Confuzzliness

If you feel my blog's been too convoluted and meaningless recently, take heart. All that's bound to change in the month of October, maybe! Yeah. Yeah.

Matthew

Driving leisurely onto the craggy dirt path, Matthew is heading toward a research outpost. Eric is in tow, and he occupies himself by clicking his ballpoint pen and minutely adjusting the radio frequency to vary the static it was playing. The only thing on Matthew's mind was the wind blowing his hair out of place, as he drove on blankly.

They've both shared so much time together that their car rides last way longer than their conversations. Of course, it is always because they were hours in to a long distance drive to where ever they were needed. Today, it was five hours through the countryside hills.

They come across a small wooden unit hosting only a door, and roll to a stop.  Eric flips out his phone and rings a number on speed dial. They get out immediately, and he puts the phone back in his pocket as they lean against the metal of the car. They both stare at the odd structure in front of them. The shapeless yet functional woodwork behind the building reveals its purpose as access to an underground facility.

As if by magic, it opens and Sarah flashes them a bright smile. Her white coat contrasts their dull v-necks and jeans. "So which one of you is coming in?" she enquires. Eric nods at her, lifting his weight from the body of the Honda. Matthew smiles back at Sarah and gets back in the car, heading back down the road.

The sky is a bright orange, and the deep sun refused to set, popping in and out of the cover of the hills they were going through. They both pulled down the sun visors earlier, and the vanity mirror is exposed. "Why the hell did they even make this car with that mirror on the wrong side?" he thinks. He looks over to the passenger side, as if the damned mirror would switch back to its natural place. He and Eric have spit out various insults at the intellect of the guy who decided how the visors would turn out. He smiles, remembering them as they repeated those so many times.

Back there at the outpost, two other men drive up to the outpost just as Eric and Sarah are done with their small talk. Out of the car comes two men, one with a pistol aimed at Eric that fires half a dozen rounds at him. His body goes down to the ground before his assailant is done firing. "We're the ones who are coming in today," says the gunman as he tosses his gun into the car casually.

-TBC-

Music & Genres

Adrian: There are so many genres of music out there (blah blah blah conversation idea generating stuff)
Abel: Hey, why not invent a new genre?
Adrian: I think all the genres have already been invented lah, this and that, from Rock to Jazz, Dubstep, Space Rock and whachamacallit.
Abel: Yeah, Rap, Electronic Dance Music, Indie, right. They've bloody made everything.

*a moment's pause*

Abel: How about you make HDM?! Hydroelectric Dance Music. We need renewable sources of music. Solar Powered Dance Music? Geothermal Dance Music?

---[End of civilised discussion]

A Flash

He's on a manhunt, chasing a black sedan on his motorbike. The wind shows up the full length and thickness of his hair, he hadn't any time to put on a helmet. All he hears is the roar of the engine at full throttle, pitching up and down as he twists and turns through the small roads. The colour red is just another shade, as they blatantly flout every traffic rule there is.

As he pulls off his sixth apex turn at top speed, the rubber hits the kerb. The back tire squeals in the air for a second, and he leans forward to get it back on both wheels. He smashes down on the gas immediately, the car being all that's on his mind.

He sees her get out at the train station. A few hundred people amble about, and she loses him in the crowd. He is running round stationary trains to find her, carelessly jumping onto the tracks. He turns left and right, but he doesn't see anything. "A few more rounds, she has to be here," he told himself. But all he sees are nameless faces.

Reaching the opposite station entry on right side, he sees a face he recognises. It's not her, it's an old acquaintance. He mouths the question, he responds with surprise on his face. He knows that he hasn't seen her. His heart ramps up a gear.

He scans the horizon for her, but he sees nothing, except a hand coming in to grab him by the throat. He's pinned against the wall, with her left hand pushing his right onto the same brick surface. Despair crosses his heart, as his eyes meet hers. The pale, white face he looks at is accompanied by a pair of vicious looking eyes. Even in death, his heart skips a beat for her.

But without a thought, he instinctively pulls out a gun, firing at the side of her chest. Their interlocking fingers loosen. As she falls, he grabs her around the waist, and her lips fall on his. Her weight soon breaks his limp hold on her, and she slumps to the ground in a crumpled heap.

It is possible she doesn't die, I hope as I awaken from my dream.

July

It's the month of June. A beautiful month, no doubt. There are the new revelations of life, the happenings to be happy about, the feelings to enjoy.

Of course, everything had to be interrupted by the haze. It brought a narrower horizon and many problems to everyone. #&$!* corporations scrimping on land-clearing costs.

And in the midst of everything happening, there's ____________ _________ _______ ______ ______

(Fill in the above story yourself lol).

And that's it. June was happening, wasn't it?







I need a journal, where I can write the narrations of life.

Writing On Stone Tablets

You know that feeling? When you transition from here to there. I mean,

Say you return back to your home from school, university, whatever for a holiday. Or you go somewhere special with people who are special to you FOR that holiday. It's a few days, a couple of weeks, maybe a month or two even. When you get to the end of it, it feels like forever since your holiday started, but only a short time of your holiday actually happened.

Then, it disappears into the past. Like the miles gone by. Like the waves into the shore. Like the sound of birds from the concrete jungle. Like the rush you get from your five seconds of fame.

Thank you for nothing

Cause there's nothing left to lose

Thank you for feeding us years of lies

Thank you for the wars you left us to fight

Thank you for the world you ruined over night
But we'll be fine

Yeah we'll be fine.

-

Sometimes I sit down here and all that comes to me is the sound of an imaginary object bouncing about the emptiness between my ears.

Sometimes, this happens in the middle of an exam paper. Usually, it's accompanied by the feeling of being cold, sleepy, or maybe some variety of bodily pain. Thankfully for me, it never lasts too long.

To break whatever's been happening above, I think I'll write about all the series I've watched ever in a few posts coming up. Brilliant, no? *shines laser into your eye*