Brown
Brown
I am surprised to discover that my counter hasn't expired yet. Apparently the company gave me another 3 months worth of subscription free. So that's an interesting theory. I just happened to casually check my stats and somehow or other. This site still gets like 35 hits on some days. Pretty good for something that I've pretty much more or less abandoned. Or else, now you could put it as me updating it very infrequently. Whenever I want to, with whatever I desire so to write and nature takes its course in the various mannerisms of social discourse and analysis along with subjugated thematic sequences.
I write as Brown. Not just as a color. But as an amalgam that seeks to fill up the void of culture in our picturesque lives. Seemingly as one has noticed, the nature of driving a fast car at 2.30am in the morning is indeed a pleasurable one. Particularly if one has the sunroof open and the airconditioner blasting. You create this sort of artificially humid yet cooling wind effect that constantly reminds your body of the sweatiness and heat just a wicker away from the red light. Notably so in the phenomal understandings of the nature of what the world so politically corectly deems to be a nature of race and ethnicity and nationality. All intertwined together with their constrasting loyalties to self and leaders, nations and fundamentalist principles of nature and the conservation of perjorative authority coming from an inherent nature of consciousness. Post-Modernism is indeed interesting as we begin to gain oil soaked in our own customised hyper-realities the same way Annex stickers block out the MTV logo from television sets behind the curvy facade of Heeren. With too much space in its forefront left for the public usage of walking and talking. It is notable that the cross junctions of traffic and circumstance closely resemble that of life and mangnificence of decisions in general.
Time is the deciding constant factor. Lest traffic conditions prove otherwise. Then the 50 dollars in lieu for crossing the track. With white lines and a red ocre to to hip a skip beat to! Yellow. As they have said. Little kids who often rhymed with it "Dirty Fellow" not knowing of its adherent implications and for the pride in which it has been fought with. Nature in the ternion of its best save the fallen. Whimsical whizzes of passion. Twirling and calliing up. Then shrieking to a later understanding of the complexities of living by the beach and shivering in the wind. Bathing suits worn in the right place save a wrong name. Is that what we are? A culturally deficient nature that harkens to the era of colonialism for inspiration and identity, even though it may be subjugated to the brusque, unrelenting authority to which we only extract the imagination portions to live life to? i, The square root of minus one, the maths teacher said. Opens a whole new dimension and complexities into the study of irrational forms and conjugate roots. Could we all be of the same substance yet harken to distinct yet similar roots of nature in modern anthro? Greek and Hellenistic. Roman and Neo-Classical. Ancient Chinese and Oriental. Eskimo and Inuit. The nature very much belies our insecurity.
Brown and Yellow. Is it now so easily distinguishable in the light of the sun dance rays upon the Vitamin D of carcinogenic substances generating the formative abstractions of reality? The tone of the skin. Folded up nicely number threes. In darkness there is light. In brightness there is darkness. The submliminal shifts in authority and nomenclature of the distinct nature of generalisation. Too many models in which to fit into. Asian better than Korean, Japanese or Chinese. European rather than Slavic, English or Bulgarian. United Kingdom no Welsh, Irish or Londonite. Leyden Jars of a collective soul of memory. For king and country. One people, One nation, One Singapore. Or is it? Individualized, abtracted and defined with gaussian blurred borders. So all encompassing and incomplete it harkens to a mutual thought of specific categorisation in the nature in which it splits along evenly distributed crack lines and faults and later on brings forth its expression in other segements of the nature of the people. Divisive we are, even from birth. Pink and Blue sheets. Delux and Third. Public and Privatisation have yielded the ideals of the foundations we stand upon. Yet left us empty in the light that of missing out upon the shared values and experiences of the other.
Drum Kit. Drum set. Noisy and a cacophony to be broken up by blue. Rhythmic save not the practise. Learning the mastery. Eastern and Western Principles fusing together. Harmous in sync with violions of both kinds. Violas and Cellos. Guitars power or not and guzhengs. The nature of its encompassing power to syncopate with rhythmic blessings. Song and dance. Cheer and growl. Fear and Joy as the burden is lifted off, only to be pushed away and haunt us several months later as we gather once again in an unhappy or happiest of reunions. Formal schooling ends first. Then comes formal reunions laced with wax and car polish of the hybrid variety. String theories give way to online strings of networking and touch. Sombrero. Cap and Galaxy and lovely Jewish Girl. What the hell. Oily Chicken Cutlets with the manifestations of inequality in the ringing of the bell. So Pro I dunno. Quid Pro Quo. Touche. Le Weekend.
Lest Magnifique!
