I was watching the DVD cos nobody wanted to talk to me. And those who did kinda got a little impatient. Maybe its just me feeling a little unsettled. It's a regular feeling where some things are gonna happen, can feel it, probably know what it is, but.
After watching that neat little story, I kinda learnt to let go of that vibe. Ya know, instead of knowing what it to come, maybe, just let it come. Deal with it along the way, hope for the best.
Some people probably swear by that motto. In fact, it would have been logic to most. But when you know you have the power, E-Type, to control, its easier said than done. Especially when things are bound for collapse.
As I had previously illustrated to somebody, the Pyramid is one that engages generations, not just an individual. I've chosen to, involve myself because some lines are blurred, and wouldn't be as catastrophic even if I tried. The invisible light does shine carefully, and you see the reflection off, accurately, on the faces that would change.
I would love to hear your story, but having touched the base and hit the skies, listened to the whispers in the night and the thoughts that boomed for days, it's sponging faster than releasing. And absorption happens quicker than release because, release requires energy. And absorption involves only pressure.
The law of physics may have improved, and most of the things can be explained scientifically. But yet, the emotion of walking through the sand with the waves showering the feet, and sitting under the tree with he or she in your laps, stroking the hair, making small talk, and enjoying the afternoon breeze: that is providence. That would not have been any coincidence.
I should stop thinking. And feeling.
When the time comes. Perhaps...
Here's an old extract:
These flowers, that rest on my feet
They keep me warm all through the night
And they say that I would be or might
Be a flower, in the night
Be a flower, in the night
These memories, that you keep on your shoulders
They keep me alive
No sorries or apologies
Could mean how much I missed you
I love you, all through time
I love you, all through time
I love you, all through time.
I'm honestly paying through my nose with everything breaking down every few days. And to think 24th was supposed to be my lucky day. Totally wrong man! I woke up late, rushed to work, forgot to pick numbers for my 4D streak, and... yeah, gotta end up preparing to pay for a broken air conditioning tomorrow. That can be so horrendously... unlucky. No?
I dunno. Maybe the predictions got a little off. Perhaps the small window of up-luck comes a little later. Just hope that it didn't pass me by already~! Cos I seriously felt nothing!
Something is wrong with all m senses, particularly the sixth one. Its gone quite awry for the last couple weeks that I'm not sensing things right, sometimes way off and skewed from reality. That said, a lot of communication isn't working out proper either. I can't seem to express ideas as clearly and expediently as I had been before. Not too sure if there are some major interferences at work, but I do hope things route back correctly before the end of month, cos work, is seriously piling up like a slow motion tsunami.
Haven't had much sleep since last night. GOnna catch some winks. Big hugs world.
I couldn't really find one. What ensures would have been a complete devotion and attention to a... fuller, if that's the word, emotion. It's got to consume the person like... fire... all set to burn through the skin straight into the flesh, right past the bones, into the marrow. Then we ought to remember that one sad song that would speak volumes for that emotion, move us to tears, then ease the pain.
(After pondering 15 minutes, nothing.)
Not a song. Maybe, it might be... I Alone - Live. Or could be... Milk - Garbage. Perhaps... Circus In Motion - Nightsound. Bugger. Who really cares?
Okay. I think I'm getting there. Some people are seriously ignoring me and it's making me feel being ignored. Duh. (runs off to find out why).
There's a song, in all our lives, that makes us happy, and makes us cry. Don't matter what the words would mean, nor how we sing the melody. There's a song, that no one else can see.
If contending voyeurs across the world wide web on my blog is bad enough, I have to deal with some painful loafers who have nothing better to do than to bot and spam it, and now tBlog totally jams like a mega party packed with sardines on a Friday night. Wassup with that man?!
I've been doing some really thorough thinking and reflections, and have decided what I would do in the run up to the 24th. Since I would peak then and probably not for the next few decades due to the blue star, I think I shall give naivety and total stupidity a shot. Maybe, if they are right, ignorance might be bliss for me.
They say music heals the soul, I say music feeds the soul; they say time washes the pain away, I say time adds to it; they say only heaven knows, I say, we all know what we all do, where we're going, what is coming.
So I think, let music be the time that lets us know why.
