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| by comrade commissar | Thomas | @ Sunday, August 13, 2006, 12:58:00 AM | permalink |
 Someday today will be the good old days. Went out for the usual dose of music with the usual suspects. I was brought up to believe in an entity that is all powerful, personal and benevolent. Growing up I was told to talk to this person. It doesn't have to be always a complaining session you know, but yes, I could tell God all the big and small problems that I had. I still do believe in these things now, and its definitely comforting to not have to shoulder them invisible burdens. And then one morning I woke up and felt sad but didn't know why. Where do you begin when you don't know the cause? Some days are sunny bright with deep blue skies but I walk through them with a fuzzy grey haze. Its those million little tiny disappointments which individually sadden, harden, jade, but happen so so often I don't even remember. What do you say when you don't know how? I love the happy sad songs. I love upbeat guitar rhythms, fast pace drum beats and chirpy sounding tunes. Tunes that if you don't bother to search for lyrics you would think are nice and fun. Ironic imagery. Maybe reality really is best reflected by satire because fact is so much stranger than fiction. Listen to the DJ switch to the next track - and its everyone's personal anthem. Suddenly hands go up everywhere and people raising fingers and horns, crying out line by line to their souls's content. Can't take me anywhere (Can't take you anywhere)Suddenly that guy or girl you have never met before is your best-est of friends, and you both seem to understand each other's sorrows, drowning in melody and speaking with lyrics. Of course its a mere illusion. Language is misunderstood, you both meant the same words for entirely different things and each is left to experience their own very uniquely special unspeakable existential tragedy. Countdown, countdown,And why is everyone so happy? Especially at what is essentially a therapy session? Maybe coming to terms with the inevitable is reassuring. Maybe knowing for sure that the plane will definitely crash leaves one less thing to brood about. Its less a case of hospital and treatment and more one of hospice and carthasis. To numb and forget. In this country we don't serve absinthe or opium darling, you'll have to settle for alcohol and ciggs. Sometimes I almost imagine that if abruptly the entire club's lights went on, smoke clears up, the blaring music got killed off, and someone leaps onto the raised platform screaming that he was suicidal, he would be met with hoots and applause like its his birthday. Maybe at the very last day and the end of days, amidst trumpets and brimstone people would be hotfooting it and dancing away in honour of armaggedon. Oh! Another crowd pleaser. Hurray. Under neon lonelinessOn these nights I play a little game of imagination with myself. Fully aware and completely theistic I conjure up a little god in my head, a goddess. (I'm a guy what) She's the opposite of the real deal - completely preoccupied, disinterested and unconcerned. And let's just say the batteries powering my MP3 player have more supernatural powers than her. Its less a prayer than a resignated murmur when I really let loose and holler out. It really is inconsequential whether I say everything or anything at all, because she doesn't know but will not care nonetheless. I do it anyways. It is a wonderful dismal odyssey this, and when the smoke machine spurts out its sulphuric smog again its like a vacation cruise on the Styx. Charon's jumped the boat & we're sailing blind. The deafening music blocks out my yelling as I hurl these dead albatrosses around my neck into the unfathomable abyss. I'm giving in, I'm giving it up, I roleplay as someone without hope and future, a pious pilgrim in unison with this secular congregation. The disguise is working and I blend in well enough, a modern day Richard F. Burton in a raving mecca. We've got crosses on our eyesThen they called on the name of Baal from morning till noon. "O Baal, answer us!" they shouted. But there was no response; no one answered. And they danced around the altar they had made. At noon Elijah began to taunt them. "Shout louder!" he said. "Surely he is a god! Perhaps he is deep in thought, or busy, or traveling. Maybe he is sleeping and must be awakened." So they shouted louder and slashed themselves with swords and spears, as was their custom, until their blood flowed.* 1 Kings 18:26-28 Another song ends and the crowd erupts in claps and cheers as if to my divine comedy. Its getting late and so we leave. Everyone's all smiles and expressions of faux-happiness fuelled by hormones and chemicals. I walk out with my silly pagan deity tucked and hidden in the head. But then I thought I caught the knowing eye of a passing stranger from the corner of my view. A brief fear of fiction given life by the author strikes me. Thank you for a great night, but everything's so fleeting and momentary. Let's make the best out of the memories. Cheers. |
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You're flying over air,
You're flying over sea;
the soul is locked in a myriad of perplexities,
You're weighed by a scale
its 23 grams and paid with 5% gst.
Perhaps the system's pulverized your ambitions,
perhaps you're in search of an identity,
perhaps someone's burst the happy bubble,
and now you're looking
somewhere deeper,
Whatever happens tonight,
you know there's a forever,
a story that replays
in your head,
the bird weighs 23 grams
the cage is unlocking,
perhaps what you really want in the world is right outside,
somewhere you gotta go,
somethings you gotta do.
Go figure.
- by comrade 
finding me @ times 5:18 PM, August 13, 2006
[delete? click on the dustbin.]
i enjoyed that tremendously.. thanks.
- by comrade Thomas @ times 7:00 PM, August 17, 2006
[delete? click on the dustbin.]
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<--latest post-- backdated: girl from katong seekers--farewell yap & LBB, i love GSE--peepshow @ far east & keepitlikeasecret!--baybeats 2006! (and other gigs on the side)--very brit fire extinguisher incident--read not what the stars say--'very brit' @ zouk--youth gone wild--hang in there tangkap--openstage3 and poptarts-- --last post--> |
