Aug 23, 2011
Changed my blog name to Oshman
Raininbows,
Major Douchery,
BOOM CITY.
Polyphonic Prairie.
RIP GUISE.
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from Jordan
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Slovakia
seen from Iceland
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from Yemen
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Türkiye
seen from Georgia
seen from Canada
seen from Austria
seen from Australia
seen from Slovakia
Changed my blog name to Oshman
Raininbows,
Major Douchery,
BOOM CITY.
Polyphonic Prairie.
RIP GUISE.
Had tumblr about a year. Made around three thousand posts. That's like 9-10 a day.
What is my life?
OMG IT'S MA TUMBLR BIRTHDAY
Changed my blog name to a meaningless title and changed the theme.
Sounds nice though.
Raininbows,
Major Douchery,
BOOM CITY.
RIP GUISE.
"mildly depressing, but money's money"
My friends comment on how he's now working at Mc Donalds. Money is mildly depressing. Which is probably why we live in such a needlessly neurotic world. It's the center of our very existence, what anchors us to egoism and reliance on simple hedonistic pleasures.
Money being money is perhaps one of the only reasons why I'm not going to go straight into some kind of altruistic profession (some kind of charity work) after university. I'll be saddled with debt, with less time to think, less money to give and less drive to redress the injustices in the world that I see all around me. If I could achieve financial stability post university AND give and build for other people, then I would. Unfortunately I imagine I'll become just as hooked to personal finance and as a result personal wealth as virtually everyone else in this individualistic civilisation. Maybe for now I should just get a dead end job and grind out some savings as a cushion later on in life. It's 01:08 Greenwich meantime, and I just fucked my own mind.
Where is the place for the poet in the modern world?
When chick flicks, romcoms and heart-throbs eclipse with clichés the voice of love that was once so vast, intangible and abstract? When the lens of the picture perfect camera captures the most beautiful scenery at its most beautiful moments, far surpassing in clarity and completion even the deepest of inner scenic fantasies? When the pixels of the computer programmer create worlds, colours and images greater and more vivid than any that the human mind can conjure up? When the simple rhyming couplets of the rock ballad express in much clearer and general terms the feelings that the renaissance romantic may have expressed in a whole book of sonnets? When verbosity is treated with hostility, and "maybe" and "baby" and a four on the floor beat are the set formula for a popular work of expressive "art"? Where is the place for a poet? Don't know what the fuck I was thinking when I wrote all that :L Enjoy my major douchery.