“Our chief want in life is somebody who shall make us do what we can. “
-Skip Prosser
is that love in that case, is that what one defines loving someone as? there are too much doubts that plague me these days and i can’t unfetteredly proclaim that one is made to love the way i used to, fecklessly, confidently, carefreely. that still remains an ideal, but spring this year is unlike those years past and i’m a completely different person as i was then. so what then do i live for, for whom do i live for?
there are two answers; one’s 51 and the other’s 79. numbers and figures, and there’s only so much you can survive on words because alphabets are capricious and their permutations join together to hurt you in an impossibly myraid sort of ways. i still believe in poetry but sometimes it’s so tiring and you have no idea how much it takes out of me, and so i need to lead a simpler life, if only in self-preservation, if only to be less idealistic, if only to move on, if only to actually study more, if only, if only.
“Let’s go. This is what it’s all about for me. You can’t draw it up any better,” Iverson said. “People say he’s the best basketball player on the planet, so I’m definitely looking forward to the challenge. Especially with me believing that about myself, so let’s go.
“This is what it’s about. If you’re scared, get a dog.”
the answer is 32 this year, and somehow i’m not worried for him; the nuggets are in the playoffs, and AI will deliver again; he has to, it’s his last chance to win a ring and he’ll tear through the lakers defence like a blitzkreig, dominantly, unflinchingly, fearlessly.
the pangs of mortality will do that to you.
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there was a dandelion growing at the back of our house and i pointed at it and went, “we should all make dandelion wine!” but my housemates looked at me, confused and i was a bit sad. maybe someday i’ll actually make it, but not this year; there’s not enough love within me for it to be compelling enough.
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”The game-winning shot I hit against New Jersey this season [on Nov. 12] was my first in the NBA,” says Paul. “But I don’t count it. There were 1.4 seconds left. Too much time. When I think of a last shot, I’m thinking . . . 5-4-3 . . . shot goes up . . . 2-1 . . . it goes in! . . . Game over! Game over! . . . I keep right on runnin’ into the locker room.” The MVP candidate has a faraway look. “That’s the perfect last shot. Make it, and keep right on runnin’.”
make it and keep on running. i can live a life like that.
‘Do you like it when you can hear something before you can see it?’
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close – Jonathan Safran Foer
i do, and that’s why words are so important to me.
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josh can be a joust of sorts.
<pak>: eh, have you been balling at the court near our house? how’s the uncle doing, is he still playing? i just suddenly thought of him, so yep.
<aWak3nlnG>: yup, still playing. just hit a 7/7 straight win last sunday =) ah-boy and eugene weren’t very happy hahaa. uncle’s fine, still the same oldie.
somehow, this feels like the best news i’ve had all week and there’s nothing i won’t give, nothing, to go back and play with mr lai and the uncles again. those were salient peaceful times, and the only thing keeping me sane three years ago.
“but he could not deny, in the small hours of his insomaniac nights, that he was full of something that had never been used,that he did not know how to begin to use, that is, love. In his dreams he was tormented by women of unbearable sweetness and beauty, so he preferred to stay awake and force himself to rehearse some part of his general knowledge in order to blot out the tragic feeling of being endowed with a larger-than-usual capacity to love, without a single person to offer to.
—
The avalanche of sex in which Gibreel Farishta was trapped managed to bury his greatest talent so deep that it might have been lost forever, his talent, that is, for loving genuinely, deeply without holding back, the rare and delicate gift which he had never been able to employ.”
The Satanic Verses – Salman Rushdie
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the core of human motivation is the desire for just a small amount of happiness (says code geass) but sometimes it’s just too tiring to continue so just move on, forget about what defines you, find a new definition, be happier in other ways.
before you kill yourself in an implosion of memories.
http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/olympic-spirit-comes-to-britain-805390.html
yesterday i saw the passing of the olympic torch as i dropped along great russell street and saw a huge commotion. i went up, saw the numerous tiny chinese flags waving around, and everything clicked.
i’m not sure if i’ll see anything like it again, which is a hyperbolic statement of sorts, but the chances of me lucking into another olympic torch bearing ceremony without being actually conscious of it is almost zilch.
conversation with shining over overpriced beef brisket noodles and sexy tofu rice was lovely, and it’s been ages since i was able to talk to someone like that. and that’s all i really live for these days, heartfelt conversations in a torrent of emotions that clears the mind.
but these days i am really tired.
the rate things are going, i really should start a new category called wah law eh.
today was a day of fluxes; an offer from macdonald hotels and resorts for the Aviemore Resort came in saying that i would be given an offer by the end of the day which didnt; of an awesome day of talking with z, and lastly, of rushing off to the gym without taking my keys which necessitated the hiring of a locksmith who charged £94 but who subsequently told me i could claim it from my travel insurance which i might have cancelled before i left.
sweet jesus christ almighty, i can just die from 2008; life needn’t necessarily be this exciting nor as self-sabotaging, consciously or otherwise, as this.
