Monday, November 14, 2016

Elon Musk & Michelin Stars

mix-and-match, stitched shoes, red lip, HDMI, charity,
dystopia, wanderlust, premium economy, premium-everything,
disruption, smart watch, "bitesized", attention span, "fingertips",
fetishisation of everything, equality, women's rights, women-everything,
frozen yoghurt, quinoa, pay-per-click, cost-per-acquisition, water retention, curation,
green fingers, farm-to-table, kids, fucking kids, "lifestyle", words, the bubonic plague, your opinion, Facebook, key opinion leaders, Zizek, post-hipsters, hipsters mocking hipsters, original hipsters, Lady Gagagagag, Vaping, China, chyna, Elon Musk, Michelin Stars.

poetics of fishing

things in terms of masses.
poet named Vijay who was a fisherman in Oregon.
celebrated, pulitzer-winning, yet so alone, so mild, so langourous, so sleep-inducing, so just-enough-charming, so close to a non-ideal ideal.

supermoon supersized moon

speechlessness in a time of speeches  
American Bitch Wood 

love in a time of trump 
lovelessness in a time of trump


supermoon, superman, super bowl, supersonic, 
the last supper, the supper that lasts.

moonshine shine me moon me me me

nasi lemak party.

Sunday, May 1, 2016

missing the missing

OK, fine.
But so what if I told you I missed you?
That question was, in the first place, one of those Aquarius things to do.
The flirting, the mischief, the making-you-weak-in-the-knees and faint-in-the-head.
So what if I said I did?
Would that change anything?
And maybe, I just do—but for all the wrong reasons.
But then, sometimes, I don't know what a wrong or right reason is anymore.
Maybe I am just missing the missing.

want vs need

when the wanting accumulates into a mass that defies any more wanting
or when you feel your heart could just stop

Saturday, April 16, 2016

yes and no

"To appreciate “King Lear”—or even “The Catcher in the Rye” or “The Fault in Our Stars”—only to the extent that the work functions as one’s mirror would make for a hopelessly reductive experience. But to reject any work because we feel that it does not reflect us in a shape that we can easily recognize—because it does not exempt us from the active exercise of imagination or the effortful summoning of empathy—is our own failure. It’s a failure that has been dispiritingly sanctioned by the rise of “relatable.” In creating a new word and embracing its self-involved implications, we have circumscribed our own critical capacities. That’s what sucks, not Shakespeare."


fault lines

have you ever felt like
the ground beneath you has been pulled from underneath?
you try to grip
but the grip loses you
so you reconstruct your earth
borrowing from a little here and a little there
burrowing a little here and a little there
you lay the pieces back
clumsily, anxiously
trepidation mostly
build, just build again
you tell yourself
brick by brick
day by day
sometimes you console yourself
it's better to be a free agent
it's ok to retreat into retreat
still—clumsily, anxiously
you throw punctuations out of the window
verbs don't show up very often anymore
and you're left with a conjunction
when lucky–a preposition
but never a sentence
never a sentence
you feel like a fraud
and then you believe you're a fraud
and then you look around and think
they are frauds
how can i be a fraud?
then you realise how dangerous that thought is
and how miserable it can leave you
so you think i am a fraud
and then you start not thinking
but the heart still pumps
and the lump still stays
and little by little
you continue to try to keep your earth together
and wish and hope someone or something will glue it back for you