HODGE-PODGE

God has given me ample time to think of the hodge-podge of my contemporary life and it sometimes distracs me, especially when I think that being insomiac is never one of the healthy ways of converting my ideas into words and (you know) write them down and allow readers to decipher them and learn by observation.

If I were Job (from the Bible) and I was in a cosmic test, would I be proud to be the object of God and Satan's encounter? (Well, I would not even know!) God is helping me to be in His track but I never intend to be legalistic. This once brought me into paranoia and suddenly, I will just find myself looking through nothingness and was like dead, never really existed for quite sometime, and boom! (I have swallowed my breath!) back to normal mode. ( I am sorry for that, I was just thinking of the word "dogs". I have read How Communication Works by Wilbur Schramm, and there's a paragraph there, quite long and it tackles about notions regarding "dogs", lots of "dogs" (meaning it was overstated)--how to associate things and ideas about that word. Schramm tells relations of considerable quantity regarding that and I was annoyed, though it was in fact substantial, I still renounced myself from pondering, and went to the next passages. Waaaaaah!.....Dogs! Fucking dogs. Without brains at all!!! They fuck everywhere. They are guilty and spectators of incest, adultery and you know what----lasting lust------they worship it!!! They fuck everywhere--before our eyes. Duh. Such creatures--they deserve being placed in a pulpit, like those of Puritan sinners, and be killed. I despise them (and I fear them, too).

Words. Words. And play of words---they are inevitable to me---the only power I assume to have. I can be an avid Christian with my godly words or a nice fellow with my encouraging remarks and avoid dispute brought by verbosity. Words, for me, work for eloquence, and not so for glibness.

But occasionally, I just don't utter them Not even one. And it feels highly good to be silent, to be melancholic and when people misunderstood you (sometimes only). I barely feel the bliss penetrating like morsels. I'm hungry for it. I like it and I lick it....tolerated by insatiability. Oh, fucking lunatic, do not make me a maniac towards your irresistable temptation. Fuck you!( This kind of language offered by Satan who was once my idol for the last two years, last semester...yesterday---somehow allows me to experience pleasure). The evil taught me all the things in vain and he let me sense the greatest sensation of blood that one could ever experience, when it runs through every artery, through each particle-like vein...and it suffocates me though I falter, feeling like sucking an air pump. I just forsook that temporary need and permit myself to kill myself and finally, everything would be gone, though my animosity still lingers.

This is what life is---it needs death.

Phew