Drag his ass back home!

An utter unwillingness to doozy myself, a lack of interest in peoples' stories, and a nagging feeling of responsibility to that which returns no satisfaction. Well, throw in some fifty-cent coffee at the bookstore and the twisted smiles of the ambitious. Its time that I go play dress-up and have superficial small talk with people; its the way of the world, they say, our Pomp and Circumstance. But all those charmful gestures are pouring out the punctures and holes scattered throughout the suit. Very soon, the guest lobby will flood, and may we all smother ourselves with our gracious words. Your annual thoughtfulness and caring heart, as expressed through your gentle words, are much appreciated.

Its becoming very hard to write in here.

Subjectivism

There's always meaning if we look hard enough. But who really has the time to care? It's all just "imitating fiction."

Holding on.

The non-fish finds itself amidst a stupendous forestmaze of bewildering dazzling lights. What am I to make of this landscape? With every turn that ends up in some dead-end nook, I hear echoes from a not-so-distant past, whispering: 'You've nothing to fear, nothing to doubt; your naivety has been misguided, but never look back...' But this was all an accident...it must be some sort of psychological fissure! What a cruel ventriloquist, a heartless puppeteer! A deliberate strangling to the point where I don't recognize my own face. This is really happening! Its the moment when I beg for directions from a mirror.

"Weird Fishes"

Sanity has became compressed into an uninspired white, sterile room devoid of the necessary aesthetic functions conducive to creative stimulation. Only here do clouds gather in the absence of winds. When the storm has finally finished its deliberate dawdling it unleashes a lethargic torrent of disgust, apathy, but calm. [ ] waddles doggy-paddles and twaddles. As he floats and sinks through this chilly inundation of dry words and empty thoughts, he can't help but notice the solemn expressions of the mute fishes attracted by this newcomer, although whether or not they extend their greetings cannot be surmised. He wonders what they make of this uninvited loiterer and his unfocused, deadpan gaze, but soon realizes the absurdity of wondering the wonders of fish. However long they have mindlessly or deliberately swam circles in their confinement cannot be known. But as with any fish, no matter what tank one tosses them in, he or she will always appear calm, at ease, and habituated with their new surrounding. [ ] is reminded, though, that he is no fish.

I'm sorry friends, but my weekend just got Dirli[c]ked

I don't know why and I usually don't care.

But holding a ph.D shouldn't allow you the liberty to litter your publications with needlessly protracted six-line sentences jumbled with baseless theoretical jargons and passive voice structures. More pictures in your books would also help too. Why must you deliberately make what otherwise would be an interesting argument so difficult to read?

Hong Kong.

Macau

Right Proposal

Amidst extremely heavy procrastination, with stacks among stacks of academic literature by my side threatening to submerge me into a maddening fury comprised of pretentiously gaudy eight-line sentences (see Goldstein's chapter in Walder 1996: 168). But I won't allow myself be drowned, no, not yet; I still have much more time-wasting to do. I'm reclaiming my weekends. This all brought about from some spontaneity, much apathy, and an overall lack of concern for the work left to do in the remaining days of this quarter. Nowadays, whenever my eyes fall upon my mound of books, all I really want to do is laugh and sleep. Wait, what? Well, so appears I should use some of the analytical and critical assessment skills, which for the past two months have been developed in class through much writing, to figure out what the hell I'm doing.

sea people and me.

Nothing new. Excessive consumption is surely, shirley conducive to the arts; and perhaps contributes to their image as stereotypically broke losers who reside on the side of the road. Certainly enjoyed a much-needed bike excursion after being dismayingly cooped up in the library attempting to analyze a few political economic articles. Ugh, fake sciences. Dear history, I'm coming back; currently drooling over my bountiful collection of primary sources right now - about Uighurs! Or as Penelope would have it...weeeegers.