I thought of purchasing a bush hat, a trench coat, a carbon-fiber bicycle and an iPad today. And I could afford none of them. Therefore I went in and took 12 bags of instant noodles imported from Taiwan as consolation. After all they weigh more than few of those desired items combined. My brother got a shirt and a jacket from Mryup, evidently the 60% discount is how he convinced himself. My father insisted in repaying the money my sister would or would not give me. And my grandmother was angry because the fast food company failed to deliver her takeout yesterday. Whenever my uncle speaks, there's a pungent smell of cigarettes and alcohol and despondency. I updated the firmware of my aunt's new boyfriend's Samsung's i9300 phone, from 4.0.4 to 4.0.4, ate a bag of Master Kong instant noodles by the midnight - the only thing new, to me and not to anyone else, is that I dared to put 2 eggs when cooking them - which is touted on the internet to significantly boost the flavor of the noodles - I hardly noticed the difference. The bottle of wine I drank intermittently a month ago was moved to the side of the glass through which I sip coke on the desk near the computer. And I decide against drinking it. My mom suddenly noted the inconsistency on the dining table which had been consistent for the past decade and broke into my room to pour herself a cup of wine. And she as well didn't think of it in the past one month. Everything is like a bloated mouth ulcer. I bombard it with salt and bacterious finger and yellow light. And the construction site is unstoppable. And egg white definitely relates to pussy cream. I deleted 3 piano pieces by Shi Jin because of the human humming bourgeois soundtrack that spoils the entire mood of enjoying piano. However the author or the musician doesn't even have a thing to do with it - they're supposed to know music better than me yet they've tolerated this blasphemy. Maybe I'm like the guy calling hair washing sacrilegious in the Arabic world; or maybe I'm the one wearing suit on the Friday. Hey, who knows. I spent several hours trying to play the Arma III multiplayer, and find it utterly tedious - as a matter of fact that's the lame Planetside without all the WWII weapons. But those hours are gone - before the college decision notification is released. Hour is hateful, and after it, hour becomes valuable - although as I'm getting older I'm certainly taking life more seriously, sometimes I just don't. Progressively I dislike softwares that don't support name change. Is it that the words I write last longer than me? Or not, but the combination of words? Or not, because every combination is possible in a randomized, purposeless process. Or human beings are just facilitators of events with lower odds. I withhold inhaling oxygen or moving, so that the entropy of the universe can increase slower. I feel tired hence I sleep? No. I am tired hence I must sleep.
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Approximately 10 days earlier, I found that posting via the iPhone make it feel more casual for me. But the perfectly plain text on the phone often turns out different on the website. According to my programming skill this problem is, and will remain unsolvable. I spent, literally, days, to trim the ensemble of the website until it's sufficiently minimalist to me. I googled all the HTML code although I have absolutely no idea what does it mean, and I expunge paragraphs of the codes that are not aesthetically appealing - it looks acceptable to me now - style-less, circle-less, and inaccessible. I've nailed two cans of Coca Cola. It's half-a-pill worth of caffeine, I might encounter some difficulty sleeping. But I don't know what to do, so I'll just roll on the bed and pretend I'm asleep when my mom sneaks in - and I'm sure she won't - I'm no longer 10 and she's no longer 40. My father? Oh, on his bed of dirt and secretion near my grandmother, asleep as always, and one day, asleep always. A sense of whatever, a huge presence of things and everything; the ebb and flow are pushed altogether, on the riverbed of the amorphous.
