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02:31am 08/12/2012
  I owe you coffee, and belated birthday wishes. It's been a long year.  

(1 quip | your glib remarks)

When I wake up...   
10:25pm 23/10/2011
  I shared a dinner with a very close friend- an opportunity, put more accurately, to mutually exhale oppressive fumes of heartache, thinly veiled as a simple dinner. He had suffered a great loss, but the exhausted gloss over his eyes admitted more fatigue of offering curt smiles to others' condolences than from the actual object of his immense sorrow. The dial-tone expression he wore that night seemed to me louder than the endless raucous river of plates and people with whom we seemed to share an entirely different corner of the world.

Between us sat a bottle of wine that had waited more than a decade for me. It glowed like a meager campfire beneath a furious night that we've all seen in dreams, well... as much as a little campfire could glow under the encroaching of all that dark, and all that cold. It brought back to me memories of a story I read as a kid of a great band of heroes who faced the end of their journey mired in the unforgiving storm of a desolate snowy peak. With great struggle they did at last find a cave, but without fuel or tinder the mountain offered more the darkness of a grave than a refuge. It was then that the bard offered up his magical lute for burning in the absence of anything else that could fuel a fitting fire. The band huddled around warmth at last as this little lute offered them its final service of joy, warming their bodies as it had warmed their hearts with countless songs for so many, many years.

The cork and the lute the same in my mind, I drank from my glass inundated with so many things I wished to cry out; wishes and misgivings brought to the front by the delicate storytelling of the velvet wine's fruit and flavor. It was almost a rite of submission- a communion to a feeling of defeat. One had reached the end of the labyrinthine dream to find the great hall empty. The longest note, the slowest dance.


(your glib remarks)

The Icebergs Sing   
05:13am 19/06/2010
  It’s comforting, and at the same time disappointing, that I can keep company with the same modest sentiment aptly captured in my last entry- an entry separated by a few inches of blog space and more than three years of whatever you would call this blindfolded amble toward oblivion.

Once again I have only polished glass gleaning indifferently to my latest outpourings. As much as I can feel your eyes swell with sympathetic tears, this lull in the din is rather welcome. I say lull, but in a sense closer to the relieving quiet after an expressive exhale of all the frustrations I withhold out of regard for the sensitive feelings of those close to me. I’m much happier letting these misgivings bleed out through writing, dancing, and the frenzied learning curve of my job rather than drunken blurting at headlights racing towards me in the middle of a Hollywood intersection. But, however perverse, I’ve had my most cathartic self-realizations lying on asphalt, drawing lines through the icy air between the offensive rays of the streetlamps glare and the shifting spatter of stars above. Believe me when I say I’d much welcome self-discovery instanced in a setting where the factor of my life or death isn’t a variable outcome. I guess my subconscious is slow in accepting when it’s in a tumult and only hemorrhaging wounds or being revived from hypothermia work to bring it to face what is. I have flaws. I get it. But those times seem to be my only opportunities to lucidly grapple with the hateful dilemma of not knowing where I can find a place for myself in this world.

So forgive, dear journal, the missteps I’ve taken and the effect of my existence on the poor people I’ve involved in the train wreck of my self-actualization. I know there’s not much corner left to back into, so I really wish there to be a record that these eyes did reflect an earnest love to those that truly searched inside them.

(3 quips | your glib remarks)

Dirty Epic   
09:58pm 04/09/2007
mood: blah
The long weekend was rather short, as I look back on it now. Perhaps the fast-lane hedonism combined with the heroic intake of alcohol are what really caused a three- or four-day weekend to seem like an overnight jaunt. It was all a single painted picture to me anyway. I guess I’m a different personality during the week because I never think of the weekends during my day to day shuffle, they just seem to… happen. Or maybe I just need to be more organized when it comes to over-indulgence. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still very prudishly anti-drug but I think I MORE than make up for the quasi-euphoric experiences I’m missing out on.

Anyway, if you find yourself in a sad or quiet moment alone on a night you really wish you had company you should try the following: Towel down some fine glassware and pour a small drought of something fine. Queue up Underworld’s “Dirty Epic” and start typing away a pointless blog.

This is how I know I’m not an alcoholic: Even though I’m alone and sipping from a snifter-glass of VSOP, I know I’ll only finish about half of it.

(4 quips | your glib remarks)

What has become?   
04:40pm 03/07/2007
  In a case like this what am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say? There is no denying the gravity or the life-changing implications of seeing such a travesty develop between two people I've known for years. Kitty did in fact call me yesterday with all the details and the simple request that I not get involved. Other than a heart-to-heart with Adrian's father, I learned very little about Adrian's position/story as I was unable to visit during visiting hours yesterday nor did I get to see him at the courthouse today. Adrian and I haven't talked in about a month and a half so it's difficult for me to make any assumptions/inferences about the context of Kitty's visits to the station or the interpersonal/psychological climate therein. I don’t know what happens now as it seems there are still many details yet to be divulged.


