ALLWEWANTISAHEADRUSHALLWEWANTIS
TOGETOUTOFOURSKINFORAWHILE
we have nothing to lose because we don't have
anything anything we want anyway...
WEUSEDTOHATEPEOPLENOWWEJUSTMAKE
FUNOFTHEMIT'SMOREEFFECTIVETHATWAY
we don't live we just scratch on day to day
WITHNOTHINGBUTMATCHBOOKSANDSARCASM
INOURPOCKETSANDALLWEAREWAITINGFORISFOR
SOMETHINGWORTHWAITINGFORLET'SADMIT
AMERICAGETSTHECELEBRITIESWEDESERVE
let's stop saying "don't quote me" becuase if no one quotes you you probably haven't said a thing worth saying
WENEEDSOMETHINGTOKILLTHEPAINOFALLTHAT
NOTHINGINSIDEWEALLJUSTWANTTODIEALITTLEBIT
we fear that pop-culture is the only culture we're ever going to have we want to stop reading magazines stop watching tv stop caring about hollywood but we're addicted to the things we hate we don't run washington and no one really does ask not what you can do for your country ask what your country did to you the only reason you're still alive is because someone has decided to let you live
WEOWESOMUCHMONEYWE'RENOTBROKEWE'REBROKEN
WE'RESOPOORWECAN'TEVENPAYATTENTION
so what do you want you want to be famous and rich and happy but you're terrified you have nothing to offer this world thing to say and no way to say it but you can say it in three languages
YOUAREMORETHANTHESUMOFWHATYOUCONSUME
DESIREISNOTANOCCUPATIONYOUAREULTIMATELY
THRILLEDANDDESPERATESKYHIGHANDFUCKED
let's stop praying for someone to save us and start saving ourselves let's stop this and start over let's go out-let's keep going this is your life-this is your fucking life
WENEEDSOMETHINGTOKILLTHEPAINOFALLTHAT
NOTHINGINSIDE
quit whining you haven't done anyhtiing wrong because frankly you haven't done much of anything
SOMEONE'SWRITINGDOWNYOURMISTAKESSOMEONE'S
DOCUMENTINGYOURDOWNFALL
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
New recruit joins Terracotta Army
A German art student briefly fooled police by posing as one of China's terracotta warriors at the heritage site in the ancient capital, Xian.
-BBC
Okay... As "contemporary" as art can get, as "artistic" as we should respect these performers, there are limits sometimes. Despite the fact that it does seem interesting and exciting and even thrilling to stand there pretending to be someone else from the long gone past, be sure to figure out the cultural understanding before you proceed on your adventure. With the edging mentality of protecting what treasures of history remaining in China, the Chinese people will be fast to criticize and anger for any actions leading remote disrespect for their long gone historical artifacts. If it was a practical joke, the joker's lost the fun, if it was for the hell of it, well, he will definitely experience the hell now (trust that the government is now watching him), if for fame... well, then it looses to a certain extend the feeling of art.
On the other hand... seriously... It's just history... it's all in the past. What is the big fuss about it? Just because it's a daring German student in China protected by the German government? Well, just think, that's why he can do this and we cannot.
-BBC
Okay... As "contemporary" as art can get, as "artistic" as we should respect these performers, there are limits sometimes. Despite the fact that it does seem interesting and exciting and even thrilling to stand there pretending to be someone else from the long gone past, be sure to figure out the cultural understanding before you proceed on your adventure. With the edging mentality of protecting what treasures of history remaining in China, the Chinese people will be fast to criticize and anger for any actions leading remote disrespect for their long gone historical artifacts. If it was a practical joke, the joker's lost the fun, if it was for the hell of it, well, he will definitely experience the hell now (trust that the government is now watching him), if for fame... well, then it looses to a certain extend the feeling of art.
On the other hand... seriously... It's just history... it's all in the past. What is the big fuss about it? Just because it's a daring German student in China protected by the German government? Well, just think, that's why he can do this and we cannot.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Irony in RED
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/5355128.stm
China in Lebannon. China as the largest peace keeping force. China... trying to act like the next world power.
Indeed, China is rising star, economically. Indeed, China is advancing, economically. China... With the coming of 2008 Olympics, what do we see? A world of splendour, a world of fascination, a world beyond our comprehension. Exotic. Miraculous. Interchanging.
