♥ my twitter background

So I probably look stupid in the picture, but fuck it, it's cool, IMHO.

Speaking of twitter, I think it's this cool place where I feel safe to rattle off, mainly because I'm a nobody, amongst a vast ocean of strangers, some popular, extra-ordinary ones, but still strangers. So yeah, hail twitter!

And it's cool, too, that sometimes I get replies and mentions from really cool people like @jimparedes and @bryanboy. The closest thing I could get to celebrity meet-ups. So yeah, hail twitter!


What d'ya know, I'm baskin' in tropical sunshine right in my bedroom.

Or not.

I can't daydream. I'm incapable of that. It's just me, thinking. Thinking of the good things I'd do back home. That would retreating, of course. Like completely shutting myself off in a cocoon, like for a week, nay for a whole fucking month. I've done that. Now, I'm blabbering.

I'm going on because of that book Deaf Sentence by David Lodge. It's there, the title, if you could read, merely spelling it out for the keyword hits. Right. So I'm still like in its first twenty pages or so, and man, what a read, a linguistic delight, I'd say. It's that kind that you can't rush, you gotta mince the words, savor it. Which could be said less on the ice cream I'm having for lunch right there.



What am I supposed to do? All these freaking questions. No answers. Is there ever an end to this? Am I going to wade into the shallow, muddy, murky pool of desolation forever and ever? Is this how's it gonna be? Is this it for me? I'm so freaking messed up when I'm not supposed to be. Any longer. I'm no freaking teenager anymore, am I? There's gotta be a point where all this throbbing palpitating constant pain would go away, fade out, stop. This is ridiculous. It ain't romantic anymore. It's stupid. The excuse of reckless abandon of youth is over. Like years ago. My time has past. And yet I still live as if I was sixteen. Seventeen. There's an expiration date to juvenile delinquency. To indecisions. Indifference. Indolence. It's gotta stop. I have gotta stop. But how? I can't. I can't let go. There's so much to hold on to. I must keep something for me. Some things. Or I'd carry on, but I'd burst, combust. Just like that. What the fuck am I even talking about? Oh yah, my future. Just my fucking future. What lies ahead for me, eh? What's looking up? Nothing. Nada. And so I hold on to this iota of hope, of this one tiny speck, a promise of happiness, or at least a taste of it. I mean, I deserve so much better. I want so much more. But I don't know what to do. I don't freaking know what to do. I've been doing stuff. Little stuff. But what more have I got to do?