The Observatory

Maybe i'm too much of an observer. Inside, there's no insight in sight. I know great writing when i read it, great art when i see it, great people when i experiance it. But I can't seem to do anything great with my writing, my art, and myself.

I'm an analyst. I can break down what's great about your stuff, and put it tactfully where can be improved on. Heck I can even do it to my work, my psyche... but i can't seem to create the things i want. Yes i give myself the benefit of the doubt, i do succeed once in a long while in doing something cathartic and pure, but it's been happening as often as a concerned Singaporean helping a distressed fellow citizen - near to nothing.

Maybe i'm too third person, too mindful, looking too much into things. Maybe i should just be free and let my whims take me where it does. indulge in the moment more.

Since the heavy drinking recurred, I've been feeling more and more fuzzy-minded. I don't feel as sharp as i used to. My thoughts are like blurred shapes, i'm grasping to hold the trains together but they keep going like multi-carraige pileups.

I fight all the time. I fight the ennui, verve sapping fatigue of life. I'm glad i win sometimes, i forget the fight. then time passes inevitably, like the naunces of connotation from the words that pass my ears, that i should've caught but i didn't, or didn't want to, then i fight again.

sometimes it's bitter, sometimes it's bittersweet. but i do win sometimes. sometimes.

guess i'm feeling down these days. maybe my freinds' complicated lives are rubbing their woes on me. perhaps it's the resurgence of sidney circa 1999 . It could even be that i've become feeble minded, and that gnawing need for Tara is chomping my perspectives away.