Anyway, might have been the lavender induced shower foam, the warm spray out the shower head, or just simply me. The shower wash, therapeutic after a long while. It's like, the water just formed a blanket over the ears, and all I could hear was the roar of the water gushing right down from the head to the toes. That is probably something I haven't done in a long while.
I really need to take a blank break. A clean, blank sheet break.
Every soldier has a war to fight, every doctor a life to save; every romantic someone to love, every hopeless a wish to take; every intellectual a thought to think, every painter an art to create; every writer a book to pen, every clown someone to wake; every angel to try to make, every fool a grateful day.
It's funny how people look at others and put a thought on them, and sometimes coincidentally missed themselves out. I belong to the reversed group of thinkers where, putting thoughts on myself weigh hefty, and descriptive nuances become too important. Not like it just happened, but for every action conceived, an after-thought naturally creeps in to justify the cause. Thereafter, making it to stealth to explain anymore.
Restlessness has gotten the better of me, to the point I'm beginning to sprout, and act, overtly nonsensical. It's no fault of mine own, except, it happened too quickly for comfort.
So it occurred to me that I needed to keep my hands, and probably mouth, full to stay out of unnecessary trouble. I chose silence, and patience for now, to sit out and hope things get better on their own. Of course, the yearning to say or do something supersedes the actual need to, despite getting burnt quite badly after that fateful round of solo wine indulgence on Monday night. Incredibly, I'm still in damage control.
Funny though. What 2 common denominations could have paired off in the perfect way, becomes an indivisible fraction, unable to fit into any logical equation. Then, it fell out of force-fitting, and blew right off any sane emotive realm.
I pity myself sometimes - the eagerness to reach a goal can become so obscure and remote just by simply being, too eager. I've held myself back so much, but you know, when opportunity doesn't knock twice, it's hard to back out just like that.
And because my idea of seizing the day is almost instantaneous, that makes working things out, or sitting things out extremely excruciating. Not to mention, it sometimes kill me inside out, soul to heart, just to know that if I sat out on anything, it's over. Strange but factual - my time line per event has shrunk significantly over the years, that if I wait, I lose, in a matter of minutes. Minute as it may sound but at least, I've gotten used to rejections, insults, judgment, and condemnation. World over.
All these years, one thing that assured my existence and confidence to never try another life, had gone swiftly past. That, should be enough. But enough, is never enough.
It is fascinating: this specimen of a faltering tribe that sings without motive, but for wants, that dance without grace, but for show, and stayed alive without penance, but for desire. Such complexity only achievable in one single explanation: no good, just not good enough. Remember, enough, is never enough.
So I stand by my decision to cool on the ice, and get back some favorite routines. That should start with the new week, down by the beach, sipping sodas, soaking sun. Company, there is none, just the light breeze to whisper my yearnings, and the clouds to fantasize enormity of the face of... I'm in a trance.
I remembered vividly holding it tightly in my hands, and it stayed for a minute. Then two. Then three. And it felt like eternity. Then it rested firmly in warm sweat that fizzle lightly, but surly into the cold air. And it stopped. The moment lasted, and lasted, and lasted. I thought and I thought and I thought. I knew that familiar feeling of confirmation; to know it when it know it. It was true. This, is the one. This is the one one. This is what life could be when it reaches the end, and you look back and you go, yes, never another.
The human says so. The Healer knows it isn't. I'm torn half between real and fantasy, but what else is there not to know. Just one actually, what should I do.
The vivid memory goes on, to knowing the softness of each fingering stroke across the lines, down to the naval of comfort, then stopping short of diving into the abyss. It surfaced to recall an act that should never have done. Yes, experiences do play a bigger part in determining future actions.
And there it ran, the fingers ran. Again and again across the lines. There was no rejection to the touch, just a tinge of unfamiliarity that slow begins to show, but somehow, soothes into the quiet of the stars. Sparkles are the lesser evil of a full moon. That, nobody would disagree.
What came next, was the total affirmation: a face to face, a heart to heart observation. This, is it! Alas, as far as I would go to hold it, I must refrain from the exciting ventures. I felt the same feeling 4 times before, and what better way to ask myself to stop now by a total commitment? And never one more?
Enough, will never be enough.
