Warning: broken engrish ahead…
yea its been a once around the sun since i last updated on my micro meanderings...
and i had much to want to verbalise here like those sudden insights into the human condition found during forbidden cigarette breaks ... nodding slowly to your self thinking 'yes yes...i know now ...' and just as you are on the crispy cornered verge of cracking the secrets to consciousness, some random worthy of semi bishounen status strolls by in the afternoon sun and snaps and steals your attention away from your potentially profound and potentially profitable insights! And of cause you then realise that you are unfashionable late to your next psych tut ... but on your way there you start to feel pretty awesomes again since you are wearing your avant-garde Bettina Liano skinny jeans today and you effortlessly ignore every second girl passing by as they are wearing the exact same bloody jeans...what? Who was that? Oh just some random fobboy staring. They almost always stare. Back in the golden days of youth with slimmer waist lines and waterfall hair, surely you didn’t mind the staring~ but now there’s plenty of opportunity for paranoia … its my haircut isn’t it? You’re staring at my mullet!
Yes, a mullet. We are indeed right now knee-deep in post-modern crap. I mean if you can’t count on your favourite honkie hairdresser then there is no stable ground anymore, no absolutes, no constants, nothing is for sure anymore!
Me (in crummy mando): yeah…you know…I want it volume-ful…at the top…
Honkie fob hairdresser (in crummy mando): ah okok la…
30 minutes later…
Me (muttering to myself): ok so like since when did volume-ful equate to boofy mullet?!
Honkie fob hairdresser: so yea…you just like…mix this hair mud in hands like this la and do this (boofyfies some more)…and like this (more boofness)…so you get this effect la… * smiles proudly at my birds nest mullet *
Me: … *walks out while still traumatised and pretends to be cool*
Outside…
Random fobs *stare stare *
I’m in my room now, I sit back and twist my left earrings with my right hand as if with random meaning ... the earrings are blood red…they are not my birthstone. I had gotten them with my lover. His studs stare bright and bold and mine hide behind the mullet. And was it all worthwhile? Giving up half-baked dreams for my lover’s embrace…those elusive, simply times of just lying in his arms, listening to his steady heartbeat, breathing in the warmth from his neck…flooding a sense of completeness and fluid bliss…nothing was more right, nothing held more Eden, not even J S Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos…addictive and effervescent…and just like a cup of soda forgotten in the retiring sun…the bubbles soon asleep…the stale liquid hangs half way in the cup…should you still drink it?
There are great questions great puzzles to solve great dilemmas to overcome … yes, tell us about global warming as perhaps investing in Melbourne properties would be wiser if Sydney is to be flooded in decades to come … yes, tell us about what to do with madness…I have seen and am still seeing people breaking…they are not broken people but they break every now and then and I still hear the echo of what they said during the Age of Reason in their powderer wigs and satin sleeves that madness is a state “worth than death itself”.
Yes there are significant fissures to sew up and yet right here right now, the most vexing to me of all is the grand, shocking realisation of the severe lack of yaoi in existence!! If I were a heterosexual male, it’s easier to find smut than finding oxygen. And yet my primal needs as a woman (who has great taste and thus appreciates yaoi) are being deprived due to the blasphemously lack of yaoi published. Never felt so oppressed for being a woman! Bleh!
Ps: here’s a wonderful picture. Goodnight~
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bonbonmimi's journal
as for now they've already chopped it off & then colour it in on stage tmr...
