inside my head...
i think i did. i'm wearing out a lonely glow. threadbare to the edges and i'm still left wondering what i should have done; emotions are liars in the face of reality.
relations are by circumstance; there are no such things as kindred spirits. is it kismet? is it fate? its BS. it is the jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1067782643734151892003-11-02T06:17:00.000-08:002003-11-02T06:17:22.460-08:00Have you ever walked towards the telephone, hands trembling like being frostbitten and your heart cindering with every flow in your valves being so felt now and your mind reeling as if being blasted apart by a ray of epiphany and your emotions tumbling in a tumult and flying in all directions but at the same time so compressed within you that you could feel yourself imploding and you know that jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1067271008109439902003-10-27T08:10:00.000-08:002003-10-27T08:10:07.680-08:00he was waiting. there was not a mark of any outward temperament that was displayed upon his face, except that of one of a distant insouciance.
and then he swept into the room. he was pale, maybe deathly pale, but that was nothing hinting of that in that tall figure. no, he hinted of dreams. of chromatic visions of the sweetest icicle frosted cold clinquant sparkling shimmering radiance, of jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1066923944941600382003-10-23T08:45:00.000-07:002003-10-23T08:45:44.473-07:00talking about yourselves can be so dull
talking just talking creates a lull
talking not even anything real
talking just makes me feel *YAWN*
jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1066753122405946152003-10-21T09:18:00.000-07:002003-10-21T09:22:49.736-07:00It's a torture to expunge these bitter thoughts. Life in a monoculture of drab greyness, rooms with white-washed walls crumbling bits onto the black couch while you were sitting on it. The equivocal position of balancing precariously on the borders of not reacting and jumping up and grabbing things by the throat and throttle it to the death. Apocryphal; but undisputably nerve-rendering.
Amazing jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1066295377649138232003-10-16T02:09:00.000-07:002003-10-16T02:09:37.650-07:00These nights are saturnine; glacial breaths held in mild discomfort of the mind and severe despondency of the heart. Each measured beat of rhythm and clicks only brought sychronised agonies; throbbing, burning.
Exhalations wisped invisibly into the bitter air. Salt granules remained crystallised as swallowing became harder. Inflamed and raw; a gaping emptiness left in the maw. There was no jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1065887692742760142003-10-11T08:54:00.000-07:002003-10-11T09:04:27.223-07:00On parting
"Being grown up, is half as fun as growing up.... these were the best days of our lives."
jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1065191311347774972003-10-03T07:28:00.000-07:002003-10-03T07:28:31.226-07:00He placed his hands firmly on the wooden bench. Minutes ago he was smiling, chatting, happy, all at the same time. Minutes later his rampart of tears crumbled.
Diaphanous conversation invaded his porous skin and sapped him of his energy to perceive his surrondings. Words were no longer words; they merely drifted and flowed like sand from his mind. Images diminished into chromatic blotches. jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1064847334783735932003-09-29T07:55:00.000-07:002003-09-29T07:55:34.980-07:00i want to fall through the crack of the world.jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1064029882476311212003-09-19T20:51:00.000-07:002003-09-19T20:51:57.140-07:00Conference
We are waiting for you
We are looking out for you
Sometimes we miss you
I know, I know
Sometimes you miss us too
We have little to hide in truth
Palms on the chairs
In all our little angry chairs
Screaming and inflicting
Bleeding and behind-backs
If only we could all get up
From our chairs
Jester's smile will fade away
Flaming opals will turn tranquil again
But we are shaking in ourjonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1064028322811158532003-09-19T20:25:00.000-07:002003-09-19T20:25:22.583-07:00the world lost one important treasured sparkle of melancholy when Johnny Cash went. jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1063899600040160962003-09-18T08:40:00.000-07:002003-09-19T20:05:29.393-07:00Pictures of me, pictures of you. Pictures of matchstick men and women too.