So I smiled, and gently let it go. The hurt is irreplaceable, and the dismay unmeasurable. The intensity stretched across the furthest of cosmos, and the bang smacked in my face. It just simply ended with...
Pain.
In truth, I'm trying to recover from the instance of restlessness. As the story goes, that restlessness set me farther than necessary, and hacked my emotions into smithereens. You don't care what I'm referring to, you are just as eager to know although that, isn't really the option. You want the ending. Like I do.
So gently, I let it go. Turned back a few times as I walked farther away, and farther away, till in the microscopic image becomes a gigantic projection of what has come to pass. It's almost like seeing the horizon suddenly enlarged into the universe. Yes, that's how bad the mind plays tricks at the most inappropriate moment. But honestly, what can we all do?
I have tried. I did. I don't think I can let it go. But for what we have not tasted, we will forever be in doubt, and be unstoppable to give it a shot, again, and again. The cycle never truly ends, no matter how hard we are told that it is not ours to hold. The moment, has passed.
But the moment (strangely) gave birth to more hope towards others. Blotched.
We are know that familiar feeling, just never, and hated, to give it any credits at all, for fear that if we do, then, we will be faulted. I rested my eyes in their wells of sea waves.
Night after night.
So here I am. Plundering words and letters at the tips of my fingers to make it count. To know that the least I have done, was to remember, and not forget. I hate to forget. For I have forgotten much more even though I held it in my hands before. Past are the ancient feelings, unremembered because, there were no proof or significant memoirs. Living proofs never mattered more, because, living proof don't seem to be able to fade out in any way, other than death. Hence, to treasure the living proof is akin to throwing soiled clothes into the washing machine, than fishing them out when the laundry is done.
I feel like soap. No, not the operatic type. Just soap. For I foamed and bubbled with make-believe, only to either dry and burst, or get washed into the cold air above.
Benevolence is a kind replacement. Although, the true term is never too easy to describe. I missed being in that short span of minutes to truly treasure. I never did regret embracing it. But I bang hard on fate for skewing time to dislodge any real meaning to life.
Thought I owe some of you pictures taken on the Nightsound In Motion show. So here are some of them. Of course, the complete selection is on nightalive.
Color Photography by Lightbox Productions. B/W Photography by C*ontinuum.
I think you're right, I am quite childish in my behaviors. Really. I mean, I poke fun at people like an 18 year old, snigger at lame jokes like some 16 year old, and laugh at mishaps like a 14.
But that's really how much youth I've lost. There had been so many comparisons with my old pictures and new, and nobody ever said I looked older now. In fact, I seem more vibrant and youthful than that old dinghy just barely 3 years ago.
And I've robbed myself the opportunity to behave like one young spacemen floating through cloudless days, swimming in make-believe. I can't say I haven't been young, but maybe just not enough. Home was about growing up too fast with too many idealists in the family, and school had been a push towards become an adult ready for the workforce. The only time I felt my age at 17 was when I hit the jam studios wailing in painful verses and horrid choruses to ease all that madness that amounted to the silt of today's irritation.
Aah. It be nice to be by the beach tomorrow getting a tan, sipping on sodas, watching the ships sail by to the distant sounds of rustling tree crowns. Such was the synthesis of overdue landmines that exploded, harming the innocent. Landmines of the proliferation of excessive needs and pure human hunger for more. But more, is never enough.
Hence, in an institution that sidelined the likes of me, I had to grow up. I'm pretty much the balance in the daily disgruntlement of surrounding people (and objects, because some people so choose to act like stones) and the tip of the finger that almost lands in the pointing game. Of course, I usually win, for too many people are baffled by their rights and wrongs to the point the rights and wrongs become, and rot away in a toss.
Put me back 10 years without the unnecessary footsies and I might be a little more down to earth today. Mom says plenty times she's spoiled me. Truth: I spoiled her through submitting to her wills. I was a bookworm, then a geek. 16 years whole. Not enough? I never bled any till 10 when I ran too quick for class, and another once when I fell off the skateboard at 15. All that in between, I was grounded or buried in books, assignments, supplements, or handicrafts.
