To me, my blog is...

Generic blogs are generally boring, I know. This is a generic blog, I know. But did you know, that generic blogs are not meant for an audience other than the author? That's right, I'm here to entertain myself.

To me, my blog is...

• hope: that despite being a generally generic, uninteresting person with a generic blog that is generally uninteresting, I have a voice and I will be heard. ...Even when I have nothing to say.
• my friend: when there is not a soul in the world who isn't be right back, away, on the phone, out to lunch, appear offline, or blocking me on MSN, I turn to my blog, who won't listen but will publish for a long time all the nonsensical gunk spewing from my brain. This of course, relates to my previous point, hope. (note: People on my MSN who I am not interested in talking to don't count.)
• a refuge: from boredom, from loneliness, from stress, from clutter of things, events, people, thoughts, and emotions... Every new post is a clean, white, soft, lotioned, 2-ply, quilted square ready to be smeared and stained with my cynicism and enthusiasm for the random.

Ultimately, and especially applicable today, my blog is...

• procrastination: I have less than 12 hours to finish my work report. There isn't much to do, but there is also a lot more to do than I am aware of. In other words, I am fucked.

I hate the number 837.

This marks the 102nd post on SAVAGE. bread crust for the birds. The number 102 means that my last post was 101, which really, was a more sigifnicant entry number than 102. Number 101 is socially accepted as more special, because it is one more than a hundred--that's a lot! Of course, Dalmatians and other non-sensical bullshit had to do with it too.

Or whatever, I don't care about the numbers 101 or 102.

How about 111, and 837? Especially 837. I hate that number. 8:37 is the time that a bus is supposed to come at my stop, the bus that would ideally take me to work, the 111. Could it be just a coincidence that I watched it pass me by 3 work days in a row? The first 2 times I will admit that I had left the house late and didn't quite make it across the street, and had to pitifully watch it zoom by. But today! Oh today was different. See, I caught on, I knew about the curse, and that I'd just barely miss the bus if I had followed my routine; so I left earlier and Voila! There I stood, at the bus stop, waiting for my bus. No bus was to leave without me, not today, not the 111, not at 8:37am. But BAM! There it went, racing by just slowly enough for me to see the number 111 at the back of the bus. I had bent down to fix my pants and I MISSED THE FUCKING BUS, AGAIN!

Unbelievable! I'm disheartened.

MT

Tonight may be the first night that I really feel like I need a friend with me, a certain friend who I may have lost. I have often thought of him, missed him, been sad about the loss... but it wasn't until now that I felt lonely without him; mostly because, ironically, life has been quite pleasantly surprising lately and has kept me very busy.

There's no need to tell a regretable story, nor do I want to share it with the world, especially given the lack of anonymity here on this blog.

He was a good friend, a best friend at that. Someone who would patiently sit with me at the most inconvenient times when I was down, not needing a reasonable explanation as to why I needed the comfort, even though one would be nice. It's nights like these, when I feel uneasy but find myself incapable of composing a coherent narration of my thoughts, that I most want him to simply be there.

He was a trusting friend. Someone who opened up and allowed me to make him happy. Believe it or not, it does take a sort of courage. When he needed cheering up, I was always more than happy, even proud, to be the one who intuitively knew what to do.

Despite changes, the way I see it, he still is my friend. He may no longer want to talk to me, for now, or for a long time to come... but I know that we have one another's best wishes. That, in itself, is a kind of comfort.

freestyle for my mate

So I've gotten into writing rhymes and rap and freestyling lately thanks to my boy Lionel. And so it's spread to my friends and my best flatmate ever writes to me a poem. Here is my reply:

PK, O
Did u PK, yo?
if you did i, hope
it was for a certain blue, rose!

Thanks for writin' me, rhymes
Sure helps to pass the, time
cuz today the sun ain't, shinin'
I fear the fall is, climbin'..

up the legs of my, bed
sh*t it haunts me in the, head
sh*t i'm gonna be so, sad
sh*tty winter drives me, mad

with it's snow, ice, storms and, all
watching those penguins, fall
together they stand, tall
alone they're just too, small

AAAH!
my rhymes are tied, stickin' to the trick and the tick of the time and i find it is time to rewind and FREESTYYYLE!

yo PK, O, you know i don't like the cold. jo--that's my name, summer that's my game
round em up ho's, grind em down low, u know i miss em, oh, now u know i kissed em, yo
i meant just one, u know her she's the one, the fun, the girl's who got em guns
bringin' the sun, til the last call, run, 10 K like the PK-o, fast to the last of the midnight delight
got shots to the hot shots with the hot bods, we do not want hot rods---OH!! that's RIGHT!
but go on reach down your pants, get her a sex on the beach... you sick!
i meant go on reach down for the cash, get her a sex on the beach, you SO sick!
forget it! i'll get her the sex on the beach, though she wants some sex on the beach, ha! do i make you tick?
i'm clean, we're all clean! what you talkin' about, i know what u're thinkin' about, now
GO TO YOUR ROOM!

HAHAAAAA!!!! *ahem*

so, when the fun is done,
come over with your MJ for the J, that's me
my place after you sing K, i'm east
in the mornin' we'll feast
at the least we'll beast
on the meat, it's all about the beef at the KB
and the icy ice cream treats from PC

don't even get me started on the japs
sashimi, sushi, u tempt me. damn crazy snacks
we gotta hack em sacks, we gotta fack em flabs,
you lackin' em packs? c'mon lets hacky sack!
waterloo i'm back, where the party at
loo crew i'm back, this time i got my stash

first time first floor, second time on the second floor
we movin up, PKO
keep your head up, dont PK, yo
courtesy our history. flatmates again? the mystery.
we're not lost at sea, we'll just wait and see,
1105, see to the C for the communist prophecy!

greetings from the east
i'm outs for now, peace!