How ironic, this situation. How has China advanced, culturally? Chinese foreign students still clutching to each other, hidden in their tiny Chinese communities all over the world. Foreigners might be dangerous. Taiwan belongs to China. Woman should behave themselves and let the man do the big decision making. Lower classes in deep poverty, upper classes drinking champane. Google is censored. News is altered. Where is freedom? Where is liberty? Yes, economically it is advancing, but what about other things?
How ironic it is, that a nation which cannot take care of their own internal problems of poverty, illness, class, ethnicity...etc. moves to be a nation promoting peace keeping. A nation that aims 1200 missiles at another nation it claims as its own, then proclaiming to the world that it will put in more forces for the peace in the Middle East.
Politics. Something I used to be passionate about, now it sickens me. Just looking at how even more corrupted politics is than business. How every one of these appearance actions has a hypocrtical motive underneath.
How can we make the world better? It seems, every effort we make only makes it go worse and worse. How can the butterfly spread its wings? We're all monkeys of hate in the end of the story.
China in Lebannon. China as the largest peace keeping force. China... trying to act like the next world power.
Indeed, China is rising star, economically. Indeed, China is advancing, economically. China... With the coming of 2008 Olympics, what do we see? A world of splendour, a world of fascination, a world beyond our comprehension. Exotic. Miraculous. Interchanging.
How ironic, this situation. How has China advanced, culturally? Chinese foreign students still clutching to each other, hidden in their tiny Chinese communities all over the world. Foreigners might be dangerous. Taiwan belongs to China. Woman should behave themselves and let the man do the big decision making. Lower classes in deep poverty, upper classes drinking champane. Google is censored. News is altered. Where is freedom? Where is liberty? Yes, economically it is advancing, but what about other things?
How ironic it is, that a nation which cannot take care of their own internal problems of poverty, illness, class, ethnicity...etc. moves to be a nation promoting peace keeping. A nation that aims 1200 missiles at another nation it claims as its own, then proclaiming to the world that it will put in more forces for the peace in the Middle East.
Politics. Something I used to be passionate about, now it sickens me. Just looking at how even more corrupted politics is than business. How every one of these appearance actions has a hypocrtical motive underneath.
How can we make the world better? It seems, every effort we make only makes it go worse and worse. How can the butterfly spread its wings? We're all monkeys of hate in the end of the story.
Walking out the Comfort Zone
Tensity. Why does such a word fly across the blank brain of a morning's waking? Each opening of each day it must be faced. Tensity, stress, fear, terror. Is this the right way to go? Is it not? Will I prevail? Will I accomplish what I set forth to do? Why the fear? Why the doubt? Why the moment's hesitation? If one believes in oneself, one can accomplish almost anything they set out to do or become whatever they set out to become. With determination, a path well chosen, a mind that will persist, anything can be possible. With great certainly I must say that I have every faith in myself pulling through, even with all the fear of possible failure.
Walking out the Comfort Zone, that's the base of such instablity. The comfort zone of family protection, of my people, of my old friends, of school, of things once familiar and walking into the world of different culture, different expectations, and different degree of independence. What do I look at is a field entirely foreign to me, different from anything I have touched in the past, but a field that proves most challenging and attractive, and I just cannot turn away from. How came I to find this to be something I want, I cannot explain, just like I cannot explain half the things happening in my life anymore.
Push the limits. Outside the comfort zone, I wonder what my limit is. Here, where I am still only a small pawn, powerless in the bottom of the pyramid. In comparison of my past, where I am on the top, admired and adored. Here and now, things are different, entirely different. Sacrifices must be made, accomplishments awaits. And I plung in, frightened, but excited, into the future unknown. Too many variables, too many possibles, too many ables.
Walking out the Comfort Zone, that's the base of such instablity. The comfort zone of family protection, of my people, of my old friends, of school, of things once familiar and walking into the world of different culture, different expectations, and different degree of independence. What do I look at is a field entirely foreign to me, different from anything I have touched in the past, but a field that proves most challenging and attractive, and I just cannot turn away from. How came I to find this to be something I want, I cannot explain, just like I cannot explain half the things happening in my life anymore.
