wooo - MAD - ness

weekend was fantastic, impromptu, beginning from friday nite. scuttling around to various places, accompanied by many, precious, beloved, crazy frens. always way past midnite when i checked my watch. i was sick though. needed to draw energy from nicotine, caffeine, aspirin and other unmentionables. yowza! rocket fuel!


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wicked aura


temple of sound

pictures are extricated from rosz, thanx gal, will get my digicam in opportune time

whoose gonna ride your wild horses??

authentic

damn free will

"do you belive in signs? omen and temptations? what about free will?"

"lemme give you an anology, you are this thumb, the thumb is free to move, but its movement is restricted."

perplex I

god invented the forbidden fruit, and of all places, in heaven? is it for the devil to entice eve, so that eve can entice adam? and for them to be banished to earth, and his whole generation suffer?

or do we exist from the neanderthal?

repentance?

"what happened to the old simple you?" she said,
"you have become a stubborn, self-centered male chauvinist pig."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"hey hey hey, who are you to say all these to me?! of all people, u?!"

"i've known you long" she justified

"but there has been absence...

marred morning, marred day.

morning rays are forcing their way trough the holes on my curtains.
birds are chirping, busy in their morning pursuit.
i love the morning, the cells in my body are chirping just like the birds.
but my morning was marred by my brother.

found out that he won't graduate. failed to clear a module after not 2, but 3 attempts. given a 3rd attempt is fucken lenient of his school. i'm not pissed because he screwed-up. everyone screws up at one point in their life or another.

i am pissed because he had been lying to me, and the family, for three fucken years!! rite now, my parents are proud, that one of their sons, prized a diploma, apparently. i wonder how can he lied, and continued, wit gusto. i wonder how will my parents react? can i keep this secret wit indifference, how long?

eXcita

after a futile search for my wallet...

*KNOCK KNOCK*

friendly chinese man: i found this wallet. i think it's yours. it's drenched though

me: thanks yah, i really appreciate that.

equiptment check:
visa > +ve
ID > +ve
driving licensce > +ve
$10 > -ve
20cts > -ve
cashcard > +ve
ATM cards > -ve 1, +ve 2

mum: kau ni, careless!

she snatched my wallet and removed all the contents to dry. even sedulously hidden things that i didn't remember e.g a pic of nadya hutagalung

mum: NI APER NIE?!?!



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flashback

ali*:zal, wallet aku tertinggal kat rumah kau ah. pass kat mak kau bleh? nanti kat kerja aku amek. (ali, my fren, is mum's colleague)

me: orite, no problem

ali: zal! dalam ader 'sarung' ah. kau simpan kan, paisey ah.

me: ok go

*not real name, paisey ah konon
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me: mak, ni ali punya ah...

dad: kau ni, jangan tuduh kawan kau. macam maner Ali punya bleh ader kat dalam beg duit kau?

moral of the story; tolong member tolak balak, jangan sampai ditimpa balak.

devouring that fish

to see your smile beaming,
unaware i was smiling too.
we were both dancing,
but not the same dance.

to see you devouring that fish,
is like the pompous past unleashed.
we are now so much different,
but in every way the same.

to see you watering those eyes,
is to relieve the glorious past.
my hand moved to touch your own,
as though it has a life; of its own.

to see you maneuvering those lips,
felt like we are in different time and space.
we are both muddled, in the seek,
but our hearts do not beat; the same beat.


el-conquistador

endearment of wrath

be wary; the wrath of endearments.
those you hold dear to your heart,
are those who will cause you dear

what i seek in you, you could not give.
and what you seek in me, my ardent and lascivious temperament
cannot provide.
for my life has reached the higgledy-piggledy equilibrium.
a unit of friend gain, is a unit of happiness
exhausted.
thus, assunder, for we are like an asymptote;
ever getting nearer but will never meet.

exploited

if ever there is forlorn in the world, i am forlorn. tired of this cycle. being a night jester. i painstakingly seek the meaning of life.

Death changes life into Destiny

…to the quick. I do not dissociate myself from my past. Of course, in time I can attempt this dissociation; I can declare that “I am no longer what I was,” argue that there has been a change, progress. But this is a matter of a secondary reaction, which is given as such. To deny my solidarity of being with my past at this or that particular point is to affirm it for the whole of my life. At my limit, at that infinitesimal instant of my death, I shall be no more than my past. It alone will define me. This is what Sophocles wants to express in the Trachiniae when he has Deianeira say, “It is a proverb current for a long time among men that one cannot pass judgment on the life of mortals and say if it has been happy or unhappy, until their death.” This is also the meaning of that sentence of Malraux’ which we quoted earlier. “Death changes life into Destiny.” Finally this is what strikes the Believer when he realizes with terror that at the moment of death the chips are down, there remains not a card to play. Death reunites us with ourselves. Eternity has changed us into ourselves. At the moment of death we are; that is, we are defenseless before the judgments of others. They can decide in truth what we are; ultimately we have no longer any chance of escape from what an all-knowing intelligence could do. A last hour repentance is a desperate effort to crack all this being which has slowly congealed and solidified around us, a final leap along with the rest; it does no more than to enter into combination with what has preceded it, as one factor among others, as one particular determination, which is understood only in terms of the totality. By death the for-itself is changed forever into an in-itself in that it has slipped entirely into the past. Thus the past is the ever-growing totality of the in-itself, which we are.

