sweet beguiling fantasies;

Monday, September 24, 2007

The Age of Enlightenment

A note for prior notice, or shall I say, to forewarn you readers this: I delight in being cryptic and equivocal at times. So if your nerves dont permit such vexation, please discontinue to read. If someone were to enquire on my present disposition, I would gleefully add that I am in the best worst state ever possible. These past few days were somewhat like purgatory for my sinful procrastination hitherto pursued. A seemingly lackadaisical manner of comportment has carved a fool out of yours truly. I am now no better than a battered shoe- tired, worn-out, exhausted and ramfeezled. I now can hardly align myself with that 'progressive being'. It is indeed dreadful. Utterly dreadful. Look at how deplorable a state I am in. Don't get me wrong here though. It can be vouchsafed that these lines are free from seeking any form of pity or inducing any kind of sympathy. For after all (or perhaps applicable to me only), Discomfort is like the canvass on which the mighty Comfort takes its form. And that's the ultimate cause for my cathartic outpouring of emotions. Not too long ago, I played Achilles and guess what? Amusingly, my fate was the same as his. Except for the fact that there's a marginal difference: Paris' arrow shot through his heel and mine was through my ticker and by someone whom I can hardly imagine wielding a bow and an arrow. Strange indeed. Ticker gets emboldened with high spirits in one moment and deflated in merely a second. The sheer size of defeat is too overwhelming for a ticker so delicate. Or for any other ticker for that matter. The convict clearly has no sympathy for my nerves. Is Raphael to paint without his brushes?! How am I to be enlightened with the convict's response if the convict makes no response at all? Anyway, if you ask me, the enlightenment part is wholly questionable. I'm thinking more of the French Revolution you see. Perhaps the convict is determined to see my head go under the tumbril. Oh yes and not only the convict, but the attorneys of my prelim exams too would delight in envisioning such a fate for me.

On the contrary, I am looking forward to my stress-relief days which jumpstarts on the morrow!!! Will be heading to the one-of-the-only-few-places-worth-considering-to-recommend-to-external-beings-alike aka town with three of the most insane, catastrophical, boisterous and apparently at the same time gorgeous beings on earth: ANTONINE, SARANYA and LAY HWEE. Then again to think that I have to put up with miss sparrow's nonsense about her being horizontally challenged will be like adding on to my stress. And then nine will retaliate with one of her trademark lines adding, "If you're fat then what am I?". And there goes lays being the intermediary between the two. And there lies rat pondering over the aftermath of this 'im-so-fat' conflict. This is what happened a few hours ago when we had a conference call. Again, I seek no pity or sympathy.

haha. Oh and did I mention the ancient, colossal Acropolis awaits my presence for this coming winter? If not then now you hear it and I shall trumpet to the world of the confirmed departure soon. Till then, i most graciously entreat your pardon for reading so disturbing an account. Then again, i know you can't help it. haha the lure of the rat.

a clandestine affair;
1:58 PM