Chicken..

Life is still the same for me. I still spend most morning in front of a screen. Time still moves forward. I still enjoy writing these silly lines, although I don't do so as often I'd like to or did. Summer is creeping up, foreboding sweat and hot air in Boston oven afternoon. Destiny continues to take direction from the stars. The truth is still remaining unseen; it hopes never to be discovered. Love still inspires and hurts and thrills and heals. Mornings are the worst. The mind seems defenseless, easy prey for both memories and imaginations. What happened. What should've happened. What might happen someday. Your fault, my fault, no one's fault. To relieve the agony, one must get up, empty the bladder, drink the coffee, read VnExpress,, do the ritual animal sacrifice, paint the wall with chicken blood and call the demonic spirit bring you back. Nights are equally bad too. Exhaustion makes the mind vulnerable to again obsessing over would've, should've, could've. The sensible thing is sit alone with a glass of cheap wine and taste the chicken that was senselessly murdered in the morning.

Hello, friends. I trust you are well.

-k

Comments

[Aximptotic]

Reading you these days, I sometimes think that you are becoming a mountain yourself.
I still enjoy reading your silly lines. So please do write when you have time off and feel like doing it.

[knguyen]

Thank you, Aximptotic :)

-k