jesselton tonight?

The prospect of road tripping alone for 4 hours back to my shanty ass college town did not sit as well as I had planned for that day.On my way out of the city, I drove up to a fork on the road. One turn headed North and would take me directly back to campus while the other detoured conveniently to the place where she works.

I did not think for that moment and blindly heeded the desperate faint tugging in my heart. In those dying seconds, I pulled hard at the wheel- swerving towards the latter turn and almost took out a very angry Indian man on an old battered mo-ped at that.

*********************************************

We each had two Heinekens over lunch that never came. I have always enjoyed my Heine’s and never considered it as a yuppie beer until I came home from the States and met up with dear Pooi San who brands for Carlsberg. Over the years it had always been a Bud or Miller all the damn time over lunch.

That short-lived, spontaneous lunch meeting with her skewed the way my Heinekens would taste in the not too distant future. The beer will now leave an even more bitter aftertaste than her makers ever intended to.

We talked about everything but Nothing. Respectively trying to keep our poker faces straight and cautiously avoided any references that could provoke an awkward soliloquy about the other night . We took the easy way out and pretended it never happened at all.

“So what did you do last Saturday?”

“How’s work coming along?”

“What’s going to happen in school when you return?”

“My granny asked about you but I was too tired from work to explain”

“Yeah, so and so are getting married. I don’t think I am going to be there”

It did not take an African Studies major to recognize two confused grown ups who were trying their best to dance their way around the bush while remained seated at the bar over beers in the middle of broad day afternoon.

I got sick of being stuck in the pretentiousness of the whole moment that made a mockery of my genuine feelings for the one woman whom I love in my life now.

I looked at her, drew some cash to cover the tab for both of us, stood and turned to leave.

“Are you going to call?”

Finally, her voice rang with the familiar sincerity that I was used to.

“I don’t know”

That was easily one of the stupidest thing I’ve said out of my emotionally-challenged convoluted ego before I started my stuttered steps towards the exit that loomed so small now. A part of me wanted to just bolt the fuck out yet the rest of me wanted to stay on and hope that things would somehow take an unexpected turn for the better.; pretty much like how I took that detour turn expecting to sort things out with her only to unexpectedly conclude that things between us are more bungled than ever.

Burdened by the weight of a million pound from my heavy heart, my anxious footsteps soon slowed to a halt before I turned around to face her.

“Do you love me?”

Those words just rolled out uncontrollably. It wasn’t like I really needed to know. Perhaps I was seeking an affirmation for existing. For Our shared existence.

The soft light from the bar top cascaded upon her beautiful face reflecting a deep glistening lovely glow that seemed to mock my silent hope that hangs precariously upon the sword of Damocles.

“I don’t know”

The sword dropped and slashed my vulnerability into pieces.

If there was a moment that I felt a genuine need to cry in this evil rotten heart of mine, it was then. I felt like she had just stabbed me with a chainsaw, ripped out my heart and then promptly proceeded to dumping it into the toilet before shitting all over it.

But I held back my tears that soon turned into rage that one would expect from someone who felt unappreciated. I gathered all my strength and afforded her a faint smile before I finally exited that fuckin’ fucked up shit hole for torn lovers that took the disguise of a friendly neighborhood bar.

Words of wisdom from my best friend kept on ringing loud and clear on auto-repeat in my mind with her cold frozen gaze piercing thru the back of my head as I made my dignified exit from that place of broken dreams.

“Now you know how Rejection feels. You rejected her all the damn time. Now it’s your fuckin’ turn. Now you can think about how SHE felt before this”

motorcycle drive by

No man is an island. Or so they say.Funny how all conversational engagements with people in my life will always take a turn back to the all-encompassing discussion in regard to matters of the heart, pertaining to love and relationships with that of the fairer, most wonderfully sweet gender.

Funny how I always discover the most about myself thru little discussions about love.

This time it was with Steph, my long time high school buddy.

People always ask why I am not going out with anyone. Obviously they overlook the health implications that I would be facing should I withdraw cold-turkey from my acute addiction to acts of physical self-gratification i.e. Masturbation.

The truth is, I have a low self esteem when it comes to having a relationship. I have an insatiable feeling of inadequacy that on one hand it keeps me on my toes, constantly striving for more out of life- the other is actually strangling the life out of me slowly.

People think that I am just an immature irresponsible kid who does not want to be tied down to commitment because my life is all about one night fucks and fleeting mercurial romances.