Push the limits. Outside the comfort zone, I wonder what my limit is. Here, where I am still only a small pawn, powerless in the bottom of the pyramid. In comparison of my past, where I am on the top, admired and adored. Here and now, things are different, entirely different. Sacrifices must be made, accomplishments awaits. And I plung in, frightened, but excited, into the future unknown. Too many variables, too many possibles, too many ables.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Even the density cannot explain
Even the density cannot explain this sensation of temperature within the moist humidity of a late fall afternoon washing up my legs into the womb of the mother's giving. Intense as the sensation may feel the empty symbol above the head continues the similar frozen smile in a motionless blockade of movements. The mind may have drifted partly to encompass that whisper beyond the pieced out literature, but the body feels not the concrete physicality of its being, lost. Oh, to the lasting moments the desires flow distilled in the afternoon wind where nothing can carry out more or less the gentle beat of the heart. The heart which does not change its mind in whatever it may concern itself with as it is moving from one location to another, searching for the way home to its owner on the other end of the globe. Speak it not, the words, just act. The heart sits with temper against the chest within which it was locked, keys given away to the flow of life, the nature's ways, and the heart itself awaits the moment when freedom rings and it may cry out that lasting eternal sound: LOVE. Nothing can be changed now, that the course is set, either for destruction or for construction. All constructions must begin with destruction anyways and so the feelings stays, however rare, it is found and it stays. First the destruction of all understanding concerning it of the past, of the present, then concretely slowly re-construct a different understanding, tuning in (we say) of another present and future. However that may be, don't know. It moves steadily in one united direction, steadily for the call of: LOVER (an extra R and makes the different we have). Hence known now the feeling of lost and confusion, it is merely caused by the fact that the heart of one owner is in the breast of another, the hearts traded, therefore a moment of adaptation is needed. All creatures, moving into new habitats, necessarily need time of adaptation to find means of sustaining the best living quality in such different environments. It is for the sake of SURVIVAL that these turmoils existed and exists. LOVE. LOVER. SURVIVAL. And just what else in life is the basic necessity? No more, no less, that's all.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
gentlity
A person of such, that forgets the need to understand and be caring, is a person who has lost that sense of compassion which is imbedded in the genetic origination of every human creation. Despite the fact that for centuries and ages we have attempted to deprive ourself of such sensations, of the sense of creating harmony, of observing the other's actions as understanding reactions, of considering people other than ourselves as being in the norms, it is imbedded within our genetic origination. Creatures of all type carry this trait. The cavewoman cared for one another, certain that by supporting in a community manner, each doing their work, can the society thrive and prosper together. The prosperation of the common will bring the better of the individual. Hence is the conept of socialism based upon, the general wellfare of the common to make the life of the individual better. Raise, however, under the world of capitalism, this is a concept to be learned.
Gentlity.
When was the last time when we did not relate gentleman to merely a lovely fine man dressed in stylish suites speaking an accute British accent. "How may I be of service, mame?" "This way please, my lady." "May I introduce myself?" Yet, what is true gentlity? Once in a book, I read of a marvelous character, Mr. Sydney. Even with the age of 13, I could see that character as a truly gentle person, a true gentleman. Yes, he was indeed that perfection which every young girl dreams of. Polite, caring, protective, reserved, and considerate of others at all times. A person who devotes himself to his passion, to his success, to his lady, to his dream, to becoming the best person he can become. A person who makes no excuses for his actions, and considers carefully what others say of him or of anything. Mr. Arthur Sydney.
Being gentle, isn't easy. At least in this world where we are all asked to become more competitive, more aggressive, more demanding, more stressed out, more pressured, more efficient, more and more and more of everything, but tenderness and loving. It is the era when we have forgotten what is truly the greatest achievement of human existence. Not the technologies, not the tall building, not the paper that we all bleed for, but the compassion, the harmony, the tranquility, the peace. So many of us seek the day when we have papers that fill our house but we need not use, cars that's too good for us to drive, schools that're too expensive to teach our children anything good, locations where pollution shortens our lives, flattering abilities and hobbies that impresses the neighbor who doesn't really care. How many seeks that genlity of just being together, smiling in each other's eyes, against all odds? And then how many of us are gentle enough to understand that sometimes our struggles, though independent, though seeming cold, are to provide a better chance for togetherness, for reunion, for trust, for love?
My reflection: I did not see this. I did not see the work that was done behind the curtains which have not been bought, but been thought up. The desparation, the drive, the want, the desire, to achieve something, to create pride in someone, to become better, to shorten the time apart. We all see only ourselves, our works, our needs, our desparation, our crying moments. How can I be such an ignorant person? So mean and disgraceful? To let the society poison the heart which once was pure. Let me be refreshed from this day on, for no longer can the heaven shine on me the way I am. And my wings broken will not heal itself if the host itself cannot forgive and forget. The weight is too heavy and the day too dark. Smile, my love, smile my darling, smile my child and rise your head to your paradise and see that hope is there still yet.
