I have ceased blogging for over half a year; I've met with my girlfriend who seems a straw of hope far reached, and for sure my two roommates, one of whom left for another school, and the other about to; I've met with Alin, a Romanian hacker mostly untrimmed, sometimes manipulative, and Atabak, whose Pakistan name I can hardly pronounce - though now my inauthentic way of saying his name has been acknowledged and nodded on. And of course, a vast entourage of acquaintances.
I do also speak preliminary German, often out of etiquette to the German staff at the Appetito Catering when I feel like to, and to the German instructor Prof. Dr. Silke Cramer whose real identity eludes me, and to whom I always hold respect until one day on my way back to College Nordmetall, e.g. CNM she said hello to me and I hardly responded.
Honestly I don't know what drags me back here. This is the place where I used to think and reveal - it's sacred. Anyone, anything that's drained of creativeness, or at least an urge of feeling hopeful should be forbidden, until the creator of this place himself has descended - or in a more literal sense, not at all descended but merely smoothed out, capped away, and quelled down. The same Razer Blade, the same room, the same way of handling the power cord by inserting it through the hole on the desk, the same penis upon which my hands viciously squeezed, they are all the same seem all the same except they're not - the rubber band at the back of the Razer is now attached with super glue, the room was effectively deserted for 3 months because the room across from the corridor is where my girlfriend lives, and the penis is worn by the same female genital I privileged myself, my grandmother is gradually recovering from the stroke with a gradualness I can neither measure nor feel. She's alienating, along with my parents, my cousins, and nieces of mine who are supposed to call me uncle - their images are fading, even when during those occasional QQ Video Conferences, I always notably frown my face because the topics are bland - the usual temperament of me and my father makes us unlikely to consider any such conversation necessary.
I depleted the possibility of altering the ossification of life here, I used dustbins as foot-bathing bucket, I took kettle down to the servery and filled it with juice, I bought 126 bags of instant noodles a time from online Asian supermarkets and cook them with refrigerated vegetables; I went to Hamburg, Amsterdam and Lisbon, all of them nice cute little places of which I took a lot of photographs, most of them statically colorful, few of them especially so, yet I have never intended on sharing those photos on any website. My reluctance to take photographs disappears because from those moments my willingness to seek meaning is replaced by a procrastinating slumber to Seek It Later.
My roommate Husain, with a single "S" I just bewared earlier in the day, once confessed to me that in this university people come without other options, diversified in terms of skin color, unified in terms of indifference. People pretend to like it, working hard as a cow, organize party, use English with upper-middle class tones and vocabulary to forge a style that they do not own but aspires. He thinks it's pointless and oh I so woefully acquiesced.
I entertain people not only for their amusement but also for mine - I'm quite easily entertained and outright entertaining.
I focus on life in this moment no longer because I'm tired of thinking of too many possibilities, but because I'm afraid I can't think of any.
