infatuations / contemplative musings of unnecessary obsessions

sailor moon

2011-10-16T21:11:00.000+08:00

the sailor sets sail for the moon. that space between the gutter and the stars, where he wants to be. he aims through the passage of the ocean of silence. where reticence speaks in volumes. where quiescence is in it's essence. the passage to amour, ardor and affection. the final frontier towards acceptance, and belonging. he believes he is the captain of his fate. he believes in making this stand for existence.

the moon was torn away from the night skies. it did not return for many unaccountable moons now. before the absence of the moon, it became the sailor's confidant. the sailor talks to the moon every night. Be it rain, or even when the clouds clouded his gaze and attention, he stayed unflinching. in the moon's absence, he misses the conversation they shared. the slow whispers, the sweet surrenders, the shout of never ending love and the promise of forever. he misses it all.

he stands alone in his ship of wreck with only his will as company. he looks up to the stars, looking for signs to stop him or to give him courage for his journey. but morosely, no signs confided him tonight. he readies his dreadful ship, calamitously named 'sink'. despite the ship in horrid shape, it is still majestic in it's splendor and grandeur. built sturdy and sure, ready for any unsuspecting plight. the ship's sails is set mighty, as high as the sky. the deck gleaming of hope, reflecting the stars above.

he sighs a solemn sigh, as dark and static as the ocean waves at night. thought sifts through his head, racing belligerent from delirium to ennui. his melancholic process of reaching merriment. fate made an optimist out of him, the paradox of his whole being. he smile the shortest smile ever smiled etched itself on his face, and he smiled within. he unties the rope that ties the ship to the harbor and looks upon the land that he is about to leave behind. the land where hope deserted him, and left him broken and subdued. nothing is left for him there.

slowly the ship makes for the sea. leaving the harbor of cadaver and the jetty of regret. he looks back twice upon the shore, as he solemnly breathe in a breath of relief and sense of yielding surrender. his heart felt as it was wrenched out of it's cage and his eyes a dam at breaking point. he turns his gaze ahead, into that dark line that makes the horizon. where love surely lies, where the moon is.

prose before hoes

2011-08-15T16:31:00.008+08:00

man away, this man is always away. up in air, out of snare. the tangent intelligent. the arc of a circumference that needs a π/pi to be formulated. the approximate equal of 3.1415.

he is a man consumed. a complex perplexed and presumed. delicate existence, discordant persistence. convulsing between nature or nurture. a rift between the raft on the rafter and on the veranda of the heart, from here on and thereafter.

the mise-en-scène, a desolate cascade etched itself on this landscape farewell bade. bit by bit, up to the hill until the hilt. a tender taste of crème de la crème à la bitter morose and a pinch of ennui impose. slowly fleeting in the merest splinter of feeling. this man and his iron, a will forged and a tailor-made siphon. the tempest bereft of miranda and up in turmoil. the hottest of all colds, and the winter that his heart holds. a weather under the whether, or not, this man's heart could be saved.

gasp upon grasps of steel and freewill, did this man endure. emotive senses in pure. to the brim, at the height of ascending meaning. where he was left, by thieves equipped for heart theft. the question lays under vivid section of a vivisection. like scalpels under the jugular, stitched intricately over lapels. there so, he lies, shattered and battered. even broken alive, even by means held contrived. a contradictory ponder of the meanderings of life.

fallacy now, has a new servant in this man. who could be, no man at all. fate and her cohorts, have left this man stripped of his being. to the single organic sentient, so abstrused like cryptic enigma. to not be understood; forever as ever would.

this man has been striked upon, as a vagabond, a trail of trivialities between pursuits and hirsuit that follows suit. an absolute, vox populi of traverse verse of vice so venal and violent virulent. whom stench of a long-gone vexation, laid vexed in a vast vein vacuum vacant vacuous vacating vestige space. a space of faults, broken promises, failed chances and trails of no avail.

hope falters, as love renders. the only tender, this man would hear. his ears would ring of a thousand sings on a string. the balance where he meets, the fair and rare soul complete.

limpah semua

2011-08-12T02:45:00.007+08:00

epik bertulis tercipta sengaja. segala bermula pada saat titik akhir. sayap malam, sungguh kelam langit tinggi dilutupi dalam, luaran kepulan kapas awan. skema warna kelabu putih terang disaluti hitam arang malam. angin halus konsepsi kumulonimbus, bertiup setiap masa dengan kelajuan raksa yang menuju angkasa. namun, tema malam ini adalah sunyi, sepi, berdiam. malam ini mungkin sinonim tenang.

oleh kerana idea berbelah, seperti sang musang berhelah. namun, ia tidak menjangkau jauh ke arah stratosfera nun antara gugusan bintang bersauh. ini bukan jangka, atau masa untuk menerima kata saksama. masa itu cuma, penerima dan diterima jangkauan minda dan ilusi. ilusi emotif persepsi. persepsi yang mementingkan falsafah. kolektif karya cendiakawan geliga generasi kita. kolektif minda yang tertera di atas lautan luas, kelihatan dari ruang vakum angkasa lepas.

ini limpah semua. hati dan jiwa. terbuka dan tertutup pada masa yang sama. ilusi pecah warna prisma telus. mata kacamata, ditusuk cahaya matahari pecah sementara cuma. ini adalah situasi imitasi yang enggan memberi kata putus. kata-kata jenaka, olok-olok bahasa. namun, itu cuma kata mereka belaka. ini jua, diberi kurnia. satu tujuan, berbagai kelakuan. perihal laku dan penaakulan, diantara megah penentuukuran. seperti, insepsi mimpi. dimana kita cuma permainan harian, tema berlawanan.

kerana itu, nyawa tawar. disana hidup menunggu, disini takdir menanti. aku cuma menulis.

amor fati

2011-08-11T02:27:00.006+08:00

she has no eyes to flirt or promise. but she sees all sees and understands with a wisdom that is godlike in it's scale. i stand at the gates of her intellect and i am blinded by the light within. how stupid must i seem to her. how childlike and uncomprehending.

her soul is clean, untainted by the snares and ambiguities of emotion. she does not hate. she does not yearn. she is untouched by joy or sorrow. i worship her, though i am unworthy. i cherish the purity of her disdain.

she does not respect me. she does not fear me. she does not love me.

they think she is hard and cold, those who do not know her. they think she is lifeless and without passion. they do not know her. she has not touched them. she touches me, and i am touched by god, by destiny. the whole existence courses through her. i am her slave. no freedom was ever so sweet.

my love, i would stay with you forever, would spend my life within you. i would wait upon your every utterance and never ask the merest splinter of affection.

fate. fate, i love you.

V for Vendetta, Allan Moore. Vertigo; DC comics. pg 38-39

no other literary fiction share my exact sentiments on the matters of fate.

the loss and the static sigh

2011-05-21T12:48:00.002+08:00

"we are lost" she said with the accompaniment of a static sigh, "we have been through this before"

he looks at her. a posterboy for loquacity, appearing taciturn at the oddest moment. the man, with the plethora of words, stood still. his eyes collecting moisture, a dam at breaking point for the onslaught that comes after.

"i have never been so" he said, now with a distant gaze into the distance. "i have always had moirai by my side. that predetermined course. the cause of causes. now that i have comprehend this fleeting feeling. nothing could help me, but for me be to be transient."

the lights in the night sky seemed to paint his current disposition. a despondent sway of colors. weaving and wavering between sadness and ennui to a jubilee of exuberance. the northern lights blotched the skies in robust, like a lavalamp spewing coruscant magma.

she shrugs her shoulders. the ice queen, known for her phlegmatic nature. her notorious reticence knows no bounds. her indomitable disregard for regards is a trait he fell in love with.

'i have known kings that fell from grace. even when grace was the bosom of hell itself. further down, there is oblivion. that is where my ardor lies and there is where i shall take you away from you "she said with a tone of conviction. "your taste is acquired as high as it may be. but, i could be the witch, and you would still love until there is no end to that end."

now, nothing transcends the cold for him. even the rush of winter wind seemed to be his comfort. his away, his breach and juncture from the world that escapes him. the proclivity, to turn out of hand and out of his reach. he is but man, a man away in no man's land.

lulled are his words amongst the soaring night wind, "a man can do what he wants, but not want what he wants".

the loss and the skip

2011-04-21T19:10:00.003+08:00

she speaks slow. careful calculated enunciation. word after word layered on top of another. forming a majestic skyscraper made of vocals. a cacophonous echo of meanings screaming through hushed spoken words.

time moves slow when she talks. her lips, moves like the breeze, constant but gradually. you are mesmerized into a trance state equivalent to nirvana. her lips are a bed of red, you want to delve into. supple in nature, soft elastic fervor fever.

other lights in the room seem to dim, when she looks at you. your eyes move to gaze into the sea of her eyes. her eyes, blinding than any other lights.entrancing and enthralling. her eyes are waterbeds from heaven. iris of delicate light brown. lashes like roses growing mightily in a garden of miracles. her eyes are carefully lined, as if god drew it with a pencil himself.

the perfect symmetry of her eyes, suddenly interrupted by the stray hair that falls in front of her eyes. the wind seemed to be a canvas for her hair, a golden black tress of ethereal like thread coursing itself through. it paints a depiction of beauty in the air. the air without care.

time itself stops, as you realize the beat in the cage of your heart quickens. when, in one split of a second, your heart skipped a beat.

the loss and the stops

2011-04-01T14:02:00.005+08:00

it begins at the end. as it were to be a story about love. although, it was the contrary. a story of a cliched epic where nothing happens or everything happens. in modern times popularly dubbed as clusterfuck. where it stops, is the rare motion.

they were exception. a phenomena of the ages. made in light, forged in time and intensified by the mythical elixir of life, love and faith. they were fearful to proclaim the sense that were made sensible when time came. time stood still at that moment on the hill. for them to progress and transgress the motion that came to a stand in notion. where it ceased to exist. where invisible seemed to envelope the probable. it made everything at peace behind an armor of self-importance.

nothing, is where it stops. it was curated by a luminary of the highest degree. the author of every mortals demise. The premise is there to be savored. all the while in endearment. it stops even the flowing river. even the flow of words. shouted, whispered or sung. they were hushed to complete obscurity. never heard and unheard of through the ages.

cataclysm hits, where it stops. sense is not the sensibilities they pursue anymore. sense is the descending ascension of reality itself. it differs at times, but at the root it is the same. the identical motion, that perennially move in a manner so inconclusive, the universe seem to be limited.

there they were, to stay for all time. to sway at all times. to say until the end of time. but that is where they stop. where it stops.

the loss and the 1.61803399

2011-03-30T23:42:00.012+08:00

the artist works solemnly in the attic by his lonesome. with only the tools of his trade as company and the splinters of light through the windows. the canvas was slowly brought to life by the exquisite strokes and elegant flicks of the wrists. his work of art depicts a portrait of a lady, shown regal of stature and of stellar beauty.

he seemed adamant to finish a part of the painting with painstaking small strokes, to achieve the finest details. as he finishes, he stopped to look at the dozens of paintings behind the canvas identical to the one that he was painting. he sighed a forlorn hush of words and recalls a time long ago.

"why do thee still paint this portrait?", she asks in a tone of quiz and worry.

"i have yet to achieve perfection on this particular painting, love", he answered as he resumed his painting, after that momentary glance at her.

"thou certain? i believe it was flawless pieces of art, 10 paintings ago," she said in astonishment. she quipped in anger, "have tis become thine obsession, for how many moons now?"

