Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

9.02.2015

Before & After





Everyday, she wakes with a headache that cannot be cured with two quad tall americanos nor another can of red bull. Maybe it was stimulated by the uneasiness of her life these days and the leaps that she should make--but denies. She used to think a lot and make seemingly good decisions, but these days, she does this less and less as she refuses to think. Because of her headache.

Her friends have dwindled to be those of no vocabulary sets. Her friends and her have engaged in numerous activities that would have accounted for that though. So you know, no faults. C'est la vie. Shit happens. Lassez faire.

Today we will follow her through her day. We will count how many mistakes she makes and mark down where she fails to optimize her difficult situations and leverage her potential greatness. We will observe how many drinks she ends up drinking to kill her pounding headache and how many strangers she offends with her nonchalant rudeness. In the end, we shall deem if she is indeed a super anxious person suffering from internal conflict against her true self or rather a person made of so much fluff that she has been the most waste of our time to follow. --20150314


*** DIGEST ***
...THEN START FRESH...





Because she realized that life goes on.


2.22.2015

An excerpt from Short Story #1




She nurtured her knowledge of everyday life patterns as well as the worldly matters that she was not—and never going to be—involved with. She was not that important. To be honest, this revelation was what had brought her down and had her make her businesses to a humble number. At one moment, she was convinced that the city needed her and the city regarded this as true for she fluttered from one end to the other blowing life to the most boring people and common events. But at the end of the day, such life she endorsed and generated was merely youth, and we all know that youth passes. She had woken up one day and youth graduated from her soul and mind. It had sowed the seeds of cynicism into her waves—internally destroying her gaiety. She woke up a beaten soul and she was no longer important to anyone, even to herself.



--c-a-t-c-h-m-e-i-f-y-o-u-c-a-n--
@IAMPURPOSE on tumblr
------------


2.09.2015

— 1:06 am 20150106



And she came from nowhere in the midst of all her hardcore drug habits, she came from nowhere 
the sanity.
Like a blast of the gardens exploding through a greenhouse
Like the tabs of a window filling up quietly and then falling out of the laptop screen completely 
It was something that we all have visions of but never see
Because all is never true nor real
And this is why we imagine and long for that virtual reality where nothing real is sane and nothing happening is structured
Where we can talk as so and still be a nobel prize winner (or an exemplary scholar)
A leader like that of Obama and Genghis Khan
and be mint
pristine
grey
dark
solid and gradient
liquid and hard
bones and beauty 
all that matters is you
to God we pray for the future
and The Sanity.

— 1:06 am 20150106

1.27.2015

Lost (Succumbed)

To Cute Girls
And
Wrong Thoughts
Plus
The Probability
Of
Pursuing Happiness.

2.18.2014

Yesterday and Today

Life is not fair but it has been fair and good to me.
Slump has thoroughly ran me over and has moved on to another victim.

I stood up again.
Stronger than before, yet again.

I am home.
And soon I will embark.


Where I'm Going - Cut Copy
#Findingthemissinglover

3.01.2013

Another Excerpt

BGM: L'Amour Stories by DEERHOOF



I had a dream – and it wasn’t about going somewhere. It was a dream about already being there; that “somewhere.”
I never saw myself, but I saw my hands and feet. They were connected to all the right limbs and I felt light weight; I was ready to fly!
Holding on to a heavy camel envelope, it was my portfolio of my pop-up stores – including a Candy Crush pop up store; now that one was brilliantly sleek with white curvy walls and large-size blow up candies with the special candies from the game being even larger! It was a large selection of print outs of all the ones I did and I was bringing it to the newly upgraded office of University of British Columbia’s to see the dean. Turns out, my uncle is the newly appointed head of I-don’t-even-know-what and there were all these kids in the lobby for a more “human” and “nice” effect apparently. Oh, so in this future, kids are merely accessories. Nice. I love this world.
And as soon as I opened the doors to the dean’s office, things spiraled out of control and I couldn’t handle the air pressure. I couldn’t breathe. The chaos continued and I saw my portfolio of pop-up stores and my coworkers’ faces fly into the air, the world flipped and gravity – what is gravity? French, German, and Russian lyrics floated in the air and I snapped my hands at them trying to get them away. They came at me in subtitles like a rope, trying to tie me down. Snap, slap, snap, slap.
Snap.
Slap.
Fuck.






With colleagues + photographer Kim Jungman during the Eyes of Vega exhibition at PLATOON. 



