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Sometimes, I wish I could take a break off sometimes.

I'd sit on my rickety rocking chair, crafted fully out of oak.

Then I would tune up to Stevenson Reeves radio channel, country instrumentals.

On Tuesdays I reckon they have a mighty fine Bluegrass and Banjo works.

I'd drag my rocking chair out into the front porch and gently sway myself back and forth and spot clouds.

Do you know that if you look hard enough, you can actually see whatever you imagine?

My dad told me that once, I hardly do, all I see is sadness as these clouds wail and cry, and it is as if they are greedy bastards who've bitten off more than they could chew…

I've seen my fair share of greedy people this lifetime, you reckon? They never end up good.

 

Anyway I'd chuck a bottle of cold beer into a big cuppa salted iced water.

 

Bob, my big old best friend, a 16 year old dog, lies by my side on top of the parched wooden planks in my front lawn. I can't bear to let her go.

 

Jimmy’s update

Finally the markets have rebounded; I'm currently at my position since February 2010. Essentially that means 0% profit taking for this year.

But regardless, I've decided that I'm going to purchase the $10,000 Rolex with 10 mini studded diamonds as a reward before I start work.

Each diamond dial will remind me that time is essentially valuable, and that like star craft 2, if we don't take opportunities to expand, it's going to be difficult to catch back up again. So why not?

 

I know that my parents will shout and get pissed at me partially because my dad wears a $200 Seiko watch, however its something I feel I must do.

Additionally, I've also decided that I will not take a break and start work in December instead of next June.

Why? It's because I haven't planned for it yet, and essentially, a lack of definite plans means that I'll end up wasting my time.

I'll be back on 24^th November.

People might feel sorry for me for being so industrious and having a lack of fun.

But believe me, I have once been living the life of a day dreamer, and wistfully thinking about fantasies such as becoming someone cool. But then again one day I came to the realisation that it's not your personality or your inner depth that's important, it's what you do, and strive with consistency that makes people and you aware of what you truly are.

Much as how the muscular stocky man athlete can only compete effectively for the 200m race, even if he yearns to do long distance running and trains hard every day, he can never achieve something in that field. Hence, the earlier that he comes to this realisation the better for him, his coach and his team-mates.

Over the past few months I'd been slightly thrown off somewhat over some issues, which I guess are continuity in life itself. Basically, I'd say that I will keep on trying, even though I know that the toy within the giant glass arcade machine can never be lifted out in its place because it has been programmed to do so. But one day, I guess…

By Jonathan Herbs

 

Prelude: The Confessions of a romantic

Dear Lady,

to whomever happened to be in Luviran Park
on a chilly Tuesday afternoon,
seven weeks ago,
who walked across St Mary's Lake
and glanced upon a young man seating on
Park bench number 27.

I am afriad to say this but I think I might be crazy over you.

This is so wrong, never in my life before have I ever felt such a surge of emotion. The last time I remember a feeling so intense was when the candle tipped over, caught my overcoat and started to burn my shoulders. I started to scream in pain.

Or the time when I fell onto the ground and my ankle fractured into 4 wretched pieces. The pain was so tangible, that I rejoiced and thanked the heavens that I was alive to be able to feel such strong emotions.

I know it is extremely cliché. But I think about you everyday. Such that I cannot eat, I cannot sleep and water tastes like ash. It is heavy and full of burden. As if I am swallowing viscous death which lapses with the passing of time, knowing that you are in the vicinity yet I am unable to locate and pint point your exact whereabouts.

Time is running out, soon you leave and I might never ever see you again. But if you are unable to materialise before me, I fear that I will never able to love someone so intensely as you again. Life becomes meaningless.

You are like a nimble shadow. So evasive, yet so distinct, there is a radiant aura of faint purple grace about you. Like a fainter tinge of light that radiates in the darkness.

You are special.

As I look into the other women, they are nothing but hollow shells, split opened cocoons, dull and listless, an almost perfected mechanical grace that they confer to me.

I sense your life and your genuine soul, there is a budding butterfly that is about to be born, burst open and expand its wings in a majestic and splendour almost every moment now.

Any moment now…

Why is it that you first appear across the lake when I am seated across the bench. And why is it that you are always across the pebbled street intersection at St Marks, when I am atop my sedan.

Feeding ducks used to be such an enjoyable hobby. Now, I can only look atop the surface of the lake and wait for you listlessly in a hope that you might chance upon me again.

It has been months since I have last saw you and I am becoming more and more restless, listless and lovesick, I know that the sight of your presence will solve the problem immediately.

I regret not jumping into the lake and swimming towards your direction that time. Calling out to you missy.

Then, I might have managed to tease out a little smile of amusement or pleasure which you may have hypothetically graced upon me.


How wretched...

Off to feed the ducks i shall.

Tipping scales

Chapter 2

It has often been said that to love one more than one loves you often results in bursts of romantic and passionate love. Its intensity is so idiosyncratic, such that the process should be written down in novels and filed away in a cabinet. Gossipmongers will tell of it in years to come.

However, its conclusion always leads to weary contemplation and unjust grievances. They always end in failure.

 

 

Milan Kundera once wrote about his fictional character Rimbaud explaining:

"Road: A strip of ground over which one walks.

A route differs from a road because it is merely a line that connects one point to another.

A route has no meaning in itself. Its meaning derives entirely from the two points it connects.

A road on the other hand is a tribute to space."

What wise words. I should have paid heed to them…

 

During that period of time, I was devastated. Each day I would awake and lie in bed refusing to get up. Even the butler's pleas and acquaintances were in futile.

When I was alone I would slowly shed tears. They dripped down atop the embroidered pillow case and slowly soaked up the red silk. Gradually, it stained the cotton white linings like blood.

I had never contemplated suicide yet. The stained blotched spots intensified my pain and. continually, burned such angst and regret about survival. It was extremely excruciating. Ashamedly, day was a living hell. Yet sleep brought about continuity through dreams and nightmares, I shifted beyond the realm of wretchedness and subsistence, sieved between survival and existence.

Ultimately, after each passing week I got a little stronger. Not physically but my mind though burnt out began to yearn for normalcy.

Even my favourite classical piece by Handel, water music failed to cheer me up.

Finally, one day I stepped out of the home and sat in the garden. I almost contemplated to get Judy, one of the maid servants to fetch me one of the white roses from the bush garden and play she-loves-me-not with the rose petals.

 

What's this, James the butler? He's sprinting towards me. Grasping a note and waving it hysterically about!

 

Chess

 

The most wretched thing about mind games is that it can be described vividly as a chess game.

Once a superior opponent has upstaged your troops, generals, and canons, you are left with mere pawns.

 

Similar to emotions,

Ego, pride, calm, jealousy, anger and hatred gradually form as the opponent has a more systematic understanding of you than yourself.

Essentially, it means that they are better readers of you than you are of them.

We shudder to think; with a half beaten army might how best might we seek to overthrow their emperor.

Yet at other times, we know that we have lost and face the opponent's scorn and gentle contempt.

 

 

We cannot leave until my king has been eaten alive…

 

Sometimes, I cry out in pain.

Exasperations, sighs and dull longings linger on as each piece is lifted and set upon the oak board.

Once a player realises that he has been trapped, and there is no remedy for escape.

 

 

The opponent carries on till the king is dead. Whether he decides to clean out the board or leave the remaining pieces untouched is up to his discretion.

 

That is what he calls playing by the rules.

I shudder

 

An old story

 

 

Nunc Dimittis