Time and Tears

What Possessed Them?!

2005-07-12T20:10:00.000-07:00

Flock of 1,500 sheep leaps off cliff in Turkey
450 animals die; others are saved by falling into pile
ASSOCIATED PRESS

ISTANBUL, Turkey — First one sheep jumped to its death. Then stunned Turkish shepherds, who had left the herd to graze while they had breakfast, watched as nearly 1,500 others followed, each leaping off the same cliff, Turkish media reported today. In the end, 450 dead animals lay on top of one another in a white pile, the Aksam newspaper said. Those who jumped later were saved as the pile got higher, cushioning the fall, the daily newspaper Aksam reported. "There's nothing we can do. They're all wasted," Nevzat Bayhan, a member of one of 26 families whose sheep were grazing together in the herd, was quoted as saying by Aksam. The estimated loss to families in the town of Gevas, located in Van province in eastern Turkey, is close to 100,000 Turkish lira, which is equal to roughly $91,000 Cdn. This is a significant amount of money in a country where average GDP per person is around $2,700 US. "Every family had an average of 20 sheep," Aksam quoted another villager, Abdullah Hazar as saying. "But now only a few families have sheep left. It's going to be hard for us."

2005-07-08T17:00:00.000-07:00

I live in a world of flowers, books and fairytales shadowed by paranoia, self deprecation and death. It is a world full of dichotomies and contradictions. It is a world full of confusion. A world I escape to but cannot escape from.

2005-06-27T19:28:00.000-07:00

Some days when I feel dejected and ready to throw myself down the bridge of despair, along comes McDonald�s. There is something unmistakably satisfying about the fat surging through my body as I bite into my BigMac and the oil and salt residues the stain my fingers and contain absolutely no nutritional value. Perhaps it�s the feeling of my arteries clogging and the promise of dieing just a few years earlier that is subconsciously so satisfying. Or perhaps it�s a sick attempt to amplify my pain and self hatred by making myself flabby and grotesque. Or perhaps it�s a simple sugar/fat rush that my body needs so that it�s more preoccupied with riding me of the harmful trans-fats than feeling sorry I was ever born. Whatever the reason, it works. Of course, I only live to regret it.

.Surrealist..Nightmare.

2005-06-26T21:43:00.000-07:00

I’ve been feeling a certain absurdity lately. It’s nothing new but yet the feeling never fails to take me by surprise and pierce through my heart and mind such that for an instant I become as though paralyzed. There is no warning, it comes and goes. And with it brings a cold shiver of realization followed by an utter lack of understanding.

At these moments I see death before my eyes and I am overcome with a senseless fear. The fear only lasts for a brief moment as I struggle to return to consciousness and push the unwelcome thoughts back into the dark corners of my mind. But it is only followed by a rush of questions that when asked only serve to bring back the terror.

What does it mean to fear death?

I have thought about this question more than perhaps I should at my age. I have thought about it since I can remember but only recently have I been able to fully imagine its consequences and thus only recently have I started to experience these surges of emotions (by recently I mean that last couple of years). To me death has always symbolized the unknown. It is the end of our consciousness; the end of our being. And what does it mean to not exist any longer? I do not know and I do not think I want to know.

So is it possible to ever come in terms with this ultimate unknown? With this unimaginable infinite lack of existence? I used to think there was. I used to think that the only way I could live on forever was in the memory of my fellow human beings. I believed that the only way I could be remembered forever was to do something great. I wanted to save the world not because I thought it needed saving but because I thought it would be a great reason to live… a noble reason.

Then I grew up and I began to realize my limitations. I came face to face with failure and began to think that perhaps I was never meant for greatness despite what I had always wanted to believe. But deep down inside I never truly believed it and still don’t because for me to accept such a thing would mean that I would have to stop living. But along the way I lost sight of my goals. I became self centered and spent years in self deprecation as a result.

Every now and then I wake up from this surrealist nightmare and look at myself in the mirror and wonder if it’s still possible to be all that I wanted to be. There was a time when I would die for an idea and a just cause, now I wonder if I’ll ever have the chance.

