Rantglass - because that's how things are.


For the kids.

Another magical night.

“Look, I even did a t-shirt for you guys! You know what this is, right?”

When he came out from his brief but penetrating gaze with a knowing smile, I swore I could have seen a bulb light up at the top of his head.

“… a pink rabbit!”

Ah, what I would do for another night with you. Thank you so much for the memories, Mr Berninger.

Coming next: yet another biased review from a starstruck fan.

Details of this entry.Tuesday, February 25, 2014, filed under Personal.
Recent tracks played are displayed on Last.fm.,


Waters on the rise.

This could either be another denial of sorts, or a rite of passage that distorts.

Three months is a considerable amount of time to give it more than just a broad overview, and speaks volumes about what it can or can no longer do.

It may be a mere flash in the pan, designed to hold back that dash of triumph long coming into plan.

It may drown you under the bright white February moonlight, where dancing stars shower on you with all their might.

It may even twirl you around in a lovely waltz, finishing neatly with a leaping somersault.

But you know it has become a mistake when things no longer feel right, affirming the doubts that previously lingered at first sight.

Love will lead us all to smithereens.

Details of this entry.Saturday, February 15, 2014, filed under Personal.
Recent tracks played are displayed on Last.fm.Lean, The National


Divulge to indulge.

We let on far more than we intended to.

Those first impressions and second guesses become one with the wind after one mere harmless peek at a social network profile; from marital status and age, to preferred fast food joint and favourite childhood toy, to the finest red wine ever had – it spills exactly everything and hides absolutely nothing.

While I must admit that I hardly feel guilty at having done my due diligence, I am getting increasingly troubled by the overloading of such trivial details into my already-tired brain, and the emotional anxiety that is soon to begin in the lead-up to the next four-eyed meeting.

Because all I can see before me now is a big, shiny bottle of pinot noir – uncorked and slightly chilled, ready to be drunk on a balmy Sunday evening, because apparently that is how you like it best.

Likewise, the same could actually be said about these many written words here, which have (mostly) been carefully crafted over a period of twelve years and more. I am aware that they may either portray me as an individual so tellingly vulnerable that you could have pointed me out from a police line-up without any hesitation whatsoever; or simply paint me as a translucent and nameless online being that ceases to exist as soon as you hit the exit button of your browser.

And I am quite happy to live with knowledge of the latter.

Details of this entry.Monday, February 03, 2014, filed under Personal.
Recent tracks played are displayed on Last.fm.Pink Rabbits, The National


Swept midshore.

Almost a month on, I cannot help but still harbour some bitter resentment for 2013. It was such a sore, black spot on my life’s history, I doubt even the strongest cleaning solution in the universe would have been able to wash away any of its lingering ill effects.

Naturally, memories both good and bad will eventually go on to make up essential parts of ourselves – either bringing us way up high above the clouds so that we can freely build castles of our own in the sky, or down paths less travelled that starkly undermine our inner desires to fly; but more often than not, it is the sum of all fears that rides on us forever more, shaking us to the very core.

And yet, when those Chinese zodiac predictions for the new year speak only of all things good to come – bountiful wealth, blossoming love, brilliant career outlook – it is hard to keep a straight face and not roll your eyes in response to those immense words of praise and joy.

Of course, it is best to take it all with a grain of salt. Perhaps two, maybe three. Still, they ring hollow to my ears, for the opposite could be true.

I do very much hope to be proven wrong this time around, though.

Details of this entry.Sunday, January 26, 2014, filed under Personal.
Recent tracks played are displayed on Last.fm.Pink Rabbits, The National


White menace.

Numerous sunsets lost and the occasional few dinners missed; they make one very tired old soul, ill and creaking to the bone.

These little lines of disconnect, they spell sorry and neglect. Like the crispy new pages of a newly-launched tabloid losing its shine after just one day out in the sun, we quickly wither at the face of adversity and hardship, losing our hard-earned deposits upfront.

We may fall out of love, ditching those hardy sneakers that have been to five out of the seven continents for a spanking new pair of designer stilettos; or fall out of favour, losing a dear childhood friend from the innocent yesteryears to the trials and tribulations of adulthood.

But we do not age overnight, just to shriek at the sight of yet another strand of grey hair found the next morning, or to berate ourselves for again forgetting to pick up a carton of milk on the way home from work.

We have also grown out of ourselves, to become increasingly detached from whom we once were.

Maybe it is evolution; others may call it dissolution. And before long, we will become strangers to our own pasts, and there may not be any more left of us to leave to the world that we used to call home.

Details of this entry.Tuesday, January 14, 2014, filed under Musings.
Recent tracks played are displayed on Last.fm.Humiliation, The National


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