It's a peculiar thing to become suddenly aware of how your body and mind subconsciously attune themselves to time. Like the feeling that makes your gut heave as you dimly recall that you were supposed to do something later that afternoon, but you double-booked. Or, like seasonal allergies, people find themselves inappropriately yet inexplicably gloomy during the vibrant spring. Lately, my hands have taken to clamoring for the keyboard, and my mind has been restless without expression. I checked my last post: April 27th. As I type this, it's May 22nd. What a peculiar thing it is.
22.5.17
24.3.17
A Short Story
“I wish you wouldn’t talk that way, Sap.”
Thrush stared at Sap’s back pointedly. Sap sat on the edge of the cliff, his legs dangling over the sudden drop. Feeling Thrush’s eyes on him, Sap shifted around uncomfortably, looking down past his feet. The turquoise waters down below shimmered and sparkled as the gentle breeze dipped to skim the surface. Sap leaned back and propped himself up on his left arm as his right hand groped around in the dirt.
“Yeah? And why not?”
Thrush stared at Sap’s back pointedly. Sap sat on the edge of the cliff, his legs dangling over the sudden drop. Feeling Thrush’s eyes on him, Sap shifted around uncomfortably, looking down past his feet. The turquoise waters down below shimmered and sparkled as the gentle breeze dipped to skim the surface. Sap leaned back and propped himself up on his left arm as his right hand groped around in the dirt.
“Yeah? And why not?”
15.2.17
Meandering
If you know me, you probably know that I’m a romantic. I prefer to believe that I’m a romanticist, so if you took “romantic” to mean someone who’s interested in romance novels or something of that nature, I’d sternly reply that I, in fact, hate romance novels. I also dislike most romance movies, as it were.
But I’m a romantic through and through. Excessively sentimental and prone to bouts of imaginative wandering through the labyrinths of my mind. I don’t know if it’s my particular blend of Myers-Briggs components, but I am who I am.
But I’m a romantic through and through. Excessively sentimental and prone to bouts of imaginative wandering through the labyrinths of my mind. I don’t know if it’s my particular blend of Myers-Briggs components, but I am who I am.
3.4.16
久しぶり
Tonight is the first night I can hear the cicadas.
They buzz like tiny generators,
lining the two-lane expressways here
in these gentle green hills.
They buzz like tiny generators,
lining the two-lane expressways here
in these gentle green hills.