"ah, love. thou do not understand. thine beauty escapes even the best of artistry that i possess", he explains himself calmly. "for thine beauty is perfection, and for i am not god. forever i will paint this portrait until life and soul escapes this body of mine"

the artist weary of his work for the day. he was set to gift his empty stomach a full meal of dinner, smiling to himself. slowly making his way down the attic and towards the kitchen. he walks through a hallway full of paintings hung high until the ceilings of the lady he deemed perfection.

the loss and the saga of the sea

2011-03-29T23:03:00.010+08:00

i met her where the sun hits the sea. it was almost in reverie. like slow whispers of promises kept. like the fine strokes on the painting of a romanticism artist. like delicate subtle changes in the earth's direction. like meanings the way it meant to be. today, destiny showed her hand in the making of our lives.

the sea sullen in appearance. making waves and waves of bitter morose. it did not share my current sense of blithe. it was a landscape of black and white. like pale sand of the sahara, untouched by humanity. like clouds slowly forming in the sky, shielding us from the rays of the sun. i pictured white static on a black backdrop. i pictured a euphoric tenderness trailing into emotions of assurance. a sense of cover. a sense of freedom. a sense of immunity. an asylum for lovers.

we were there. she was beside me, in all of her mighty beauty. with her distinct air without care. with her eyes piercing, like knives through the heart. with her lips pursed, on the ready like a lioness about to pounce. with her hair wild, dancing with the blowing wild wind of the ocean. that moment surpasses reality itself. that moment deserved only to be described by the lips of destiny herself. that moment lay deathless in the pages of my memory. i captured the scene as if it was a movie written in morse code. she remains the only picture i took in my mind and kept in my heart.

it was the chronicle of our lives. the saga that never ceased, even after the hero and heroine's demise. it was written in epic, to be told for generations to come. an example, to be made of how beautiful things should be made of. it was beautiful, where we were. everything was made for us as we delve deeper, it became synonymous to what life is. we trade affections as the day went away and the night cloaked us under it's skies. we came to be how feel must have felt when hearts flutter. for days and months it went on and on. it never ended, until it ended.

i still have her picture in me and she is still the only one that made sense.

the loss and the age of solitude

2011-03-03T16:48:00.007+08:00

it was almost midnight. the night so still. so quiescent like death in the air. the hush only broken by the wind. the old man sits in his old man rocking chair with his old man throw over, scratching his old man beard while smoking his old man pipe.

he takes off his old man glasses. his short-sighted eyes fixated into the dark of night. incessantly, as if it was a television screen. gazing curiously at the lights shimmering ahead. almost in a catatonic state he stares in languid. the lights made lucent bokehs with his blurred vision. his old mind plays memories of old. ignited by an overzealous imagination it seemed to play in lights coruscate. every possible color corresponds intimately with the animations living lavish in his head.

the story tells of agony and affliction. a tale of deleterious decision made. haunting like the undead for a lifetime. vision of a lithe formed woman casts itself among the glimmer of illuminated nostalgia. such is she a vivid cognizance of time past. perfect in form, perfect in nature.

he so thought that she was made for him. like how esmeralda was made for quasimodo, like jane for tarzan, like ann darrow for king kong. he was the beast as she was the beauty. they fit like a perfect seam. they spoke of love and affinity for one another everyday. they spoke of growing old, living in the meadows with cats as company. but love decides to interfere in the matters of the heart. love left her heart and never came back. as if love gave her a set of eyes, to look upon the beast that is him. blinding her already given sight. like how swift love came and gone, she left. leaving him like winds done and gone. like river water running it's rapid course towards the sea.

now at his twilight. at his age of solitude. he contemplate withering away at sea. thinking that it would be poetic, as he chuckled at himself. nothing matters now, for love have left the cage that beats his heart. a lifetime does not compare to that moment of bliss. his whirlwind romance. she was his catharsis. his chance of penance. the apogee of his existence.

he could only now reminisce. the gifted mind of his draws her out in his memories. only in the dreams does he relive his happiness. maybe death would be kind to him, he so thought. he stood up, carrying his weary body as he mumbled to himself, "to die, to sleep; to sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; for in that sleep of death what dreams may come"

the loss and the setting sun

2011-02-23T16:32:00.019+08:00

the setting sun was the perfect setting. majestic at this hour in it's resplendent splendor. ardor in persuasion and feeling, easing all mortal sentiments in contemplation.

she watches the radiant rays through the blinds. shafts of light gracing the corners of the room. the entire mise-en-scène is reflected on a teardrop streaming down her cheeks. the image clearly painting her current disposition. a despondent catch of likeness daubbed in grayscale technicolor. every inch telling a tale of ennui and sadness. every inch telling every meaning of the word gone.

like the protagonist in a film noir, she lits a cigarette. she inhales the smoke ever gently. in that instant 4,000 chemicals fills her blackened lung. life nor death changes nothing, but she knows this moment is beautiful. she sits still, locked in a listless gaze at the embrace of the enchanting sun. a million thoughts sifts through her mind like an explosion of nebulaic proportions. each introspect and logic race belligerent in her head. still it moves almost poetically like how koi fishes move in a pond so calm. so zen at the essence.

even in elegiac chaos she still remains collected. analyzing like how sweet caramel melts in heat. slow and steady. a dejected landscape is etched on her face. indescribable anguish. only god knows her plight. for she lost him. everything that she knows stops when he was taken away. the devastation, like how the earth would lose the sun.

she would give anything to be in his embrace again. to hold his hands, to kiss his cheeks, to whisper love in his ear again. for him to be in her life again. like the perfect setting of the setting sun. but, fate is set. nothing can bring him back to her.

my heart breaks for her every time. i would give anything to be in her life again. anything.

to what he owes her is sleep

2011-01-25T11:38:00.006+08:00

the astronaut confesses. forgive him, for he is lost. lost in her. how can he not? she is the universe. constant, infinite and neverending. holder to countless galaxies, nebulas, suns and moons. no mere colloquy can describe her vastness. at least, nothing short of phenomenons, revelations or miracles. for she is as well enthralling in nature and beyond any human understanding. she is the enigma of an enigma. as such, written in a book to be deciphered by the great minds of our time.

the estranged astronaut. abandoned and disconsolate. still the dreamer. still the anti-gravity whore. the perennial underdog. lay stuck in no man's land. to run is futile as everything is to no avail and without escape. he looks forlorn as he floats in the vacuous space known as outerspace. he wishes that she was there for him. but she is, the universe is everywhere around him. but she still remains absent, in mind and in heart. she is his thought of every second of his being. thoughts are just mere matters that exists in the mind and his mind is not over matter.

the astronaut misses her. when they used to set the world ablaze. even as the earth falls all around, they held hands waiting for the end but they survived. nothing spares him from hallucinations of her and the dreams. he blames fate but knowing the truth, he himself is to blame. he is his own contractor. not the builder, the demolisher. the engineer to his demise from the state of being. his existential state. for what else does he have to live for? she lays locked in his conscience. she will never pass him. he believes that his will, will not let him.

the only cure is to turn back time. he promises to himself with every shred of being he has left to become the traveler of time. with faith and mystic power traversing the linear illusionary railway. and there is where it will end, where the astronaut will find his acceptance. his closure.

for now, to what he owes her is sleep

darah biru

2010-12-28T17:02:00.009+08:00

darah biru mengalir. setitik demi setitik dengan aliran yang mengukir. ukiran halus wajah, karya agung artis zaman dahulukala. setitis biru mewarnakan memori sementara selamanya atas karya lukisan. seperti bunyi pada mata, seperti visual pada telinga. ia turun bagai hujan dari langit. setinggi kepulan awan kelabu kumulonimbus. sayu sedih pilu.

namun, ia cuma statik. seperti frekuensi dari radio stesen angkasa. terapung keseorangan diantara bintang-bintang yang memenuhi ruang vakum infiniti. bumi kelihatan bersinar dibawah panahan matahari, kemegahan yang tiada batasan.

ketentuan terbentang luas dari segi metafora. pintu masih tertutup, pintu hati dan jiwa. luas tak terkata pada skala cinta. skala yang tidak berpeta. jika dibuka ia tidak tertutup jua selamanya. itu cuma kata-kata, rasanya tiada. entah ke mana, ia hanya hiasan cuma.

foals - blue blood

astronoughts

2010-12-10T18:34:00.007+08:00

she is a planet. severely cold and ever distant. he is an astronaut. avid moonwalker and anti-gravity whore. a match made in heaven, in the intrepid traveller and the unflinching unmoving solid rock floating in the constantly expanding universe.

the astronaut travels at lengths in lightyears. traversing through countless wormholes. in search of stability, a state of perennial rest for millenias to come. at long last, after traveling the equidistance of the whole distance of his reason he arrives. at the basis of his impetus, and in his eyes she resonates a visual paramour. the worth of adore he so endures.

she lays silent. still unaware of her own existence. a being of beauty, transcended only by time itself. where space is non-equivalent as if it were a sway of the four-dimensional continuum. nothing in comparison to love. infinite in design, infinitesimal to how he feels to it's promise of grandeur.

as his feet touches the plateau of his pseudo-conscience. he gazes at the stars above, the horizon ahead, the earth beneath. as he breathes, breath by breath contracts the lipid miasma off the atmosphere. now knowing, her the planet he conquered. as hard the truth to swallow, as long the journey be, he now knows there is nothing left for him right here.

i'm in lesbians with you

2010-12-09T12:01:00.018+08:00

feeling like paul rudd in i love you man (minus rashida jones). fair bit of gutted and scapegoat-ted thrown in the mould. need to do what cockroaches do when a nuclear holocaust is called upon. survive and do every self-preserving moves necessary. likening self to a bug is not fly at all. but still, i'll be flying high because i do it right sipping sizzurps on ice, in my ride in the blizzard.

continue? 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, insert coin

zariq earned the power of self-preservation *ting*

LEVEL UP!
balls +7 *pling*
smarts +10 *pling*
conscience +7 *pling*
give a fuck -100 *pling*

to the guild of 7 evil x's
xxxxxxx

now in hands, the flaming katana of self-preservation. where i will protect and preserve at all costs. but, when all else fails, break out the L word. no, not that L word. the other L word.

midnight protector

2010-11-23T18:31:00.003+08:00

at 30,000 feet, the cold is your friend. the fall, the plunge is quick but the eponymous epiphany is not. impossible it is so, keeping your composure when you are stuck in the gallows. walking the plank through the narrows. alone and left behind grasps upon gasps for the breath of air, or life itself as i know it.

my plunge to death, is the et cetera of post-it notes in my burdened head. to remind me over again and again over. the cacophonous mistake i disguised as the retainer of the amaranthine chance of demise. diminishing as the dying snake at my feet still lay hissing. it is like concrete in mid air after the cold winter war of the coldest war. colliding in a way, how the fault is ours and not yours to blame. a case of the unplayable game.

i stare at the cake where fat kids no longer eat, of late. it's oblique omnipresence haunts me, like how you haunt me. in my non-remembered dream. slowly collecting minute shards of cracked pebbles on a bridge. a sample of dismembered figurative drawing of pens in ink. little by little the lines make riddles out of severing ties and the binding rhetoric sighs. i cannot accept the troubling remarks of that remarkable totem standing tall on scarce earth.

i pick the brain of my case slowly. like sands through small cracks of fading glory. i was minding the bearings of my quantum realization. i bear in mind, the bear in my mind, cuddly as it can be. soon i remember, as my body hit the pavement at the end of the plunge. dream protractor, i'm waiting for you in my sleep midnight protector

the time traveller's rife

2010-11-13T10:44:00.003+08:00

the time traveller looks at his timepiece. he watches as the ticking hands move. time is constant but not to him. he wonders as to why he needs a watch. it might be the comfort of having time by his side and knowing that she is looking at the same time. or that he is still human, still attached to mortal constraints.

he visits her at present. she stands alone in the grassy field, gazing listlessly into the night sky. unlike other nights, the sky is littered with stars. shining still, at the picking of the star thieves. he treads slowly through knee-high grass towards her, attempting to catch her unawares.