In truth, I miss all my Emilys. I miss all my Coreys. I miss all my Tammys. With equal tenacity and passion but never fully in love.

I just could not bring myself to love wholeheartedly no longer. I am but a broken man who has been found, measured and found wanting for one too many times by all the wrong people. People who accused me of being an empty romantic without a soul whose love lies only in the recreation of a perfect wonderland that crumbles at first rumble, because apparently- I hath maketh no effort for something deeper.

And the stories run on similar plots every time. After we had cleared out things between us- the other party would admit that our fallout is due to their respective shortcomings, thus validating my beliefs that they were only choosing an easy way out and the easiest would be to look for faults in me.

For they say that vengeance belongs to the Lord- I say Screw You. Let me burn in hell for I have undeservedly inflicted all the unjust pain that I had suffered while blinded by those who did not love me- upon others who loved me with all their hearts. Oh how wrong, how broken, how bleak was the angst that was pent up in the ugly me.

In time, to live in ignorance of love is to dwell in peace.

Until I met Emily. And then Corey.

They both showed me that I was worth all in life. I fell in love with them whom I believe to be god-sent.

That was my life. Those were my issues. In time past.

Carina asked me if I believed that I will ever find my true love. I brushed her aside by saying that I don’t really give a flying feck about it.

To love someone with all our might, to be so consumed in love that we are willing to give and trust everything from our heart, life unto the other person, to wake up every morning next to her and remember that everything is worth fighting for her – is to truly fall in love. Anything lesser falls short and is nothing but just puppy loves that I so espouse.

I believe all of us have issues unresolved within ourselves. To even think of loving someone, we need to resolve them and be at peace within ourselves. We need to be able to accept ourselves before we expect others to do so. We need to be independent individuals before we can be dependent upon or be depended by someone else. People do not understand this, often rush head-on to relationships and end up being totally dependent onto the other person and when shit does not work out- they screamed in agony and threaten death when they can no longer walk on their own twos.

I say “Get yo’ shit right before you want to start any shit like Love, yo!“

That is why I don’t date and only choose to hang out with my women. Hangin’ out is the best and most underrated concept in human relationship since Fuck Buddy. When you hang out, you do not set any commitments with your partner. It is just a simply two person who are attracted to each other, spending time with each other and yet giving each other total freedom, space and time to figure their shit out. Hangin’ out encompasses everything that a conventional relationship entices i.e. doing shits together, discovering each other’s personalities, tolerating each other’s shit, holding hands, making out, sex; but cuts out all the troublesome bullshit that one has to go thru in a committed relationship like ‘sticking together thru thick and thin’ ‘cos I say screw those bullshit- says who that we need to lose our personal liberty as individuals when we had developed feeling for another person?

I say people should just hang out with Everyone and develop themselves from meeting as many personalities from as many walks of lives as possible while figuring themselves out. There are just too many interesting people out there that warrants the precious exciting times of our youth.

Believe me not? Take a look at couples who have been dating for some time. Do you think they are with their partner because they genuinely love them and think that there are no other person on earth like her, Or, is it because they are just afraid that they are not good enough to look for someone better, so they cling on the person of lesser quality, because they are too lazy to move out of their emotional comfort zones?

Let us never live with contention. Let us all believe in love at first sight so that we will never stop looking (this sounds vaguely familiar, I must have ripped it off from some B-Grade movie)

Pray tell that I will wash out the world. Pray tell that I will never find true love too soon. Pray tell that all I will always have is Now.

what ravages of spirit conjured this temptuous rage?

Perhaps Sarah Mac does not really make a good listen at 3am on a wet, pouring morning.Perhaps the Scottish girl was right. That in my maddening pursuit of success, I had got lost along the way and never really enjoyed the chase.

Perhaps all I need now is a Sweet Surrender.

I miss Fall. When the leaves wore a plethora of colors. Yellow, brown, red, purple; all waltzing carelessly to the crisp of autumn’s swirling breeze.

Things are indeed falling apart but into places now. I am falling apart but the team is falling into place. Just the way I had hoped for it to. There was no shortage of commitment when the team calls for it. A lot willing hands and willful hearts. The most touching part is when everyone showed up to help out when we had a public event. A girl even drove an hour to be there. Everyone was just working together to make this whole thing work. I never intended for it to be My team. I was merely the fire starter that sparks a wild fire that is to consume the entire place.

In this wild pursuit of glory I have indeed strayed and lost my way. Lessons learned, excuses given, hearts broken, friends mended.

Adia, do you believe that I have failed you?