Gentlity.
When was the last time when we did not relate gentleman to merely a lovely fine man dressed in stylish suites speaking an accute British accent. "How may I be of service, mame?" "This way please, my lady." "May I introduce myself?" Yet, what is true gentlity? Once in a book, I read of a marvelous character, Mr. Sydney. Even with the age of 13, I could see that character as a truly gentle person, a true gentleman. Yes, he was indeed that perfection which every young girl dreams of. Polite, caring, protective, reserved, and considerate of others at all times. A person who devotes himself to his passion, to his success, to his lady, to his dream, to becoming the best person he can become. A person who makes no excuses for his actions, and considers carefully what others say of him or of anything. Mr. Arthur Sydney.
Being gentle, isn't easy. At least in this world where we are all asked to become more competitive, more aggressive, more demanding, more stressed out, more pressured, more efficient, more and more and more of everything, but tenderness and loving. It is the era when we have forgotten what is truly the greatest achievement of human existence. Not the technologies, not the tall building, not the paper that we all bleed for, but the compassion, the harmony, the tranquility, the peace. So many of us seek the day when we have papers that fill our house but we need not use, cars that's too good for us to drive, schools that're too expensive to teach our children anything good, locations where pollution shortens our lives, flattering abilities and hobbies that impresses the neighbor who doesn't really care. How many seeks that genlity of just being together, smiling in each other's eyes, against all odds? And then how many of us are gentle enough to understand that sometimes our struggles, though independent, though seeming cold, are to provide a better chance for togetherness, for reunion, for trust, for love?
My reflection: I did not see this. I did not see the work that was done behind the curtains which have not been bought, but been thought up. The desparation, the drive, the want, the desire, to achieve something, to create pride in someone, to become better, to shorten the time apart. We all see only ourselves, our works, our needs, our desparation, our crying moments. How can I be such an ignorant person? So mean and disgraceful? To let the society poison the heart which once was pure. Let me be refreshed from this day on, for no longer can the heaven shine on me the way I am. And my wings broken will not heal itself if the host itself cannot forgive and forget. The weight is too heavy and the day too dark. Smile, my love, smile my darling, smile my child and rise your head to your paradise and see that hope is there still yet.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Song of Breasts
In solitude, the individual desparately contemplates upon the question of life, of every creature's eventual facing. Forwardly you look and hence you find yourself in that very trap where you can make no further decision but eventually fall into this haven filled with supposed softness (then endless prosperity of sins and misdeeds and the condemnation of hell). Through which your sight you should feel the warmth of your mother's milk bleeding, your father's tongues licking, your baby sucking, other babies starving. Get even more contemplate, and folding itself across your sight is the vast size of it, an ocean of uneven up and downs. The smell of sourness, the taste of foul industrial poisoness, the sight of holes after holes filled either with red blood or black dried blood. In the middest of this pile of this supposed whitish ether (but in reality just a stinch between the mounts) where men after men lost their sanity and possessed themselves with the imaginary idolization of these "snow-white mounts". These pieces of flesh which induced the very soul of mankind into what the good Lord once in long past called paradise.
Now, the question of life. The shape, the size, the width, the smoothness, the tenderness. The questions of perfection, of how to toture those poor creatures born with destiny to carry the true weapon of mass destruction and delete the human intelligence from their handling, just leaving their faces burried in the pink between the white. The men found their weakness unbearable, someone must pay the sins. With the Lord behind their power, they head to clean out the contemporary and create a new Eden, locking the deviously tempting height behind iron bars. Lost are the natural shape and introduced are new measures of perfection. Funny though, how it goes, the ugly little things only got uglier as nature lost its glory in the fight and men only found them more and more tempting for now it takes a few red wine nights and good a few more rose bushes just to obtain a sweet little glimpse of those precious thing (of course, if you'd rather spend $2 for a video, $500 for a whore, $0 but slap in the face by your sister, $0 but grounded for life by your mother, you might get more glimpses in easier fashions).
My breasts are deformed. Hence was the word spoken by the very Goddess of the family. In the world of commercialization (as I've counted above) such deformness only degrades even more the ugliness of the originally ugly paramounts (well, if they were paramounts, I needn't worry so much). Hence, behind the bars I was again introduced, deprived of that which we called nature and that which breed us live and soul and physical existence. The funny question then is, will this truly, though uglier, produce a more efficient effect on seducing men into oblivion?