"countless times you've saved me. you're always, always there for me". she said softly, with her eyes still fixated at the skies. "i wish you would have greeted me with a kiss"

without thinking, without hesitance, he travelled back through time to that instance. he manifested in front of her and before she could say anything, greeted her with a kiss. startling her with the gesture.

"countless times you've saved me. you're always, always there for me". she said softly, looking into his eyes. "i wish you would have greeted me, embracing me in your arms"

without thinking, without hesitance, he travelled back through time to that instance. he manifested behind her and before she could say anything, embraced her in his arms. startling her with the gesture.

"countless times you've saved me. you're always, always there for me". she said softly, looking into his eyes. "i wish you would have greeted me, with a whisper in my ear"

without thinking, without hesitance, he travelled back through time to that instance. he manifested behind her and before she could say anything, whispered the sweetest four-letter word ever invented by the human tongue. startling her with the gesture.

"countless times you've saved me. you're always, always there for me". she said softly, looking into his eyes. "i wish you would have greeted me, with a lullaby"

he stopped to think. contemplating the outcome to each time he turned back. he saw the futility in this. he saw only for her happiness, but he could only do so much. for nothing satiates her and this linear paradox.

he travelled back through time to that instance. he manifested beside her and before she could say anything, held her hand in his. he did not listened to what she said. but he saw her lips move. he knew that nothing he could do to change what have changed. he gazes at the stars above, knowing that the comfort of being with her at present is a gift more than anything.

time has been transformed, and we have changed; it has advanced and set us in motion; it has unveiled its face, inspiring us with bewilderment and exhilaration - kahlil gibran

'tache life

2010-11-11T23:47:00.023+08:00

in response to a less than manly earlier post, the 'tache cultivation revolution commenced. minus the wiggly eyebrows, breeding caterpillars is a chore. especially when it's on your face and it itches like hell. why shouldn't it be, it's a jungle up in here. it has it's highs and pitfalls. amongst other things, food gets in there as well. since it's going to be there for awhile, it's imperative to manscape. a masculine skill that still needs to be acquired.
currently, it's on the way to looking like christian bale's "i drop f-bombs at film sets" look.
a little prim and primp, it'll look like johnny depp's "i'm classy in anything and everything i do goes" look.
or going all the way to johnathan rhys-meyers' " i'm a suave polyglot, speaking at least 5 languages" look.
if all else fails, a little moustache wax should do the trick ala brandon boyd's "i'm a sailor captain-high-ho" look.

i'm homings. is you homings? just chillings

apologetic shoulderblades

2010-11-02T17:01:00.001+08:00

the writer has written for a lifetime. putting quill to paper seemed a course of life on it's own. taking a linear cognizance beyond the boundaries of his ether. at lengths his hands tired, his heart marred, his soul charred and his being traduced into impertinent fallacy.

as the writer wrote, he wanders through the landscape of pseudonym anonymity. the accursed course that sets out to leave it's discourse. the road less taken, much bade but bids left mistaken. for at the end, this intrepid traveller is gifted the journey decrepit. all is well until the enthused falls into a chasm of surfeited conscience.

he knows the fall as much any fallen soldiers should. to confront it at ease in a derelict nature. knowing it all, at the end he heads back to the veranda of his heart. for so long, at the weary end of his travels he falls back to bliss.

bliss is her. his catharsis in human form. she is desire fine tuned, to the littlest decibel of harmony. silk thread hair. waterbed eyes. crimson bitten lips. satin laced skin from the supples of the neck to the shoulders, the arch on the small of her back, to her legs and the channels of her feet. a fine exemplar of god's existence.

he smiled as lethargy sets in, as he lay asleep on her apologetic shoulderblades

the park bench confessional

2010-10-27T17:23:00.005+08:00

the park became his convention. early in the day when the low sun bleaches the lake. here is where normalcy came in a throng of avid health preservers. a sea of colors in sweat pants bouncing. he sat down on the bench that was nearest to the water. so that he could see the ducks waddle. he loves ducks, migratory birds whom avoid the cold in numbers, flying in v's denoting peace emblazoned in the sky. he chuckles at the thought of his overzealous imagination.

as two women jogs by behind him, he couldn't help but to eavesdrop over their conversation, one said "cette nuit a été chaude dernier gars" as she giggles while catching her breath

"oui, n'est-ce pas? je lui obtenir pour le dîner ce soir" the other answered, like how teenage sleepovers go.

he could only agree that what normalcy means when being here. unlike his cloud of folds, like angry cumulonimbus over his head.as he puts so much thought into it, he didn't realize the woman who just sat beside him. taking him aback for a moment, thinking how the world can go by without him realizing.

the woman, demure in appearance. with her, an air of debonair surrounds. a hint of rosemary blossoms fills his nostrils. likening it to mornings of slow travel through the french countryside of chartreuse. she hugs herself over her trench coat, fully covering till the knees. her red christian loubotin's glisten like crimson lights in the sun. all the while as he was analyzing her, he wasn't aware that she did the same as well.

"sandwich for breakfast?", she asked politely with a smile that can melt the average man.

he was momentary startled at the question, still processing the uncommon situation.

"ah, yes. knuckle sandwiches. right outta the freezer" he said, trying hard to mask his awkward tone.

"homemade sandwiches are the best. i don't understand how a person would want to get sandwiches anywhere else with the price of bowl of pasta" she answered with a stare of poignance into the vacant lake in front of her," right?"

he nodded.

"so what brings you here stranger? you seemed to be in a world of your own on this park bench," she said in a tone so delightful, you could bake it and eat it and bake it again and eat it again.

"it's my sunday morning thing. where i clear my head", he answered.

"so you talk to yourself?", she asked as she blows the puff of smoke off her barely 5 seconds lit cigarette.

he nodded.

"y'know henri cartier-bresson, the father of modern photojournalism once confided his inner most secrets to a taxi cab driver. knowing that the driver was a stranger and he'll never see him again", she said in an almost pre-meditated sentence. "you kinda have that satisfaction and release without being judged prematurely"

in a quizzical state he ask,"so you're saying that i should start taking the cab and confide to them?"

"no, silly" she said with a smile. "talk to me, right here right now and i have all day"

his hands clasps the already frozen sandwich in his hand. the grasp delicate, but the intention fade. like tiny particles dispersing into air. colliding with a dissonance of cacophonous epiphany.

"okay okay, let me start," in an abrupt manner. "you can call me event, event riley"

he misinterpreted the shine in her eyes as sparks, but in truth it was actually electricity.

as love, all else and beyond

2010-10-24T03:36:00.004+08:00

as that is i, in a state of unrest. i claim a troubled conjecture. where to begin or not to. for i cannot stop my adore galore. i am programmed to. this is the way that my impulse directs me. help me before i decide to partake on an adventure at stake and a cause that is lost. i cannot help but fall. and i implore you to do so, if not at all.

be it so fair thing. i have lost once more to fate's game, of chance and carelessness. for now, for all i have to do is be it so that it so will. i will, in no hesitance just yet, thank you fair thing. for i'm in love, yet again.

o' fair and sweet thing
of uncommon see
forever where my hands shall cling

the moles across your chest
scattered like pebbles in the sky
as my eyes undress

lukewarm felt
hazy thoughts across
all fields of smiling met

i came towards you
in an open carry
where pigeons above flew

gazing upon
uncertainty front
as love, all else and beyond

let's put a face to that name

2010-10-17T13:58:00.009+08:00

girls are allowed to go gay for megan fox, natalie portman or olivia wilde. it's only fair for guys to have a man crush, right? i admit to having man-crushes. this is in no way, like a "aww, sweet" crush thing it's more of a "arrr, ima crush a coke can to a pulp on my forehead" crush. i have three, and in no particular order.
joseph gordon-levitt. the guy looks good, with or without hair. looks sharp in a suit and has a thing with waistcoats. aside from having a knack for starring in cult movies like inception and 500 days of summer, he takes on challenging roles as well in mysterious skin and stop-loss just to name a few.
james franco. having james dean's first name, his hair and smirk. the dude is his doppelganger. and if his looks doesn't buy you, probably his art will. his solo exhibition, is an art concept bender. how about that for art snobbery?
matthew bomer. it's probably just the hair. maybe not entirely. i'd vote for him as the best dressed man in the world. watch out for the peak lapels, skinny ties, tie pins, pocket squares, waistcoats and wait for it, hats. dude, got the original rat-pack image on. he makes me want to wear a waistcoat to work everyday.

alright, that's it. i'm going to grow a 'stache now, no matter how it itches like hell.

end

2010-10-15T15:43:00.002+08:00

cause and effect

2010-10-13T00:41:00.008+08:00

you had the effect, long before the cause had even happened. even without cause you created an effect. you were a talented magician, i admit. it figures that you needed a little nudge in the right direction. for i, seeing the futility in the future. gave you a cause. a cause to the effect that you so willingly obliged in taking, without a moments hesitation. this is what you did not know. voila! in which the diabolical scheme i have perpetrated, and seen worked wonders as planned. how it worked marvelously in the end, i am still proven to be, the escape artist extraordinaire.

i will to no avail implore my heart out still. and to how ill fated i have been.just because you can't see my invisible shield, it does not mean it's not there.

as inspired by jake gyllenhaal's character in donnie darko. sleepwalking and talking to his alter ego, frank the menacing rabbit. posing a tri-dilemma of self banishment for the greater good.

witch

2010-10-06T23:44:00.009+08:00

you were a witch with your short hair. an air without care, a tinge of debonair. your ever sultry listless prerogative. it seemed a program that i endeared wholeheartedly. when tear become tears. anguish came in a bluish tint and black. these are the bruises from the marrow of your bones.

we raged many battles on top of the hills. and war seemed to be the tonto of our atlas. at the fold of everything, there were foals on the field. as we watched and catch ourselves humming about flying balloons on this fuel called love. at the end of it we tumbled down the hill and found our faces dirty with war paint. still we linger closer together. knowing that we went through carpentry, having stolen possibilities.

are we in disguise with orange peels over our eyes? it seemed to be, a momentary catharsis. as we question the question that brought us to our epiphany. none can squander the plethora of trails this leads to. and the cause that, you have already happened.

at the end it became the start, as we decided to head home. the weather was celebrating as we ran together all the way home.

i don't love you. perhaps i do, for how do i explain my longing for you - pablo neruda

trampled to death by love

2010-08-21T12:57:00.002+08:00

as vexation begets to spin the windmill. i curse at the wind. the wind having no part in this blew ever so gently. the wind doesn't share my rage and despair. the wind don't care. the wind has a degree of blithe to envy. cool, calm and collected.

but this vexation veiled has nothing to do upon the quandary that i am in. in solace setting out this accursed disposition. laid out in a clatter of hushes. to no avail this event transpires.

to beg and to plead. but none have come to fruit. for no tree on this earth bears any fruition for this beggar of a man. and this beggar squandered every notion of having anything to live for

the unbearable lightness of not being

2010-08-11T15:55:00.000+08:00

attention left. attention seeks company. absquatulate it did. right into the stratosphere. apparent reason visually encumbered by paralleled incisiveness and naivete claims of disposition. i claim ennui. responded the exact mood despondent.

utter weariness and discontent resulting. pour insults. shifting insulting paradigms this conundrum i am having. this lightness of being. that lightness deserved seeking. adhere to this. stand and belief. like it's namesake, mankind. where man will be kind.

cause and effect. subjectified by objectivism. all the ism's in the world can't take this away. fret not. 'fraid not.

the great heart swindle

2010-07-21T17:40:00.000+08:00

"hear ye, ladies and gentleman," urged the jester. "step right up, in lieu for the lack of the common sobriquet, this platform of affection"

they gathered from near and afar. to hear this jester preach about the hearsay of common infection that caused this fracas of an uproar.