All the bleeding backs, from too many knifewounds, magneta and maroon but invisible. It was as though all the heads were ignited at the same time and there was no way to stop the fire. Did we start the fire? Didn't we? Roles were assumed; whether those were natural ones we know not for there was too little coalescence to jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1063818192509890162003-09-17T10:03:00.000-07:002003-09-17T10:03:12.606-07:00What Kind of Girlfriend Are You?
-Perfect- You're the perfect girlfriend. Whichmeans you're rare or that you cheated :P You'rethe kind of chick that can hang out with yourboyfriend's friends and be silly. You don'tcare about presents or about going to fancyplaces. Hell, just hang out. You're just happybeing around your boyfriend.
What Kind of Girlfriend Are You? brought to you by Quizilla
jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1063817505108996922003-09-17T09:51:00.000-07:002003-09-17T09:51:44.506-07:00I'll give up when my sun rises down, as for now I can see I've become, one brief blinding glimpse of the sun.
jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1063816094834517832003-09-17T09:28:00.000-07:002003-09-17T09:28:14.570-07:00Which Pirates of the Carribean character are you?
You are Will Turner! You are madly in love withElizabeth Swann ans would do anything for her.You are an incredible blacksmith and swordsman,but you never really get the creadit youdeserve.
Which Pirates of the Carribean character are you? brought to you by
Quizilla
ha, at least i get the girl. well, on reel life...jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1063550740157385922003-09-14T07:45:00.000-07:002003-09-14T07:45:40.220-07:00pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls go listen to the Freddy vs. Jason soundtrack, buy it even. its in these numbskull-shattering 70mins of gut regurgitating moments that you feel that you are truly alive after coming out of that harrowing experience. i recommend that if you are really bored try slipknot's hilarious '97 demo Snap. they really sound like a blistering NSync snorting off a gargantuanjonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1063337862030403962003-09-11T20:37:00.000-07:002003-09-11T20:37:41.970-07:00note to self:watching little burning people fall from planes is fun. Really. I think.jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1063337444652193162003-09-11T20:30:00.000-07:002003-09-11T20:30:44.610-07:00Which one of Captain Jack Sparrow's bizarre sayings from Pirates of the Caribbean are you?
You are "Welcome to the Caribbean, love."You're more than a little world-weary, but alsointelligent and you keep your head when thingsget dodgy. You're everybody's favoritedrinking buddy, but your stubbornness does getin the way sometimes.
Which one of Captain Jack Sparrow's bizarre sayings from Pirates jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1063250264354801292003-09-10T20:17:00.000-07:002003-09-10T20:18:14.716-07:00"Where our culture is defined by the world's least refined..."
Maybe its a self-righteous vindication and self-indulgent crap, but local television really sucks. To the core. Even the China ones are better. The scripting, concepts, actors, everything. It's really gut wrenching to actually sit down and linger with local channels for more than 5 mins. The actors and actresses lack, really jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1063247745103670332003-09-10T19:35:00.000-07:002003-09-10T19:35:45.043-07:00note to HP fiction freak:
update your links, and stop reading literary porn. you will go blind, didn't your mama tell u that?
Skol. =)jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1062822085386474182003-09-05T21:21:00.000-07:002003-09-05T21:21:25.390-07:00depression is the better way out.
most people say that when someone's depressed, that someone has got issues with something or somebody or whatever. well, for the record, most people are also idiots.
your parents tell you that its not good to be depressed because it is not good for your soul. your parents are also the same people that tell you that you will go blind if you touch it too much.
jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1062338014670357712003-08-31T06:53:00.000-07:002003-08-31T06:56:16.733-07:00here's another. much cleaner fun, but then again, it just reminds you how things pretty much suck right now. and you wonder why i can't be bothered about ranting against politics, unlike some self-righteous pricks who piss and moan and swim in their own filth. balls to you.