1.24.2013

Excerpt from Somewhere


"And so she sauntered out of the house, battered. Emotionally battered.
She yelled on top of her lungs words that never should have been invented.
Everyday and every morning and every night and every early evenings and even the fucking afternoon’s were the same.
And she whored her ideals for her reality.
Her love for ambition,
Her smiles for wrinkles,
Her trust for assassination,
Her realness for lies,
Her insights for empty words.
She needed to escape and she needed a partner-in-crime, a friend, a bank account, a functioning brain, wisdom and momentum. She needed a start to start the inertia.
And so she sauntered out of the house, never looking back.
Cursing herself and cursing her past and cursing whatever hope and belief she had put on herself. Cursing everybody who had believed in her and cursing the world in a whirlwind of angst that one can never imagine – trust me, her angst was worse than Holden’s.
She lay on the small street outside her front door, praying for a grizzly bear to come nuzzle her life out of her below-average body. But God wasn’t on her side and no grizzly bears came to eat her up. God watched her cry on the asphalt and for a dramatic effect, turned her tears to neon blue, complete with visual mapping. Seeing the transformation of her tears’ color, she popped up and stood erect and thought, ‘Scrumptious.’"



11.06.2012

RAAAAAAANT

APPARENTLY A BLOG IS WHERE YOU RANT ABOUT EVERYTHING AND THEN HAVE EVERYONE READ IT AND THEN SECRETLY HATE YOU FOR RANTING SO MUCH.

Therefore

I don't want to rant.

I really want to wail.

But I will wait.

And whisper
in a small little voice
perchance husky as my mother calls it
in my morning voice
into your ear
with small
tears
by the corners of my eyes

"how come I'm here
I'm finally doing everything for myself
but I'm not myself"

breathe
weep

"and I'm doing everything else than whatever
I want to be doing for myself...
at this moment."

sigh
smile

"Lack of sleep, maybe," you may reply.


Prayin' hard

10.03.2012

Between Oct 1st and 2nd

They had deep eyes, full of purity. Untouched by any sort of injustice in this world, they came to my doorstep (which was basically my room door) and knocked. They seemed so small due to their clear eyes that seemed to pop out at me that I instantly wanted to care for them.

"We're looking for work," said the boy.
He looked worn yet comfortable in ripped black skinny jeans and a white tee shirt. He had a full head of dark brown -- almost black -- curly locks. I just wanted to run my fingers through them to see how tangled the mess was; it also looked extra soft due to its oil. His right hand was in his jacket pocket and his left held the girl's hand. His eyes were dull showing no venom nor complexity.
She was a pretty little thing with soft white skin. Her lashes long and her bright blue eyes sparkling with hope and amazement. She channeled Pattie Boyd.. Maybe due to her soft, long blonde hair with bangs, of course. She just glowed everywhere! She was so delicate!!!! It wasn't believable that her hand wasn't crushed within her beau's. She was a teenage heartthrob, a vintage film star, the epitome of caucasian women, etc.......

They were the most beautiful couple I have ever seen.
They were the purest couple I have ever seen.
They were so in love that they brought tears to my eyes and made me nauseous.
I wanted them to be mine.

So I employed them by sticking them up on my wall with the double-sided Scotch tape. They were bigger than all the figurines that I had stuck up on the ceiling and the walls of my room, but they fit right in. When I lay on my bed, they were right above my body on the right wall. I stuck them up making sure that they were still holding hands. They were oh, so very happy, and were ridiculously good at staying up on the walls. They were polite, too. When I left the room, they said good-byes, and when I came back they always greeted me with a smile from each of them.

This did not seem bizarre at all. Except once, before closing my lids to go to bed, I glanced up at them and realized that... Maybe humans shouldn't be stuck up on walls even if this were a dream. Then I imagined a concept from 추격자, this Korean film, where the serial killer hung his victims' corpses, then slit their achilles heels to drain them from everything heavy the bodies have. My couple looked just like them all of a sudden. Am I supposed to slit their Achilles? Fucking disgusting.

So the very next day, in order to clear my mind perhaps, I decided to go shopping. I wanted to get some new clothes and underwear for the two of them. I went inside this store which had TONS of undies: fancy ones; cheap ones; skanky ones; and like, reaaaaaaally weird ones, too. So yeah. The store reeked of the vintage-store-dusty smell, and the lighting was pretty terrible. Pink and black feather boas hung from the ceiling and the employees all had some sorts of body modifications. The mirrors were all pieced together as if I was looking down a kaleidoscope and they were of NO HELP at all. I thought to myself, "where the fuck am I? The Palace of Versailles????" Idk what was going on in my head either.