These days I see a world that is bowing on its knees. It’s been beaten and grief stricken. It’s a world that needs saving from itself. Every day I hear the tallies of a new massacre. Every day I hear of inexcusable crimes against humanity and every day I see more and more that our society is only moving farther and farther away from a common good. I feel powerless. And yet I feel responsible. I do not know why I should feel so but I am disgusted at the ignorance and apathy of human beings and appalled by their greed, envy and disseat. Now more than ever I feel helpless because it seems that I have awaken from my egotistic trance but am instead faced with a solid wall of bureaucracy.

What a Waste!

2005-04-22T21:33:00.000-07:00

Having a spent an entire day at the public library reading Animal Farm in one sitting (not that it's a long book) I wondered the streets of downtown Toronto in search of food -- I had quite forgotten to feed myself being absorbed in the said farm adventure. Now it is quite extraordinary that you are still able to find places downtown that only accept cash. I was taken quite aback by this when I realized that I was going to be denied by much desired bagel as a result of no cash. Subway had to be substituted for the said bagel-- it was really quite sad. I decided to have an orange juice with my meal. This juice came in a glass bottle. When I was done drinking, I found to my surprise that the store did not have a recycling bin. So I carried the bottle with me down the street in search of a recycling bin and so happened to wonder in a nearby Starbucks where I ordered a "Zen" tea (I won't go into the details of the hypocritical names of these brewed drinks as then I will probably have to delve into my own hypocrisy for purchasing them!). Having not yet found a recycling bin, I asked the cashier if they had any recycling bins where I may dispose of my bottle. She quickly answered "yes" and took my bottle. While I was walking by with my tea I watched her. She stared at the bottle, confused, for a little while and having looked around her, asked her coworker where the recycling bin was. He gave the bottle a dirty look and said quite loudly "we don't have a recycling bin, just throw in the garbage!" I was quite appalled at this course of action but could do no more as I saw her drop the bottle under the counter as he said this. Alas, the glass bottle was lost among heaps of paper cups and brewed coffee beans to be disposed of in some environmentally destructive manner. Either my children or I will probably live to witness the horrifying effects of this act of brutality.

Moral of the story: do your own recycling! Trust no one!

2005-02-24T19:09:00.000-08:00

Her eyes glued to the graying earth, she walks aimlessly upon hidden tracks and forbidden passageways. She passes burning trees and sinking mountains. She threads upon crimson rivers and blackened flowers. Around her the world is sinking. Around her bodies are drifting. She takes no notice.

Her head bent low, she swims in an ocean of thoughts. Her opinions stray wild and collide. There are no justifications. Around her the sea is sinking, sinking into the opening wound of mother earth. The dolphins cry and the sharks drift blind. Around her the world is dieing, bleeding and falling. She takes no notice.
.
Her body is quenched but her soul drenched. There are no tears to be shed. Now only desire remains. The desire to satisfy this insatiable pain lingers in her heart. But there are no tears.

Her only salvation lies in looking the world in the eye. Her salvation lies in seeing, hearing and feeling. If only she could take her eyes from the floor, if only she could hold her head up high. She cannot. She is frightened. She has been damaged beyond repair.

In her solitude she embraces her wounded soul. In her solitude she clings on to the pieces of her shattered self. In her solitude she grabs for her drifting life; drifting before her eyes; eyes that hold no remorse, only bewilderment

And in her solitude she begins to decay. As the world loses meaning and as it ceases to exist, in her solitude she too ceases to exist. She slowly blends in with the sea and is devoured by the earth. She slowly bleeds. She slowly dies away. Fading, drifting, she still cannot weep.

2005-02-22T01:03:00.000-08:00

There came across my path
A stranger who dared make me laugh
He sewed through and through
What lingered of my broken past

He wrapped his arms and healed
A broken mind and broken wings
He stood strong with his eyes burning bright
And looked through my heart, fighting hard

He held with all his might
A heart burning fiery bright
He stretched with his emerald leaves
And gathered a heart that cleaves

One food after another he plead
I will help you along the conduit.
Lend me your hand dear heart,
And I will lend you way to light

He then held me high and let me fly
The solemn trunk, he sat and watched
As I soared through the open sky
My mended wings now stretched wide

Golden petals upon a face so bright
Burning with all their might
Destroyer of the wicked night
Lit up my life

I wept, joy in my heart
Shimmering pearl, down they fall
Innocent child

Personality For Sale?