Franco Un-American
I never thought about the universe, it made me feel small
Never thought about the problems of this jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1062301717206177732003-08-30T20:48:00.000-07:002003-08-30T20:50:44.943-07:00this is so damn funny...... dl it and listen!!! it's like some sick thought that always cling onto that stray synapse that is all black and rotten from disuse at the back of some guy's mind...
Stacy's Mom
Stacy's mom, has got it goin on
Stacy's mom, has got it goin on
Stacy's mom, has got it goin on
Stacy's mom, has got it goin on
Stacy can I come over
After school (after school)
We can hang jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1062056200346158592003-08-28T00:36:00.000-07:002003-08-28T00:38:44.286-07:00Which Harry Potter Characters are you the child of?
Which Harry Potter Characters Are You The Child Of? brought to you by Quizilla
uh. ok. jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1061888341374190902003-08-26T01:59:00.000-07:002003-08-26T19:53:26.013-07:00Asphodèle Jaune
The pyres of yesterday,
And the ashes of tomorrow.
Laburnum petals
Mellowed in its yellowed evil.
Starless and sombre shades
Wane into finality.
The king
Threw his leaden spear.
Saturninity;
Ochre leaves mark the exit highland.
The funeral marches on,
Pall bearers with yew handles.
He palms at the window.
Jaded is not a word.
Radiance? Cherry-red and lifeless
Mirth. "I wishjonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1061570986696536382003-08-22T09:49:00.000-07:002003-08-23T09:22:00.500-07:00"Would it have been better if destiny was actually interwoven, that fates would collide and explode into a supernova of joy, or anguish?"
He pushed open the glass doors that were opaque from the frigid temperature inside. At once he wished he was amphibial; the coldness of the new surrondings was biting and gnawing edges off his heart. But at least, he would have a warm mug of coffee to nurse asjonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1061377505315693432003-08-20T04:05:00.000-07:002003-08-20T04:05:05.306-07:00a metal stork took my neice here today. as i enter the door she toddles to me, grinning and gurgling. oddly enough, i have only seen her once before this. her sheer curiosity is remarkable, following me everywhere, cooing happily as i went around the house and touching everything in sight, trying to topple my CD tower etc. almost like a excited puppy, though of course, much cuter. and i only jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1060963600863480262003-08-15T09:06:00.000-07:002003-08-15T09:11:01.223-07:00if only, david, that everyone in the world shares the same view as you. i couldn't agree more with what you said. love is indeed an emotional dumpster. another black hole to focus all our hideous egotistics, channeling deep within for a glimpse of self-glory, self-assertion. and what comes out of it is just fuel to our maniacal ego. sometimes i really wish that people do hold mirrors on their jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1060784667242914082003-08-13T07:24:00.000-07:002003-08-13T07:29:41.753-07:00"Some dreams are different. Most dreams are a tangle of things: foreground and background, subject and object. I once had a dream in which I was chasing a mad clown around Saint Patrick's Cathedral, which was also my old high school. And after a while I was the clown they were chasing."
jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1060784394703614732003-08-13T07:19:00.000-07:002003-08-13T07:24:42.190-07:00"Well that's it. I've had enough."
He got up and swiped his jacket off the couch. Dusting the white speckles that clinged to his corduroy pants, he looked up and angled his face in a position to my eyes that made shadows descend upon his left brow and cheeks. Those shadows were reminders of his leonine self moments ago, caged and agitated, his claws sheathed. I never knew whether they were jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1060362578702834732003-08-08T10:09:00.000-07:002003-08-08T10:11:31.696-07:00its been a very long time since i actually remember any of my dreams, and i am referring to the literal ones that you get when your are no longer cognizant of your surrondings and your mind is in a locked stasis for that time period, running on a tape track that is recorded by often misrepresented pieces of reality. not those airy fairy ones 'ooh i wish...' and all that whatever. i might be jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1060061006892987102003-08-04T22:23:00.000-07:002003-08-04T22:23:26.896-07:00Things need not have happened to be true. Tales and dreams are the shadow truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot.