(1 quip | your glib remarks)

Of Mortars and Bricks   
08:46pm 24/10/2006
  It's a simple brick, and a small one at that. A single almost dismissible brick, but I like it. It's a pretty brick.  

(4 quips | your glib remarks)

The plague... I know   
11:43am 22/08/2006
  1. Elaborate on your default icon.
Made some Burning Legion characters into looping icons... I was bored.

2. What's your current relationship status?

3. Ever have a near-death experience?

4. Name an obvious quality you have?

5. What's the name of the song that's stuck in your head right now?
...they call me Samba Pete...

6. Any celeb you would marry?
Wouldn't marry any of them... but there are a few chicks I'd...

7. Who will cut and paste this first?
Whoever does wins a dollar! $$$

8. Name someone with the same birthday as you.

9. Do you have a crush on someone?
A crushing bear-hug grip, yes.

10. Have you ever vandalized someone's private property?
It was childish, yes.

11. Have you ever been in a fight?
A few times.

12. Have you ever sung in front of a large audience?
No. Thankfully.

13. What's the first thing you notice about the opposite sex?
What's going on in their head as they look/talk to me.

14. What do you usually order from Starbucks?
Those ice-blended things with an extra shot or two.

15. Have you ever hurt yourself on purpose?
I've drank t3h liquor until my eyes bled, does that count?

16. Say something totally random about yourself.
I can see your hole cards.

17. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity?
Not that I can remember.

18. Do you wear a watch? What kind?
No watch.

19. Do you have anything pierced?

20. Do you have any tattoos?
Haven't been inspired enough yet.

21. Do you like pain?
A few kinds...

22. Do you like to shop?

23. What was the last thing you paid for with cash?
Naked: Green Machine

24. What was the last thing you paid for with a credit card?

25. Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone?
My sister.

26. What is on your desktop background?
Penny Arcade Balloon Men.

27. What is the background on your cell phone?
A picture of my old cell-phone.

28. Do you like redheads?

29. Do you know any twins?

30. Do you have any weird relatives?
There are always a few in every family.

31. What was the last movie you watched?

32. What was the last book you read?
Harrington on Hold'Em Vol III.

(1 quip | your glib remarks)

Little Known Factoids   
04:36pm 14/01/2006

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Sight_unscene!

  1. Sight_unscene has often been found swimming miles from shore in the Indian Ocean.

  2. The air around sight_unscene is superheated to about five times the temperature of the sun. (You guessed it, Super Saya-Jin)

  3. If you break sight_unscene, you will get seven years of bad luck.

  4. Sight_unscene has 118 ridges around the edge.

  5. Humans share over 98 percent of their DNA with sight_unscene! (All humans technically do)

  6. New Zealand was the first place to allow sight_unscene to vote! (It's 'cuz I'm black)

  7. If you lick sight_unscene ten times, you will consume one calorie!

  8. Plato believed that the souls of melancholy people would be reincarnated into sight_unscene. (Which is why I'm so goff)

  9. Sight_unscene can usually be found in nests built in the webs of large spiders.

  10. All of the roles in Shakespeare's plays - including the female roles - were originally played by sight_unscene! (That's right, I'm immortal)

I am interested in - do tell me about


(3 quips | your glib remarks)

Chow Down then Boogie Down   
03:17pm 24/11/2005
mood: hungry
Those of you following the migration to Perv after dinner can call me up for pre-gathering information in case the Galaxy still hasn't been reopened to the public.

Stay away from aunts and casseroles, cheers!

(1 quip | your glib remarks)

Familiar Faces   
04:46pm 27/10/2005
mood: curious
In a fit of etymological (or should I say emoticonological?) disquiet, I've become curious to find out what my most overused expression actually MEANS to all of you. I need to know what message is being trasmitted every time I use it.

So, what does the smiley below mean to YOU?


(8 quips | your glib remarks)

Somnolence is Golden   
06:39pm 16/10/2005
mood: exhausted
It's all one endless night and day. After so long your thoughts begin to come in incoherent sputters.

Let’s take a shot and let the poison run its course.
Let’s fix our vacant gazes inward.
Let’s stop for a moment and translate the breaths and gasps we try to silence with excess and toil.