extracted from sartre's 'being and nothingness'

i like for you to be still

I like for you to be still
It is as though you are absent
And you hear me from far away
And my voice does not touch you
It seems as though your eyes had flown away
And it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth
As all things are filled with my soul
You emerge from the things
Filled with my soul
You are like my soul
A butterfly of dream
And you are like the word: Melancholy

I like for you to be still
And you seem far away
It sounds as though you are lamenting
A butterfly cooing like a dove
And you hear me from far away
And my voice does not reach you
Let me come to be still in your silence
And let me talk to you with your silence
That is bright as a lamp
Simple, as a ring
You are like the night
With its stillness and constellations
Your silence is that of a star
As remote and candid

I like for you to be still
It is as though you are absent
Distant and full of sorrow
So you would've died
One word then, One smile is enough
And I'm happy;
Happy that it's not true


Translated by W.S. Merwin


pablo neruda

manual of the warrior of light III

a warrior of light needs both patience and speed

the two worst strategic mistakes to make are acting prematurely and letting an oppurtunity slip: to avoid this, the warrior treats each situation as if it were unique and never resorts to formulae, recipes or other people's opinions.

the Caliph Moauiyat asked Omar Ben Al-Aas the secret of his great political skills:

'i never get involved in something without having first worked out my retreat; then again, i have never gone into a situation and immediately wanted to run straight out again,' came the answer.

hungry by seven

bear wit me if i sound whinny, but i had been enduring for a week. my work shift is standard, 1800hrs-2200hrs. i can't consume dinner before six, cos my body-clock is not used to it. by 1900hrs, i will be ravenous. by the time i knock off, i have a knack to get sumthin to bite.

today i'd forgotten to bring my handphone and cigarettes to work. and i did not carry cash. tot of heading straight home. but while riding, my stomache was churning. so i swinged by british petroleum and got myself portuguese egg-tarts. paid them using cash equivalent, what u called, cashcard.



meself at work; coutesy of rosz

asphyxiating befuddlement

my life is made up from many... i don't have a word for it. imagine a ray of light, going thru a prism, so that one ray is split into many other rays, with different colors each, forming their own angles. imagine wat i just illustrated, as tho u are watching a video. now, press the 'rewind' button. so instead u see the many rays are going into the prism, forming that one single ray.

as a young boy, i excelled at drawing. my art pieces were always put up in school. i was selected to represent school and even bagged prizes. my favourite was with crayons. i drew transformers and he-man and sold them to frens. but mum wanted me to be like my brother, good in maths and english. more practical, apparently.

when i was not-a-so-young-boy, i began to like maths. life was simple. there is always solutions to problems. i wasn't into reading like my brother. he read hardy boys and nancy drew stuffs. but i remember reading all of jules vernes and roald dahl. cos these are the only two authors which took my fancy then. i adore jules vernes. rockets, submarines, hot air balloons etc will not exist without him. his imagination is really wild.

and then i forgot how to draw. i can't even draw a dog which looks like one now.

and being good in maths, i took C maths in college. without A maths in high school. and i suffered. i crippled, i don't even have a crutch to balance on. then i hated maths.

so, i switched to commerce. the only other thing i was good at was accounting. but i don't like accounts. it's so meticulous. it's made me feel fettered. and i also took malay literature. and then i tot literature was for me. i attempted the poetry questions in exams. my teacher told me that's my strength, for i could detached myself into poems. i knew how to detect similes, metaphors, aliterations, hyperbole and stuffs. but i didn't excel for my A'levels, even my teacher was surprised. humanities tot me sumthing in life. life is not like maths. ur interpretations may not be parallel to the markers' sentiments. and in life, someone will always 'mark' your works.

and now as a young-adult, i'm studying business. i took it up cos it's like management. it's general. i don't want to specialise into banking, accounts, or econs. cos corporate words like "downsizing" & "mergers" makes me think that specialising is precarious. and i know nuts about computers, so that is out. thus here i am, a 'jack of all trades, master of none.'

into my final year, i'm feeling lost. where next? the rays that are merging into one is forming, but where is it directed at?

interpretation of dreams, omens and red herrings

'the world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.'
- Sherlock Holmes

it's no wonder, that meself is not a fucking detective. cos i'm muddled up now. the voices and images in my dreams, signs thrown to me, people's reactions. the signs are only thrown to you, but u need to interpret. that's where i suck, like catch-22. signs, are they omens or Red Herrings?(red herring; a clue which makes u come to a wrong decision or something which looks like a clue but isn't.) and the dreams? are they devil's play, or angels speaking to me? according to sigmund freud, its only my deep conscience, which i don't think of when i am conscious. am i a denial? i don't think so. am i denying? i don't think so. so i am denying? I DON'T THINK SO.

manual of the warrior of light II

every warrior of light has felt afraid of going into battle
every warrior of light has, at some time in the past, lied or betrayed someone
every warrior of light has trodden a path that was not his
every warrior of light has suffered for the most trivial of reasons
every warrior of light has, at least once, believed that he was not a warrior of light
every warrior of light has failed in his spiritual duties
every warrior of light has said 'yes' when he wanted to say 'no'
every warrior of light has hurt someone he loved.
that is why he is a warrior of light, because he has been through all this and yet never lost hope of being better than he is.

Why does it always rain on me?

"Why does it always rain on me?
Is it because I lied when I was seventeen?
Why does it always rain on me?
Even when the sun is shining" - travis

can't wash bike, cos it'll dirty
can't play footie, cos there's lightning
can't go out, ain't exciting
wat can i do, when it's raining?

but rain is quite refreshing, the smell. thank god for the rain.