Day No.57: Daydream

I wish people would give me advice. Myskina could advice me on my backhand. Horowitz could advice me on technicality. El-Guerrouj would advice me how to have better turnover. I wish I could meet these people but they are so far away.

I wonder how far I could run. My guess is 18km. But if I run slower, 32km is good. 42km is still a pipe dream. How about some electric sheep? Do I keep running then?

I have a secret. But I can only reveal it 24 years later. Is it too much to bear?

Everyday drags its fat ass on but nothing seems to change. I hope I don't go insane. This cell is driving me nuts.

Day No. 49: Empty Safe

Grande Polonaise Brillante. Molto Allegro - Meno Mosso
If you listen to the above by Chopin, Maybe you've heard about everything. I listen to Chopin, but 10121977 thinks he's a butcher.

Today I've read 100 pages of Naipaul. I touch my forehead but it doesn't burn. Perhaps the weather is so hot outside you have to swim naked. When you let everything go, you thought that your heart might dissapear. Maybe it floats.

Luck decided to go away for a while. I miss it. I thought it got lost and can't find its way back. I become depressed. Luck decides to stay away. I pine for its return. After all, it took my heart out of the safe. Maybe hearts don't float.

Amazing scenes from my cell as a pundit blesses it. For what? For luck to return.

Day No.40: Datsun of mine.

Mmm, I'm going bald. I can tell from the amount of people looking at that spot when I'm asleep in a transpot. This body of mine has a limitation to everything it does. The mind doesn't mind, but I wish it does. Look at those who thinks in a "leap of faith" mode. The mind inhibits the body and vice versa. Please don't do it to your children. I'm trying to figure a way to break free, but I need a certain death.

Certain things doesn't stop. People are procreating every second. Time doesn't. Nothing doesn't. Politics is alive and kicking. There's always a chance that some comet will inflict its will upon our rock and nothing else will matter, just like chocolate martinis.

I think we're animals' No.1 enemies. Wait, let me reiterate. We are animals' No.1 enemy. Nothing we will say and do will ever change anything. We simply don't understand their culture. Dogs are a bunch of kiss asses. Maybe it's just my POV.

You want freedom? Absolute freedom? Do this: No name, no address, no friends, no job. Having nothing is everything. It's not that hard.

Day No. 36: Singalot

Well, when you're in a dungeon and someone's reading really bad poetry to you, and your ears are bleeding a mile a minute, you can't help but wonder if humanity's gone to hell in a handbasket. Then you remember the good old days when you hear real good songs like "Camelot". Those were the days of our lives...

We're Knights of the Round Table
We dance when e're we're able
We do routines and chorus scenes
with footwork impeccable
We dine well here in Camelot
We eat ham and jam and Spam a lot

We're Knights of the Round Table
Our shows are formidable
But many times we're given rhymes
that are quite unsingable
We're opera mad in Camelot
We sing from the diaphragm a lot

In war we're tough and able
Quite indefatigable
Between our quests we sequin vests
and impersonate Clark Gable
It's a busy life in Camelot
I have to push the pram a lot

I cannot stress enough how this song keeps me sane. All thanks to Eric, Terry, John and the killer rabbit.