This blog has somewhat become an information dissemination/collection stagnant point in some ways. Mentions are not worthy, and points not important; fact is, I'm running out of things to write. Strangely. Especially when there are many things happening right now yet less than a percent of them gets here.
In fact, I think I've been snooping others' blogs more than indulging in my own. And what a different world we all live in, yet, alive at the same point in time. Now that sucks.
I've got a brilliant idea recently - barter trade: like perhaps trading my tv for an iPod or my levis for a few movie tickets. Sounds dumb, but hey, survival of the wittiest is the order of the day.
I have a random question: so how much do I get paid for all the hours I spent as good company? Here's another one: are your problems a dimwitted dead-end? One more: is space the first or last thing on your mind?
As you good cyberspacemen scour for some juice out of this nonsensical post, trying to make sense of this particular scene of a person typing away behind the computer screen, you do seem to answer the first question: I get paid nothing for entertaining you, but it's just fun anyway. And as you saw your answer, you answer the third question: space is definitely the first thing on your mind because you wouldn't be here to see if you can create some. The weirdest thing is, while you continue with the rest of the post, which I have so cleverly arranged with newest posts first, you answer the second question: gee~ this dude is outta his mind man, and you get no answers. And yes, in that instant, it's a dimwitted dead-end.
I got a piece of news last week regarding a member of the family - bankrupt potential. Then I look at myself: what bankrupt?! I'm already broke! Still, coming back, it does not bode well. This is gonna be a long holiday for that person indeed.
Couple of months back, a friendly but rather pushy lady called to sell me a credit card. I kindly rejected the offer from the very start, but she persisted in telling me about it. As the conversation wore on, I got really aggitated after saying "no" like a hundred times, till I began firing her with my own questions: where did you get my info? who gave you my number? yada yada. Then she got upset, and started telling me it was her job, and I shouldn't be so worked up about it. I shot back that my privacy has been intruded, to which, she started telling me how unfair I was to her situation by blaming her, after she had to call like a million people of whom she had to take all kinds of attitudes from.
At that point I scratched my head: she needed a listening ear. And I suddenly wanted to hang up if she wasn't gonna pay me by the hour to hear her lament. In the end, she said she didn't know why she was even telling me all that (her tone suggested I was a dumbass to talk to), and she said goodbye.
I hung up anyway. But she said thanks for my time.
Someone ever asked me this question: what would I be doing when I'm 50. I blabbered something about living in a villa with my garden and posh studio. Honestly, I hope I'd still be alive by then.
Angel got me a brand new keyboard for my birthday - thanks baby - but you know what? It's gonna collect dust. And I am so disappointed with myself.
I love my tan. It's a nice roast color the likes of rodent fur, minus the filth. And I'm going to the beach again tomorrow! Woohoo~! Bite me, I don't care, I'm going. If tomorrow's sun's good, it should last throughout the festivities, with everyone asking, "Eh! Why you so dark?!" To which I think I'll give my favourite answers:
a. "Because not so fair!"
b. "Cannot ah?"
c. "Cos I'm cute!"
Okay okay, vote for your favourite now! My personal favourite is (c)!
I was having coffee with Euge and Alan earlier on, and they showed me a song which Euge was trying to mix. I thought it was really good, but Euge said something along the lines of having learnt from me. Euge + Alan: I didn't teach anything, you were brilliant. But thanks. Next time convert to cash please.
You know? For the last few weeks, I've been hearing my neighbour head off to work at 4 plus in the morning. I've got to say, he's got the attitude man. I'm just darn impressed. Every morning without fail. Gee.