"listen carefully ye filthy animals. i have a bargain. well for me, not to you precisely," he explained with a snicker. like a snickering elf. "i am about to sell to you, probably the most important thing ever conceived by the great inventor!"

everyone dared not to not lend an ear. they waited with bated anticipating breath. expecting the worst, hoping for the best. deception is the product of this jester. they all knew this. especially this one young man. sullen in appearance. it properly describes the quandary that he is in.

all could not wait no longer. but they dared not utter a word. the silence broke finally with this young man wagering a war against fate.

"i have bartered with the devil and i will not wait no longer. for i, broken and battered alive. still living but not breathing. i am soulless. because of you accursed jester. you have deceived me for the last time!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. with every word a spite of knife flying through the air, with every knife hitting it's intended target.

the jester laughed hysterically, so much it could pierced the cloud to the heavens. " alas we have a fighter amongst these fiends. i remember you boy. you were hellbent to prove you were worthy of love. you gave it all. nothing more, nothing less. a deal's a deal boyo."

"i gave my heart for love. my heart is not yours to barter anymore! show it to me you devil. and i will with every strength in me killing you for it. show it to me!," the young man now enraged like lava spewing out off the pompeii volcano.

the jester now in fear for his life. slowly in the cup of his hand, showing the young man's heart.

island

2010-07-12T17:32:00.003+08:00

i live on an island. far from sight, far from thought. i live how i would live. i am the uncanny x-man. all before and none after. a living cadaver.

i have the innate ability to be discarded. perennially discarded despite of my immortality. i lived a thousand lives. but never have i found a moment that i lived. i speak the truth but not what truth meant. truth escapes me like how reality does. that evelates the idea that a realist is not what i am. escapist much so, but not nearly enough an artist. still i argue that i am. i paint collages with eyes. yours

those eyes never left me. it stayed in my mind. never leaving. never ceasing. through the maze amaze. but my curse follows me unhindered. where i, discarded by everything

i live on an island, therefore i am.

good luck chance card

2010-06-16T15:38:00.004+08:00

i met her at the eiffel tower. in the throngs of the crowded scape. instilled instills of urban itinerary. between the hustle of the moment, i stood aghast. without speech, without breach. silence overkill.

all that in a splinter second of the time i could only thought of, "where were you? i've been looking for you the whole afternoon woman!"

in reality that did not transpire as is.

i presumed that she was french. but that wasn't entirely precise. it was all wishful thinking. even do wearing white and blue, 2/3 the colors of the french flag, and even ballet flats that could put mimes to shame. not a peep of spoken french, another wishful thinking. but a tad of arabic got me to conclude that she was of french arabic descent. algeria, morocco, tunisia and even djibouti comes to mind.

i lay there the print to my document. that upper-hand ampersand that signify significance of entranced avenue. taking my good luck chance card out. i claimed my prime pick and never for any instant regressed my choice.

testament like tesla coils coiled in producing electricity. i became electric itself. purest being. all whole in perpetuum. to have been there and then, i have lived forever.

khatulisjiwa

2010-05-19T18:21:00.004+08:00

khatulistiwa di horizon. taman luas kelihatan dari angkasa dicelah kepulan kapas putih. kumpulan wap air statik ditengah udara. hijau langit-langit pokok kelihatan di kaki langit biru. pokok rendang renda perang. sinonim tenang.

kekosongan infiniti disetiap sudut. sayu senyap riuh berbunyi. titisan air jatuh perlahan seperti di dalam detik masa peluru. efek ufuk kelihatan jelas dengan kederasan warna. imej terpateri seperti arteri pulmonari dilalui darah merah. antara kebebasan yang memerintah disini. semua jawapan berbeza tapi disini soalannya sama.

ilusi ini pasti. tetapi hati tetap menunggu revolusi. revolusi ilusi. menjangkaui kemampuan telepati. berbincang minda di dalam minda. memetik perkataan satu persatu. kinetik lincah memberi tenaga kepada setiap sel elektron. aku mahu itu.

the one where i sink and you float

2010-05-13T19:27:00.000+08:00

"we've had this conversation before" he said.

"we did?" sheer certainty accompanied her rhetoric.

"yes, the one where i sink and you float" he answered in an attempt at non-chalance, "with you being the perennial victor, i'm fated to sleep with the fishes"

comfortable silence kept them company tonight. like how most nights where they did not talk but enjoy reading each others mind. making innuendos out of euphemisms effortlessly. they seem fluid at what they do. like mercury rising in the thermometer signaling heat in the temperature. no heat surrounds them tonight. only cold.

he seemed adamant to win this time, although he knows the futility in this, "when i sink i forget to breathe. i succumb to the idea that this is where i cease to function. but the vacant vacuous space that i sank into was so vacant that nothingness meant that hope came in you"

after all that vindication, she could only shrug.

"still my arms and legs were tied. i could not float. with my strength diminishing. my lungs out of air. i realized the chasm that i'm sinking into is oblivion", he said with words so soft and broken, he could only hear it himself. "but this oblivion is the one i'll sink into for you a million times over"

inadequacy creeps

2010-05-05T16:43:00.003+08:00

unrequited comes to mind.

this solace. this plateau that i run to. that relatively level surface considerably raised above adjoining land on at least one side, and often cut by deep canyons of my thought. the river that runs in between is the period and state of little or no growth and decline of love. the river transparent is the cabal intrigue alliance scheming the banal treatment of love's decline.

i take mirrors into my plateau. watching myself at every word, at every moment, at every stifle of sound i make or have made or may make. i am that river constant. trickling at the edge of the cavernous plummet. that doom drop that ascends me beneath the chasm of fate. i make choices even choices wouldn't have made. i curse myself for this curse that have accursedly accused me of the grim disposition that is ; being myself.

inerrantism. i am half a man. decorated to the teeth with adore galore. adornments tore through this heart. without you i'm naught, with you i am taught. of love's reveries and love's tragedies.

inadequacy creeps slowly. like morning glory on steroids. but devoid me this and leave me void.

mimpi arnab terbang

2010-04-09T10:51:00.003+08:00

ilusi itu kata hati rupanya. pigmen fikiran di awangan. lapisan berbentang keluasan stigma infrakata. setiap detik bagai transpirasi aspirasi seribu makna di bawah payung idelogi agung.

"aku indah", katanya. " aku karya seorang pahlawan zaman nun jauh disana".

pahlawan yang tidak terkalah dan tidak terusik. seperti minyak di atas air.

tetapi, masih pintu ini terbuka. luas seperti pandangan mata melalui prisma pecah warna. tanpa sangka arnab itu terbang tinggi dari pandangan mata kacamata.

"mengapa arnab itu terbang?" dia bertanya.

deras kelajuan cahaya. dengan hati penuh daya. disana bergema warna memukau. disitu ia pasti tempatnya. intipati konklusi destinasi yang gah bersituasi.

aku menjawab, " arnab itu mencari teman. menembusi tujuh lapisan langit dan seluruh cakerawala. mungkin untuk sepanjang hayatnya" dengan nada sayu aku menambah, "arnab itu cuma mencari makna cinta"

accursed cursor

2010-04-07T18:43:00.002+08:00

reckless selflessness lay in the index of my limbs. i gave an arm and a leg away for love today. love in no way benefiting my ulterior fitting motive. they call it unconditional. i say it is our life precursor. this precedes even the first love revelation. we were synthesized at the dawn of time, strain by dna strain. to live and relive this object subjectivity. but when one feels, it is all up to freewill. all the same like, free-feel's and will-feel's.

being the empath that i am. the gift and curse that brings about my doom. left me no choice. and so i endured.

trials were made based upon analytical conjectures that supplies answers based on individual perception theory. much so like algorithms in calculative rhythm. one and ones, stays before two and twos. but the numbers amounts to nothing. the price has been paid and the reaper has claimed. at the cost of an arm and a leg.

but alas rejoice, rejoice and, cut away, cut away. send transmission from the one-armed scissor.

the cloak of love

2010-03-05T17:24:00.005+08:00

"what do thee maketh of that sound?" she asked with surprise and confusion in unison.

he looked straight into her eyes. piercing through so, that he could see the line where the sky and the sea meet behind her.

"that my love, is the sound of heartbreak" answering, as he look away at the clouds that seemed to form and share his despondent air. the cumulonimbus cloud slowly forming, to the despair of these two lost souls. despair came in the arrangement of rain, thunder and lightning.

"heartbreak? how art thou feel so. when beside thee is where i am and to thee that i gaze upon" she asked exerting an answer

"love, o' sweet love, thou doth apprehend this quandary that i am in. where thou lay beside me, thou live in my heart. when i, thou gaze upon, i look within thy heart" that pre-described mystifying static sigh accompanied his answer as he continues, "anywhere i could be, thou art be in this cage that beats my life. no desperate horizons set us apart but thyself" as he stood, fist in the air as if challenging the oncoming storm. "even when i art mad at thee, thy live at peace. my heart is solitary for thine love. but, for i living accursed with this incapacity to impart love at truth, i am a man with no arms in a war not worth winning"

she lay still looking at the oncoming storm badgering the once calm but sullen sea. thoughts race through her mind like wildfire tossed into hell. how could i have let this pass, on the one i love?

scattered are her words, like glass marbles dropping on rocks of the river inevitable, "this course of true love never did run smooth"

"never will it be so" he whispered to himself

habitant

2010-03-04T19:17:00.007+08:00

i live in an enclave called time. where outside is the future, and inside is the past. it's square as how the earth was once flat. it's horizontal like how the horizons are lined by our eyes. the view panorama is of the colors of the night in the north skies. no windows on the walls of this enclave, only doors.

i have been living inside forever now. never daring to go outside. ultimately, i am a creature of habit. clinging on to familiar things. small unnecessary things. when some consider ancient, i consider it nostalgia. when one consider it passe, i consider it the present. even when chance is outside, i am content here.

living like a recluse, reminded me constant. at the end when time collapses, i am alone. solitary tree. like the one outside beside that linear river. but, i travel in time invariably. moving forward. in perpetuum. to be this way, is my being; the time traveler. until time, as i see it crumbles.

i wrote with tears and anguish, pouring into the pages all the pain that life had meant to me - upton sinclair

no nothing

2010-01-31T16:45:00.006+08:00

31 days past.

she remains elusive. constantly moving. like how time waits for no man, she leaves me in desolation on this desolate planet. this diamond demanded parallel dimension with unparelled comprehension. in instance, this instance that is the present, this gift that timed me.

collectively i remained. this state is my common stasis. statuesque in stature, unflinching nature. i would, if i could. but the process that i hold so long, folds like time and space in theory. engulfing in an implosion that sets these eyes on fire. no sun shines through the windows of this soul.

no nothing.

i was born a rat

2010-01-26T19:48:00.009+08:00

"i was born a rat" he said, " belittle me and you've got it down pat"

she shrugged. decided not to make sense of the situation even before the conversation started. her eyes glistened by tears that weren't there, held back by her sheer selfdom.

he knows her, like how he memorizes the maze that makes his heart. he looks into the horizon, painted purple by the setting sun.

"i speak a bi-linear language that makes time travelling quiver at it's knees. such a language spoken in the first degree of two variables, like an equation" he said, with a glitter in his eyes. like how mythical creatures make.

