Scratch That Thought.

Late at night, I see projections on my bedroom walls; still images of tomorrow, the next day and the seemingly endless days after.  I'm sitting at a kitchen table with three mouths to feed -with hands so terribly small- and I am fueled only by a half-hearted sense of obligation. Their father's eyes, drained of its wonder.

I come back to the present in a cold sweat, writhing in an empty bed, with my hand placed under a pillow as a miserable replacement for body warmth. With each of these untimely fits of panic, I feel a longing (longings similar to that of a school girl, a washed out bachelor, a distressed damsel, and the like) that is incongruous with my instinctive nature to doubt the follies of love.

I don't know what my permanent stand on monogamy is, but at the moment I do not wish to actively pursue it. Loneliness is such a bitch, though.

Landslide - Fleetwood Mac (Cover)

Change has a way of pinning my wrists down and leaving me helpless.

Jumbo Japan Trip Update.

Jingumae.

I heard your memory capsules are full of train wrecks. It's not everyday you get to meet someone who doesn't have a past full of ordered files and numbered figures.

Who told you that? Was it the girl with the fake opal eye? She looks like the type who thinks rain comes from tepid water.

Don't mind her. She's a flickering sound wave. Her screen saver's the internet. She stopped a boy from flying and it made her hurl.

So she was the one who told you?

Look, this isn't about her.

To hell it isn't. I can't believe she told you. I should've never let her read the lines on my palm yesterday. She made me believe that my fate was sealed in sand dunes. The nerve.

There's no reason to get all bothered. She read your palms, she anchored my feet to the ground, she's a flickering sound wave- she's the main act of a circus show. She's irrelevant.

Wait, you were the boy who wanted to fly away?

Oh no, don't you go and turn this around on me! We were talking about you. You like crashes right?

No, I'm a fan of train wrecks. 

Same difference. I like Messiahs.

I don't see the connection.

I don't see how you CAN'T see it. With everything as screwed up as it is, you might as well call every religion in this world a train wreck.


God plans. Crashes happen by chance. Messiahs plant ideas in your head, train wrecks plant bodies in the ground. Frankly, I don't see how they mesh.

Don't make this more difficult than it really is.

If you really want to talk you can start by telling me why you wanted to roam the skies.

I would but your memories only leave space for wreckage. You'll forget about me.

Oh, I wouldn't think so. You seem like a colossal mess.

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I was on the Shinkansen heading for Osaka when I heard a couple arguing in Japanese. The language sounds so mythical and light that I decided to have a bit of fun and just translate it on my own.