-- Dream
i find that it is a depressing thing to be ill. your mind swims and meanders across tortuous bends of distant dreams and memories that could have been true, or could have been a hoax. and this is especially so when you are all along sitting jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1060057594690052852003-08-04T21:26:00.000-07:002003-08-04T21:26:34.670-07:00what do you call a hundred white men with sticks chasing a black man?
the PGA.jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1060056728769034532003-08-04T21:12:00.000-07:002003-08-04T21:12:08.816-07:00whoever heard of someone getting sick on his birthday. bleaurgh. this sucks.
And when they sang the last lines of the song, "Happy birthday... to you...!" Holmes gave a gurgling sound, holding his hand to his chest. With eyes bluging and bloodshot he pitched forward into the birthday cake and never got up again.jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1060055994003700582003-08-04T20:59:00.000-07:002003-08-04T21:07:26.446-07:00Which Crispin Glover character are you?
Thin Man (Charlies Angels)
Which Crispin Glover character are you? brought to you by Quizilla
ha, this is rich...
jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1059753050859432532003-08-01T08:50:00.000-07:002003-08-01T08:50:50.913-07:00the monotony is just banausic; its just so magnificently sombre that days feel like seasons of mists. i've been threading water all this while but everywhere i look, everyone is just dressed in that same, unending tenebrific blah. every figure is just another xeroxed version of each other, leaving carbon dust trials in its wake. it just makes me feel like a pall bearer at the funeral of hearts, jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1059749632111904202003-08-01T07:53:00.000-07:002003-08-01T07:53:52.140-07:00why those long faces. i never expect faceless people to actually bother with other's opinions. i mean, they don't seem to give a damn what criticisms they get; like having ducks' backs. after that they could just smile again and give snorting hooting giggles about those who were honest, albeit brutually, with them. i am faceless myself, and i take those criticisms gladly, because they are true. jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1059190392831515692003-07-25T20:33:00.000-07:002003-07-25T20:33:37.920-07:00damn you, talib. i got two CDs from him, Cold's 13 ways to bleed on stage and Spineshank's new release Self destructive pattern, and now I feel like killing myself. Damn you Talib! =)jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1058787288778335342003-07-21T04:34:00.000-07:002003-07-21T04:34:48.760-07:00Damaged
You realise
It's all gone awry
The dead lies open not buried
You smile
Smug and condescending
I hope you're as happy as you're pretending
It's an episode of Dismissed
Your scene gathers a mist
Cover-up for mistakes and loneliness
You collect safety safetly in your shell
Weakness none can tell
Insomniac dreams for the drearily jaded
Cosmetics, kinetics,
You're a pretty sight
Mechanicsjonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1058676628287570882003-07-19T21:50:00.000-07:002003-07-19T22:13:28.826-07:00thats where you are wrong, pak. It isn't only drum beats and the riffs that make a song, it is the total feel that you get when you listen to it, whether it is a feel-good warmth or snugness you get or the blazing murderous rage or the ashen melancholy or the blissful blithe or the despondent maudlin or the insidious daggers that you get from a song. i mean, if its only the drum beats or riff jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1058675233653554722003-07-19T21:27:00.000-07:002003-07-19T21:27:13.683-07:00FINALLY...... I spent the whole afternoon of yesterday to do this and also this morning. bleaurgh i'm such a hopeless html idiot.jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1057933966729441292003-07-11T07:32:00.000-07:002003-07-11T07:32:46.746-07:00Sick Cycle Carousel
If shame had a face I think it would kind of look like mine
If it had a home would it be my eyes
Would you believe me if I said I am tired of this
Now here we go one more time
When will this end it goes on and on
And over and over and over again
Keep spinning around I know it won't stop
Till I step down from this for good
I tried to climb your steps I tried to chase you jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1057847527679096662003-07-10T07:32:00.000-07:002003-07-10T07:32:07.636-07:00A coin would seem extremly ordinary to many people. Well, indeed on the surface it might be. It is a form of a monetary credit, and its denomination minted on its surface determinds its value in people's eyes. But that is on the surface. All we do, whenever we pick a coin and place it on our palms, would read the monetary value of the coin and then spend it. What is on the underside of the coin? jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1057761367417860122003-07-09T07:36:00.000-07:002003-07-09T07:36:07.363-07:00Which class at Hogwarts would you excel at?