"but, i'm a template that you need to contemplate. pre-designed by fate, love, consequence and her cohorts"

she looked at him hopeful, listening to his explaination

"all you need is patience, my love" he smiled. "and a dictionary. and a calculator"

man away

2010-01-21T18:33:00.003+08:00

i feel like a tangent. stuck in betweens. i wish i was an arc of a circumference that needs a π/pi to be formulated. i will be the approximate equal of 3.1415. so made even before i'm made.

where i am is transitory territory. mathematical conjecture dismissal. where i do not apply. application falters and this is my prevailing demise. my purpose fails me this once. my phalanx crumbled upon displease. my regard for regards, stands not by me. this acceptance i seek, eludes me. i gather my losses. this is what i have left. my pride and prejudice. take this and you shall take this man away.

acceptance is the transitory i seek. i may be coarse, rough around the edges. but i am affixed to your one and only.

i am not a choice. i am the choice.

body of politic

2010-01-18T19:17:00.003+08:00

situation substantiates that i necessitate radio silence.

radio silence is imperative during warfare. where any radio transmission may reveal troop positions, either audibly from the sound of talking, or by its use as a homing signal. but my radio silence was misconstrued as a sign of my fondness for leaving. my fondness for leaving has nothing to do with my lack of commitment towards adolescence.

i'm fond to leave, because of the air it leaves behind that i adore. no, you could not understand that. because you have not lived your childhood.

taking my cues from the joker, i introduced a little chaos to get a bit of anarchy. oppression feeds this desperate communality. this commune congested by idle dictatorial regime controlled by this innate mother of a ship. this mothership pours bigotry to everyone who opposes. now this body of politic strikes back at the empire that resplendently deny benevolence, although unjustly saying that it is god's charity.

every authority needs a wake up call. i just gave you one. now wake up child. welcome to my political furore.

cave

2010-01-07T18:33:00.002+08:00

amid the curves. she paved the way on shoes that echoed. so loud, the cacophony hits the epiphone epitome. she walks into the throngs of mindlessness. being the only one that thinks, she thought. this cauldron of a cave, makes men tremble at the knees, shudder at the shoulders, shiver down the spine, crawling under the skin. even more so, the cold wind blows like winter.

she tends to speak in riddles. riddle so entwined to the core, it makes rumplestiltskin seemed pre-pubescent. whispering words that pull the strings off of grown men quietly. doing no mere femme fatale could. such the power that could crumble the pyramids.

she was at the pedestal. like hera at power, like calliope at singing, like aphrodite at beauty, like the greek goddesses at their peak.

she's the mountain that i am scaling and i am your cave.

event riley

2009-12-15T18:44:00.002+08:00

event riley is the girl you meet at coffee. she sits outside the cafe with a cigarette in her left and the other hand holding classic literature. adding to her already sophisticated air. this book is somewhere in the vein of a literary theologian explaining existentialist philosophies and questioning the idea of god. she chuckles at a few lines. sometimes grinning. and at times, in deep thought of poignancy. she stays unaware of the curiousity that builds around her.

she never skips cheesecake with her coffee. unlike the other girls who enjoys their non-fat soy lattes without the whipped cream. believing that it's blasphemy to do so. her belief is coupled with her high-metabolic rate due to her regular gym going. this helps her get into her favorite leggings that goes with her favorite doc marten boots. she feel it's fashion forward when you rip your rolling stones t-shirt and tying the ends at the hips. she feels it's forward to rip anything.

the ripped rolling stones t-shirt can never take your eyes away from her eyes. they are piercing. the kind of icy cold pierce that melts you. if looks could kill, her look would kill you. her lips chiseled perfect. full lipped, consequently buoyant enough to be pillows in your dreams. the wind sometimes blows her meticulously god-made hair covering her eyes. as she flicks away her stray hair, she ever so slowly like the melting of an iceberg in below zero-degrees winter, gazes at you.

that's when your heart stops.

lest you forget

2009-12-04T18:50:00.004+08:00

lest you forget.

i am the one that do not forget. how love remembers the still remembrance that once was. when we use to pave the way unpaved. the delirium of ecstatic objectivity. where static sighs goes missing. we are magic. we are mythical.

but this ends, if you say less that much, less than strong, less than forever.

i don't want this to end. but now, this man stands at the edge. the edge of uncertainty. looking down on the world. the crowd gathering. pointing with judgement, gasping with mouth agape, crying and shouting for me to stop this.

today this man ends. today this man jumps.

lest you forget. this is my magnum opus.

tabula rasa

2009-11-08T19:02:00.005+08:00

clean. the slate black, is clean. at least to grey.

cleaned by fate and officiated by circumstances. this higher cleaning orchestrated by fate and his cohorts seemed a blessing. so far, this disguise is a facade that might turn out to be a veil for catastrophe. pessimism is a cyclic chord that strikes the notes of my reasoning.

still, my tabula rasa is better than yours. like tabular data all arranged. like taste buds melting quasars of a million colloquial notions turned into "rasa".

i pray. if this turns the way it should be. i am made. like how good desserts are made. triple layered or more. crusted and thin crusted. cheesed. chocolate-dipped. strawberries, blueberries, wildberries abundant. bite-sized. caramelized. sponged. buttery. sweet essenced. multi-coloured sprinkles. suprise centered.

starting anew is the new black

the biggest and the biggest

2009-10-20T16:35:00.005+08:00

if biggest is colossal then biggest is the universe. to prepare for the universe is a feat. no mere mortal could defeat. here this mere mortal has a chance to be a demi-god. but per chance mortality has it's limitations. time and space. the idea einstein conjured. linear and like the river. highly dependent on risks and decisions. maketh thy or breaketh thy.

achieving demi-godness, one has to eliminate fear. that day, i embraced fearlessness. with a face packing a punch, i faced the universe bracing my guts with intelect i pounced on the poison-spiked deer. where guts got glory, i got none. glory left john rambo today. even his combat knife or his red bandana couldn't help. in the end, leaving with my bravado intact was a pro among the cons.

next, tackling the colossal is tricky. this leviathan of a thing is a trojan horse. one point to destroy and the other point is to destroy, quietly. with my decorum of achilles heels. i partake in love's suicide. an idea of my own hell i conjured. proving my mettle, i will not back down from this colossal fight. ease is not in my vocabulary (although it rhymes good with cease). the leviathan attacked with tooth and claw. feisty and a rare sight. but, not for this champion, this fighter, this trooper, this rocky, this tough cookie. to the death, the beautiful death every spartan man yearns for.

the leviathan did have the upper hand. but the ground i'm standing on is my sparta and what's my occupation? (spartan chant). you see, i have more soldiers in me than you do.

i got it, i won and i survived. i'm a demi-god. at least on my own terms.

the history of leaving

2009-10-03T10:38:00.003+08:00

eons past since i last confessed. i feel like the bicentennial man. not robot mechanics. but more skin and bones. mostly just bones.

my history of leaving have amassed itself. leaving; by myself, or others. literally and non-literally. abandonment issues, i would like to think. that tendency to be as franz ferdinand puts it "left there broken and battered alive". abandoned by multitudes of person or persons unknown it even matches my plethora words. fathers should stick around for their kids. the sad analogy rationalizes my bragging rights.

this bones of a man had it up to here (gestures towards the boney cervical vertebrae). there is only so much leaving this set of bones can take. stop trying to leave me, and leave me. now this set bones is content.

because, somebody stayed. that history of leaving should leave and make itself history. because, somebody stayed.

taking back sunday

2008-07-20T17:52:00.009+08:00

sunday. taking it back a notch. only fitting after my frantic schedule earlier in the week. returning home lethargic. work have taken me prisoner as always.

staying in is fun. a lot of catching up with the simple things. like cooking pasta. been a while. i feel like a kid mixing those ingredients in the pot. a mad scientist even. then, time to finish a book. i miss reading. that quiet time with coffee and a throw over. so very zen. later at night, looking forward to golf. perfecting my swing with the company of friends. so like a cigar club. and at the end there is the time to write. so very memory lane. contented. the week ends like a breeze.

still laughing at the article in esquire magazine. describing nigella lawson's cooking show as "gastro-porn". maybe a bit. the chocolate drips, the bare handed dough kneading and the finger licks. but mostly the abundance of sultry exclaming ooh's and aah's.

forgive me for being a guy.

sin city

2008-07-13T23:31:00.010+08:00

two years of latent contentment. not a thought. until found, so profound. sure divine. like a right of passage to the seventh flight. a blissful minute felt an eternity. even hell fire felt so sweet. i could live like this. forever with you. i do.

lay me bare. strip me thin. take me in. swallow me whole. but never this.

i was a dying breed. that last hope. but i am weak. too weak to stand without. for without my purpose i fall. that inevitable descending spiral. decadent and iniquitous. peccant by all standards. i cursed myself .

i tread a path now. a different path. the one on the left. the one less taken. at my own peril i set my escape ablaze. no turning back. for i chosed this end to end myself.

baby, you brought me to this. you were my only vice. now i have many.

"denial, you know like the river?"

2008-07-01T20:03:00.003+08:00

what do you do post mcsexy?

retail therapy, of course. plain tees are a compulsive buy of mine. fun is collecting the different shades of colors. finding the perfect garbs is immensely therapeutic. bliss is later found when you flaunt them. the union relieves you. a path to liberation.

movies. distraction of the celluloid kind. at least 2 hours. always effective when it is the right movie. a marathon of not-so-right ones works too. recently, watched the nanny diaries. an athropological case study of a movie. although delivering cliches it was fun. the visual candy, that is scarlett johansson making a fool of herself stops you from complaining too.

works most of the time. when they do not. numbers are a call away.

to my "discarded friends" this is an s.o.s.

love in the time of absence

2008-06-19T20:53:00.004+08:00

i bet my blog feels like a substitute by now. i did want to write just could not bring myself to it. i am sure my absence makes the blog grow fonder.

half the year past by and it has been a whirlwind ride. so many things happened in such a short time. it felt like a myriad of emotional steroids. one after the other. i will constantly tell myself it is always best to have found it and lost it than never have found it at all.

emotional steroids needs to stay imaginary for my sake, now.

found a gem of a hideout borders bookstore at the gardens. very serene with shelves so close together you can play hide and seek. another option to the always crowded kinokuniya.

i need a book.

badly.

i miss you at midnight

2008-01-18T23:20:00.000+08:00

the night seem to share my melancholy disposition. rain poured relentlessly. gradually ceasing close to midnight. adamant to go for our late night walk be it rain, storm or parent. a ritual which we never miss.

we head for the park hand in hand. we walked like how snails would crawl. seemed a lifetime getting there but we love to take our time. found a patch of grass under a tree dry enough to sit . sitting crosslegged we gazed at the cosmos still covered by the persistent clouds.

hoping to count stars, i gave a sigh and said "no, stars tonight"

"don't worry. those little twinkles never disappoint" you said with a smile.

"aren't you the possessor of superior optimism. i wish i have those"

silence. one of those comfortable silences. like how uma thurman's character described it in pulp fiction. i love comfortable silences. they make a good dramatic comeback of conversation. proved to be of good effect, everytime.

"will you forget me when you're away?" with a slight tone of hopelessness.

"of course i won't" sternly stamping your assurance "i have the memory of an elephant"

"thank god, not the body" laughing out loud and expecting a slap. smack! there you go. not a second too late. "yes, i deserved that" rubbing my arm slowly burning.

"fate's not letting that happen to us" sheer optimism accompanies your ever radiant smile. "i'm going to keep coming back to you, like a marauding elephant"

i laughed at the cutest analogy ever.

"but, fate's a kid with an antfarm" trying hard to break down the overflow of optimism.

"isn't that from constantine or something?" you asked with an eyebrow raised and a few squints of the eye.

