sweet beguiling fantasies;

Friday, November 16, 2007

The Declaration of Truth
Here I lie weak in my limbs
And sober in my mind.

Indifferent to the cause
I indulge more than I incline.

I have said once and a many times
Let Folly promenade in vain
And let it be my crime.

Now lend me your ears
To matters of the most important kind.
These are the truths. These are what I call-
Mine.

Setting: In today’s context, the study room. In the Victorian era, the ‘drawing room’. Atmosphere: KT Tunstall’s ‘Hold on’ blasting on the stereo overpowering the prodigious sounds of drilling and slabs of concrete thrown on the floor from the external environment. SWEEET. Oh by the way, I am so going to get my hands on her ‘drastic fantastic’ album as soon as the terror of exams obliges to disappear.
Speaking of exams…
I have consciously and conscientiously led myself go astray. To even ponder on this is absolutely ludicrous. I am truly cognizant of the fact that I am once again indulging in one of my most infamous follies. With so potent a force one can hardly imagine what kind of weapon should be deployed. But all it needs is simply a vindication of such existence. With accordance to Sigmund Freud’s renowned psychoanalytic school of thought, I have formulated a logical explanation to my so-called deliberate display of follies (I say deliberate because it is consciously done even if my will does not permit such imprudent actions): Where repression becomes the cause, visible symptoms begin to take shape. Now that the cause is illuminated and justified, clearly the next step is the chastisement of one self.
Henceforth, whatever cause or action I shall undertake will be done so in a self-abnegating manner.
Perhaps I should stuff a dagger in my bosom. I so deserve it.
Why such follies promenade in vain?
Shall I laugh myself out of it?
‘For what do we live but to make sport for others and laugh at them in our turn?’
Two-thirds of my fate has already been written. I wrote it myself. Can’t be that it was pre-ordained by my ancestors.
Indeed, I am destined to be a vagabond.

Apparently I am not fortunate to see the colossal acropolis in Greece. I am now to prepare myself for sheer opulence and grandeur: the Hermitage. So I am not to be grieved at all. Since the latitude of that place is the same as the Arctic Circle, I must say I have to double or even triple my winter supplies.I love the cold. One thing that I can’t seem to comprehend is why the citizens of this so-called ‘emerald isle’ simply clamor for a soak in the sun. Truly absurd I say. We are living in a perpetual tropical climate. Perhaps I'm generalising. Perhaps only some. Whatever the case, it is still ridiculous.

Now permit me to drown myself in my incessant grief.

a clandestine affair;
4:56 PM