Life is a continuum of moments, the ones that you remember with a wistful fondness or some other emotion that springs with their resurfacing, few and far between. Perhaps I should make a list of such moments, banal as some of them may be, and on rainy days like this one, flip through the pages, choose an imitation of a memory and let fact or fiction take flight. I guess if or when I am old and infirm, basking in the glow of nostalgia a new past-time shall become.

tempus

give anything the appropriate amount of time and it is water under the bridge to you. with a detached bemusement you might find yourself mulling over why you even invested so much effort into feeling. hindsight is tinted with the shade of callowness. and for those whom time cannot pacify, alternatively, there is the recourse of death. desensitising isn't it?

457

chance is 457 leading to a tau huay treat. times like these make you believe that fate does exists.

do you ever wonder, amongst the lot of us, who will be the first to leave? there is no need for why; they go when they have to. will it be swift and terrible; shattered glass, smoke and screams? or will it be simply, asleep, then seguing into an even deeper sleep. and which lucky, long-lived who, will be alone and bereft.

much ado about nothing.

at least for now, i think i'm done with the business of making new year's resolutions. the resolution of any day could work fine, if not better, with less of its cousin's inflated importance and imminent hand-wringing and moping upon failure. the time i set myself to achieve something is kind of commensurate with the angst i subject myself to, self-flagellation in its purest form, upon getting result of no result. perhaps resolutions infuse spurts of willpower in moments of temptation but simply, it boils down to telling yourself: this is what i want to do. and then do it.