"of course not. i come up with my own stuff"

"look! a star" almost screaming.

you pointed at a star. emerging from the blanket of clouds. dim but twinkling, nonetheless.

"i told you stars never disappoint" beaming "like a star i'm coming back no matter what. i won't leave you like how the stars never leave the night skies"

i smiled in and out. if that is possible. it's those little things you do that makes me miss you at midnight.

i don't love you,
but, perhaps i do,
for how do i explain my longing,
for you, in the morning, the noon, the evening,
at midnight.

cookies on the way for the milk

2008-01-07T21:43:00.000+08:00

tis' the new year. not a new me. i like current me (wanted to say old me). very much.

not one to conform. being anomalous has its non-perquisites. after rebelling for long, one will succumb to the common norm inevitably. i for one am a rebel (i think). unlike last year i have no concrete resolutions. by having resolutions i think i would restrict myself to achieve one thing when it is possible to achieve two at once. like going for the milk bottle at the end of the aisle when i could have gotten myself cookies on the way. milk and cookies is better than just milk.

initially this was my list and it does not make sense.

now, this is the revised actual list.

1. keep on top of schedules and prioritize!
2. eat healthy. drink water more. less fast food. less carbonated drinks.
3. value life. appreciate friends.

hope it sticks. happy new year, me.

cross my heart and kiss my elbow

2007-12-28T23:59:00.000+08:00

woke up like the morning person i am. perky, non-chalant and very manly. sat down with coffee in hand and found out breakfast at tiffany's was on. fixated for the duration of the movie. the adorable audrey hepburn performance is pleasant to wake up to. i loved it how she tried convincing the librarian saying "cross my heart and kiss my elbow"

justine is leaving in a few days. for that, made a frame and used acrylics on it, drew her picture and an action-heroine's handbook for her going away present. i think it is not even half as sweet as my bat logo shirt she gave me. nobody is going to toussle up my hair now. will miss her. so much.

i am out of books. a trip to kinokuniya should be in the works. deprived of books going into the new year is not on my resolutions list.

happy christmas & merry new year

2007-12-25T23:51:00.000+08:00

earlier in the month followed justine to do her christmas shopping at ikea. i did not know selecting a color for the christmas tree is such a dilemma. no, my opinion does not matter too. have not been there for a while, it is always nice to be "home". the furnishing in the 2008 catalogue looks good enough to eat. i am contemplating moving out into my own place next year.

spending time with justine seemed customary nowadays. spent christmas eve with her and played truth or dare until the wee hours of the morning. i swear my eye bags are as big as santa's bag the next day.

like how she reads it. happy christmas and merry new year everyone!

remember, remember

2007-11-05T23:55:00.000+08:00

remember, remember the fifth of november,
the gunpowder, treason and plot,
i know of no reason
why gunpowder treason
should ever be forgot.

remembered that flurry of v's in v for vendetta by the excellent hugo weaving. there are exactly 50 v's mentioned. cannot help but marvel at alan moore's writing.

finally completed the online portfolio final assignment. not exactly "it" yet. considering it as temporary. view at www.khairulzariq.tk

the week that was

2007-11-03T23:58:00.000+08:00

apologies for the non-update. as well as the constant vicissitudes of my layout. the blog feels like a chameleon i bet. due to work, i continue neglecting the quintessential things. fresh outtakes keeps me interested.

earlier in the week, spend the day at starbucks looking to get inspired. sat in the middle of everything looking out through the glass window as the rain poured. the mise en scène never fails to enthrall me.

thurday, spared some time to watch shoot em' up. an interesting shoot em' up (literally) flick. heard of 'death by carrots' before? thought so too. reminded me of clive owen's character in the bmw films. hilarious one liners between him and giamatti. later at 10, caught hujan's set at laundry. tried looking for people i know. but t'was impossible. the crowd was a mob. nonetheless, a nice way to end the day.

had a walk about town with the boys today. got myself a scarf thing. that is what i am naming it. should look up ways to tie it on the net. feeling like a kid with a new toy or maybe just a bit scarfy?

sorry, i'm too hollywood for you, right now

2007-10-20T00:58:00.000+08:00

busy. busy as a bee would be an understatement. even after almost a week of celebrating eid. i am still thinking of work. got used to saying "sorry, i'm too hollywood for you, right now" to everyone.

the first batch of work is settled. thoroughly happy with the resulting design and printing. received compliments from the lecturers all throughout the development stages. so many that i felt bad not giving them compliments in return. blush.

watched movies. at least twice a day. a reward system i implement, upon completing work. first, the bourne ultimatum. dubbed the thinking man 's action movie. a good watch. so good that if it was a cake it would have chocolate and triple layers of cheese. amelie was next. forgot how many times i have watched it. the most adorable face close-up that celluloid can offer.

finally done with reading, the road by cormac mccarthy. a oprah book club selection (no it is not why i chose the book). the review was good and it did not dissappoint me. about a father and his young son in a post-apocalyptic setting.

and then later in the darkness: can i ask you something?

yes. of course you can.

what would you do if i died?

if you died, i'd want to die too.

so you could be with me?

yes. so i could be with you.

okay.

sad and moving. a wonderful read. poetic even how the paragraphs are arranged. definitely recommended.

boys unlike girls

2007-10-07T00:26:00.000+08:00

day out with azuar. initially opted for ikea. but, decided not to. since i expected lots of last minute furniture shopping by 'makciks' with interior deco on their minds. the obvious next choice is kinokuniya.

great day to be out. the last weekend before eid. everyone seems to be out and about shopping. long legs galore i might add. pondered "boy's day out" does not sound as good as "girl's day out"

initiated cardi hunting mode. alas, to no avail. instead settled for some baseball tees. those plain wonders seemed an impulse buy for me.

all the restaurants are either fully booked or on a first come first serve basis for buka puasa. almost giving up until we found a gem of a restaurant. the best oysters i had eaten in a long time and a scrumptious steak and smoked salmon ensemble. so good, it made me crinkle my toes.

i miss you in the mornings

2007-09-23T02:35:00.000+08:00

i wake in the morning by that sweet mixture. that bewitching scent of rose hips and jojoba. or is it, the way you monopolize the covers and leave me cold all night. or is it, the way your tussled locks tickle my eyes. or is it, the idea of waking up beside you. i still wonder.

“good morning, mademoiselle. breakfast is served”

almost instantly you would hide under the pillows when i open the blinds to let the sun in.

“aww, do i have to now? with your husky morning voice muffled under the pillows.

“yes dear, i think that is why they call it breakfast in bed”

“well not everyone here is a morning person!” still muffled under with your lithe form twisting and turning, digging deeper under the mountain of white sheets.

“thank god! you make bad eggs”

you sprung out from under the covers like dolphins out of water, in disbelief.

“excuse me, what did you just say?”

“i said, thank god for eggs!”

you gave me that wicked smirk i will always adore. accompanied with the distinct piercing ‘i am going to get you’ stare that i will always remember.

“okay, you win! what’s on the menu chef extraordinaire?”

“good,” as i settle the tray on the bed and with its legs properly stabled under.

“behold! eggs sunny side up with freshly squeezed orange juice” with an air of fine morning self accomplishment.

“are you trying to make me fat?!”

“of course not, i have never thought of that until now that is. if you did turn out fat, there is more of you for me to love” carving that delectable smile on my face.

“alright. mr 'i have a way with words', you win”

but I love your feet,
only because they walked,
upon the earth and upon the wind and upon the waters,
until they found me.

p. neruda

the thrilling mr trilby

2007-09-22T02:19:00.000+08:00

at present, swamped with work up to my neck. the first wave of assignments should conclude by next week. meanwhile, rewarded myself by indulging in a tête-à-tête with hitman 3: contracts. addictive, this i know. i do deserve the occasional deleterious conduct. live dangerously, they say. i concur.

got around to watch elizabethtown the other day. enticing short bursts of witty dialogues. might be better appreciated as a book rather than a movie. not my favorite, but, kirsten dunst wins my vote for that romantic lead.

finally, acquired that elusive narrow-brim trilby with a couple of plain tees. the straw-yellow tee is the new favourite. thrilling indeed. fall is out, my cue to look for cardigans. those muted autumn colors will do wonders.

you talkin' to me?

2007-09-07T23:19:00.000+08:00

remembered an article on time.com about "the greatest movie of all-time". from the list, got inspired to start my collection of movies.

first up, 1976 taxi driver. that movie with the famous robert de niro ad-lib "you talkin' to me?". a really intense movie. about a taxi driver appaled by decadent modern new york. a well written drama coupled with organic camera work. for the record, robert de niro totally did the mohawk 25 years before beckham did. now, wondering what movie to get next. the godfather trilogy, perhaps?

taking cues from the movie, i should do 50 push-ups and chin-ups each morning. no sit-ups, it hurts my back.

a million exploding sons

2007-04-30T23:38:00.000+08:00

on a breakdown. i crumbled under pressure this academic term. undertaking now, a two week hiatus. which should suffice, for now.

work progress ceased. i needed motivation for the current term before it ends. my enthusiasm towards assignments is not as furious as before. like all good sons should do, i confided all to mom. as always she gave one of those highly discerning pep talks. i described it as "a soul fuel equivalent to a million exploding suns" (suns = sons ; yes, pun intended)

highly discerning comes with a price. prolonged topics that somehow miraculously intertwined like six-degrees of separation on steroids. not complaining though. it also led to her saying that nowadays there is no such thing as love, the world revolves around money. i wish it is untrue. but, after spending my adolescent years to come to terms that, mothers is always right. it is hard to ignore.

i love my mom.

oh's

2007-04-28T23:10:00.000+08:00

it has been quiet on the zariqfront. quiet like the well designed zen balinese pool garden at the back of a proud abode of that award-winning, globe-trotting international architect. i know, my analogy makes little sense. it is due to lack of quality content and thus, the quality of writing deteriorates. i dig that not. word!

ladies and gentleman, witness now the declination of an entry.

oh, i think sony ericsson's walkman phone commercial is the sweetest. a phonelit fast food dinner at the park certainly beats a candlelit haute cuisine at that exclusive restaurant. everybody altogether now "awwwwwww...."

sony ericsson w880i walkman phone commercial

oh, currently highly attuned to 30 rock on the television. dysfunctional worplace at its comedic best. reminds me of the office (another favorite) but, minus the raw camera work and those after-scene confessionals. watch!

30 rock

oh, my current three favorite tracks = anna nalick - catalyst, beyonce - flaws & all and one republic - apologize. subjects of constant audio loops. especially, apologize with its infectious beat got me hooked on the first listen.

one republic - apologize

oh, love it when it rains. a perfect setting for reading these few days. which reminds me i need a new book. had to resort reading don quixote again and sherlock holmes as light reading. have not the time though for book retail therapy. i miss kinokuniya as well.

oh, i got fined for illegal parking twice with two separate cars in the space of two weeks. splendid i must say.

the tree trunks of love

2007-03-31T23:37:00.000+08:00

listening to andrea bocelli in the mornings. my route to a more calmer me. i am not an angry person. i cannot play the part, although, i can act.

decided to stay home today, as always. but things seem to happen unplanned. of all the surprises, there was one today. raihan called. have not seen her in more than a year or so, since after she left me for a kelantanese guy. she seemed adamant to hangout, eventhough i said my butt hurts.

carried my sorry butt and hungout for most of the day. my first time at starbucks SS15. sorry to say, not one of my favorites. the barista annoyed me by not asking me for my order and so i annoyed the whole barista bunch by ordering a complicated brew, for kicks. hot tall soy vanilla caramel machiatto with added espresso shot. karma worked wonderfully.

had real fun since the last time which i have forgotten. raihan drove my car, the girl really knows how to handle a stick. thoroughly impressed. later, drank coffee that tasted like ash, got my face stuffed with chinese fried rice (literally), hungout in cars making barney jokes, being pleasantly obnoxious and ridiculous and singing james morrison out loud. perfect!

bitch fit

2007-03-30T23:58:00.000+08:00

mood setting : muse - knights of cydonia

after not sleeping the other day, finally done with my 2 massive assignments. felt like the burden of defending troy off my shoulders. been in an unsurmountable amount of pressure of late. mainly due to assignments, bureaucritical college and my superiors ( i refrain from calling them lecturers since they do not seem to act like one)

utterly pissed throughout the whole semester and i am not used to it. did not know half of my professional studies class have beef with me until my creative cv's presentation on tuesday. here i was all chirpy and presenting the world's greatest cv. all of a sudden, a barrage of highly critical (mostly of jealousy) comments thrown at me, from literally all corners of the class. not one to take critical comments of my precious gem of a creative cv, sitting down. pretty much kicked ass that day and got into a bitch fit. muse', knights of cydonia was ringing in my head at that moment of time.

