Casino Royale

He sighed. Women were for recreation. On a job they got in the way and fogged things up with sex and hurt feelings and all the emotional baggage they carried around. One had to look out for them and take care of them. 'Bitch.' said Bond...

Haha...

Decoding a long diplomatic message written in eloquently pleasant and peaceful language from a neighbouring kingdom to Planet Terminus by the use of symbolic logic:

"You give us what we want in a week, or we beat the hell out of you and take it anyway."

Christie, ha!

Never worry about what you say to a man. They're so conceited that they never believe you mean it if it's unflattering.

-The Murder Of Roger Ackroyd

Pithy

I think one of these days I will end it. Sick. Weary. Enough. Maybe just because I am curious. If I can.

I love sudden clear-headed moments. The so obvious in your face ones that they make you laugh out loud. Grinning ear to ear :)

All good things can go horribly wrong. But they're usually good things because they can be put right again. With a little bit of anger ;P

Sometimes I wonder when I would trust things a little more. Be a little less of a cynic. Maybe doubt is just a way of dealing with things. But it comes so naturally. Suddenly, I don't care.

Gay gay ___

Days spun in meaningless responses the night runs by with the nightmare that it would be another day gone another day short another day left another day needed another day wanted another day closer another day another day another day, yet... Reflections of an earlier self not so long ago and suddenly a million images accost me and whirl and I wonder like someone else did and someone else is probably doing and the million others who probably will that is it still the same fire is it still the same circle round and round and two tickets for a ride, except never is the circle by the same person but when you go round it again its like a spiral away from it but with the same center so you always know who are the ones coming in and you never look outwards to see the ones going out but theres still the ones who are in different spirals and you are caught between the spiral you are and the spiral you strive to be and its giddy this spinning and spinning and whee you spin with someone from a completely different thread trying to enter another spiral. Are we all in spirals and are we happy. And then bam the spinning stops and you jump and suddenly you're in an elevator that takes you far far far away... Shooting up or plunging down and you come to an alternate universe. And it begins all over again.

Promises made promises kept? I will I will.

In Memoriam

They strangled him. Little by little, they sucked the living breath out of him as he watched on, face taut, mouth a grim line. His head was always bowed; no one ever knew what went on beneath the unassuming stammer of his. He would come when bidden, finish his job faithfully, and go back, empty handed. They never noticed him, except when he went away. They drove him away, the same people who spearheaded the new world. The others complained, their light bulbs needed fixing, their TVs showed disturbance. Then a new man came, and he was forgotten. Some still waited for him, sure he would come back; this was just a temporary replacement. Years went by when temporary became permanent, and permanent became senior. And one day he returned, drank his cup of tea that looked watery when he sipped it. Head lifted a little in the exultation of the moment, to be bowed once again as he stepped out of the little world they had constructed for him, the world he deserved; the world that he would never find, once he walked out of the house. It took ten years of merciless strangling… and then the worst of it all; leaving the kill panting in the semi dark, forgotten, cast away in the indifference that finally killed him.

“What are you thinking?”

“No… He must’ve a really strong neck to survive for so long…”

No, come to think of it, his neck was really insignificant… It was his shoulders. Square ones, that never sagged.

He died, and they sung sorrowful songs and conducted memorial services that lasted for an hour, where they had tea and snacks after it. Of course, no one was really hungry, but who else would finish all this food?

He died, and he had a quiet funeral while pretentious mourners wrote pages of memoriam with their afternoon cup of coffee. But then, he never protested.