Economically efficient. Cogs for grinding the economy of the future general. Powered by the tea bags of self infused idealism and fury to rise up above the heads and shoulders of all into prestige and the creme de la creme of society. Climbing societal ladders by means of dating. No, wait it spoil the understatement of natural selection in a social engineered environment. Relativistic understatements of green. Murky, Dark. Pale Green. Shiny and tranquil until the Tornado hits. The curvature of Katrina nonetheless. We face no threat to our hinterland save ours and ours only. Perhaps the whims and the fancies of a couple of rabied others on the global face deeming us small pin pricks. Vicious their soldiers will be. Having never understood the meaning of civilization. Even more so, we have much more to explore in our own as well. Human Rights. Brilliant sociological analysis and the anthropologies of our own understatements to the end of the time. Limiting t to tend to infinity as the teacher says, can do a hosts of wonders. Likewise, it can be the probably inclusion of the multi-variate calculus to which we so much so extol. Perhaps once again deemed necessary by the powers of four hundred years ago? Excused to take the holy orders and seemingly disbarred to the revelation of further truth and arguments. The grease and oil that reduces our friction quickly dries up leaving nothing but botched jobs and scar tissue for us to recoil from and hide. Plastic Surgery for the face living under the ominous nature of chinese thought and eastern philosophy for the principles of balance and harmony.
Crisises as we loom towards the deeper issues of our fundamentalist beings of the theorems and nature of aryanism in its very perfect form. Michelangelo's David very much expouses this. Large hands to his credit for both grasping his sword and spear and to poise in a nature to the battle that looms far ahead. One of hard work to break the body of the nubile. Donkey's rut. Sack cloth and all falls a pot that we kill time enough to retrieve after planning and settingn out so early in all strageness of fluidity. The delineation and nonsenicalities that break us up into individualistic cliques and informal cliches yet yet united in a round couch of sorts in the darkened smoky alleys of red. With the mere clash of the waves gently undulating against artifical granite. Cast into stone to form the separation and firmament between land and water. We grant thee dry desserts for which to ponder the meanings of love and blessing to individualise our interal philosophies and to embrace the warm arm that ever so often desires to make its way across human technology. As comfortable our embrace no more resembles slippers on the wrong feet. Size not-withstanding. The breathe of nervousness pushed away for a moment. Then a snapshot for posterity's sake. To be recalled when digging through the archives of the seconds past in the years thereafter. A moment is an interesting thing. For the most part it tends to be negligible. Existentential. Yet in nothingness. Cloaked in its secrecy are its brilliant moments that so often leave us wanted like the x-sync of a flash click. Then we ponder upon the resettling of darkness the very meanings that we encounter. The experiences we gardner and the gardening we have to do yet. The weeds.
Oh yeah. The weeds.
I am surprised to discover that my counter hasn't expired yet. Apparently the company gave me another 3 months worth of subscription free. So that's an interesting theory. I just happened to casually check my stats and somehow or other. This site still gets like 35 hits on some days. Pretty good for something that I've pretty much more or less abandoned. Or else, now you could put it as me updating it very infrequently. Whenever I want to, with whatever I desire so to write and nature takes its course in the various mannerisms of social discourse and analysis along with subjugated thematic sequences.
I write as Brown. Not just as a color. But as an amalgam that seeks to fill up the void of culture in our picturesque lives. Seemingly as one has noticed, the nature of driving a fast car at 2.30am in the morning is indeed a pleasurable one. Particularly if one has the sunroof open and the airconditioner blasting. You create this sort of artificially humid yet cooling wind effect that constantly reminds your body of the sweatiness and heat just a wicker away from the red light. Notably so in the phenomal understandings of the nature of what the world so politically corectly deems to be a nature of race and ethnicity and nationality. All intertwined together with their constrasting loyalties to self and leaders, nations and fundamentalist principles of nature and the conservation of perjorative authority coming from an inherent nature of consciousness. Post-Modernism is indeed interesting as we begin to gain oil soaked in our own customised hyper-realities the same way Annex stickers block out the MTV logo from television sets behind the curvy facade of Heeren. With too much space in its forefront left for the public usage of walking and talking. It is notable that the cross junctions of traffic and circumstance closely resemble that of life and mangnificence of decisions in general.
Time is the deciding constant factor. Lest traffic conditions prove otherwise. Then the 50 dollars in lieu for crossing the track. With white lines and a red ocre to to hip a skip beat to! Yellow. As they have said. Little kids who often rhymed with it "Dirty Fellow" not knowing of its adherent implications and for the pride in which it has been fought with. Nature in the ternion of its best save the fallen. Whimsical whizzes of passion. Twirling and calliing up. Then shrieking to a later understanding of the complexities of living by the beach and shivering in the wind. Bathing suits worn in the right place save a wrong name. Is that what we are? A culturally deficient nature that harkens to the era of colonialism for inspiration and identity, even though it may be subjugated to the brusque, unrelenting authority to which we only extract the imagination portions to live life to? i, The square root of minus one, the maths teacher said. Opens a whole new dimension and complexities into the study of irrational forms and conjugate roots. Could we all be of the same substance yet harken to distinct yet similar roots of nature in modern anthro? Greek and Hellenistic. Roman and Neo-Classical. Ancient Chinese and Oriental. Eskimo and Inuit. The nature very much belies our insecurity.