The metronome’s clicks and the phonograph’s pops harmonize so well, so well. The ambient melody of the drowned and the dead is given ethereal soul and corporeal form by the same ticking hands that conduct our orchestral march through the day and night. It’s a march where the prisoners are disguised as attractions, painted with emotional colors, and put on parade. The audience cheers, and envies, and glares as the plastic procession passes them by. They’re sold to the artwork of mirrors and smoke, but what do they know of those heroes above? The crowds and the days become a blur and a dream as the marching continues its black and white tour of all the gray shades.

Sitting above, they’re sentenced; it seems, for the most heinous of crimes after sinning against nature by believing in strength. Their hearts and their hopes set off the alarms that roused the jealous disquiet of fate. They watched as the castle was built on the cloud of masonry fashioned of marvel and words, hiding and guarding the joke behind the smile as their hands wrought the work of identical plans.

What do you see? What do you feel?

It’s easier to mouth the word fine and mime the term happy... when they look for answers in these catatonic eyes. Look one more time and read what they say. The words and the stories ring familiar of Edger Allen poetic parody; it’s almost a shame they can’t be scribbled and scrawled as fast as they come and go. Those stories, replete of empty, callously reflect the gaping hole of meaningless doings and goings in our own ballad of life as we continue cashing and spending our lives and our checks to fill the hole where purpose fits.

And why the hell can’t I sleep?!?!!11fuck1!!!

It’s an atavistic ring game where suits and ties hide the cats and the mice. Humor, and quips, and elegant banter as fast as the actions of checking and calling keep the players alert and thinking outside of the box social. Table-stakes here, so keep it all in your pocket, not on your sleeves. Fold when I raise and muck when I call, a ridiculous pattern they fail to pick up. They’re convinced they’re ahead but numbers don’t lie unless when they’re telling you everything will be alright. With two hearts in the hole it’s a long shot to draw, but you’re never a winner if you don’t take a shot. The days and the cards continue to burn and turn, all the while waxing full of promise. The players are lured to take another one off unwittingly forced to commit to a pot they never should’ve been in at all. The oddest of rivers, neither of water or time, marks the ending at last where all is made clear. Farces and lies face-up and lay bare as I take another one down with no more than a smirk. In a big-picture sense, or from a railbird’s view, it’s just a hand in a deal; dismissed and forgotten when the cards fly again and someone new steps into your life.

(4 quips | your glib remarks)

On the Last Ship   
03:17pm 30/09/2005
mood: rejuvenated
The sails are set homeward and we’ve begun chasing the sun into the west. Taking the spoils of everything we’ve seen and done, we beat our path back toward our little corner of the world. Living and working in such different environments, even if it was just a little while, provided a few unforeseen benefits as we’ve been given an outside, disjointed view of the little lives that stayed behind. Our eyes are glazed over now with something a little different, a little stronger, and our tastes are now whet for the upsurge of challenge and change that comes out of a new burning resolve. With new breath comes new fire, a fire clearly painted over the stalwart silent gazes of those of us trekking in return.

In all, I know we’ve made a lot of friends and touched many lives during the course of travel. Hopefully our deeds will be remembered when our own rainy days come. In hand with a bit of mischief as well, I know this was an experience that will outlive the hairs on our heads.

Of course this wouldn’t be a standard moody gothy Marco post without lyrics!


as the daylight is breaking
the chosen ones so quietly gather
no one's faith is shaking
their vision lies beyond

strangely mantled in silence
a grand parade of lives completed
faith alone gives them guidance
to find their journey home

send the last ship home
send the faithful home

with the first golden blazes
they leave for their eternal voyage
and the lines in their faces
reflect the fiery skies

as the last ship is leaving
i see my father gently waving
clutching all i believe in
i whisper my farewell

send the last ship home
send the faithful home

(1 quip | your glib remarks)

A Real Pocket Monster   
06:07pm 21/08/2005
  Picture of my kitty, Couch Monster, for xianvox


(4 quips | your glib remarks)

Burn and Turn   
03:40pm 18/08/2005
mood: sympathetic
The cards will fall as they will. Sometimes you can do nothing but simply steel-up and watch. Can you hold up?

(1 quip | your glib remarks)

Hindsight Unseen   
03:14pm 12/08/2005
mood: distressed

It was bound to happen sooner or later.
Last night was stressful, so now I have all these raw sentiments to accompany my spinning head and gloomy music playlist.

I need a hug. Or a gun.