Would you believe me if I tell you that I love you and I am cold here without you?
These walls that I have built around me, would you tear them down?
Would you take away my frown and make me an all-dancing clown?

You have always accused me of being a cold-hearted loner. That I never wanted or needed you to be around to function. Maybe I was just sitting shit scared in my dark little corner waiting for you to lift me out. And in that small claustrophobic space- it does get lonely down there. The sad thing was that you were right to say that I did not need you to be around- but truth was, I wanted you to.

Phone flipped, unflipped, flipped,turned off and put away. It does not mean much. It does not mean anything at all. For I could not bring myself to dial those numbers and tell you that I love you. And you just walked away.

I remember picking up those fallen yellow autumn leaves and arranging them on the sidewalk to spell your name while I was locked out of your apartment. The wind kept on blowing them away but I would still pick up those leaves and start all over. Futile yet I relished every moment of it because it reminded me of you.

But life is like that, is it not? We could spend all our lives to painstakingly build something so beautiful only for it to be all unraveled in a blink of an eye.

Like how the mystery of us was undone.

Like how I am undoing my greatest faith that died before Jesus came.

and we lived a thousand years all we have is now

I am obsessed with Greatness. Interpret me however you want- whether I am just another one of those men suffering from the usual bout of male inferiority complex issues or I could be genuinely pursuing that one defining moment of perfection in life. Perhaps in all likelihood, both perspectives are not mutually exclusive.I am a creature of Passion. If I relish the significance of pursuing an accomplishment, I would immerse 1500% of my entire life in capturing that just One moment of greatness in achieving what I had set my eyes upon. That is just life, is not it? All of us have only just that One sole moment when lifetime opportunity comes by-a-knocking, stands outside our doorstep briefly, taps her feet dap-a-tap-dap, before taking leave almost as soon as she arrives. Pretty much like that time in the club when you had your eyes on that hottie but hesitated in walking up to her ‘cos you were too chicken shit and when you finally had the guts to make an approach after downing that 18th tequilla shot, she had already left with a bad-shaped man. It was never because that ugly man was any better looking or anything better than you- it was because that fat bastard had the balls to walk up and just seize the moment with her.

So when opportunity comes, do we capture it or do we let it slip? I find it rather embarassing to draw inspiration from a very confused pasty white rapper who hates his mother, but yet do not deny that I get a kick whenever I listen to Eminem’s Lose Yourself.

Most of the time we live our lives complaining that we do not know what we are living for; not realizing that everyone of us already has a purpose in life that could be as great as saving the whole damn world Jesus style or a simplistic one that silently tugs at our heart strings. It would not be hard to recognize the purpose in life if everyone is a Larry Page/Sergei Brin or Mahatma Gandhi or Wong Kar-Wai. Those folks already have defined the sphere in which they would build their lives around. Page and Brin would save the world from evil with Google, Gandhi changed India and Wong would rewrite film history. It is those of us whose lives pale insignificantly in relative to theirs who will find it hard to recognize our purpose in life, or rather to be Willing to recognize that purpose. For what great glory is there in living a life dedicated to a mundane white-collared job, get married, reproduce, bring up our children, retire and die into oblivion?

Yeah, yeah, I made the assumption that everyone’s purpose in life is supposed to be destined for Greatness, or else it would not be valid. In the real world, if everyone’s destined for greatness- then the world would not need any changing, no? I get that. And I understand that the term ‘greatness’ has been used here rather indiscriminately, I debate for my university and am in no mood to define shit when I am talking to myself via me blog.

But more importantly, it is always the microcosmic parts of life that matters, aye? If it wasn’t because of my uneducated parents who led a pretty simplistic life- then I would not realize how much mediocrity sucked alot of hairy black balls and they would not have pushed me to always ace in academia because like all uneducated people, my parents were duped into believing that education is really the key to a good wonderful life ahead. At best, they were only half right. That is considering that I even get a little cubicle of my own and a pantry storage for my Wal-Mart coffee mug in the office.

The point is simply this; I have been searching high and low for my entire life for that One special purpose dedicated to immortalizing life that would consume my entire being so much so I would just lose myself in the madness of my pursuit. That in living my life for that purpose- Nothing else would matter. It is all about running with all my strength and heart towards the light at the end of the tunnel. A long, hard run that would take over my whole life and I would not have any doubt if I am wasting my time on running.