Brown and Yellow. Is it now so easily distinguishable in the light of the sun dance rays upon the Vitamin D of carcinogenic substances generating the formative abstractions of reality? The tone of the skin. Folded up nicely number threes. In darkness there is light. In brightness there is darkness. The submliminal shifts in authority and nomenclature of the distinct nature of generalisation. Too many models in which to fit into. Asian better than Korean, Japanese or Chinese. European rather than Slavic, English or Bulgarian. United Kingdom no Welsh, Irish or Londonite. Leyden Jars of a collective soul of memory. For king and country. One people, One nation, One Singapore. Or is it? Individualized, abtracted and defined with gaussian blurred borders. So all encompassing and incomplete it harkens to a mutual thought of specific categorisation in the nature in which it splits along evenly distributed crack lines and faults and later on brings forth its expression in other segements of the nature of the people. Divisive we are, even from birth. Pink and Blue sheets. Delux and Third. Public and Privatisation have yielded the ideals of the foundations we stand upon. Yet left us empty in the light that of missing out upon the shared values and experiences of the other.
Drum Kit. Drum set. Noisy and a cacophony to be broken up by blue. Rhythmic save not the practise. Learning the mastery. Eastern and Western Principles fusing together. Harmous in sync with violions of both kinds. Violas and Cellos. Guitars power or not and guzhengs. The nature of its encompassing power to syncopate with rhythmic blessings. Song and dance. Cheer and growl. Fear and Joy as the burden is lifted off, only to be pushed away and haunt us several months later as we gather once again in an unhappy or happiest of reunions. Formal schooling ends first. Then comes formal reunions laced with wax and car polish of the hybrid variety. String theories give way to online strings of networking and touch. Sombrero. Cap and Galaxy and lovely Jewish Girl. What the hell. Oily Chicken Cutlets with the manifestations of inequality in the ringing of the bell. So Pro I dunno. Quid Pro Quo. Touche. Le Weekend.
Lest Magnifique!
Economically efficient. Cogs for grinding the economy of the future general. Powered by the tea bags of self infused idealism and fury to rise up above the heads and shoulders of all into prestige and the creme de la creme of society. Climbing societal ladders by means of dating. No, wait it spoil the understatement of natural selection in a social engineered environment. Relativistic understatements of green. Murky, Dark. Pale Green. Shiny and tranquil until the Tornado hits. The curvature of Katrina nonetheless. We face no threat to our hinterland save ours and ours only. Perhaps the whims and the fancies of a couple of rabied others on the global face deeming us small pin pricks. Vicious their soldiers will be. Having never understood the meaning of civilization. Even more so, we have much more to explore in our own as well. Human Rights. Brilliant sociological analysis and the anthropologies of our own understatements to the end of the time. Limiting t to tend to infinity as the teacher says, can do a hosts of wonders. Likewise, it can be the probably inclusion of the multi-variate calculus to which we so much so extol. Perhaps once again deemed necessary by the powers of four hundred years ago? Excused to take the holy orders and seemingly disbarred to the revelation of further truth and arguments. The grease and oil that reduces our friction quickly dries up leaving nothing but botched jobs and scar tissue for us to recoil from and hide. Plastic Surgery for the face living under the ominous nature of chinese thought and eastern philosophy for the principles of balance and harmony.
Crisises as we loom towards the deeper issues of our fundamentalist beings of the theorems and nature of aryanism in its very perfect form. Michelangelo's David very much expouses this. Large hands to his credit for both grasping his sword and spear and to poise in a nature to the battle that looms far ahead. One of hard work to break the body of the nubile. Donkey's rut. Sack cloth and all falls a pot that we kill time enough to retrieve after planning and settingn out so early in all strageness of fluidity. The delineation and nonsenicalities that break us up into individualistic cliques and informal cliches yet yet united in a round couch of sorts in the darkened smoky alleys of red. With the mere clash of the waves gently undulating against artifical granite. Cast into stone to form the separation and firmament between land and water. We grant thee dry desserts for which to ponder the meanings of love and blessing to individualise our interal philosophies and to embrace the warm arm that ever so often desires to make its way across human technology. As comfortable our embrace no more resembles slippers on the wrong feet. Size not-withstanding. The breathe of nervousness pushed away for a moment. Then a snapshot for posterity's sake. To be recalled when digging through the archives of the seconds past in the years thereafter. A moment is an interesting thing. For the most part it tends to be negligible. Existentential. Yet in nothingness. Cloaked in its secrecy are its brilliant moments that so often leave us wanted like the x-sync of a flash click. Then we ponder upon the resettling of darkness the very meanings that we encounter. The experiences we gardner and the gardening we have to do yet. The weeds.
Oh yeah. The weeds.
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