i remember polly scattergood being one of the first artists that seemed at that time to me an amalgamation of writing, boundless freedom, and creative freedom; but mostly writing. one of the first few posts in this blog was of her poem that was being put up on her myspace page. she wrote songs too that i now could not remember how it was like when it was hummed although i used to listen to it repeatedly. i do not remember the words either, but i remember something about her poem. it says about setting an apartment on fire and i think it was how she represented freedom which literally followed after, a few lines or maybe right after that line; so it must be it. i would not say i could put her poem in a clearly bounded box of either complete coherence or complete lack of coherence because coherence is a continuum. we all fall somewhere, in the middle of it more inclined toward the extreme or the opposite. some things fall entirely out of it. like when you are not sure and when you just don't know, you can't say why you think it does not belong anywhere even after creating a continuum but it has to be included nevertheless. so you start asking around.

i roll myself out of the bed and get myself some water. i think about soliptipism and the colors in a video which has the word as its title. aren't a lot of things in life arbitrary? i would like to think arbitrariness falls somewhere in the red zone, closer toward the extreme incoherency. life is not a puzzle but we all hope someone would solve it for us someday. perhaps a key person, your spiritual double, or simply a prescribed higher being that offers an endless pouring of consolation. some days it's hard not to believe, some days it's not. some days it's not easy to tolerate arbitrariness--accident, happenstance, meetings and separations. sometimes it's difficult to not believe that how you say hello for the first time or how some similar incident happens--you believe in this--has altered your life forever. but memory is a moldy piece of shit and the window through which you are looking out is foggy. you try everyday to scrub all the dew and dust and vomit out of it but it still remains foggy, as if fogginess was an inherent quality of the glass itself.

stopped giving a fuck since 2013

lush

lately i have been into browsing online catalogues of perfumes; review upon review, note upon note, one .jpg of a bottle upon another... it's addictive. i used to wonder what would be the possibility of virtual transportation of smells--nokia had this amazing newspaper ad, like most of their other brainy/juicy ads at that time, that captured my curiosity from a rather precise angle. "now we could send pictures with a touch. who knows you could send smells in future?"

almost 10 years later, smell is still not as portably transportable as its siblings: hearing, sight, and even to a certain extent, touch. you can't google a smell the way you do a book cover (duh). you can't even send perfumes in liquid form to some places, due to their features (flammable, etc). perhaps the only other sense that suffers from the same level of restriction is taste.

this additional film of mystique adds up to my excitement. you can google a perfume, have an idea of what it looks like, watch its ad, and yet still have no inkling what it actually smells like... some are quite predictable though, i am quite familiar with vanilla, fruity, and floral scents. throughout the years of my minimalistic experience with fragrances i seldom stumbled upon interesting ones that made me tick. i've been with two issey miyakes (favorites to the last drop), escada (too fruit punchy, too summery), burberry weekend (nice, unisex, soft, unintrusive, agreeable), and a bunch of plastic bottled victoria secrets to last through my highshool years in jakarta (everybody had one). now i'm with my new lanvin couture jeanne, which is pleasant but with very soft sillage and alright longevity. i decided on this because this was the only perfume that did not turn me off like most other department store perfumes... tried it in jakarta, forgot how it smelled like, only remembered that it smelled nice. it smelled stronger on a paper strip than on my wrist, i felt.

i started googling to search for my next scent... and the possibility now seems endless. i found perfumes that smell like oyster, and those that are made based on different blood groups. what an appealing idea. although i felt that issey miyake was a good match, i found out that my niche could be woody aromatic: this conclusion comes from the fact that my favorite perfume ever so far is, a men perfume that belongs to this group. so i came across lush perfumes and found breath of god.

what a name. yes. if only i could smell a little of it with just a click. technology, help.

it has been said that it smells differently on different people, and even on the same person from day to day. "on me it smells like an ash tray but on her, it smells like a beautiful melon garden." what.

visiting its physical store is on the top of my weekend to-do-list now. maybe #2, according to the mean stares produced by this heap of school papers i can't wait to be done and get over with... 5.5-module-semester is a nightmare, plus taking care of multiple socnet accounts... everything now is about the internet, eventually.

i don't expect myself to write about scents, but they're the only thing i feel like writing about right now.

this and the way a slow walk feels

watched 2 good movies & read 2 good books at home recently

cloud atlas was good

other news: did not manage to finish infinite jest within a specific timeframe

taking 6 modules this semester, burning out, never again, saying it the way an average human says i'll never drink again after one bad hangover, from time to time

collecting things to say, running out of things to say, things draining out of body

maybe today

maybe tomorrow

never happens

this kind of things, you know.

never happens

le sweat

If I have to be asked what outfit item whose sheer omnipresence throughout 2012 did not make me cringe, surprisingly, maybe, it would be: sweatshirt. M Le Monde here summarizes 5 most covetable/recognizable sweatshirts in an assortment of materials and prints (compulsory). Going on its own or paired with blunt edged peterpan collar for added sweetness, quote unquote statement sweatshirt is one of the easiest ways to deal with that time of the month which has you involved with occasional wardrobe crisis...

sometimes it's ok to have things not organized neatly

this year i slept through nye countdown again, but not from passing out
nye taking no significance despite my surrounding bursting with fireworks in ranging scales
don't remember the last time i really liked/was happy seeing fireworks
don't have year long resolutions, just want to get back on track with more things in hand right now

new year where everyone wishes it to be 'kinder' to them, not they being kinder;
new year where a friend will recycle a quote by mark twain on nye as an excuse for drinking;
new year where people stay awake for noises and sky hiking debris, people who don't usually stay up late and people who usually do, slightly minding it less, now that they've got company, good friends or pizzas or strangers throwing one side of their flip flops at you, assuming active festivity

2013 is plans and
executions
or maybe tiny prayers to father time getting
answered, dcfc would say

i dyed my hair a week or two ago
feel good about it because it's a color i would like to 'work outfit around'

a friend asked me about my aversion to period/punctuation marks at all
felt like it was a deferment of responsibility

school will be long this semester, but with two days off
linguistics, philosophy, biology, communication for approx 4 months
a concoction i hope i would grow liking in no time

ok is the answer to everything i would ever feel obliged, partially/fully, to answer