Single Hiatus

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Frustration
Work-related.
Cause: Unecessary attendance at a production meeting held at night on Labour Day.
Reason: Cause everyone' couldnt get together earlier and its getting to close to showdates.
Consequence: Black face throughout meeting even when smiling like an idiot. (sure the bosses noticed), missed Tell-Tale heart, along with the company of friends and making a friend wait an hour for me.
'Nuff said.
I was pissed.

Current Situation
I'm sitting at my desk on holiday (Wesak day) the next day, coz my convenience at the meeting allowed more 'last second' changes to the work which is already to print late.
Singing (screaming) my lungs out to Kelly Clarkson on iTunes coz I can.
Aiya ... nearly nobody around and frankly I don't care :p
Saw some hunky hotties finish some ?class? I guess upstairs .... uhmmm hmmm, worse yet, they know me (called me to ask me what I'm doing here) - and like an idiot I STILL don't know who they are ... sigh .... please don't be somebody's boyfriend.
Fuck.
Murphy's Law: its probablt the case.
Double Fuck.
I should be so lucky.

Perspectives
However, they are parts of my lust which are tempered by the question ?How do I get the physique like that? Or if I knew, what could I do to achieve them sometime - at least get started sometime soon?
Curious.

Therapeutic
It is -
scringing out with music. ANY lyrical music that can get you going ...
Like singing in the shower. It actually makes you feel better, like washing away the mental filth and stress lint of you mind as you wash your body. The water and music cleansing away the weight of the day, maybe not well, maybe not throughly, but still ... every little bit helps.
And it does.
Scouts honor.
And everything else (rorrwrrr).
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Prose
Marcossa made no pretense about the stain.
He didn't lie, he didn't need to. It was obvious.
The blood was not his.
It was simple but the simpler things in life often needed the grandest of explanations and he knew he simply couldn't function to utter the experience in mere words.
He felt serene.
Consumably placid and at peace with the colour.
Red.
Contrary to popular belief, it reminded him of home. A peaceful idyllic place from womb to death. So personal, and no one could remove that mark of humility he felt when he embraced the colour.
So Marcossa waited for them to understand. He sat through the interviews, through the old men in their white coats and the young men in their black suits and fat men in their brown uniforms. He could wait another lifetime. This one brought him his conclusion. He was sated.
In a chair he waited.
In the light he waited.
Till red consumed his eyes, his vision, his life.
And he returned to where he began.

Rejoice for him.
He found his heaven through the shackles of his hell on earth.
Rejoice for his discovery, celebrate his rebirth.
And know that few of us are as lucky as that.
If ever, to know what he knew in death.
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