Alastair - ProfilesArchive

About Me

"One only ever understands what one tames. People no longer have the time to understand anything. They buy everything ready-made from the shops. But there is no shop where friends can be bought, so people no longer have friends. If you want a friend tame me!" -Fox

My Interests

Lots. Music-No. 1! Sports: Gym, Swim, Rock Climbing, Racquet Sports(Badminton and really crappy tennis.) Running.

I'd like to meet:

Anybody, I guess. I'm in the army,(Ok, those who know me, know that's a lame excuse. Ha!) I'm not so sure I could make time to meet anybody, but chances are, there's a life ahead of everyone. We'll clash somehow. ;j

Music:

Any. As long as it's not to noisy. Sentimental heartstringer types are good. Emotive ones be it happy, depressive or angry works. I dig classical, new age, popish, dance tracks(just no house please) alternative, rock, jazz. Except the metal. That's for eating at the gym.

Movies:

-shrug- Taste varies...

Books:

The Little Prince, The giving tree, Mister God this is Anna

Heroes:

I figured I don't know my heroes well enough. But I would like Mother Teresa to be my mentor. =)

My Blog

Peace

Pardon me, tumultuous, I fear there are too many to love. Path me a ready journey out, my labile ways are waning. Slowly egging me to see: false smiles, weak hearts and selfish desires. "Welc...
Posted by Alastair on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST

my confession

jaded in effervescene of fatigue on a platter, depressed over mediocrity. husked over a distance to wash a lost hanker for, now void and empty again. after a bang on the wall with my head, ...
Posted by Alastair on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST

My solace wanes...

Crested pomegranate in olive shadows. Like the hidden night, clouds strewn like carpets that bury the sunlit moon. All glories subside; Lesser than the bulbous red, lay quarantined before dawn. ...
Posted by Alastair on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST

When morning beckons

Wholly woken post crepuscular; dawn Like the hibiscus on a bed, for the sun, propose. Pillows erect blankets raised. I rub my eyes Where dreams like dusk Hurtle back to reality of surrealism...
Posted by Alastair on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST