it's one of those days when i know i should be writing something, but words seem to be just way too channeled to put online.
i do think i should talk about
nocategory more though. i came across it on a random orkut photography community and it's beyond amazing. it reloads a new picture on the left everytime you click refresh and every picture has a story to tell. my favourite guy on it is someone called alexander bainbridge. Istvan Siklossy is also absolutely wow, and i also really like rebecca pike.
.
and slowly i succumb to the inevitable.
somehow my favourite moments were the ones quite unplanned. sitting on a ride, sharing a single seatbelt, waving arms above the world in conversation waiting for the ride to start. waiting in a parking lot, stuck behind a parked car taking it's time waltzing out, listening to loud wedding drums flooding through the thin walls of the 'marriage garden' next door. waiting in a hospital, me playing everything and nothing off people's boredom and twitchedworry and you wildly humouring my antiseptic-and-whitewashed-induced high.
i make us sound like warriors alone in a storm. we weren't. usually it was quietness, long minutes of smudging silences with shuffling and quickened breaths.
i stifle my barbaric yawp in hopes of being heard.
it's days when you wish your breath was blue, your room a little cooler and the tv blaring things a little less blaring. it's days when the lyrics speak to you but cannot talk back, and when the loudest sound within a ten mile radius is the sound of your fingers on the space bar, springing on, and off, and on again.
i wonder if everyone's spacebar has a longish shapeless dent in the plastic on the rightish side, into which their thumb has neatly fit through days and nights of pressing keys in letters and conversations.