To some people, that purpose could be Jesus. I went down that path for 8 years and realized it was a dead end. I was only talking to myself all those times. To some people, it could be their family. I love my family but can’t live my life fulfilling their expectations all the damn time. I have stopped being a teenager 6 years ago. It could be living for a woman- but that is just silly ain’t it? Men are born to roam the earth. With a spear. Between their legs. It could be living your life to end world hunger and child labor. That sounds great and very honorable to me, but hey- the world still goes on and as far as I am concern it should go on as long as those damn Ethiopeans would trade food for guns to shoot their own brothers or GAP is selling cheap clothings sewn by malnourished Sri Lankan kids who or else would die of hunger if it was not for those kind Caucasian men who gave them money and jobs as part of their white men’s burden in return for exploiting their poor asses sewing tee shirts 18 hours a day.

For the record, I hate GAP.

To me, one’s highest purpose in life could be farming corn for all I care. But I would want my world to stop spinning in awesome admiration of my passion for farming corn. My defining life purpose would exclude all societal expecations. I want to live a life that is unpredictable. I despise establishments. I shudders at any attempt for conformity. I rejoice in breaking free. More than living, I want to Feel life. Every moment of it.

A friend of mine always remind me that we find greatest joy in the simplest things of life. A part of me scorned such trivilization of life, the other acknowledges the truth of that notion. Like how in the olden days people are happy with just having a pair of pants but everyone wants to own a pair of Diesel jeans now. If you burst out laughing at my comparison- of course I understand that you do not realized I was referring to the Italian design house that receives the honorable patronage of Kevin Federline. And we all know K-Fed is the mark of a true Man in fashion. Thank you.

I reserve my deepest, most profound respect to one of history’s greatest epical warrior- Alexander the Great (after K-Fed, of course). I draw inspiration from him (Alexander the Great). I never believed in insurmountable odds and whenever I am faced with circumstances as that, I’ll just remind myself that whatever I am facing pales in comparison to what Alexander went thru. So just shut the fuck up and Overcome it like a Man. And Alexander was just a man. He ain’t no Jesus with all those crazy God superpowers but he still conquer the whole Allah-damned world. If only K-Fed had lived in that era.

Now we all know Alexander the Great was really fuckin’ Great, rite? No point doubting a man whose name hints at such modesty. The question that begs to be answered, really is- If Alexander knew that there was a Greater man who could lead the Macedonians towards even greater glory,like imagine Genghis Khan was a homie of the same era- Would he step aside for Genghis’ ascension to lead his empire or would Alexander cut his throat while he was sleeping? I bet he would not sneak up to Genghis ‘cos Alexander’s a most honorable man but would he take on Genghis one-on-one style or would he get his whole army to fuck him up? I believe Alexander would challenge Genghis to an death duel and Win. I am pitching my money on Alexander ‘cos I have read an entire library of books on how bad ass of a fighter he was but none on Genghis, so I know nothing of his capability besides him kicking alot of asses back in the days and likes to ride a horse. How gay can you get?

How did Alexander always knew that he was the Greatest King of all Macedonia? Did he not feel doubt? Was he not merely a Man after all? Has he no fear of the unknown i.e. the future? If he was indeed the Greatest, there would then be an absence of a yardstick for him to measure himself against- what drives him then?

All great men are self-motivated.

I am a creature of Passion. Who succumbs easily to the temptation of conceited Pretensions.

How trite.

meant to live

“What is true happiness?” asks Switchfoot frontman Jon Foreman. “Is it a comfortable four-door sedan with tinted windows? Does it mean I have 2 or 3 children and a beautiful wife and live in a great neighborhood? Everyone has their own version of what happiness means, but many of the things we’re going for, and I include myself in this, are absurd. There’s this moment in Jewish scripture, in Ecclesiastes, where it says, ‘Meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless.‘”Happy is a Yuppie Word” that takes its title from a 1991 interview Bob Dylan gave to Rolling Stone in which Dylan was asked, on the occasion of his 50th birthday, if he was happy. Dylan replied, “Those are yuppie words, happiness and unhappiness. It’s not happiness or unhappiness, it’s blessed or unblessed.” Foreman bemoans corporate product branding and marketing. “We are the target market / We set the corporate target,” he sings. “That song is about how one of the most beautiful intimate moments in a human’s life is used to sell a can of beer or auto parts. Sex is easier than love.“

My thoughts and sentiments personified thru the music of Switchfoot. There is only so much rage you can have pent up in your system; there is only so much verbal vulgarity to compensate for our losses thru injustices towards us; there is only so much we can chant about our plights; before we realize that there is so much that we could have done with our lives.

