graveyard of deleted tweets

how to be harmless

---

no i don't want the auto-belay. that way if i die my mom will have someone to blame

---

make me a mix-cd and then we'll see

---

commander, outer hull has been breached. personality is currently at 43%, at this rate we won't be able to hold them off

---

I liked u better when u used humour as a defense mechanism

---

maybe i don't need to be a writer. maybe i just need to write

---

maybe if I play my cards right I could make it big as an air-conditioning auto repairman

---

does this inconsolable longing call for placation or temperance - do i want for it to last or to end?

---

skin type: pimply / all this indo mee and sleep deprivation is doing wonders for my complexion

---

Turquoise girl sprawled out
on grass; you are summer's eve -
you have come at last

---

A talent for getting to know inconsequential people / it gets sad to be in New York for too long, esp. alone

---

What catastrophe has befallen you now

---

so this is what correspondence feels like

---

Rewriting wrongs

---

A season of condensation

notes from underground

    i)  be more genuine
    ii) be less selfish

#soulsearchsunday

#nosurprisesaturday

a perfect day for bananapigs

I like to hang around in the elevator of the apartment I live in. To prevent break-ins and stuff they have these cards that you need to scan in the elevator for it to work, and they only allow the cards to go to the floor you live so if you want to go to a different floor, like the roof then you have to wait until someone with the roof card comes along, then you can follow them up and get off at the same time they do, but not many people live on the roof so it's rare. But all the same, sometimes I have fun just going to random floors and pretending to live there until the person I was following goes into his apartment and then I'm free to snoop around and inspect the front porches of everyone who lives on that floor. You can tell a lot about people from looking at their front porch - whether they've got kids, whether they like art, whether they've got big feet, etc. Sometimes from the carpark, and if you're really lucky, you can see straight into people's homes - like right through the kitchen and into their living room - it's fantastic. I've never seen a girl changing before though, like you see in the movies, mostly because people don't usually change in living rooms and also I guess they'd close their curtains before getting naked, but that's not why I go around doing it anyway. I'm not a peeping tom or a sexual deviant or anything like that. I just find other people really interesting. I do manage to spot people walking around or hanging clothes or watching tv on the couch alone from time to time, and if I hang around for long enough they usually figure out someone's standing in the carpark watching them, and then I have to pretend to notice something else and walk away so as not to freak them out. I know how it looks - the folks that spot me must probably think I'm goddarn suspicious or a lunatic, but I just can't help staring into their houses at night - it's not even that interesting most of the time. I don't know why I do it, I guess I just do it for kicks. And just for the record, I've never tried to break in or burgle anybody's house before. The only thing I ever stole in my life was this purple bicycle I found lying in the carpark which was really old and rusty and looked like noone had been using it for a long time anyway, so I took it back with me up to the apartment, but even then I didn't get to keep it cause my mom found out and made me return it the next day. After that every time I walked by that spot I would look for it to still be there, and sure enough there it was, just laying there for about a month and then all of a sudden it just disappeared, like into thin air. I never saw it again after that - I figured somebody else probably stole it. That's the thing about night time though - cause at night there's hardly anyone around so you're left to this huge place all by yourself, and it feels almost as if you could do anything and get away with it. I went into the ladies' bathroom on the ground floor once, but I didn't do anything weird in there or nothing, I just did it for kicks. All I did was basically just stand there and imagine what'd happen if some lady were to come walking in right then and see me just standing there in the ladies' room. I wondered what she might do - if she might say nothing at all, just stand there calmly and then walk back out the door as if nothing had happened. Or if she'd yell and make a whole commotion and be hysterical until they'd have to call in the security to haul me off to the asylum or juvenile prison for being a sex-offender. And then I thought about how easy it'd be for someone to just sneak in here late at night and hide until someone came along. And since it'd be late at night, it'd just be the two of them basically trapped in there together and the person could do whatever they liked to the lady and nobody would find out until maybe much later, and even then they might not catch whoever did it unless his face showed up on the cameras or he left fingerprints in the bathroom. I mean, I would never do a thing like that, ever, but it gave me the chills just to think about it. It still gives me the chills. I live on the 4th floor, mainly because my mom's afraid that if a fire breaks out or anything we'll have to climb down a million flights of stairs to get down, so when we were buying she purposely got us an apartment close to the ground.

ore no waifu ga konna ni communist wake ga nai

Impressions of hanoi/vietnam:
- A flat, charming country. The buildings with near identical roofs, so densely packed, angled obliquely against the main road facing a stark expanse of padi and sky. The buildings themselves face in all different directions as if distracted - stocky, rectangular houses in daring disarray.
- The flood of people pouring out into the streets on their vespas and mopeds, effortlessly parting and merging to make way for oncoming traffic and crossing pedestrians, like a stream in a river. They wear raincoats and ponchos of all colours as the rain beats down on them relentlessly, not with force but with such volume. The gray misty sky that gives the mountainous countryside an air of mystery to complement the mystical caves, caseating rock formations and pacific marshes.
- The casual jeopardy, their haphazard existence, comfort in chaos. Traffic on the roads weaving and swerving lazily to avoid each other, managing to miss livestock and other vehicles by no more than an inch. The buildings wear a fine sense of deterioration, a charming dilapidation. Age-stained concrete and freshly painted shop facades - the country can't decide if it is old or new. By no means does it give the impression of being a first world country - nor is there any attempt to call itself one. potholes punctuate the rural roads, stray dogs with squinty old eyes and tired ears litter pagoda courtyards and loiter around restaurants and roadsides, sleeping on their sides as if utterly exhausted and with spectacular disregard for decorum. Plump children clutching toys and lollipops stand dazed by the equatorial heat and humidity as tour buses brush past them with a breeze that lifts the hair on the backs of their precious, tiny heads.
- Hanoi gives off the unmistakable impression of a thriving city, bustling, shaking with life and the sort of growth that threatens to suffocate or explode. Perhaps it's the propaganda, or the unspoiled geographical treasures that surround them, or their gracefully embraced and integrated cultural heritage, but I see none of the haggardness - none of the world-weariness or despondency of the city in the faces of those who squat in doorways and outside storefronts peddling their wares or practicing their trade. Only prosaic contentment and genuine grins as they exchange daily gossip with their neighbour. It seems as though they have come to terms with the precarious preciousness of life, celebrating with careless smiles and by crossing the road without looking both ways, taking advantage of gullible travelers and cycling barefoot in the rain, leaving their doors open, basking in the heat of the day wearing pointy hats and lying in hammocks, answering the call of nature beside highways.
- A city of near collisions and floral facemasks. Everybody living their lives, not merely pretending to. Everyone seems to have somewhere to be, something to do, someone to see.

hindsight

maturity is something nobody praises you for when you're thirty

---

i am very good at choosing between two bad decisions

---

some strange disease is eroding my ambition