So unlike me to be talking about this, but I do hope it at least dispels some myths: I ain't no walk around. 17 was probably a good year to mention, although sneaking out, stealing, and lying became my best tricks way before that. But 17 was the year I decided to quit outright. I wasn't going to be a doctor, lawyer, or the prime minister, as reminded constantly by the people at home.
Naturally, when I finally blew my university chances, mom shed a tear, and dad snorted a really, and I mean a really long wail. They wanted me to retake the admission criterion. I simply packed my bags off to the army for almost 3 years.
Deprived childhood? Count me in. I was an awesome graffiti artiste, an average guppy farmer, a huge saga seed collector, incredible story teller, and a superb imaginationeer. All that, under the cloak of darkness in the room , or way off into the night.
Hence the habit of staying up late, sneaking phone calls to neighboring friends, and kicking balls in total silence in the unlit fields. Yeah, those were the days of having no official playdom, just plain jail.
I'm glad I broke free, in some ways. But I laugh at my own pitiful achievements to rake in the goldmine and climb the status ladder. The folks had hopes pinned on the four of us, most of all me, for I appeared the smartest: I could feign hunger so bad that dinner can be served, from scratch in one minute, or become such an incredible batter trader for totally redundant things for others.
That, of course, became the ultimate price to pay. I decided to lose the intellect just so that I could feel the simple warm afternoon wind in my hair, sitting way up on the playground walls, basking in the sun. Granted, I used to have to climb like crazy, now I'm tall enough to just bounce up there. Know what I mean?
So call me naive and childish. I really don't mind. I just mind having to keep dealing with people's affairs that seriously don't quite concern me, like how much share the family business will split into, or whoever gets the folk's house, or who will take over the task of maintaining peace in the entire family line. I'm old, but age shouldn't be a deciding factor for responsibility that honestly resides outside mine. Or ours, since you are reading.
When the breeze stopped, it would have done so at my grave, certainly not on me now.
I've never been to an offshore beach other than Desaru, then again, both countries were one once. And I'm not exactly 100% local blood count. It's weird. But coming back, I would love to see for myself why white sandy beaches are nicer than coarse yellow ones, like so many others have seen.
The biggest question is: why haven't I? The answer: fueling ambitions other than my own right up till now. And it doesn't seem to want to go away. With an ass filled with liabilities and baggage, it makes a choked and overflowing toilet look too measly.
I'm lamenting. But well. shit happens. When privacy gets ripped apart, at least glorify the finer points to make it at the least sound sane. Looks, in this case, wouldn't really matter anymore, would it?
Did that road trip this morning, hence the pictures below. It rained so bad up north that I looked like some retard just out the showers with my clothes on when I reached the office. It was totally crazy. And the umbrella I had wasn't even small to begin with. And today's session just double slammed me with its ultra-unending demands (not on my end, but I had to sit in and watch the demands being made and delivered). Stupid.
I am stupid. And dumb. Okay okay, just stupid. And dumb. A little.
Yeah. One full week of IT mishaps one after another till today where I'm practically running on goodwill from the hardware all around the office. I'm just thinking what's next, or if I can take a breather. 7 days of non-stop faults and wear, to the point it just gets numb, not scary anymore.
So, been stuck here till almost 6am every other morning for the last week trying to deal with all that boo-boo. I'm quite drained.
Anyway, just thought I'd put this down for the records, again: bad language just totally ain't my thing man.
There. I said it.
=)
November's back, and December follows. Endless days of rain to keep bugging the likes of me who can't wait to get a day off at the beach. Alas, with the passing showers, refreshing scents of hot misty evenings do rake up some memories - the days where dandelions would bow to the soft pelting of raindrops and its rise in the morning with specks of dew that shine brightly like diamonds embedded in milk. I would love to have those days back looking out to the fields of tall grass, and bask, in the backyard, where grandma kept a variety of fruit trees and herbs.
The feelings of yearning is a strong emotion, much like the flow of lava through the veins of the volcano, sizzling with passion yet cooling quickly like ice on the skin, making a twin effect of uncertainty, of pleasure and tinge. I would paint the blue sky blue any other day, and dot it yet still with cotton that shifts throughout with the breeze.
