supperclub nights changes everytime.
is it me or do i not understand the disturbing sound of dead last. bus driver on a rampage, turning the steering wheels macam the arcade games we frivolously played; the one that only requires 50cents. oh what fun.
wanting to stand atop, by the side, and scream out fuck for the world to hear. too far sometimes, just too bloody far. there is nothing here but a mutual understanding of what another is somewhat going thru. stuck & stagnant. this is when the buayas and nyamuks come a-crawling.
friday messages puts me in a joking mood.
because burung kakak tua hinggap di jendela nenek sudah tua giginya tinggal dua (lechum lechum, oooh lalalalalala).
at the end of it all, it comes down to nothing, really. i've got what i need, and it's all i will be needing. why didnt i see this sooner- the hardest part is not picking out the knives or sharpening them. it's bringing these same japanese made ones but not using them. (letting go, not taking part)