Switchfoot reminds me of Rage Against the Machine- without the Rage. I was utterly impressed with their musical purpose and ideals. A band that is for social justice and blinding the world from maddening materialism deserves all my respect and support.

As silly as this sounds, I ‘felt’ the touch of God from their music. It was not so much of the Jesus Christ kind of touch that everyone who has ever gone to church or christian camps would be convinced that they felt. It was more on an inspirational level. Those sort that makes me want to do something substantial with my life that will contribute towards the betterment of society. Social movement has always been an essential part of my purpose in life. A world that is void of poverty, greed and injustice. What have I actually done on my part to improve the state of world?

Nothing.

I feel helpless. Useless. Self-centered. I can’t help but those sentiments haunt me every so frequently. I have experienced so much. I have taken so much from the world, but I am not able to contribute anything to make even a person’s life better.

Switchfoot reminded me of my purpose. Of my ideals. Of everyone besides myself.

I believe that, beyond myself, there is a greater purpose in life. One that is not self-serving. One that is self-sacrificial. We have been brought up in a world whereby self-perservation is the underlining point of utilitarianism. This ought not to be the case. If everyone is more willing to give than to take, then the global disparity would be deservingly, shortlived.

It was funny how when I was just rocking out on the main floor of Switchfoot’s show when something which happened 5 years ago struck my mind. There used to be a high school teacher who brought me into the whole Christianity bit, told me that she had a dream (Christians will love this) in which there was a dude who was sharpening a blunt arrow and I was in her dream. She told me that she was convinced by the prompting of the Holy Spirit that her dream was a vision from the good Lord. I was the blunt arrow and since I was Jesus’ homeboy, the dude was shaping me up for greater purposes in life- hence the sharpening. Nothing short of Hilarious, and I brushed her off as a pyschotic Klan member.

Regardless if her visions were true, I believe that I am indeed being shaped by an invisible hand. No words can fathom my adventure thus far in the United States. Like one end of a beer bong, I am constantly absorbing everything that comes my way.

Someday, like the other end of a beer bong, I will need to give everything back. And when that day comes, I will gladly return everything and even more. Everyone deserves a shot at what I have experienced.

There will not be a beautiful letdown.

a means to an end

Over the weekend, I caught an abstract dance musical performance titled Green Snake in Buto by Lee Swee Keong that personally was very avant-gardely What-the-hell-was-that-All-about?! It was one of those modern dance experimental stuff, well actually it was not really modern for Buto was created by the Japanese back in the late 50’s. Also known as the Dance of Darkness. How pretentious can you get? Apparently very.So we had this dude with his entire body painted in white, looking very ghoulish and scary like one of those evil spirits ripped out of a B-grade Canto horror flick (it’s the Halloween weekend I guess), prancing around the stage frantically to some incorrigible music that sounded equally as mind-boggling. Risking sounding like a complete imbecilic moron, sometimes I wonder at how obscure is the thin red line between art and pretentious rubbish that tries to fake art, really is. It is like looking at a million-dollar Picasso’s masterpiece in a mid-town San Francisco art gallery and inevitably having to entertain the thought that a 5-year-old retarded kid could have painted something similar for two bucks.

And of course we had the usual pompous-ass yuppie above average-income-earning middle class audience attending this productions the same way we would find them in all artsy-futsy performances. And I know for certain that albeit sounding like one, I am not a total idiot. So if I ever wonder was going on in a show, I am pretty damn sure 90% of the attending crowd would have not an inkling of what on earth was going on too. The other 10% fell asleep after the first fifteen minutes.

So that was what happened. I paid twenty bucks to watch a dude doing cool yoga tricks and pulling off seizure-like moves like drunken mentally-unsound hobo around a gigantic abstractly-shaped phallic object planted in the middle of the set. I am just exaggerating, the show was not really that bad but I thought it was too abstract to the point that the audience would have problem interpreting the message that the dance was supposed to convey. Or perhaps, there was no message behind the dance. Maybe it was just a display of spatial manipulation that could be achieved by the creative sleek movement of our body. Yeah right.

In the end of the day, I still don’t get it. Actually I do for some part but I need “guidance” when it comes to understanding why on earth did I just pay my cold hard cash to watch an almost naked freaky-looking dude with a small package (for the record-Not that it mattered to me, I am just saying it in consideration of my friend, Anrie) mess around on stage, when I could have kept my money and look at a crazy hobo messes around for free in town on a rainy Sunday afternoon.