I was getting dizzy and felt like puking so I left the store through its tiny back door to find my couple outside. Oh right, I guess I gave them a day off for the day....(!?) This is when I learn of their names, Matthew (Mattie) and Susan (Susie).
Susie was only wearing a 50s style white two piece and a neon snap back. I wasn't sure if it was a bikini or just a bra and panties. Matt was in a light blue suit... some kinda outfit which was totally put together by Saturday Night Live's costume designer. It was a horrendous suit, but because Matt is such a handsome fellow, it didn't really matter. He looked scrumptious.

The two were super happy to see me, and I couldn't believe how much their greeting made me happy. If they hadn't been as happy when talking to me or if they hadn't fawned all over me, showing off their new clothes, I think I might have even cried. Them seeing, greeting, and coming over to me meant a HUGE deal to me just then.
Anyhow, the two kept rattling on about how the store people were really nice even though they look scary. They had gotten their clothes from them for free.
I guess these two can be loved anywhere they go. Their beauty being ridiculously attractive, but it's because of their innocence and genuine naivety! They were not people of our time; where and when did these two come from?

They had drank a bit before meeting me with the store people. I looked over at the crowd. Kind of a strange bunch; their vibe was a mix of Die Antwoord and LMFAO... Yeah............

Susan had learned to longboard and wanted to show me. She abruptly grabbed the board from the alley and started off to ride on the roadside, not the sidewalk. I started to panic because the road was super busy for some reason. Cars were everywhere and I knew that something would go wrong. I screamed after her and grabbed a bike on the side to chase after her. It was then when I got hit by a bus and went flying off my bike. It was here when I lost track of time and space and Susie and only chaos ensued.

Only chaos ensued.

When I awoke, the road was still full of traffic. I was physically fine but paranoid. I kept walking down the road to find a small commotion of people in front of a bus. As soon as the scene was visible, I knew everything had gone wrong. There was Mattie, my Mattie, sprawled on the ground. He was a bloody mess; the dark red liquid soaking up his dark dark hair. I ran over and tried picking him up. Crying and wiping the blood off his face, I yelled for him to wake up.
He did wake up. And he walked over to the sidewalk and laid there, gurgling that he was fine. Bullshit. He said that he smoked weed with them store people then they put him in a cart or something and that caused him to crash. Those fuckers. I called 911 for an ambulance, but the woman on the line (who talked and sounded just like those ladies who pick up for cab lines) was a fucking cunt. Basically, I was on the line asking for an ambulance and explaining what and where the event had happened, and she wasn't even paying attention. Then Mattie spotted an ambulance around half a block away. My stomach lurched.

I tried to cover the scene from his sight. The more I tried, the more he struggled to see.
"Who's there? Is that Suze? My Susie?" He kept gurgling, yelling, and trying to get up. His outreached, bloody fingers were full of love for Susan. He needed to be there and touch her and die with her if need be!!!! However, I wouldn't let him. I wouldn't let him die!!!! No, he can't. He needs to work for me a little longer. He needs to come back with me. And OBVIOUSLY the other hurt one is Susan; who else!? I didn't know what to do except to make sure Matt stays down until the next ambulance comes, but my tears betrayed everything. I couldn't stop crying.

I couldn't even stop Susan from going down the street.
I couldn't be there for Matt when the others were toying him around. Dicks.
I couldn't get an ambulance to come.
And I'm half a block away, watching a distorted scene of paramedics working on Susan's limp body on the ground through layers of tears.

Then all the sound was gone and the whole thing was in slow-mo (this is when I consciously, in my dream, affirm to myself to write this dream down and to make it into a short movie...).

Matt, a bloody mess, screaming and prying himself out from my arms to flop over on the ground while trying to get up.
Susan, a fuzzy bloody mess, getting hoisted on to a stretcher.
Paramedics, the tired blobs, pulling the white sheet over Susan's face.

All I hear is a fuzzy noise and as if on cue, I WAKE UP! YAAAYYYY!!!!


7.16.2012

BLEAK

If there was a future for us then they won't be here killing our dreams one by one and beating us down, immobilizing our limbs two by two. 





5.01.2012

Incompetence

I'm suffering.
Just chew gum.
Just move on.
The day will be over in T-3 hours.
Optimism for the fools.


4.11.2012

April 11th, 2012. 2:37 PM



The days are all meshed and intertwined together
Yesterday's worries
are 
erased but not undo-able
Future is a blessing
supposedly but dependent on the present
And all the actions 
Your brain
Echoing through 
ringing by
While you're trapped in a dull haze 
as if breathing in and out of an oval shell
Outside voices fuzzy backgrounds immobility
Lids half closed squint squint blink breathe






--
I THINK I'M RETURNIN'

9.27.2011

Trying................

