Rantglass - because that's how things are.


Cardboard boxes.

They would gravitate towards the limelight as if it were the natural nourishment of the sun, feeding on it with a hunger rivalling that of a bloody vampire’s.

They would not bat even an eyelid when told that the cameras are stealing their very souls, putting paid to their misfortunes from days of yore.

They aim for perfection each and every day, and get all they ever wanted and more. Their hopes may be placed way up high, but some do not have all that far to fall back onto the ground.

And that continues to puzzles me.

Perhaps crossroads and horoscopes are not that different after all; the first leads to many a dozen secret places, but it is the latter that tells of a journey without a destination. For all we know, the results could be simple and bare, with not a minute to spare.

In the meantime, you continue playing the world’s tiniest violin while sucking on a lemon and wondering if pain can indeed last forever.

Details of this entry.Monday, September 16, 2013, filed under Musings.
Recent tracks played are displayed on Last.fm.,


No doubt about it.

One-word song titles and brooding baritones; lovelorn looks and fragile falsettos.

These late night tales that spill the beans may well be empty and devoid of other means. They are probably remnants from your yesteryears, made out of snapshots of a past and history untold.

So close it with an encore of a song, and a whole new story unfolds: one that seeks a quiet moment to pull the strings to your soul, and finds more than a reason to swallow you whole.

Still, merely sitting here and dreaming about the end of fallen rainbows, broken microphone stands and multiple split screens without a return-to-sender envelope can be a heartbreaking affair indeed.

It is always about today, which is something to look forward to tomorrow.

But why is it easier to add on new items to the bucket list, than to strike any off it?

Details of this entry.Friday, August 09, 2013, filed under Musings.
Recent tracks played are displayed on Last.fm.Armourland, Everything Everything


At month's end.

A prim and proper stroll down the marketplace, a smug look on her heavily made-up face.

A lazy shuffle into the nearest waiting elevator, a swift and sweeping look of the minions holding the door.

We have these infinite delusions of grandeur: from gifting things with meanings that are not there; to spinning simple old mysteries into complicated new realities; by painting new glass ceilings so high, they leave an unsightly crack in the sky.

Despite the minute hiccups and glowering stars that shimmered overhead with anger, the world continues to turn, with or without you. The results are simply irreversible, for no one is indispensable.

A package unarrived, a missed opportunity of a lifetime. A full exercise in futility that teaches more than just humility. But I have been hoping against hope for far too long now, and I wonder if I will ever learn.

Details of this entry.Saturday, July 20, 2013, filed under Musings.
Recent tracks played are displayed on Last.fm.Sea of Love, The National


An awkward phase.

So I envy, and then I worry.

It is that precious moment of pure, unadulterated bliss that I seek – of at first being gifted with something so devastatingly underwhelming, and then learning to welcome and violently embrace it – broken chords, warts and all. It eventually becomes a rare heartache that can never go away for long, and strangely enough, I fear it may never come to pass again.

See, the cover art was visually unappealing, the song titles at immediate glance shockingly uninspiring.

Then came the first song subdued in nature, warmed only by that familiar low register in answer.

And now, three years later, caution is still my middle name. Even a trained hunter carefully circling its prey can never be fully prepared; you could choose to either boldly launch the first strike, or forever remain at risk at being struck mercilessly from behind.

So today I shall accept the passing buzzards and swimming alligators, steering away willingly and into the unknown. For I know that there is more to this than just the science of listening to you, to get to you.

And I can not hardly wait.

I am secretly in love with,
Everyone that I grew up with.

Details of this entry.Tuesday, April 09, 2013, filed under Musings.
Recent tracks played are displayed on Last.fm.Demons, The National


Silver dreams.

It is hard to write about January on its last day – much like an unyielding five-year-old who refuses to exit a toy shop empty handed and without a purchase, it feels like I am dancing on the verge of something wonderful, though perhaps not as bright-eyed and hopeful.

Emotions thoroughly exhausted, you get absolutely nothing back in return. Expectations run high, but with efforts carefully invested and then carelessly wasted.

Or it could be the combination of those whooping falsettos, uplifting staccatos and stolen moments made possible in both key signature and time itself, that made it so.

But you know that some of the best things in life do come for free after all, when you get to bear witness to some of the world’s dearest sights: a limitless canvas composed of a certain shade of blue; a brilliant round face on the surface of the moon; a generous peek of twilight heralding the arrival of a brand new dawn.

So I have been told that I should be doing this, and that is the belief that I am holding on to.

The closer I get, the further I have to go
To places we don’t know.

Details of this entry.Thursday, January 31, 2013, filed under Musings.
Recent tracks played are displayed on Last.fm.Ceilings, Local Natives


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