2005-02-15T12:00:00.000-08:00

There appears to be an awful lot of lack of personality in this world. Wouldn't it be lovely if all these droning masses could pick up a personality along with their groceries every now and then? I know I wouldn't find it so painful to associate with them on a day to day basis if that were the case.

Sadly, there is no personality for sale. I am thus surrounded by a trail of followers, copycats and wannabes. These people fall under two not very distinct categories. One category consists of people who are more boring than a piece of cardboard. No matter what you do to them or how hard you try there is simply no way of making them more interesting. These people are unaware of their lack of personality. In fact for the most part they're unaware of their own existence.

On the other hand, however, there are those who realize that they bore people on a general level. Thus, they knowingly model themselves after an individual they find interesting and who appears to in fact be an "individual". In this way they turn into wannabes. Sadly enough, these posers stick out like a sore thumb in their sad attempt at leeching on to someone's personality. I find these people particularly more annoying than the former group.

What was the point of all this?
Blowing off some steam.

Lesson?
If you have a personality, good for you! If you don't, get a life and stop talking about school!

2005-02-07T15:31:00.000-08:00

.hazy hue of morning dew.

..Sleepy.Haze..

2005-02-07T15:27:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning to the apparent shrieking of at least two of my three alarm clocks. This memory is at the verge of fading but I recollect looking at one of my clocks and seeing 8:20 and then turning and looking at my watch and seeing 9:30. A surge of confusion washed over me as I struggled to decipher the meaning of such numbers. It seemed to me as if I had just entered a strange land, fell down the rabbit hole, completely incoherent and muddled. I was not sure where I was at all, nor was I sure what time of day it was. In fact, I am quite sure that in my frightened confusion I did not even bother to remember that such a thing as a “day” existed. I remained in this sleepy haze for a few minute, looking around me in bewilderment. I then decided that there was no use in attempting to make sense of this absurdity and thus I willingly returned to the land from which I had seemingly risen. It was in this way that I returned to sleep and managed to miss two of my three morning classes.

2005-02-07T01:58:00.000-08:00

He said: I used to love you
She said: now no more?
He said: now no more.

She said: I used to burn for you
He said: now no more?
She said: now no more.

He said: I used to dream of you
She said: now no more?
He said: now no more.

She said: I used to cry for you
He said: now no more?
She said: now no more.

He said: I used to want to grow old with you
She said: now no more?
He said: now no more.

She said: I used to wish youd come back to me
He said: now no more?
She said: now no more.

He said: I used to wish I could come back to you
She said: now no more?
He said: now no more.

She said: things can never go back to the way they used to be.
He said: things can never go back to the way they used to be.

2005-02-07T01:56:00.000-08:00

.go.with.the.flow.

..Human Connections..

2005-02-07T01:05:00.000-08:00

What does it mean to connect "humanly" per se?

Consider a regular day. We walk, sit, and dine among strangers, completely oblivious to their existence. Ordinarily you will pass the random guy in a suite on the street or the dirty old man who stares you up and down as you walk by or even the sad little girl in her Gothic makeup that only stares at her feet when she walks without a second thought. Sometimes you may feel compelled to turn around and stare if you observe an unfortunate soul talking to himself or sitting in a corner shivering in the cold, slurring random gibberish from which you can only decipher, "do you have change?" But none of this really registers. It's merely everyday life, nothing more.

But every once a while there is something more. And this normally seems to happen in a state of considerable intoxication. Now words are exchanged among strangers. They may be as simple as "fuck you!" or "shut up!" but nonetheless language is now at use. If you get really lucky you may have someone approach you and ask your taste in music or if you would like a drink. Every once in a while a smile is exchanged. Oh what precious moments!

Now, on the very very rare occasion, human connections may be established without the use of drugs. These are indeed strange moments that engrave themselves upon your memory, a reminder of the occasional social nature of human beings. I have been lucky enough to have meaningful conversations with several random strangers. Mostly one party has been slightly intoxicated but twice only both parties have been completely sober and have spoken of issues of some importance.

