On rewatch tonight.
1/31/15
1/28/15
A Turbo Engine
...Is no longer a secret to me. I'm so grateful I'll hug punch my favorite senior and buy rounds of pies to my entourage
1/26/15
Kino No Tabi On Rewatch
The edge of my fading memories, the far off, frozen, unreachable life,
In a crack, in the mirror that no one can hold
Seven broken doll sing silent tears of mud
Drain the maggots’ blood in the day that will never be returned,
And pierce the eyes with the briars of a clock
That crumbled to dust within seven days,
……..
The cruel judge records the faded letters of my life..
Only a bird with broken wings can sing the truth
………
With light only silence
………
Death is frozen all the way to the edge of its molecules
While the night loves eternity,
at the same time it chops down desire with a stone axe
Drink up the pain of a brain being split open!
………
The twelve winter messengers who were washed ashore
The mirage above the piece of paper
The spent country made of glass
The corpse sings with a necklace of many, many tears on its breast
The duck’s shadow on the cliff where light has ceased to exist
Will the blameless traveler ever tell of this story?
………
When nineteen cold moons have crossed the sky
After the day of pronouncement, and the night has passed
The world will end with the rising of the sun,
What else can we do other than smash the green plate
………
The blue lamplight roams about.
In the jewel of the night, the fake empire will sink into the water…
1/21/15
Here is the thing :
I write to flush away ideas.
And while flushing away ideas, I see other aspects of them.
I end up writing more.
It eventually escalates into mental harrassement.
I don't exaggerate : it takes a wanton neurotic activity to black out in the kitchen while a close dear friend is confiding herself and crying out her pain.
I told her I didn't listen. I told her she had to repeat. She had the decency to at least ask what was bothering me.
When I replied that my character's ideas are starting to become toxic to me too, she was about to smash my head in the pan then send me out of the balcony for a five floors fall.
It was a wake up call nonetheless.
So now, I'm writing to flush out the effect of writing all the while writing to flush out ideas.
I really want to be done. It doesn't look I will be done by the end of this year though.
Or, I should cut back on social life, because I'm not giving up on Dutch courses and certainly not my workout, even less reading time.
I need to write.
And while flushing away ideas, I see other aspects of them.
I end up writing more.
It eventually escalates into mental harrassement.
I don't exaggerate : it takes a wanton neurotic activity to black out in the kitchen while a close dear friend is confiding herself and crying out her pain.
I told her I didn't listen. I told her she had to repeat. She had the decency to at least ask what was bothering me.
When I replied that my character's ideas are starting to become toxic to me too, she was about to smash my head in the pan then send me out of the balcony for a five floors fall.
It was a wake up call nonetheless.
So now, I'm writing to flush out the effect of writing all the while writing to flush out ideas.
I really want to be done. It doesn't look I will be done by the end of this year though.
Or, I should cut back on social life, because I'm not giving up on Dutch courses and certainly not my workout, even less reading time.
I need to write.
1/17/15
You have a simple bag with no pockets in and you often empty it all to find your keys or change?
Here is a set of small bags for your notebooks, money, keys, pencils and electronics.
Gorgeous idea. Thank you, Banana.
Here is a set of small bags for your notebooks, money, keys, pencils and electronics.
Gorgeous idea. Thank you, Banana.
1/10/15
Der Schrei der Natur
Another on rewatch.
Two friends walked with me the vermillion road,
Watching the sun blending with a sky in decay.
Suddenly, I felt tired and overwhelmed with a load,
that even the blue of Fjord couldn't wash away.
My friends have walked on and I heard a strange ode,
that I came to understand as the nature's cry.
1/8/15
1/5/15
Rememberance
I don't feel like reading this over anymore. I wonder if I have outgrown Kaori Yuki...
But the OST is still a jewel.
But the OST is still a jewel.
1/2/15
On Rewatch
State the Hypothesis
Create a verification to hypothesis consequences
Iterate
Assess Results
1/1/15
Evangelion's Moon
I heard Fly Me To The Moon on a friend's playlist as sung by Sinatra. It reminded me fondly of NGE, Coffee Prince and Bayonetta. I take time now and I look a bit back.
It seems to me that 2014 was more about people than anything else. It reminded me of my early phase of existence.
I remember being 13 years old, and fondly remembering my 10 years old self, weeping in her bed by night, because she left her Grannie of the North and the countryside the morning of that night, and would only get to see her again a year after.
I remember being 16 years old, and fondly reflecting on my 12 years old self, struggling to explain in her clumsy french words the italian torn copy of Hugo Pratt's Una Ballata Del Mare Salato, to dear childhood friends eager to learn French and who thought that the comics were in French and that I could teach them some of the language with that amazing book which had illustrations to go with the text.
I remember being 19 years old, and fondly remembering my 17 years old self, prejudiced against high school teenagers and eager to just hang out with fellow childhood friends now in university, or those sharing some of her passion on the internet or in the library.
I remember being 22 years old, and fondly remembering my 18 years old self, deeply moved and incredibly touched by the fact that she had a best friend and by the amount of warmth and love she was been given by whom she used to think of as mindless egocentric teenagers.
I remember being 24 years old, and fondly remembering every time I spent with the closed ones despite the differences and the ends of several friendships.
I'm 25 years old now and I can't stop remembering and gratitude is still this overwhelming feeling that chokes me. I just have to find out I can talk about NGE or Dune or Tolkien with someone to feel the heat in my throat and the warmth within me.
Dear dear god, how this world is full of people.
It seems to me that 2014 was more about people than anything else. It reminded me of my early phase of existence.
I remember being 13 years old, and fondly remembering my 10 years old self, weeping in her bed by night, because she left her Grannie of the North and the countryside the morning of that night, and would only get to see her again a year after.
I remember being 16 years old, and fondly reflecting on my 12 years old self, struggling to explain in her clumsy french words the italian torn copy of Hugo Pratt's Una Ballata Del Mare Salato, to dear childhood friends eager to learn French and who thought that the comics were in French and that I could teach them some of the language with that amazing book which had illustrations to go with the text.
I remember being 19 years old, and fondly remembering my 17 years old self, prejudiced against high school teenagers and eager to just hang out with fellow childhood friends now in university, or those sharing some of her passion on the internet or in the library.
I remember being 22 years old, and fondly remembering my 18 years old self, deeply moved and incredibly touched by the fact that she had a best friend and by the amount of warmth and love she was been given by whom she used to think of as mindless egocentric teenagers.
I remember being 24 years old, and fondly remembering every time I spent with the closed ones despite the differences and the ends of several friendships.
I'm 25 years old now and I can't stop remembering and gratitude is still this overwhelming feeling that chokes me. I just have to find out I can talk about NGE or Dune or Tolkien with someone to feel the heat in my throat and the warmth within me.
Dear dear god, how this world is full of people.