(5 quips | your glib remarks)

Fly by Nightlife   
10:59pm 08/08/2005
mood: busy
Journals and public blogs were great forums for self expression once upon a time. Now they’re simply conductors of all drama, public or not. Ideally they shouldn’t be viewable by those within your social circle, which is why this one has fallen to stagnation. I’ve come to loathe updating it anymore with actual insight or even droll play-by-play accounts of my nightlife’s doings and goings since I’ve realized what exactly it is my cynical audience is looking for. I’ve conceded to hashing out ambiguous entries drawn from loose associations with real life. I’ve also recently fallen into a fatigue of sorts born from spending an inordinate amount of time being a topic of people’s conversations. At the risk of sounding pretentious, even Leos need a break from attention once in a while.

I’m dreaming of seclusion, of becoming lost amid the countless faces here in the city. I’m dreaming of coffee shops in the morning, window shopping down the bustling avenues, and sky gazing over the reaches of our skyscrapers; quiet dreams of a silent cell phone and an empty park. My thoughts wander even past the land’s end and over the oceans, perhaps simply seeking refuge from the incessant noise that drapes over an incomprehensible background of shouting faces trying to satisfy their needs and empty desires.

I’ve developed a flair for molding inspiration into results, of giving life and body to fabrications of the imagination. Sometimes I weave too frantically and come to lose touch with my original idea or intention. Lately, as I plot, plan, and live, I’ve been unable to differentiate whether I’m trying to either discover myself through my work or escape myself through excess activity. With a question such as this being a mere facet of a complex series of inner conflicts I find myself wearing around my head issues of self-destruction, distance, or distraction... a proverbial crown of thorns.

I thoroughly enjoyed the Leo’s Ball last night; an outing that very poignantly adorned what I believe was a fitting end to a sad story. With endings in mind, I’ll be making a very defined effort to relax on the socius-pocus in favor of building up my personal and financial spheres of life. I jitter with glee at the very thought of what’s been cooking on this side. A beautiful new day is in the works with nothing more left to say.

(4 quips | your glib remarks)

Wish I Could Visit Home...   
12:00am 28/07/2005
mood: tired
Sometimes we’re dealt a blow too painful for words. Every once in a while our fears, our dreads, are made manifest and tear down in seconds the delusional walls of security it takes us years to create. It is then our smirks are dashed off our faces and we quietly realize this is not a game anymore. The fans and spectators see glamour and freedom in what really is the silent march of the drowned and dead. Sadder still, when the waning eyes that turn to you realize your world is crumbling just as fast as theirs.

Sometimes the world is not enough. It’s difficult not to wax morose and occasionally wish for a tabula-rasa, a clean slate, but wishes are nothing more than wisps of wasted air. Even then, when our wishes are granted we find our dreams destroyed. It is the lot of our imperfect humanity that binds us to the interminable chase of all we cannot have or cannot know. Regardless of our plight, time will stand still for no man, much less pity him. Watching each cinderblock slowly plummet from the towers becomes an entrancing spectacle; our threshold of pain pushed beyond its limits fails to register any more.

When our breath is of chokes and gasps what do all the trivial things matter? You look at me and see so many things you want for yourself. You can take them. Let me guess, you’d be happy to have everything I have, to be where I am. Everything I’ve built has only served to rein me tighter to everything I’ve hoped to escape. It’s difficult to draw function out of a body siphoned of spirit and soul. It’s terrifying to watch yourself from a disjointed perspective as you puppet and mime your way through the endless night and day while your life and body go the way of all flesh. This post is a tribute to all that’s silent and unseen, to the fact that no eyes cry for our griefs.

(3 quips | your glib remarks)

Rational Socialist Party   
07:05pm 20/06/2005
mood: ecstatic
Alright ladies and gents, I've given in and jumped onto the MySpace wagon. I'll be adding friends starting tonight around midnight after I iron out the last issues I'm having with the page.

Add me to your collection!

*click* in case you missed it.

(3 quips | your glib remarks)

Lost in Translation   
04:26pm 06/06/2005
mood: predatory
Since posting song lyrics seems to be today's theme...

¿Cómo ocultar los matices
de lo que siento al vivir?
Qué roídos sentimientos,
ya no me puedo mentir.

Vacilante en mis desdenes
forjo el hábito de Ver,
y penetro en los vaivenes
de las regiones del Ser.

Vidas van y vidas vienen
en incesantes destellos.
Todo vuelve siempre al Todo.
Origen es el Omega.

Ojos que miran sin ver,
y mentes que no interpretan.
Es que la luz es la causa,
y el efecto: trascender.

These were also the lyrics I scrawled in white ink all over the electrical tape on my arms for Bunker.

(6 quips | your glib remarks)

Like that Twilightish show about that Zone...   
10:55pm 22/05/2005
mood: crazy
Did anyone at any point in any place see a discount pass for Das Bunker if you presented a VNV ticket stub?

The voices... they told me it was true...
This is all happening like that space coyote told me it would.

(4 quips | your glib remarks)