The first instance occurred outside LCBO where I was forced to wait in the cold for some friends to obtain the alcohol for the evening as I was underage. A man, obviously homeless, waited in the cold with me. He was desperate for a cigarette and asked me for one but I do not smoke. He then proceeded to ask passing strangers. A man whom he happened to stop pushed him to the side and threw the cigarette butt at our hobo. I was shocked at such behavior; there clearly was no need to be so rude, no one was deserving of this kind of treatment. Our hobo seemed extremely infuriated and began to swear in quite a vile manner. He then proceeded to stand in a corner and smoke the cigarette butt. He looked up and saw me staring at him; I smiled. He looked at me and suddenly began to curse the man who has treated him so unkindly to me and I agreed that he has been completely rude. He told me, standing here in the corner, he did not want any money or alcohol from passing strangers, a smile or a kind word would be enough. He was tired of being ignored, as if he was a fading shadow in this dieing world. I nodded as he spoke until he eventually calmed down. Finally he asked if I had any change and I gave him what I had. He proceeded to make a random comment on the weather. I said it was unusually cold for this time of the year, being Christmas time. Upon hearing the word "Christmas" he began to recite his story, almost talking to himself. He told me what he knew of his past life, of his birth and of his family which no longer existed. I listened but really did not know how to respond except with "I'm sorry." He expressed his loneliness during this time of the year and I agreed that the holiday season was definitely the loneliest time of the year.
I felt a strange attachment to that man on that snowy day. I wished I could have stayed more or that he would have told me more about himself but alas no such luck. He told me his name but I have forgotten.

The second instance occurred today at Tim Horton's (also known as Timmy Ho's). This little shop on Bloor Street seems to be a sanctuary for the homeless of this city as it is open 24 hrs a day. However, despite what you many think, this time it was not a hobo that approached me but a distinguished man. We were waiting in line and as it was moving unusually slowly due to the incompetence of those who worked the cash registers, the man behind me asked quite casually "is this place open 24 hrs?" and I responded with a mere "yes." He then proceeded to comment that the place seemed like a hangout for the homeless of the city and they may as well turn it into a homeless shelter. The conversation grew from there. It turned out that he was a civil engineer and had much insight about the current job market. He was very interested in what I was studying and began to give me career advice. There was nothing frightening about talking to this man as is normally the case with strangers at Tim Horton's at 2 am on a Sunday night. He seemed friendly and genuinely wanted to talk. We spoke of politics, the evil nature of the business world, his current building projects (including my own residence) going up in the city and even genetically modified food. He definitely had a lot to say and so did I, we got along perfectly. However, this conversation was short lived. The line slowly crawled forth and as we each placed our orders we parted with a "take care" on his part and a "nice talking to you" on my part.
It was definitely nice talking to him.

So there we are. Any instances of human connection here?

Sometimes I regain my faith in mankind. Sometimes I believe that it is possible to break free from this solitary shell and walk upon the path of the living. Perhaps it is possible to connect with everyone in some level. This gives me hope.

2005-02-06T21:59:00.000-08:00

"Her heart's a bloodstained egg
we didn't handle with care
it's broken and bleeding
and we can never repair"

2005-02-02T15:29:00.000-08:00

..ExhiliratioN..

..Frottis Charivari..

2005-01-29T15:13:00.000-08:00

I will pack up my bags once again;

I will pour my memories down the drain;

But this time I will vomit on the walls

As I crawl down these empty halls

Wake up, are you still alive?

There are no curtains falling

On this young girl’s tearing heart.

The show still goes on,

The world is still round

like an orange

And there is still no home

For the nomads of this dieing world

I knew you had dissected enough

When your fingers stopped cold and rough

Frozen caress on my torn and dying skin

I held you close, as close as kin

And now your veins have grown cold

And now my heart has grown old

By Ynès et Blasé

.Arc of Time.