You excel at Defense Against the Dark Arts. Whichis really good because who knows when you'llrun into that disgruntle troll or banshee goingthrough menopause.
Which Class at Hogwarts Would You Excel at? brought to you by Quizilla
jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1056882591880475792003-06-29T03:29:00.000-07:002003-06-29T03:29:51.866-07:00The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to Purgatory!Here is how you matched up against all the levels:LevelScorePurgatory (Repenting Believers)Very HighLevel 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)HighLevel 2 (Lustful)LowLevel 3 (Gluttonous)ModerateLevel 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)ModerateLevel 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)LowLevel 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)Very LowLevel 7 (Violent)ModerateLevel 8- the jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1056882172854686812003-06-29T03:22:00.000-07:002003-06-29T03:22:52.863-07:00Which endless are you?
Dream, the third of The Endless, you are in chargeof the Dreaming, all imagination andcreativity, everyone knows your beautifulrealm, but none truly understand it. You aredark and brooding, creative, and spend a lot oftime by yourself, just thinking. You are almostas serious as Destiny, but not quite. Everyoneis enchanted by you, but you keep them all at adistance, even jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1056611353304897272003-06-26T00:09:00.000-07:002003-06-26T00:12:14.403-07:00What Matrix persona are you?
You are Persephone, from "The Matrix."Tough cookie, you are, yet there are strains ofsadness and desire that lie beneath you- ofcourse, you wouldn't want anyone to know.You're too busy putting up a facade.
What Matrix Persona Are You? brought to you by Quizilla
... what. why not the merovigian, or agent smith? why am i mostly the girl in such quizzes?
jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1056611050104746452003-06-26T00:04:00.000-07:002003-06-26T00:04:10.063-07:00Which infamous criminal are you?
You are Vlad the Impaler. The man behind the legendof Dracula. You hanged your victims, stretchedthem on the rack, burned them at the stake,boiled them alive, but mostly impaled them.Most of your killings were politically targetedbut sometimes you killed just because you werebored. Your "reign of terror" lastedfrom 1456 to 1462. Estimated numbers of victimsvary jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1056597048240546872003-06-25T20:10:00.000-07:002003-06-25T20:10:48.326-07:00Which chinese symbol are you?
SPIRIT is your chinese symbol!
What Chinese Symbol Are You? brought to you by Quizilla
thank you, but 'jonah' will suffice.
jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1056596968028442202003-06-25T20:09:00.000-07:002003-06-25T20:09:28.063-07:00which amazing piece of literature are you?
you are "the perks of being a wallflower"by stephen chbosky.
which amazing piece of literature are you? brought to you by Quizilla
haha... how apt!
jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1056523391386077852003-06-24T23:43:00.000-07:002003-06-24T23:43:11.336-07:00Blogs are letters to your own self. Every revisit is an awakening of sleeping ghosts that either haunt, or are simply unrecognised and forgotten because they are just past reminders of the life that you have had. Every new entry is a declaration of a new beginning, a chromatic explosion of nievous light that is of both an epiphany and a rebirth. Every entry is a conversation in solitare, jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1056035314157085382003-06-19T08:08:00.000-07:002003-06-19T08:08:34.190-07:00If I had the time and freedom I would collect jars of water from anywhere, taps, sinks, drains, rain, and just put there right at my window sill.
I would just the jars open, and watch them day and night, when I get the chance to do so. I would be able to witness the waters turning greyish-greenish stale. I would be able to witness tiny black dots fulminating in the containers, bubbling with jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1055753704888306082003-06-16T01:55:00.000-07:002003-06-16T01:55:04.916-07:00Which Ivy League Univiersity is right for you?