Now, the question of life. The shape, the size, the width, the smoothness, the tenderness. The questions of perfection, of how to toture those poor creatures born with destiny to carry the true weapon of mass destruction and delete the human intelligence from their handling, just leaving their faces burried in the pink between the white. The men found their weakness unbearable, someone must pay the sins. With the Lord behind their power, they head to clean out the contemporary and create a new Eden, locking the deviously tempting height behind iron bars. Lost are the natural shape and introduced are new measures of perfection. Funny though, how it goes, the ugly little things only got uglier as nature lost its glory in the fight and men only found them more and more tempting for now it takes a few red wine nights and good a few more rose bushes just to obtain a sweet little glimpse of those precious thing (of course, if you'd rather spend $2 for a video, $500 for a whore, $0 but slap in the face by your sister, $0 but grounded for life by your mother, you might get more glimpses in easier fashions).
My breasts are deformed. Hence was the word spoken by the very Goddess of the family. In the world of commercialization (as I've counted above) such deformness only degrades even more the ugliness of the originally ugly paramounts (well, if they were paramounts, I needn't worry so much). Hence, behind the bars I was again introduced, deprived of that which we called nature and that which breed us live and soul and physical existence. The funny question then is, will this truly, though uglier, produce a more efficient effect on seducing men into oblivion?
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Bittersweet - Apocalyptica
I’m giving up the ghost of love
in the shadows cast on devotion
He* is the one that I adore
creed of my silent suffocation
Break this bittersweet spell on me
lost in the arms of destiny
Bittersweet
I won’t give up
I’m possessed by him*
I'm bearing his* cross
He's* turned into my curse
Break this bittersweet spell on me
lost in the arms of destiny
Bittersweet
I want you
I’m only wanting you
And I need you
I’m only needing you
Break this bittersweet spell on me
lost in the arms of destiny
Break this bittersweet spell on me
lost in the arms of destiny
Bittersweet...
---
Everything is bittersweet, in the sentimental melody. I sing my tune, my song, my edge of being lonely, my earning longing. Unrealistic evangalisation of that transcendental selflessness into the essense of human literation. Literalized is my sensations of desire for existence with you, yet unliteralized is that depth and that truth behind every closed door of the heart and soul and consciousness. Though as much as the subconsicous sings this bittersweet song at night, sings of this love, this truth, this reality, the consciousness of the day battles with reasoning, questioning, endlessly questioning in the long eternity.
Is this really the destiny calling? The distilled tranquility beneath the layers of chaotic protein mess rings the bell of absolute conviction. The certainty, the definitions stated, not proposed but determined in a coherently harmonious vote. The very breath of "yes" on the edge of explosion, the whisper of "I do" already under-textly spoken. What more can be done but to break this spell of bittersweet and to brave that fright within the chest of future possibilities? And perhaps with my hands in your hands more strength will be add in, more courage poured, to face whatever outcome come what may, and whatever destiny holds for us. One in unision.
Love is bittersweet.
in the shadows cast on devotion
He* is the one that I adore
creed of my silent suffocation
Break this bittersweet spell on me
lost in the arms of destiny
Bittersweet
I won’t give up
I’m possessed by him*
I'm bearing his* cross
He's* turned into my curse
Break this bittersweet spell on me
lost in the arms of destiny
Bittersweet
I want you
I’m only wanting you
And I need you
I’m only needing you
Break this bittersweet spell on me
lost in the arms of destiny
Break this bittersweet spell on me
lost in the arms of destiny
Bittersweet...
---
Everything is bittersweet, in the sentimental melody. I sing my tune, my song, my edge of being lonely, my earning longing. Unrealistic evangalisation of that transcendental selflessness into the essense of human literation. Literalized is my sensations of desire for existence with you, yet unliteralized is that depth and that truth behind every closed door of the heart and soul and consciousness. Though as much as the subconsicous sings this bittersweet song at night, sings of this love, this truth, this reality, the consciousness of the day battles with reasoning, questioning, endlessly questioning in the long eternity.
Is this really the destiny calling? The distilled tranquility beneath the layers of chaotic protein mess rings the bell of absolute conviction. The certainty, the definitions stated, not proposed but determined in a coherently harmonious vote. The very breath of "yes" on the edge of explosion, the whisper of "I do" already under-textly spoken. What more can be done but to break this spell of bittersweet and to brave that fright within the chest of future possibilities? And perhaps with my hands in your hands more strength will be add in, more courage poured, to face whatever outcome come what may, and whatever destiny holds for us. One in unision.
Love is bittersweet.
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