2005-01-28T22:40:00.000-08:00

You can make a plan
Carve it into stone
Like a feather falling
It is still unknown
Until the clock speaks up
Says it's time to go
You could choose the high
Or the lower road
You might clinch your fist
You might fork your tongue
As you curse or praise
All the things you've done
And the faders move
And the music dies
As we pass over
On the arc of time

So you nurse your love
Like a wounded dove
In the covered cage of night
Every star is crossed
By phrenetic thoughts
That seperate and then collide
And they twist like sheets
Till you fall asleep
And they finally unwind
It's a black balloon
It's a dream you'll soon deny

I hear if you make friends
With Jesus Christ
You will get right up
From that chalk outline
And then you'll get dolled up
And you'll dress in white
All to take your place
In his chorus line

And then in you'll come
With those marching drums
In a saintly compromise
No more whiskey slurs
No more blonde haired girls
For your whole eternal life
And you'll do the dance
That was choreographed
At the very dawn of time
Saying, I told you son
The day would come
You would die, you'd die, you'd die, you'd die
You would die, you'd die, you'd die, you'd die
You would die, you'd die, you'd die, you'd die
You would die, you'd die, you'd die

To the deepest part
Of the human heart
The fear of death expands
Till we crack the code
We have always known
But could never understand
On a circuit board
We will soon be born
Again, again, again, again
And again, again, again, again
And again, again, again, again
And again, again, again

-"Bright Eyes"-

2005-01-28T22:34:00.000-08:00

.you hold the key to my heart.

2005-01-28T13:51:00.000-08:00

"Bandaids Just Cover it Up"
-By Bleste

2005-01-27T18:06:00.000-08:00

A dream?

A Dream within a Dream

2005-01-27T17:58:00.000-08:00

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow --
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days are been a dream;
Yet if hope is flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand --
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep -- while I weep!
Oh God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

--Edgar Allan Poe
[I wept while reading this poem]

All That Remains is Contempt.

2005-01-27T17:21:00.000-08:00

I was overwhelmed by a sudden realization today at how much human beings really irritate me. I often find myself faking a faint smile as I speak to these idiots or am simply so appalled by their stupidity, arrogance or simple lack of personality that I cannot even bear to look at them. I look down upon the graying earth as I walk for I cannot hold my head high any longer -- I do not find anything worth my while.
I want to be alone but I can never completely get away for you see my mind is embedded in this manic world. My thoughts are attached to all these sheep that walk the streets everyday and slowly these thoughts transform me into a mad cow or an irritated cow. I say cow for I roam this earth irritated at all in existence for causing me to be irritated with my own existence. I have become too uncaring and stupid to even attempt to drag myself out of this mess. Before I spoke of looking but not seeing, now I see but I do not have any will left to do anything about it. My will has been disintegrated at the hands of this miserable society. My soul is being withered by all the pointless and senseless social interactions.
I have always been a bit of a loner but I was not aware to what degree until this day. Perhaps the saddest part of all this is that I am a loner who is not comfortable with being alone. Not yet anyway. That's why I am the cow now. You are the sheep. You who irritate me are the sheep, all of you!

2005-01-19T18:36:00.000-08:00

.Alone.

2005-01-19T18:33:00.000-08:00

..a burning silence..

Was it Coincidence?

2005-01-19T15:44:00.000-08:00

Imagine meeting someone you met in a different country walking down the street.
Imagine meeting someone with the same name and last name as you.
Imagine meeting someone with the same birth date as you.
Imagine meeting someone with the same face as you.

Now what if you met someone who against all odds seemed perfect for you? Your names match. Your birth dates match. Your interests match. Your abilities match. Even your clothes match!
Was this fate? Or was it mere chance? as some would like to call it, a coincidence? A mere random arrangement of events.
Is the universe composed of a random arrangement of atoms and are all events mere probability? Or is there a powerful hand that tampers with our lives?

Well I know not. And neither do you! If you say you do, you're a dirty lier!

What I really mean instead of asking all these pointless questions is, "I cannot accept that such an event could be coincidence. How can perfection be coincidence?". You see, if perfection (or what you think is perfection) is merely a random arrangement of atoms, then maybe it can fall apart just as easily. So then really there is no perfection. And I for one cannot accept that there is no perfection because if there is no perfection then there is no love and there is no contentment. If I cannot have at least one of the above, I think I might just as well fall apart.