i don't like the drugs(but the drugs like me).
Salutations.
My name's Jonan,
I'm an 18 year old with the lungs and liver of a 70 year old.
If by any unfortunate(for you) chance,
you get to know me more intimately,
you will find that I:
am quite the cynical little shit
am rather lazy,that's what everyone tells me anyway.
prefer night so much more over the day that I've made a few owl friends.
experiment with the stupidest things possible and still think I am reasonably intelligent.
have an ectoplasmic look during classes.
change brands of cigarettes as much as a girl changes clothes.
am an asshole in my own right,if you know what's good for you,you won't get close.
have an email address;jonan_yip@hotmail.com.
Misery loves company which is why I'm never alone.
Don't say I didn't warn ya.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
silence of the lambs.
Why,when we do our darkest deeds do we tell?They burn in our brains,become a living hell.
The past few weeks have been a flurry of chalets,late night drinking sessions and mid-afternoon hangovers(which suck pretty badly).I can't remember a time during the holidays when I've woken up(after an adequate 6 hours of sleep hurhur)during a time when the sun is up and about.
Life is gooooood.
So what have I been up to so far?
Playing mahjong.
Yes,playing mahjong.No kidding.
My mom laughed her ass off(quite hysterically I might add,I was afraid she might hyperventilate)when she saw me in a mahjong session with several individuals.
"Cannot even see things properly,now want to play mahjong.You see you missing one tile you also don't know."(THIS IS OBVIOUSLY A REFERENCE TO MY LESS THAN DECENTLY SIZED EYES)
Yes,I was missing a tile but I blame it on the lack of nicotine or someone cheating at the table.
Apparently,watching Cantonese movies such as Kungfu Mahjong,etc does not help either.
They've already labelled me "God of Mahjong" and "Mahjong Legend".
There are limits to how sarcastic one can be.
Anyway,until next time!
PONG!,Jonan.
6:26 AM
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Sacrifice
Some people think of rainpour as the blessings of the gods above,but on this cold autumn dusk it lashed against his skin with the sting of a captain's cat o' ninetails.Gritting his teeth,he squared himself and set himself against the howling tempests of the wind,driven by that sole memory of
her.
The clean,delicate scent of her flaxen hair,carried by the currents of a light,gentle spring's breeze delighted his senses,far surpassing any fragrant ambrosia he had ever encountered in his entire lifetime.Perhaps,it was because of the weather,the fresh earthy smell of ozone.Perhaps,it was because of his emotions,his heartstrings being strummed like a sitar to cantillate the tune of a merry folk song whenever he caught a glimpse of her pale,elfin countenance.
Everytime he was near her,it always felt like the first time all over again.
Words could not,and would never be able to fully dictate the maelstrom of ecstacy that churned within him.
After all,words are just 26 little things arranged and rearranged to delight,belittle and dazzle one's soul.
A flash of lightning,cutting a jagged streak through the raging sky,illuminated his rain-streaked face like the flaming chariot of some deity pulling the sun across the horizon.
Whether he was crying,one could not tell.
He did not even know himself.
His breath grew ragged as he stumbled across the cliffs,made lethally treacherous by the slick of the rain and mud.He could feel the dull pain spark across his abdomen once again.His lifeblood pumped relentlessly against the makeshit tourniquet,causing him to lose his balance more than once.He could feel fatigue and unconsciousness begin to creep up on him,like a hag upon a child on a cold,dark,fictional midnight.
The shouts of men and the deep-throated growl of rabid dogs echoed somewhere along his trail.His heart sank.He was not a hero,he never wanted to be one,but circumstances thrust him as such and he'd be a fool not to take the opportunity.
Tears made their descent from his weatherbeaten cheeks and trickled from his chin,splashing on trembling fingers that struggled to load and cock a Winchester rifle,mechanisms that betrayed him for the rain.
He already knew he would not survive,it was just to buy her invaluable time to flee.The man gave a heavy sigh as he propped himself up on his uninjured side behind a rugged looking boulder and braced himself.
The first uniformed figure emerged from the cover of the tall grass barking commands,sounding much like his companion he held on a leash.
He took aim,drew a breath and squeezed tightly on the trigger.
The figure crumpled onto the ground,feebly crying out as the beast he had with him lunged forward,no longer bound by the leash.
A bullet grazed his ear,a white-hot flash that drew blood as he tried to take aim once more.
A second projectile drilled into his shoulder,pulverising bone and rupturing arteries.This time feeling more like a sledgehammer blow,wounding him more greviously as compared to the first had.
The darkness and excruciation engulfed his senses and his nerves,signalling that his end was nigh.
He could feel the multiples of bullets thudding into the boulder,chipping splinters with the force of a thousand chisels,confirming that he was surrounded.
His arm dangled limply,useless due to the injury that had gone untreated as blood continued to drain it into numbness.
And through all this,he looked up into the storm and wondered.
Oh,that perfect flaxen hair...
11:11 AM