I tried writing Korean poems and my first two succeeded. So. Here are my 3rd and 4th that I just whipped out nearing 4am. This is a better portal (I feel mentally safer) than Facebook. Weird, eh ? Since this page is TOTALLY public vs. Facebook's "relative" privacy. Haha. If you understand them, feedback would be much appreciated !!!!!!!!!






우리는 너무 달라서 틀렸었어
 

해맑은사람들사이에서도
너가 제일빛이났어.
너의 머리뒤에는 노란자같은 halo가있었어.
너의 발옆에는 빨간 광 이있었어 !
쓰리 고 !
우린역시극과극.
난슬픈사람들사이에서도 제일 lifeless이지.
나는눈물대신 영혼을 끊었지.
나는 위에서 바라보지, 너의 everlasting glow.
스톱 !

우리는 너무 달라서 틀렸었어



미래

나는 쓰래기더미아래 제일냄새나는 쓰레기다.
내가 등장하는 순간
바람까지나를 홀로두고간다.
나의존재감을 느끼는 순간
반대쪽은 찌그러지지.
난그래서멀리서
거리두면서
숨어다니면서
어둠을반기면서
숨도안쉬면서
조그만한 먼지보다도 못한인생을 하루하루지내지.
그러나
나같은것도 나한텐
라는것이있어.
그래서 자존심도있어.
언젠간
내냄세는 그대의 머리속에있을듯 없을듯 스며들을거야.
어느덧 항상차있는
포근하고 익숙한 집냄세처럼-
기대해
그리고 기다려.
내가분리수거될때까지-
 


ㅎㅎㅎ 띄어쓰기... Plus, lack of vocab is so evident...... T^T 노력할게여 ~

9.14.2011

7.05.2011

WOAH

“Woah,” the little boy says walking by holding a stick and rolling a can.
Busy day. Windy. Clouds moving fast as they should in front of a complacent yet strong light blue sky in the background. The sun, hidden, never glares at the passerby’s sun shaded eyes. The boy is unsteadily rolling a crumpled can with his stick and in his left, he holds bits of paper and a wrinkled $5 bill. It blows with the wind but in his firm grip, it never leaves his not yet fully-grown hand. A hefty man, maybe his father – or his guardian – walks ahead as if he knew the boy would follow him anywhere without the needed supervision.

One wonders if the boy knew the amount of the old, #5 bill; its worth. A person may work for that or it may be more than someone’s life fortune! For some, it’s an amount that one may ask their parents for with a bruised pride or for others, it’s the smallest bill to give to a homeless on the streets.

And there is the boy. He is nonchalantly holding the bill along with the garbage scraps, belittling it into another worthless piece of paper.

Half a block down, the boy says “woah” again as the can rolls off the sidewalk into the streets. He drops his stick from his hand without second thoughts and transfers his $5 bill into his right hand fist. The man turns to the boy and tells him to hurry up.

I want that $5.

5.31.2011

Untitled

The morning was passing by slowly for her. It was as if each second had tripled and time was moving at its own pace that’s slower than her. It was terrifying. She was the one behind and it felt absolutely wrong to be ahead. She felt as if she was a prisoner, cuffed, and time was the man of the law, pointing a gun at her head and following her patiently with confidence. She felt helpless. Choked.
That was her morning.
She choked in her shower and it ended up being 40 minutes long.
She choked down her breakfast, which was leftover oatmeal from two mornings ago.
She choked while waiting for her bus to school.
And she really choked when she realized she had forgotten her tumbler of coffee at her side table in the foyer. Those side tables, she cursed. She then went over all the times she had forgotten her coffee or keys, or important documents on that side table. She cursed under her breath and then she cursed time.
The bus ride felt jerkier and longer by each minute. When she looked out to the world, the next block swerved to go out of focus, and when it was back in focus to her eyes, the block had extended. Then the bus would have to travel the extended block. She thought it was her that was causing the problem. Momentary mind fuck that she created! But each time she turned away from the window, blinked, then looked out again, the same would happen. It wasn’t her problem.
It was real.
Time was behind her and she was not running late.
She was just getting stretched and time was playing with her.
Through many hours of the morning like this, by the time she arrived at her school, her energy had depleted. Her strength gone.
She was heavy and felt like a lump of seaweed that needed to be squeezed and dried so that it could be light and crispy again.
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