The buto dance was supposed to be a medium thru which the performer integrate nature, reality and life within himself. Or so the program book told me. To shed some light on why I thought the performance was perhaps a tat over-rated- So the show started out in complete darkness and the crazy dude came out holding two willow sticks and walked around the stage slow-mo for a good 15 minutes before he stopped only to mess around again doing body-contorting yoga stunts whereby he turned himself into a caterpillar, made himself looking all scary by sticking out his tongue (his whole body was painted White and eery music was playing in the background all the damn time while this whole shit was goin’ on), and then another dude came out to mess around with a drum and cymbal before the whole show ended with the first dude running in circles for another good 15 minutes, all the while making funny faces that I could not help but to feel he was mocking my intelligence because I had paid good money to watch him mess around the stage in the name of modern dance.

The best part was that everyone clapped vociferously at the end of the show. As if they understood the testy shit that had just been presented to them. Goddamn pretentious pricks. I didn’t clap at all until the musicians came in ‘cos I thought they played some pretty trippy shit. And then I clapped out of charity for the dancers. There were two of them. So 10 bucks a pop. Take money from a Student, would you?!

I do not mean no disrespect for the entire performance. I am very certain that a lot of effort, thoughts and philosophy has been poured into the production. What I do find entertaining and funny to mock is that, beyond all that- could the performance really be nothing more than a piece of shit? Or is avant garde art so subjectively profound and progressive that it allows no room for objective judgments? How would people review this? Apparently according to the program (again), the performer is a critically acclaimed award-winning fellow that could only mean that I am a dumb ass afterall who did not know how to appreciate good art. But what is good art when the meaning is lost to her audience? For a lack of better comparison and my personal fancy for vulgar sexual analogies- it is like telling a chic how great it feels to have a giant penis. Like mine, specifically. They could probably guess it would feel awesome to the point that they would love to walk around naked all the damn time, but they won’t understand the awesomeness of having a Negro dick.

Of course, my analogy makes no sense.

However bad or good the show was, the dude who choreographed the whole thing apparently believes in Zen Buddhism and the whole load of Shinto Japanese philosophical way of life trippy stuff, so that explained alot of those meaningless messin’ around to achieve inner peace stuff on stage. I would really love to know what his dance was all about and because modern dance allows room for subjective interpretations, I would like to know what he would think of my personal interpretations of his show. If I’d ever have the opportunity for a discourse with the dude, I would leave all my mockeries behind because I do have some serious thoughts of his dance.

Given a choice, would I go back? Yes and no. Yes I would go back just to make meaning of the whole shit and No, if I had to choose between watching an almost-naked dude doing a crazy dance and say, watching paint dry.

a tourist with no story, lost in this purgatory

I dread twilight showers and the spine-chilling cold that lingers after a rain. The cold air inevitably makes me want to snuggle up to someone, Dear who could afford me a few precious moments when all my infirmities in the world would mean nothing. Someone Who, in all irony- is not around.For what is a downpour but an autumn of a thousand million crystalline reflections falling carelessly thru the open sky, each inconspicuously carrying a vision of the heavens that all men seek but fail to even witness a glimpse?

We are just that silly, aren’t we?

Men, since that fateful day when Icarus got his wings, has envisioned flight to be amongst the angels of heavens; Not realizing that earth is a reflection of heaven as each rain droplet reveals her secret snapshots from the above when they break upon hitting our grounds. Raindrops are but broken mirrors of the gods.

Many times, we do not realize that we already have the best in our possession. So, believing that there is a larger, better world out there- we would set out seeking for something more that could never be found. And be left with an empty hand as we stand alone in reflection of our thousand broken rain by that little dark corner of a cold, pouring early morning in loveless Moscow.

Would you grab my hands and trust in my imperfections?

Perhaps not everything is in black and white. Perhaps these gray skies that herald another downpour would stand sentinel and watch over her heart as the rest of the world falls apart.

how strange, innocence

I love my blog. It affords me an absolute freedom of expression that I would not exercise under normal daily life circumstances as due to a perpetual heavy work stress condition that is only exacerbated by my perfectionist work ethics, I would normally be quite strung up and would not give two hoots about talking more than is necessary to get what I want out of people; let alone talking stupid about people, whom I also perceive to be stupid, in general.

But then again, I am the type who stereotype (that somehow sounded stupid). Anyone who doesn’t fall under my purview of fun- that is loosely characterized by an overkilling affinity towards substance abuse-induced stupidity, they would naturally fall into the category reserved for those lame shit type of people who are either too chicken shit or egoistic to make a fool out of themselves i.e. uninteresting people whom I would not want to waste my precious time that would be more productively spent on chatting up 15 year old girls online on a Friday nite.