"No one's gonna take me alive, The time has come to make things right, You and I must fight for our rights, You and I must fight to survive"

nowadays, i light incense and candles to chill out. watching victoria's secret show on youtube helps too. pardon me for being such a guy.

not a chick read

2007-03-08T22:26:00.000+08:00

today is the outset of a splendid feast. not exactly a tummy filling feast, but a filling feast nonetheless. made my way to borders times square, environmentalist style via the monorail.

voila! the appetizer of the day, borders. the aforementioned bookstore is not really my regular perlieu of haunt. for me kinokuniya is still at heart. although, i was surprised there was a book read held there. a lady in early thirties reading her newly published gem to a crowd of five women. thought of joining, but since there were only women, i became a side-bench participant. it was enjoyable.

moving on to the main course of the feast, the highly anticipated 300. initially wanted to watch it on imax, but had to settle for gsc' premiere class. my first time in premiere, it was not exactly premiere at all. expected a very large screen, but got a fairly big screen. size does matters.

300 is an awe inspiring film. it delivered and did not even slightly disappoint. a perfect blend of action and politics in between with jaw dropping visuals, intensely choreographed battle scenes and witty script enough to fill a quote book. straight from the get go, it was decapitation galore, heads were a-rolling and blood a-splashing. in my opinion it made troy and gladiator look like a chick flick.

after the movie, azuar and i cannot help but "re-immerse" ourselves with the movie. he kept swinging an imaginary sword and i kept saying "this is sparta!". funny dudes.

it was time for dessert, on this splendid feast of a day. but i cannot remember taking any. i might have went home before taking dessert. guess, i am mr impatient.

that (library) thing you do

2007-03-05T23:58:00.000+08:00

having reasons for certain reasons is a good thing. my trying to not post anything on the blog for prolong period of time, is not. it might be a subconcious reason.

i do know why im writing though. promised azuar that i would catalogue my books on library thing. it shall take quite a while, as i have 15 years of book collection to run through.

spend the day getting work done at starbucks. loved it. ordered grande caramel machiatto and added an espresso shot, for kicks. it was recommended. the atmosphere there was perfect for me to conjure a quatrain for my creative cv.

four lines of cleverly arranged words made into sentences, one bliss of a coffee, all that for six hours; okay, i need a punchline here.

involuntary giggling

2007-02-19T23:38:00.000+08:00

current listen : coldplay - sparks

it is the chinese new year! i have the whole week off. but, i do know that i would not be completely free of work. work is always constant and i believe it has taken me prisoner. for how long, i do not know.

yesterday was sunday, my laze day. spend the day watching re-runs of sitcoms and later "wedding crashers". left me in involuntary giggles. i could laugh but since i was alone, giggling should suffice. this line is of memorable account. owen wilson's character was being sensitive to impress a girl.

"you know we only use 10% of our brain? i think we only use 10% of our hearts"

have been using the world's most overrated four letter word of late. my current ardor state is due to watching my favorite movies again since valentines. chocolat, notting hill and love actually.

hope my recently acquired "cold mountain" is not a (insert 4 letter word) story. one of my favourite actors, jude law at his academy award nominated best. it should not disappoint.

if i may be so bold

2007-02-16T00:03:00.000+08:00

i am envious of romantics. true romantics makes a selfless creative. someone who goes out of their way to please someone else and be original about it. be it everything from design, writing and especially love. for instance, napoleon gave his wife 1000 fountains for her birthday. albeit not on the functional side, but, as always it is the thought that counts.

came across this article, fantasy valentine's date. made me think for mine. i take my date would be elizabeth bennet. imagined presenting myself to her and going "if i may be so bold, to ask for this dance?"

would love the company of another literature enthusiast. imagine the plethora of conversations we would be in. as i, ms bennet is fond of walking too. i presume she must love commuting as well. living in the 19th century is something that i would enjoy. the curtsey's, bow's and all. although, i do not have the talent of conversing easily with people i have never met. probably ms bennet would tell me to practice.

with love in the air, i have this idea of printing out small cards with cute messages i thought up. here is one of many.

classically inclined

2007-02-13T23:30:00.000+08:00

a day not too late with my coffee appointment. realized, it has been a week since i had a starbucks brewed coffee. ordered pressed coffee with the italian blend. it tastes lighter than other blends, although light it still packs a punch. reminds me of an italian. as always it was lovely to lay back sipping black gold and sauntered with jazz.

started on my creative cv for professional studies. came up with a few ideas and finally chose a book as my representation. initially wanted to write a story of myself using wordplay and mastery of words as my selling point. but, i need to fine tune it as it fails to create an exigency of a followthrough. i need my execution to be top notch. with a purpose to awe.

a visit to the local movie store bore fruit in the form of vanity fair. with my inclination for classics, i felt the need to get into a classics mood for the writing of my creative cv.

tempest

2007-02-12T23:20:00.000+08:00

if there ever was a temperament race, i would end up last. i am not the one to lose my temper, even if it meant my life. oddly i did last friday. i think it is a combination of the amount of work and stress that got to me. received a "dude, you look pissed" text message for my efforts. but still it is the lecturer's fault.

have been very busy off late. hence, the disorganized condition of my room currently. need to spend time cleaning and organizing, as well as, have time for a coffee appointment at starbucks. it has been long due.

during the weekends felt compelled to cook since it had been a while. spaghetti with alfredo sauce added lala's and red chillies for colors and taste. scrump? yes, it was.

good morning my muses

2007-02-06T23:41:00.000+08:00

i love the mornings. feeling blessed, rising another day. fever and sore throat deters not this person from being a morning person. much to look forward to for the day. first, its coffee.

had chess over coffee for lunch today. it is been a while since i last played. lost my edge and need to find it.

rapture

2007-01-25T23:54:00.000+08:00

had the day off today. planned to go out and get inspired. i had in mind for ou, but took a spontaneous turn and instead decided to go to klcc for kinokuniya. parked the car and took the lrt from kelana jaya. i missed the days when college was around mayang. i'll always be at kinokuniya, my home, for lunch and still have time to make it back for my 2pm class.

at kinokuniya, spend most of the day sitting at the seat near the glass divider engrossed in a book. i always feel like im in a glass display, watched by all the people that passed by. but, azuar said that its more of them being watched rather than us. funny when i come to think of it, with kinokuniy's background orchestric music.

i have found another favorite classics writer in fyodor dostoevsky. being highly regarded by nietszhe really tells you about him. i find his writing very culturally poignant. usually written in the first person, it is always insightful and a single dialogue can be 4 pages in length. the writings felt as if he was writing a blog.

the book i read was from his best selected stories. the first story was "white night". a charming love story about a shy man who has a hard time finding acquaintances in the city but finds love in a young damsel in distress. the dialogues is very honest, i laughed and smiled alone reading it. i find the story very charming and the love naive in a way, which reminded me of romeo & juliet.

the scientist, the napoleon & the brushing up

2007-01-20T23:43:00.000+08:00

i have time in my hand till monday. since i am trying to save money, i cannot go out. so, preoccupied my time wisely at home i have.

unsure if this is actually wise, but i have been coming up with pick-up lines. no, im not implementing it in real life. it is just that i have a mystical, yes mystical, thing of coming up with really cheesy pick up lines off the top of my head. this are some that is based on "hotness" and it goes like "is it global warming or are you just hot?", "if i was an ice cream, u've just melted me", "you should call the fire brigade, because your so hot the roof's on fire". i seriously think the lines do not work at all and i do not recommend them even the slightest. but i have this idea of compiling these cheesy lines into a book. "1000 lines on how to not get a date".

have been brushing up with my skill on the keys. surprised on my recently acquainted interest in piano. have been more of a guitar person, well, if there is such a person. i think it is because of my general interest in music. i am a band geek, i confess. my musical portfolio still in its embroic stage, mostly consists of coldplay's songs and most recently the scientist. among other songs is vanessa carlton's white houses, corrine bailey rae' like a star and muse' version of feeling good.

watching movies also have been the core of my preoccupying of time. for the past days, a movie at home marathon was in order. with no specific interest and in no particular order, i have watched, the terminal, troy, gladiator, beetlejuice, star wars, psycho and red eye. definitely, i am buff in the movies department. although, i would trade the time watching those movies with a rom com movie.

last but not least, is reading. i finished three books, jm barrie's peter pan, ernest hemingway's a farewell to arms and willa cather's my antonia. classics are the best, they never disappoint. with me being a sucker for nostalgia, explains it all a lot. brushed up on my napoleon as well. what did napoleon gave his wife josephine on her birthday? a thousand water fountains. is it not the ultimate romantic? considering, he has other mistresses as well. made me wonder what would i do or give someone.

with that being said, i shall contemplate on it while i watch pride and prejudice. saved the best for last. so, i shall merrily go and happily watch keira knightley pout now.

in the presence of giants

2007-01-18T23:28:00.000+08:00

18 days into 2007. a great deal happened at once that it felt like a year gone by. for the past week, had occupied myself with art events, design projects, portfolio compiling, frouview and such. i must say it is an interesting start to the year.

on the 13th, attended the massive territory design event. got there a bit late, with me being an environmentalist with taking the trains and all. i got in without being asked of my ticket. i could actually, have gotten in without paying for the RM110 ticket. had trouble finding my design acquiantances in the dark. at first, i did not realize that this heavily tattooed caucasian sitting next to me was joshua davis. i find only joshua davis' talk gave a lasting impression on me. his interesting portfolio of algoryhtmic designed graphics are breathtaking. he literally created a new design genre. a fruit of his discontent of the normal and regular. there are moments i thought that he was actually talking about the matrix.

joshua davis

later on monday, went to college for the new semester registration. smartly dressed is one of those ticked on my new years resolution list, so i went with my dress shirt and skinny tie ensemble. thought it was a refreshing image reinvention. got a nod, a thumbs up and "welcome to the new semester" from patricia. well, i think it was worth it. i half-heartedly opted for the multimedia major. i know i have the skills to opt for the other electives, but i can't choose. i argue with myself that multimedia interactivity is one-dimensional in a way and it limits creativity. just hoping that something great would come out of my discontent.

had a lovely day out yesterday. met wyda at klcc, my bestest friend since back in high school and we used to be an item back then. haven't seen her for a very long while. planned to meet up since last year, but she was rather busy with law studying. the main reason to meet was in the form of this antique book which i gave to her on her birthday 6 years ago. an antique "gone with the wind", meticulously binded green colored cover with gold ornamented frame on the front and golden brown colored pages on the inside. it shows how the book ages gracefully. i really love the book and i missed it. it is priceless even for a non-reader. had the chance of holding it and browsing through. savoured the moment over coffee.

gone with the wind

later on, without any notion about it, found out that there was a launching of the new central market at pasar seni. it is a building inspired with the old and the new. an amalgam of wood and concrete. i think the building has this raw, edgy, indie, uncared for feel to it. a fitting concept for a budding private art space. the whole building was dimly lit, creating a moody and loungy feeling. everyone there seemed to know everyone, mingling with each other in small huddle's of three's and four's. a view you would find in an international art event only that the wine glasses are missing.

the top floor

the compound

the chair peculiarly arranged in a circle

the view from inside

the event kicked off with fahmi fadzil reciting mark teh's play. it read, "daulat tuanku dan daulat kepada mereka yang ingin didaulat kan.. daulatkan mereka yang memutar belit, yang membabi buta, yang gila babi dan yang gilakan babi”. loved how suddenly a section of the audience shouted along and realizing later that they were a part of the play. a theatrical feast indeed.

dancer

read

hishamuddin rais

after the recital, it was followed by a japanese puppet dance, a read by marion d'cruz, hishamuddin rais' rave & a performing arts involving gold glitter dusts. i find, hishamuddin rais' "three things that makes a malay" interesting. the self professed belachan connoiseur, freestyled it with finesse. later on when i was going down the stairs heading home early, i met him. he looked at me and said "macamana, ok ah?"

