不能住进你心里
那就算客死他乡

fuck this

fuck that

你的笑凝结在风里面
像白雪一样淹没我的眼
时光流逝多少年
花落人散两分别
想问白云的里面
是否有你相思化作的雨点
月落乌啼霜满天
曾经沧海变桑田
春去秋来又一遍
曾经的我你可否还会想念

The consolations of height

At the summit of this fabled mountain, the stars seemed within the reach of finger tips, as if they were scattered across a watery surface.

Their shiny beauty did not hoodwink. I was reminded of what they really were: balls of burning gases billions of light years away. 

The galactic chasm did not stop them imparting inspiration to men of words, whether they were in a deep hole or at a high point on the face of the earth.

Poems and songs were constructed to pay homage to these dead formless beauties.

We associate closely the relation whether someone managing to remember special dates as indicating how much they really cared for us. It is painful when someone forgets a special date, like an anniversary or a birthday. It could be something bought that we have repeatedly informed of our dislike towards. Intentions do not matter in these circumstances. If somehow they forgot, they don't really care.

Socially, technology means having to keep up with what is going on with who. We are secretly a little disappointed when a friend missed out a Facebook update we have put some thought into writing, or that Instagram picture about last night's event which was important to us.

To the unintentionally ignorant, often we perceive them as a little dim or, more severely, a disappointment after all our emotional investments. We blamed their incompetence to keep up and know, for the hurt of a bruised pride.

The plausible proximity of the stars from a summit teaches us to judge less harshly those who forgot and did not know. Stars are beautiful although we know of their indifference and ignorance. People are beautiful in the same way too, even if they have a poor memory. 

Perhaps remembering and knowing is not as important as knowing and remembering what to forget. We need people to know and accept our character foibles, more so, than the dates of our birth and depressing pictures of nights out.

She is so pretty. It is going to hurt when she says no.

S: I think the world is ready to move past journals.

S: I can do lunch.

Me: that sounds wonderful.

S: just one day ok. Nanti overdose.