Brown
Don't worry. The real world is not for everyone,and since you can afford to avoid it, why don'tyou? Smoke a little, draw a little, make alittle love, sing a little song... You'll joina fine tradition of Brown graduates who end upfinding themselves... forever.
Which Ivy League University is right for YOU? brought to you by Quizilla
Alright!! jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1055340902932688852003-06-11T07:15:00.000-07:002003-06-11T07:15:03.010-07:00I hate everything about you.
Everytime I turn to look at you I feel nothing but seething and cindering and exploding and imploding thoughts, trailing down my mind like daggers stuck in their sheaths wielded shut. Yes, I am powerless to resist what you may bring me, be it satisfaction or devastation. Even in that antediluvian locket lies a secret that is told, of hope, of dreams, of yearning, of jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1055336909086514612003-06-11T06:08:00.000-07:002003-06-11T06:08:29.110-07:00yep, stuck here while my friends and their friends and their friends and their friends go ahead and enjoy themselves and drink and be merry while i'm stuck here typing this post. sorry gaston...... really bad timing for me. sigh. i hate my life.
in other news i've taken up drinking again. you can't keep a dead man down if he wants to get up again. jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1054955855371415912003-06-06T20:17:00.000-07:002003-06-06T20:17:35.340-07:00Spin
I think I found my way back
Here
Those words that was said to me
And those unspoken
Here
I think I have clarity now
Here
In my head, as I lie, in comfort
Sleeping awake
Here
And everyday it comes around
And everything spins around
At everytime it comes around
When everyone is just around
I saw the egg-timer froze and I sat
There
Simmering and marinating in the stew
I loved the flavour jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1054953603255877052003-06-06T19:40:00.000-07:002003-06-06T19:40:03.216-07:00thats it... from today onwards, i am giving up drinking. its way too depressing.jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1054886119826566852003-06-06T00:55:00.000-07:002003-06-06T00:55:19.846-07:00whew. got my stuff back. yay.jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1054821555786883602003-06-05T06:59:00.000-07:002003-06-05T06:59:15.803-07:00argh. i hate the new blogger!! lost all my archives!jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-1054821085150744992003-06-05T06:51:00.000-07:002003-06-05T06:51:25.170-07:00Looking
When it comes down
To a day in a thousand
You will be looking
And wondering
Just what all this was for
You could sense it
Smelled the scent
Miles away
As your chance drew close to you
Was it inertia
Or was it cowardice
No matter it was the same
You missed it
Million miles away
You're left cursing your luck
Cruelty of fate
Magick of chance
You could have siezed
The opening
No jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-952764162003-06-04T02:12:00.000-07:002003-06-04T02:12:32.810-07:00gees u ask ur friend to relax because he's not having fun at school, and then some others jump on at that line thinking that it referred to them. poor gaston, and now, poor me. haha. jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-948594232003-05-25T06:53:00.000-07:002003-05-25T06:53:43.913-07:00think of this way. its like their monochrome lives are so monotonous that they bitch and whine about things, including you, to make their own lives colourful once a while. =)
relax. jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-948490022003-05-24T21:22:00.000-07:002003-05-24T21:22:58.120-07:00Sleep
Time stalls
Whenever it comes
Darkness falls
Whatever the outcome
Even though you broke the door
Its like you
Crashing out through the front door
When I left the back door
Open for you
I'm left wondering
What all this is for
I heard
Those little words
And saw
The little signs
Whenever I open up my eyes
I wish I never saw daylight
Again
Leave through the backdoor
I want to sleep
I want jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-948483792003-05-24T21:01:00.000-07:002003-05-24T21:01:57.480-07:00its the bloody english, ben. topman came from uk.
makes you less desiring to become english then, eh? =)jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-944424732003-05-16T04:06:00.000-07:002003-05-16T04:06:11.203-07:00you know whats wrong these days? everyone thinks that they themselves are right. its no use being idealistic thinking that things can change. question is, will things change, even if you try? and, maybe, if you change yourself, then people may stand up and notice and follow suit. but nah, everyone is too self-righteous these days. 'everybody else's gotta change.' well, what about you? maybe, in jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-944422432003-05-16T03:57:00.000-07:002003-05-16T03:57:05.953-07:00OUCH. I can't possibly feel the same amount of pain as you 2 would, but, well, i know, its a real big ouch.
