It could be worse i guess....

Oh the obscenity of it.

She dampens the spirit of holiday-ing, mother nature. First, she unleashed storms and floods in Rome causing a spontaneous trip to Amsterdam as a replacement. Now she blows up a volcano, indefinitely. Stuck in London I am. No ibiza. In the drawer my bikini shall sit. 

Adding salt to the wound. One boy is stranded on this side of the world wanting to get home, and another at home, wanting to get here. What a nightmare.

The terrible obscenity of it.

all i want for christmas

the dirt and grime of london has been cinnamon dusted by the powdery snowflakes. my shiny gold tree is sitting in my room waiting to be adorned. days are filled with bliss nothingness as christmas draws nearer. mulled wine, stuffed turkey and carols. the only thing missing is the boy, the boy who is faraway. just too damn faraway.

It just doesn't feel right

This bliss happiness.

oh my.oh my

the local scene sure has changed. for starters, the place was not filled with underaged kiddos all dolled up, dressed to fool. instead, it was hip rocking, booty shaking girls. the dancers had many fascinating antics throughout the course of the night, with one stripping of her top to reveal an oversized, overly padded bra. the remaining ones on the podium were simulating such vigorous sexual motions and body shaking, i would pity the guy/s they bed. they might just cause him to end up with a chapped genital. wild things.

Women

Lesson : Do not invoke the female fury.

Incubus

it's a funny thing, the subconscious. it captures the nitty gritty detail of the day's happenings and blows it up into one big dream. last night, i saw him pull up beside me. excitedly i rolled down the window and leaned out of the backseat of the crv, waving and calling out. there was a quirky, distorting quality to everything. how young he looked, untouched by the time that has passed, me just as delighted as i would have been to see him. and just like that, it ended. at least i'm not holding back imaginary horses in my sleep.

7 days and counting

sitting and eating a glorified over-priced tuna sandwich, i sported a long face and felt nothing but sour bitterness. nothing seemed to be going right, from the bloody base of the lemon yoghurt cheesecake that crumbled and fell apart, to having to drive to work in such slow moving traffic that i barely had to graze the accelerator. i'm looking forward to a good game of tennis today. geez, i actually miss the wall in kyuem that i could storm off to whack some balls whenever my blood was set ablaze.