<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar/6617764403861795403?origin\x3dhttp://rushedhushes.blogspot.com', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
of rushed words and hushed thirsts
mellowman

the wave, the surge

Some call it love and some call it sex.
opposites.
Call it what you want, but with one touch and you’re gone, so call in sick.
Human politics, from whispered hushes and distant crushes.
Mental fits breakin’ pencil tips and
inkin’ brushes.
Simple rushes.
God makes man and this is the devil's finishing touches.
- Butterfly Effect -

alfresco

beat, rhythm
questions, answers

movements



brief traces

August 2010
September 2010
October 2010
November 2010
March 2011
June 2011
July 2011
August 2011
September 2011
November 2011
January 2012
May 2012
July 2012
February 2013
March 2013
May 2013
June 2013
November 2013
December 2013
January 2014
February 2014
March 2014
April 2014
May 2014
June 2014
July 2014
August 2014
September 2014
October 2014
November 2014
December 2014
February 2015
March 2015
April 2015
June 2015
July 2015
December 2015
January 2016
February 2016
March 2016
April 2016
May 2016
August 2016
September 2016
January 2017
February 2017
April 2017
June 2017
October 2017
December 2017
January 2018
June 2018
July 2018
January 2019
March 2019
April 2019
June 2019
November 2019
November 2020
December 2020
March 2021
July 2021
November 2022
December 2024
January 2025

Thursday, January 26, 2017

When I was a child, I dreamt of writing. When I was left companionless, the pages of my notebook were there to hear me out. So the image of me writing and writing and writing was the ultimate achievement. I dreamt of writing in a foreign language, even.

When I was a child, I did not dream of going into space or excavating dinosaur bones or rescuing patients in the hospital. When I was a child, I did dream. I dreamt and dreamt. And it was all of me writing.

I have a dream. Yes, just like you. I've always had the same one, just like you. It's me writing.

I am sorry for pursuing my passion at your expense. I am sorry I didn't think this through. I am sorry I might be wasting your precious money. I am sorry for not being like you.


8:09 AM


Thursday, January 12, 2017

Sometimes I think I want you back. But then flashes of what I've been through, and what my family has been through to show ourselves to you. And all of that is discounted.

My mom, she was worried sick over that. My dad was readily opening his heart to letting go of his daughter. Me? I gave you my all.

No, I'm not blaming you. I'm blaming myself. And I'm taking responsibility for it. So I'm trying to be better for my family, acting like nothing has scarred me.

I don't want you, not anymore. Because what you did was tearing the wrapper of a rare present and leaving its content behind. It has already exposed itself, and you went away after seeing it.

No, I don't want you.


6:06 PM


Tuesday, January 3, 2017

From today onwards, I am going to read and write. Yes I've been doing these things but not really. It's like the Nigahiga show where they whip up a dish to feed their crew but they didn't really cook, they just made stuff into food. That's what I've been doing. I've been writing shadows of what are supposed to be writings and reading without myself truly reading. I was just going through the motions.

The reason, I think, is pretty easy to pin down. I've been scared. It's strange but yeah. Write as you are and read as you are. Do not go through the charade of doing these things at your convenience. They are you. They should be the ones filling up most of your time.

So do it, okay? Do it with gusto and happiness and frustration through days that inspire you and days that crap on you. Do it with you in it.

Okay.


12:12 AM