17th June, 2012. 6:02 am.
A minute, it's been
Yoda speak, speech less than pristine
Self-abusive; he's just mean
Chapel's not Sistine, emotionally sixteen
Prodigiously stunted; game is X
Always variable, writing the lamest text
SOS with next SMS
A trophy? No, just atrophy, nothing to flex
Blessed with the hex, yes
The red voice on my left went down my neck, and burst through my chest
Angel on my right didn't whisper what I should write
Posted via m.livejournal.com.
25th February, 2012. 8:47 am. More Than Anything
speck within the breeze
soul buried next to the trees
composing beneath the compost
without any ease
not any sort of whiz, geez
gangsta dreams amongst the straight and narrow steez
life has no new lease
my dear Lise...
25th February, 2012. 2:15 am. Loving You Is Cherry Pie
before I bereaved it, I believed it
she’s sick, but I was never a cure
no antidote, none needed
love it or leave it
still a mystery, still mystic
so what was the mistake then?
scattered flour, only half-baked
no risk take-n
and that’s how fate went
quote me forever more, but I’m no raven
stirred and somewhat shaken
word is Bond, and this martyr-ini is late again
bruised like gin, somewhat achin’
olives on a toothpick; garnish what I’m makin’
6th February, 2012. 1:25 am. stern eye
so what if I haven't
I'm still some kind of laughing
not guilty, no affidavit
so they say that's how that day went...
2nd February, 2012. 6:09 am.
and to some, reprehensible
I never said I was sensible
but things aren't always set in stone, y'know?
2nd February, 2012. 3:48 am. All I Need
The other thing? Check also
The things that enable me are all here. As I can't sleep, and am in the middle of A History of Violence
, it strikes upon me to write again. Which is really a way for me to talk. Which in turn, is a way for me to express what it is that I think. Which too much of, as always happens but isn't necessarily always welcome, is the case.
As I am wont to say of late, it's been a minute, LJ. I write semi-regularly here, just mostly in private. Let's see what that's been...
Random rhymes as they come to mind (hah)? But of course. Ah, December 31st, a bunch of point-form notes for a blog entry I may or may never write. But the idea(s) seemed good at the time.
Ah, December 1st was the last public entry. A re-post of what I wrote in my fantasy football league. Which I ended up winning. And while playing is fun, let it be known that winning makes the game often all that much better. At least once in a while is all I ask.
So what's happened since then? A few Hip Hop Karaokes and an R 'n B Karaoke. A bevy of films with a bevy of good people. Good meals with good people. Some alone time when I need it. Not enough New Year's resolutions made, and even fewer adhered to.
But as I've said in a tweet: Word of the day is 'inextricable'. Invariably, the same people, places, and themes seem to recur. Onto the next...
That's not to say that change (GROWTH) can't and doesn't happen. I'm most certain that it does. Even if one clings to the notion of one's own self-image of a singular or multiple point(s) in time, that what is around you doesn't abide. Embrace or reject, regardless one has to ultimately accept. Avoidance is but a coping mechanism, it's never a solution.
Sometimes this is okay, and at other times less so, but let's internet freestyle again. Fire up a beat, shall we?
When the fuck did this whiskey hit me?
Born a rascal, but I ain't Dizzee
Wrench like Allen, gilding that Lily
Watch me as I get silly
Blinded to the truth, but I still see
Nothing but a worm, I'm silky
Chiffon, what the fuck am I on
My fabric ain't elastic, no nylons
My song is my song, can't let those that done wrong be bygone
When I'm feeling mega, everything else is just a micron
A better past and future, same things for which that I long
Come at me, but know the consequences
It ain't as though that this bro is gon be defenseless
What's that I smell?
Oh, that's the scent of me descending, rendering you senseless
Short and stout, this is the tempest
And I'mma end this
1st December, 2011. 3:24 am. Fantasy Football Regular Season Finale
Young Breezy and Jimmy "Preach" Graham
reppin' the dirty-dirty South, you know they go HAM/
Dezzy and Roddy, they're part of the fam/
My team is the slaughterer, the Horde be the lambs
26th November, 2011. 5:49 pm. In My Place
left to my own devices, I do vices
I try to be nice, yet
still afloat with no life vest
trying to pass this eye test
so damn susceptible
to warm peepers on a pretty face
says he who needs to be replaced
screw these guys
soon we rise
from the river, Phoenix
wedged so deep, good cleavage
love it, leave it
my heart is leaking, seepage
22nd November, 2011. 2:10 am. Sometimes
Some people sing, others draw or paint. Me, I write when it comes to relaxing, when the weather is conducive to such.
From my parents' mortality, I've contemplated more of my own of late. That though "legacies" are on-going, the only things that are permanent are "landmarks". What I mean by that, is that the only thing that can withstand the dilution of memory and time, is something of more of an actual permeance. Things which can be archived, and looked back upon to a focal point of reference.
The digital age (now) has made such archiving much easier. But somehow that's not enough. Moving pictures, (musical) records, and books, as they were my first loves, are what I hearken back to. And then shortly after, video games, film.
And so it comes now, the question: what will your legacy be, Hao Lin, Lawrence? Will it be TV? Music, or the novel? Or will be it a game of sorts? Perhaps something shot on celluloid?
Or might it be something just in the cloud(s). The everlasting ether that is t3h intarwebz...
Read 2 Notes -Make Notes