after my nth slip in the "buddha room," i was kind of mentally whacked because my blabber machine (aka mouth) is shut. can't walk. can't work. this pain is a bugger. i had no choice but to tinker the two things that're within my reach: concealer and mirror.
"there is one here under the eye."
"where..ahh okay. (dab concealer)"
"then here..on the cheekbone."
"alright. (dab concealer). uh-oh i see one on the nose. (dab concealer)."
"there.. 3 here under the chin. dab quick."
"coming..coming..(dab concealer). there you go. 'else?"
"oh..wait..let's see...right cheekbone..there's 2."
"really..i thought it's gone. ok. (dab concealer)"
"undereye next."
"umm..o..k..(dab concealer)"
"there's also one near the temple"
"(dab concealer)"
"next, upper brow"
"(dab concealer)"
"next, forehead. There's 5."
"(dabbed concealer x5.)"
"uh..wait..(parting the bangs widely)..there's a lot on your left temp.."
"SHUT UP!"
i should have gone to sleep.
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my opinion, my person, my religion. mine, and mine alone.
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- a.i.s.a.
- during the day, i am drawn to complexities. it makes me think. it makes me defect from ideas i spoused prior to experience. during the night, i weep of simple things not achieved. so i should say, i am a perpetual irony.