Finally. I think intelligence does not equate to understanding. Likewise, understanding does not traverse to good reasoning. I've felt stupid of late, and I don't understand things anymore. With that, I can no longer reason my being. It's been robotic and have gotten quite monochrome in my rainbow. I wake these days hoping I'll fall asleep, re-entering a realm of self-escapism and mind-blank. The state of empty-limbo is a really nice little comfortable acove of hope, cos I began painting sunflowers on the walls that stretch all the way out into the sea. Yet, it's a small place. And I've planted a garden of sorts and made a fountain, a lap pool, and my most desired piece of hardware: a moaning dildo. Okay okay, kidding there - a glass butterfly, alive, and the size of a butterfly in the garden. Well, since it is in the realm, make that a dozen glass butterflies please. Countless would be nice.
Now if you stand by the front porch, you'd see a hammock, tied in mid-air, ready for occupation. And when you lie in it, you don't get up, till you fall asleep and get up on this side of the realm - reality, and you wanna lie back to sleep just to get out of the hammock and carry on enjoying the company of butterflies.
I used to believe in angels. Yes Les, this is for you. I believed in them. I believed they visited me every night and whispered comfort in my ears till I watched Constantine (right, I made this up). I believed they visited me every night and whispered comfort in my ears when nothing seemed alright - amidst all the problems at home, in school, with friends, on confusion; I thought they came, and would leave a sign that they did come: like pulling my pillow from under my head and placing it in my arms, or pulling up the blanket when I kicked it aside. Of course I knew mommy and daddy did those sometimes, but I veered towards a wonderful make believe when there was no one to turn to. Until I woke up that Sunday morning and realised I was un-redeemable with depression.
Since then, no angels came, only replaced by a glistening M16 pointed at my throat with my finger on the trigger. Okay. I dunno how that got here.
In any case, pop me and release me. That's why I ever wrote, "I'm just an angel in the night, without my wings or my light." Now, fake it.
Heard the news yet? Nightsound? Scroll down and check.
I still remembered squatting on a little mold on the ground by a dirt road in Kanchanaburi, watching the sun come up. It was cold, and the breathing frothed a little. I squatted there, then sat down, watching the sun come up in the distance, lit a cigarette, and just went blank. That morning when we heard Eric died in a crash.
Slipped and nearly dislocated my arm when I dismounted the damn truck after being woken up to hear the news.
And stop laughing about me and my laksa~! You Seahum~! Ha~
You're probably thinking by now, what a twisted and tormented soul I am. Truth is, what if you do feel so? What does it mean to you? How would it affect you? Why would it matter? Why should you care so much? Is it all just about you and me? Where does it begin? How would it end? Why, why? How, how? What, what?
This is my official word, which you probably know but never did give it much thoughts. Of all my time in the streets, I know who's been good to me, and who's not. Rest assured, I know who you are. And you are in my heart. I'm sorry to put this so tangibly hurting, but I'd like to be clear on one count: I didn't reach my limit; it's a case of being self-exposed. And that's certainly not me. Read between the lines.
"I love the sun because I'm afraid I'd go blind;
I sing along cos I won't be able to speak one day;
I love the breeze cos I'm scared of going numb;
I love your scent for I'll lose that sense some day;
I love you because I'd always do."
Sweet dreams cyberspace.
posted by: FayBeYen (reply)
post date: 01.24.06 (1:24 pm)
ok ok, the festive season's round the corner and to make u happy :P i will go for (c) for that question of "you are darker"
and there u will go: this uncle suaning reqx early in the morning!
but seriously, remember to get some protection on the skin. u won't want ur skin to appear aged after attaining the golden tan. then u r not that cute liaoz..... :P
persian reads your blog not for entertainment. you are not a clown.
posted by: TaBoo Tenente (reply)
post date: 01.26.06 (12:28 pm)
i like your blog, reqx. i like how it looks. i like the stream of thought--lots of blogs here do the stream thinking thing, but yours shows a lot of thought and willingness to be honest. esepcially this post.
This blog has somewhat become an information dissemination/collection stagnant point in some ways. Mentions are not worthy, and points not important; fact is, I'm running out of things to write. Strangely. Especially when there are many things happening right now yet less than a percent of them gets here.