The irony being I am surrounded on a daily basis by these sorta queer folks everywhere. That is the sad truth about local universities. It gives me the creeps that everyone behaves like they have been in-bred for the past 7 generations. They look the same (wear glasses, go everywhere in their over-sized tees and unkempt pimply-teenage-hobo-werewolf appearance); everyone can’t speak English to save their mother from being eaten alive by Hannibal Lecter (I know I come out with the most amazing analogies that makes little or no sense but nonetheless, very appropriate); still believes in the lie that their parents told them 15 years ago that if they keep up with their parrot-like behavior of scoring straight A’s in university by regurgitation in the absence of comprehension- in the end of the day it would mean that they are educated and formal education would make them the richest person on earth (I am educated, not because of the system but despite the system); and everyone wants to get married before they turn 25 for fear of some unknown fatal societal force of loneliness that is also known as being a virgin.

Bearing witness to good ole’ stupidity of youth seeping out of every corner of life creeps me out. What ever happened to “Hey, why don’t you live a’lil?” and by that I don’t mean let’s go play bowling or go for church group meetings, mind you.

And the worse thing is, unlike what most may unfoundedly think- this phenomenon of boredom enshrined does not occur just among the Non-English speaking students. The general elitist mentality among us English speakers in Malaysia is that somehow our shit does not stink compared to the rest who are more comfortable conversing in their Chinese mother tongues. That somehow, there is always a make-believe dichotomy between us and them that makes everything that we do or have to be better than whatever that is associated with Them. I say to hell with all these bullshit imaginary social demarcations that could only separate because someone is too dumb to see beyond lucid background and linguistic differences. English or Non-English speakers are all the same lot of idiots. If you are boring, you are inevitably still an idiot regardless if you watch your Southparks in English or Cantonese although I must say, the Canto version is pretty- imaginative. Just because one listens to Pharell instead of Jay Chou does not prove jack shit other than the former could be a western-culture-hegemony worshipping whore who had forgotten his roots.

Eric Cartman is Chinese, you stupid motherf*cker. According to MC Yan of the LMF.

English or no English, they are all a fuckin’ stupid and uninteresting lot. Everyone is too protected in our society. I have 23 year old friends in my faculty who would not ride the public bus alone for fear of abduction, rape and all the bad things that bad people do to TWENTY-THREE-YEAR-OLDS whenever they are alone in a bus. Jesus Titty-f*ckin’ Christ and these are the same stupid people who wanna get married and populate our already-sorry ass world with their stupid kids. Thank god Down-syndrome kids are infertile.

Take a little chance, would you all? Just alil. I mean, C’mon. We only live once. Why can’t I go thru one day when I don’t have to figure fun and most-likely-to-be-stupid shit to do to entertain my sanity ‘cos someone’s already doing it for me? Why can’t I go thru one day when someone just walks up to me and ask if I’d be interested in robbing a bank?

Kinda think of it- someone Did ask me that question previously. And he wasn’t under influence. He wasn’t joking either. In all honesty, if I didn’t have to answer to anyone at that particular time i.e. my parents are dead- I would agree to rob a bank. Not for the money, but just for the sake of robbing a bank. No reason. Not that I need the money for a life-saving surgery or I am gonna give my loot to the poor, hell no- the poor’s poor because they are too stupid to work their way out of poverty. We all know that Capitalism is a great incentive-based system. And according to history of everyone, Greed is a perfectly-acceptable incentive. The bottom line is- I would rob a bank just because I wanna. I mean how many of us could live to tell a story that could possibly make The Great Train Robbery look like amateur porno? I know who could- those dudes who got away laughing with that 50million bucks microchip heist. And I am cock-sure their folks are either dead, not talking to them or happily smoking an entire estate plantation of weed in some island off Bahamas.

Tyler Durden could not have said it better. Self improvement is masturbatory. Life has no meaning besides finding a meaning in making a meaning for others. We all live in a vicious cycle in a perpetual pursuit for happiness that either turn us to be really self-serving individuals or the rather morbidly self-centered ones who go around trying to make themselves feel better by justifying that they are not self-centered like the rest of the world, by attaining fulfilment out of making others happy, otherwise- they would not give a damn.

There is no meaning in life. We are all just circumstantial parts that keep a big machine moving; without some of which, the gears would still keep on moving possibly faster than before. So do not even pretend that anyone’s even greater than anyone else.