Sandy beaches beckon, and I can only sit in and watch the rain fall. I like the beach a couple hours after rain. The sand is cool and the sun is just warm. Tanning would be difficult, but what beats sitting on a crater of soft, yet firm, mat. Aah, the world, is such an amazing beckoning.
I've never been to overseas beaches, for one, hydrophobia restricts water travel. I'm not afraid to jump in, I'm just fearful without a vest. Like so many other things, the moment of gravitational leverage imbalance upon take off strikes like lightning, and makes my skin crawl and knees shake like toothpicks rattling in the bottle. It feels, almost, like falling in love all over again.
Had a quick look at myself in the mirror earlier on - tired boy, I say. Grabbing winks don't seem important anymore without... T. 5 days already, and it's still the same. Akin the pen looking for its cap, which of course, I'm still the antique version of pens - I can't click to reveal the fountain of youth that would run dry unlike the keys that drones these words.
I need to sleep, and I need to rest. But alas, they, are much like Benevolence, stands by the window, and cries.
What better way to spend the morning wee hours engaging in poetic digression of pain, and manic oppression of nonsensical thoughts, like thinking about beaches. And company.
I guess I have much stranded myself in an endless loop of singularity, with little, or in fact, no room for real cuppa with theatrical drama-doers. Distractions are like pinball machines that dispenses, yet drains the ball with much hunger, until some tokens or likeness of tokens could re-engage their interests. I wish I had a penpal, for he, or she, might subtly understand, and offer words of wisdom and comfort wiser beyond the gurus that preach their crafts and idiosyncrasies. Oxy moronic, give the child a gun and tell them not to play rough.
Killing time is but now a past time. Just refuse the cruelty of fact, and fantasy might just make a better aroma in life. Of course, who could we cosy up to without a cause? Like my dictionary says, if you cannot spell dictionary, just enjoy reading.
Now that clapping of the thunders would finally wake the idea of weaknesses, perhaps, this is a good time to take a reflection of thoughts and doings - remedy we need not: but moving on surely. I resist the temptation to open my eyes anymore, before it bleeds with envy and jealousy; breathe, to avoid getting that whimpering scent of eroticism; least of all listen to the sweet nothings of impossibilities and make-believe; not speak to contain my eagerness to inch closer to... practicality. No, I would say, imaginary perfection.
Thank you for your continuous reading, for the counter jumps do excite me somewhat, and the comments could be orgasmic at times. It just show that rants, might be a good thing after all. In fact, the last time I checked, I felt the cool shower of love from all avenues on main street.
If you love this blog, please, send me some hugs. Almost 4 years of "I" could only gather a mere six thousand odd hugs, and barely a tenth of a million visits, exclusive or not. You may think this as narcissistic, I choose to look at it as knowing I'm loved.
And love, sleeps with all of us tonight, and every other night. Good night world.
If style has its way, I think many other things would be moving ahead on its own without any further procrastination. I thought it would be foremost fair to mention that this is in no way commentary to any situations or predicaments, but some things are seriously irking me to do something.
Dimwits or not, airheads what not, doesn't really conjure a more fearsome picture than pure stupidity coupled with immaturity. I thought I've seen some, but till I witnessed events of late, I think I'm re-learning life in the most obscure way, again.
I probably did a snorty remark about Mercury's retrograde. That is, if you bother you would have known, Pisceans are probably the most affected, although, some do agree, it spread across the board like butter. For me, it completely pushed me down the alleyway with no torchlight after midnight.
Until Uranus nudges back later in the month, I'll be damned.
Anyway, coming back, the briefing was a total waste of time and money. TOTAL.
Was a totally crazy Friday! The quartet came over for a short session, and it was laden with surprises! Or at least, we got to know each other better.
That's Tze and Ling!
Jon and Max! Okay, I know the camera sucked.
With XR and me peeping at them throughout! LOL
Anyway, we worked past midnight, and decided to grab a bite down at Maxwell Market.
And THIS, don't ever try. Period.
So after all that suppering, we got back to the studios for a few rounds of drinks. These guys can really drink man. They're totally off the charts while I ended back home drunk and throwing up... you guessed it... these...
The video's taking a long while, and the sun was awesome today, minus me on the beach. I really need to get out soon before I go crazy over nothing. Mercury's indeed in retrograde.
