But you knew what you wanted to run away from. All other alternatives were buried in that blurred inception. And so [i]t didn’t leave.
Embracing what you do not know.
When I’d have a big workshop, I’d set aside a space for woodworks. To build even small outputs, touch something that you’ve polished repeatedly until it feels and looks just right. In what other craft can I get that feeling?
I like these kinds of furniture. Big, bold, steady and sturdy. Maybe that’s why it exasperates me inside every time I use a furniture with uneven legs.
It is not a simple idea that we mentally assent to: certainly there may be a conceptual component, but more than that for it to be a belief there is an emotional affirmation with it that goes to the root of our being and how we feel.
In the middle of working on something, while your head is filled with things unrelated to what you’re supposed to be focusing on, you cloud your head with things. And you suddenly spout with the words and the urge to write.
Funny how lies and lice are similar metaphorically, when forced, and with how it sounds like.
And so this I write while I was working on my Illustrator project.
We meet again.
From the moment I tasted you, you have become the most precious morsel of chewy, nutty goodness that I would most likely marry if you were human.
You encase yourself in the protection of the most basic ingredient. You are, inside, exotic with taste and color yet so simple and classy with your composition.
You are my opium that I cannot own; my vice that I cannot sustain for you have only come a short while. A visitor. A passerby.
If the day would come for you to finally disappear, and you will, quickly, you will never be forgotten.
I’ll have more of you soon, or later, but not never.
I’ll stuff my face with your chewy-nutty goodness again, with remnants of you powdering the rim of my mouth, careless and engrossed in your flavour.
Ah! Aghast! Aghast will I be when you are gone. And it would be my fault!
Aching. Aching! Knowing that you are near me now while writing this. I’ve consumed my supply of you for the day being. Ah! Aghast!
I shall be with you tomorrow my dainty, dear Gaz.
This photo defines “Morning Exercise”
Exercising in my pajamas has got to be one of my quirks and forgiveable fashion faux pas.
It is a blunder to the world of fashion where aesthetics is divine; and an acceptable outfit in the world of fitness, where sweating is prime.
September 4, 2014. 9:56 p.m.
Box of cake was seen [with the cake still intact] in the fridge situated on the second layer, beside the yogurt and the nearly spoilt stir-fry vegetable.
September 5, 2014. 8:49 a.m.
Box of cake was last seen on the same place as where it was the previous night, with cake still intact. Officer’s note: The bag of cooked rice was nowhere to be found.
September 6, 2014. 3:14 a.m.
The box of cake was found inside a garbage bin in the master’s bedroom with innards (cake) removed and eaten by a person. No witnesses. No reports. No evidences except for the mangled box sprawled inside the bin.
September 6, 2014. 3:15 a.m.
Detective discovers the culprit: Her own sister.
Verdict: Felony and Cake Murder
Sentence: No cake for a week