It's a nice little depressing world, isn't it?jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-943891132003-05-15T06:51:00.000-07:002003-05-15T06:51:06.430-07:00i rather be realistic. i mean, nothing wrong with being idealistic, but really do you want to be hurt all the time? i'm too tired to idealise anything 'cos nothing falls into place if i do.
"... but that's life. Learn to expect less."jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-943889992003-05-15T06:48:00.000-07:002003-05-15T06:48:50.396-07:00my my, what a dream
my my, what a dream
but oh, my, what an end!
and thats it. end of the road, truncated so abruptly. sitting back ruefully nursing damaged pride, i'm still glad i got to try, at least. jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-942655672003-05-13T07:19:00.000-07:002003-05-13T07:19:59.093-07:00rubbish man, love is always conditional. love is an exchangable commodity, just like money or a hot bod or charisma or sex. stop being so idealistic and walk on solid ground.
in other news, i wonder why i got picked in the first place. if i wasn't good enough then don't pick me! don't leave me just hanging there, its really unpleasant. i feel really stupid, can start but can't finish. sigh. jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-938552832003-05-06T04:11:00.000-07:002003-05-06T04:11:14.966-07:00I've heard blistering algid tales of self-regard, those of misanthropic melancholy in which the protagonist leaps at the sky with a rusty dagger in hopes of tearing the canopy, making his final mark in the tapestry of free-will and fate, before failing and plunging into the Cimmerian darkness 20,000 leagues below and explode into a nova of prismatic chromatic purity. These little shards are jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-938538452003-05-06T03:22:00.000-07:002003-05-06T03:22:12.503-07:00ok fine the sun is still grey so is christmas so is tomorrow so is two hundred and sixty-nine seconds from now. but my head is still spinning. argh.jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-938537522003-05-06T03:18:00.000-07:002003-05-06T03:18:39.126-07:00i must apologise, at least to myself, that i post so many song lyrics and write nothing substantial of my own. ah well. maybe i will ruminate more when the sun's not so grey anymore.
jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-938532052003-05-06T02:56:00.000-07:002003-05-06T03:03:14.000-07:00Pinch Me
It’s the perfect time of year
Somewhere far away from here
I feel fine enough I guess
Considering everything’s a mess
There’s a restaurant down the street
Where hungry people like to eat
I could walk, but I’ll just drive
It’s colder than it looks outside
It’s like a dream you try to remember but it’s gone
Then you try to scream but it only comes out as a yawn
When you try to jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-938530362003-05-06T02:50:00.000-07:002003-05-06T03:02:31.000-07:00Become what you hate
I thought I found someone
I thought I had something I could trust
I still can't believe what happened
It's not that you lied to us
It's not that our friendship was a front
It's just that I can't see the real in you
Yeah for years I was afraid
Now I can finally say
That I'm afraid that you've become
Everything that you had hated
I'm waiting
For this to blow awayjonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-934570642003-04-29T03:29:00.000-07:002003-04-29T03:29:00.143-07:00*bitch* *whine* *gripe* *moan* *piss* *bleat*
there. jonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130777.post-929773942003-04-21T04:42:00.000-07:002003-04-21T04:42:22.106-07:00Faded Endearment
Well, its gone
I seemed to have misplaced it, but then
Feels like it wasn't even there before
So, that's all
Never knew what, how it was going to be
But, was it there to start off
I can't tell
But I can tell you one thing for sure
That its gone forever
And I'm turning my back
Never never
Looking backjonahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03270107352845381595noreply@blogger.com