There was this fly that pretended to be a rainbow
For the past 3 months I allowed work to suck me dry. Then, this week, I finally closed that damn project and got the chance to suck back. And oh hell yeah am I gonna feckin suck ’em dry.
No sexual connotations by the way.
So yeah, I’m back. And I owe you guys a lot. Not because I ought to feed you with my inanities but because you listened to me not for my non-existent writing prowess but for your innate ability to understand.
Simply put, I let you guys down.
And my only excuse is this:
There was this fly that pretended to be a rainbow…
That fly was incognizant of wordly things, yet all the same that fly was a pivot in wordly affairs.
In my misplaced arrogance and nostalgic melancholia, I allowed the fly to weave tales of endless ecstasy and boundless recognition of life.
But alas. The fly donned on masks that would shame a balladeer. It was a con that I never saw coming. Nevertheless, it was a con that I needed.
I so sorely needed to be put in my place. I so badly needed to be proven wrong in entirety.
But in the end, I was somewhat right after all. Apparently, all that was needed was that we all accept our faults and see ourselves for what we are.
But then, along comes tragedies that once again ripped off my mask of placidity. The tragic death of Lito, and its subsequent effect on ma’am ara, whose literary prowes I look up to, made me rethink once again about the redundance of surety.
I’m ranting right now, I know. 3 months worth of not logging in to istorya, and this would be my first post.
Then again, I came to realize, what then is the point of istorya, if not to seek solace in people who would not judge us for what we were?
Gonna post a better entry later. Right now, after months of not posting here, this is all I have to say…
My condolences, my apologies, my praises.
And of course, my sarcasm for the dense idiots.