i need everyone's phone numbers....
alexander.chin@gmail.com
i realize that most of the time my text in this medium is hard for you readers to understand which throws the eccentric confidence of my prose into a whim of dismay, and while i can fully understand how my layered allegorical style is a bit more than arms lengths away, i still kind of expect my peers to quasi grasp the proofread intricacies that i take when jotting down the lines of association..........and as i go along my seasonal streaks of writing/reading, i realized a certain aspect of myself that i go to instinctive-effortless lengths not to reveal is the only thing that i should focus on in order to finely hone the writing into a poignantly profound chunk of pages.....
i no longer watch espn or foodtv, other than the big screen and blockbuster culture, i'm completely aloof to up-to-the-minute pop culture....
"This is what it feels like: you walk into a room and the door locks behind you and you spend a little while panicking, looking around for a key or a window or something, and then when you realize that there is no way out, you start to make the best of what you've got. You try out the chair, and you realize that ti's actually not uncomfortable, and there's a TV, anda couple of books, and there's a fridge stocked with food. You know, how bad can it be?" - hornby.
god. thank hoan for being inside my colon.
-hsu hsu.
8am and i've taken 3 shits already.
apparently everyone loves to show their ass to me...
and again today....does he have no shame?
pre-emptive retaliation
"There have been times recently, since the beginning of our troubles, when the sight of David awake, active, conscious, walking and talking has made me want to retch, so acute is my loathing of him; at night, though, it's a different story. We still make love, in a halfhearted, functional way, but it's not sex; it's more that we've worked out sleeping in the last twenty odd years, and how to do it together. I've developed contours for his elbows and knees and bum, and nobody else quite fits into me in quite the same way, especially not Stephen, who despite being leaner and taller and all sorts of things that you think might recommend him to a woman looking for a bed partner, seems to have all sorts of body parts in all the wrong places; there were times last night when I began to wonder gloomily whether David is the only person in the world with whoom I will ever be comfortable, whether the reason our marriage and maybe countless marriages have survived thus far is that there is some perfect weight/height differential that no one has ever researched properly, and if one oor other partner is a fraction of a millimieter wrong either way then the relationship will never take. And it's not just that, either. When David's asleep, I can turn him backinto the person I still love: I can impose my idea of what David should be, used to be, onto his sleeping form, and the seven hours I spend with that David just about gets me through the next day with the other David."
-hornby.
"stop hatin', stop hatin, start anticipatin'"
for all those that loved the alchemist, laud coelho in your comments for the book as been reccommended to me but after reading eleven minutes on the plane, I PASS...........(maybe the 2 screaming china-kids sitting next to me ruined any aspect of enjoying literature on the daylight savings flight)-he cliche's (used as verb) every other line without an ounce of theological crediblity....it almost confuses me how he intends to spread the word of life/love through his opposite gender and not to mention, as a prostitute....
love is a cause for suffering.......
i can choose either to be a victim of the world or an adventurer in search of treasure. It's all a question of how I view my life....
life is a parachute jump; its taking chances, falling over and getting up again
i need to write, think about love - otherwise my soul won't survive
the person who gives him or herself wholly, the person who feels freest, is the person who loves most wholeheartedly...and the person who loves wholeheartedly feels free...that is the true experience of freedom having the most important thing in the world without owning it....
the art of sex is the art of controlled abandon....
i am tyler durden -- quotes taken out of context or not, i felt like i've wallowed in some self help group
now that i'm finally back and the little things like the SMELL of my room does definitely bring back the hue of reminiscence but strays far from the facist pang of nostalgia which is reserved or preserved for those peers i've left behind. Even i expected myself to somehow come back and write this long memoir in a bourdain/eggers/coehlo manner (eating, cynically longwinded, and wholeheartedly cliched)...which is probably why im attempting to start writing and ergo only being able to write this rambling pretext, at the outset i was constantly thinking about entries even before they took place in order to get my gears in order-maintain a vertical stream of consciousness-but sparse entries the past few months are probably good indicators that things have not been in order and i as suspected from the beginnning has been running away, not running towards a destination............
i've abandoned all strenuous efforts to regain that profound glimmer, all in which almost seeming as if it was a futile haitus...gawd i sound pathetic.....3-D LOSER.
all pictures are up on ofoto - gimme ur email for invites.
ugh...................
im leaving.
i have a moustache!
hahahahhaa
victor's bare ass on webcam is pretty tbs.
holy shhiiii ----
i never would have thunk it...but my english is going to crud....i'm starting to hear a fob accent....chinglish is really bad....imagine -ing on the back end of chinese verbs....