Since nothing ever matters, why can’t you all just live a’lil?

dan semua menghilang

Emily finally wrote after a hiatus of all communications between us since before last Christmas. There was no apparent reason for us not to talk then, thus there was no need of a communique for us to resume communication as usual. Or so I thought, wrongly.The email came with a large attachment that I could not download, the lyrics to a song that I presumed was the attachment and a short Happy Anniversary note.

Dimanakah cinta sejati
Yang memberi ketenangan hati
Sampai kapan ku harus menanti
Kau pergi dan mungkin takkan kembali

Dan aku menangis, dan aku terluka, Bila…
Dan aku menangis, dan aku terluka , Bila…
Engkau menghilang….

Kau pergi dariku, tinggalkanku
Lewati malam tanpa kasihmu
Ku rangkai kata, ku rangkai nada
Yang kuinginkan hanyalah cinta

Dan semua menghilang…

Semua karena cinta kumenangis
Semua karena cinta kutertawa
Semua karena cinta, Semua karena cinta
Yang kau tinggalkan hanyalah luka

Dan semua menghilang…

It must have taken a great deal of time and effort from an American-Chinese to translate an Indonesian song in a predominantly-white city void of people from that part of the world. Especially when her only Asian friend was a stupid Malaysian who is yours truly. All at a time when I was listening to Eason Chen’s Today, Next Year, thinking of her. It was a sad corny day of un-love to be receiving an email from a lost love, I tell you.

Love is such an overused word. So overused. So under appreciated.

Last week was the first time we met at Central Park, NY almost ten thousand miles away from here, some two years ago. As much as I do not allow myself to be one of those soft sentimental sad sods, I did not make it a point to remember that day but March 14th just came naturally to me. It was vivid in my mind and I could feel every moment of that half day we spent together- the cold Spring air, the wet roads from the melting snow, the eye contact, the fear of first words, the dinner at that Hong Kong restaurant, the akward conversation, the walk home, the Everything that felt like it was today, and the silly me who still hope that the day would not end because I had forgotten to get her number! And that secret burn in my heart, wishing that I had dared a kiss as we stood in face of each other at her doorstep before saying goodbye, and hello to a new chapter of us for the next few months that would linger lost like a ghoul ship that could not find her shores, for two years on.

But that day did end. And I did leave her.

I guess it was only fair that she had to remind me of that day with this song. Was I right, to leave? Back then, choice was not even a luxury. We were mere college kids. Now she’s in Med school and I’ll probably be slaving for a major oil conglomerate of the world in a matter of receiving my graduation scroll.

I have grown older, but none the wiser. But isn’t that the thing about humans? We are always at a constant.

How is it that I find it easy to be in love with three women but virtually impossible to love only One of them? In present, choice is not a luxury that I would afford.

Angie, Emily, Corey. The drama never ends. And the funny thing is that I find it getting ever so easier to just dig a hole, push them all into that hole and cover it with my work. Yet, on the full 3 days when I fell sick from overworking, I just wished that any one of them would be there for me.

My heart is so confused. Yet unavailable. Every emotion seems to dissipate the moment I lay my hands on them. I blame this skewed fear to love on having to be the best-man to my best friend who will marry my ex-girlfriend who dumped me while I was in love with her in the US, before I had the chance to love any one of of them.

Alas, it is always easy to point fingers at other but yourself. Especially the middle one.

The truth is I am just a whiny-ass loveless boy who is stuck in the past, couldn’t care less with the present and too overwhelmed by the future.

strangers in the sky

Life is lived by the moment. You have that one moment in that one place in time to make that one moment different from the rest of your life.I spent that one moment in the Itaewon district of Seoul with that one beautiful stranger, before sunset.

She was the silently complicated, neurotically cheery, lovely Asian version of Celine who made heads turned wherever she went. I was the less charming, more introverted, socially awkward mirror of Jesse, whose trade was not in written words but that of the spoken.

It was a match made less than perfect in heaven but in South Korea, with the sense of invincibility afforded by the wilderness of our youth- we had taken everything in stride.

There was our time spent in between lines at the quaint neighborhood cafe; the Korean subway ride substitute of the boat trawl down La Siene; the long walk around everywhere to nowhere; and the nagging time shortage that reminded us of the urgency of then.

I fell head over heels over a beautiful stranger who found me in Seoul.

Alas, this story was not written by Jesse.

In the end of my story, I was left to forever contemplate what if I had a second chance with she who got away?