"very nice" i said.

"ok ah?" he said, looking discontent with the answer.

"okkk" i said.

"ok ah?"

"okkkkk"

"ok ah?"

"okkkkk"

and then he had to answer his phone. if he didn't, we would still be in a question and answer conversation rollercoaster.

happily ever new year after

2007-01-06T23:53:00.000+08:00

well, its 6 days after, but its still the new year. planned to write a post on new years day. i really need to be punctual on writing my blog. maybe i should put that on my new years resolutions list. among other important things i have to resolutely resolute.

its a secret list. for my eyes only.

menahan berat jutaan rindu

2006-12-29T23:59:00.000+08:00

a long while since i last wrote. i have no exact reasons why it is. i have all the time in the world since i am on holidays but still i did not find the time to write. lets just leave the reasons for the wise old man who lives on top of the mountain to answer. for now, expect a long write.

im not sure im enjoying my hiatus from college. i do really think i deserve it from all the hard work and sleepless nights. it's just that im not enjoying it. i hope everybody else is. another thing that im not quite sure with is, my newly acquired singledom. here i am 3 months after and im still whining about it. i think i just got used to having somebody around to the extent that i prefer to be in that situation always. letting go is just what i need to do. its just that i really suck at it.

on a less sombre mood. just got my results. which im very stoked about. it is pretty good! it was a nice surprise. got A's for subjects that i didnt expect. but getting the results will make me reconsider what im majoring next semester. need to go with my strengths.

thought of shopping for a new hat and i have been eyeing this hat which looks burberry-ish. i got my prada haircut, i tried asking for a barista job at starbucks which i have gone through the first interview and they said they're going to call me for the next interview in 4 days, well now, its 2 weeks after that, so go figure, and last but not least i asked justine out.

its not something that im used to. at first upon having second thoughts, i decided not to, i swear my hips turned halfway around and about to walk away but somehow my lips moved and uttered the line that goes like "would you like to go out sometime, catch a movie or something?". its pretty simple. no pickup lines needed. there goes all the tips and tricks from all the mens magazine i've read. i cannot believe who reads those stuff and actually implementing it in the real world.

she is pretty busy working full-time. so i have to work around her schedule to go out with her. i told her going out with her is like going out with the pm. till now i haven't gone out on a real date with her. just those small chats when im around. she seemed to be an interesting person and pretty funny too. she's half portoguese. in which she understands portoguesa a tiny bit when her mother conversates with her. though, she speaks full blown french but she hasn't really utilize it for around 3 years or so. she loves curly locks in which she is trying to grow now. she doesnt really like coffee. she just does it for the money and its close to her home. et voila! shes a football fan but, not european clubs. of course, being of portoguese heritage she supports portugal and spain but only whenever cesc fabregas plays. she even cried when portugal lost against greece in euro 2004. now thats passion.

i think she will be a good coffee buddy. a means for me to get free coffee. oooh, arent i resourceful?

heartsong

2006-11-26T23:59:00.000+08:00

spent most of the day at home as it was sunday. it does seem to be odd for some, but i think that is what sundays do. an opportunity for you to laze around and do nothing. that is why they show football matches or blockbuster movies on television. so that we have company while we laze our sunday away. why do you think they show them on television then?

although that being said, well some people like me have exceptions in their lives. i made one of that today to go and watch "happy feet". which i later find out is one of the best ever exception i made in my life. it is the best animated feature of the year in my opinion. im also considering it as the best ever animated movie i have watched. it was hilarious, heartfelt and entertaining. those cute little puffyballs made me want to pinch them till they go red like a penguin with a sunburn. aside from the story it was a musical feast as well. with some familiar tunes belted out, i really felt like dancing when they were singing. well, i could have but the people in the cinema would not agree to that. but, i did not ask them, i just guessed.

browsed through topman again. stripes is in season! with my love for stripes it reminded me to go shopping. listing down stuffs i need to buy or ogle over :-

zariq's wonderfully thought out shopping list

converse shoes. double tongue. natural.
long sleeved. v-neck & crew neck. baby blue.
a bunch of well striped crew neck tees. assorted colours.
a bunch of earth tones colored tees. assorted earthy colours.
funky cap/ military hat/ funky hat.

is this not wonderfully thought out?

"mr craig, i'm a fan"

2006-11-22T23:51:00.000+08:00

i wanted to write earlier. but as busy as i am, i could not. luckily today was my final submission. the lecturer postponed the deadline for two weeks. i could have finished earlier, but i should not complain about it. i was happy out of my wit. drove vernie like the mad person i am. lets just say swervy would be an understatement. decided to reward myself with coffee at my favourite starbucks. i sat on that big green couch that has magical powers that could put me to sleep while elegantly sipping that coffee made specially for kings, caramel machiatto. delightful would be the word appropriate. my conversations with justine is getting better. we are on the terms of hello's and bye's with longer vowels nowadays. before this, it was nods and smiles. i think those two words is a very good conversation. it reminds me of the saying short and sweet. which reminds me of justine.

last thursday, i watched the highly anticipated premiere of casino royale with azuar. decided to watch the movie on the biggest screen in the world, the imax theatre at times square. i dare say it was a big-ass screen. the screen complimented well on the importance of such a film.

i was sceptical at first with daniel craig as the new james bond. even though i think it was harsh for bond fans to refer to daniel craig as "too blond, too ugly and insufficiently suave". i had a hard time seeing daniel craig as james bond. even after i have seen his performance in layer cake. as i watch the movie, i found out why he is the perfect james bond. i would have known why he was casted if they had told me that they were going to re-invent james bond. the new james bond is a bad ass trigger happy assasin. a different character from the ones we loved to see. i have never seen james bond so bloodied in battle before. which shows realism in their line of work. i dont think pierce brosnan can take that. although, i think this bond is going to have a hard time picking up chicks. so, no more bond cliche's, cheeky smiles, annoying one liners. i do pity the people who is still ogling for pierce brosnan as the perfect bond.

mr craig i'm a fan.

closer, closer, closer.

2006-11-11T23:55:00.000+08:00

watched closer the other day. quoted as a love story for adults. it was a good watch. with natalie portman and jude law around, how could it not? find the story very true and relatable. i can see the same exact arguments and dialogues in real life. especially, the ones of jealousy. "how good was he?, where did you do it?" i mean, i'd asked that myself. find it amusing how men can be easily charming. i think it only works when you are either jude law or clive owen. loved it where the camera does not move and concentrates on the characters and their dialogues. which i think is the main important thing in telling a story. the result of watching it, i got inspired to write something. it was the opening scene with jude law and natalie portman. you will get the picture when you watch it.

hello stranger

a nymph,

as easily put,

as graceful a sylph,

lithe formed like women should,

walking soundly like an ascending angel,

looked upon, eyes like diamonds it resembles,

fiery red crimson alights through a crowded angle,

like a goddess should among living mortals,

yet no hero in her skies,

i aspire as needs be,

to hear just once,

as easily put,

hello stranger.

i find it silly how im easily excited over simple things. silly me.

feet feet feet

2006-11-08T23:52:00.000+08:00

wheee

bazaar

2006-11-01T23:11:00.000+08:00

started the day on a happy note. found out liverpool is through to the next stages of the champions league with an emphatic 3-0 win over bordeaux. hope the team maintain the recent great form.

spend most of the day at my favorite starbucks today. i sat myself at the corner, where i planned to finish my illustration works. a lot more work needed to get it done. my storyboard needs colors and italics and my scenes still need colors. submission is next week. i need to double time.

enjoyed my mug of splendidly made caramel macchiato. i think its been a long while since i had one. that all familiar caffeine rush was bliss. accompanied me throughout the day was the jazz music that is always ablazing through the speakers. a ridiculously fast played piano and a funky cello. i wonder how do they play that way. intriguing. i did some reading on the latest book i bought. madame sevigne : selected letters. touted as one of the world's best letter writers. doing my work reminded me to get magazines for references. bazaar came to mind for some reason.

thank you for letting me borrow them!

getting the skinny

2006-10-30T23:47:00.000+08:00

delighted that azuar is back. he brought back salted fish from kuching for my mum. it was packed like a briefcase, convenient! he wanted to pass them to me, but we both aren't going to college for the day. so, we devised a plan, which in turn leads us to mid valley. decided to park jules in subang parade and walk to the station for the train. i missed the train by a minute, had to wait another 20 for the next one.

arrived late. considering that i took off around 12-ish. upon arrival, decided to go for fried meals at madam kwan's. i opted for char koay teow and ice lemon tea. the sugar for the lemon tea was served separately. thoroughly enjoyed pouring it. lovely!

next made our way to the cinemas to catch a movie. watched the prestige, a story of two rival magicians trying everything to better one another. christian bale being one and hugh jackman the other. the prestige is a term used to call the finishing touch in a magician's act. just as i expected, the movie served an intriguing storyline with puzzling plot twists. living up to magicians showmanship. from start till end, it was truly a story of misdirections and showmanship. later on found out the film was directed by christopher nolan, the director who directed batman begins. which explained why the movie had a dark moody feel to it. i was not surprised with the same casting as well, being christian bale and michael caine. loved hearing michael caine talk. a distinct voice. would love to hear his voice as a cartoon character. which is now an "in" thing in hollywood. all and all i thought, the prestige was prestigious.

after the movie, finally decided to get myself some skinny ties. wanted to get them since last semester. i need to look the part i thought. initially wanted to get the ones at topman. but, i figured i should get plain ones so that i could mix and match with my shirts. after awhile, i can get stripey ones. i love stripes!

Selamat Hari Raya

2006-10-27T23:43:00.000+08:00

Selamat Hari Raya

i am an unplugged sink

2006-10-19T23:47:00.000+08:00

had a pleasant buffet buka puasa at hilton kl today. the banquet was furnished with properly lined long white sheets wrapped around the ceiling and walls. it gave the illusion of being in an arabian tent in the middle of the desert. found a delightful surprise at the table, a small aliminium tin with the words "ramadhan at the hilton" inscribed on it. found inside was two plump yummy dates. i thought it was a nice touch. had roast lamb,oysters and mussels just to name a few. i downed all that with syrup selasih. those magical selasih looked like its a snow globe when stirred in the glass.

earlier today, went to clinic to find out why i keep having this chest pains. which is a sharp pain around the area where the heart is. no, its not because of heartbreak. silly u! the doctor diagnosed that i sit infront of my pc too much, that my ribs have somehow strayed too near to my heart because of my straining. which explains the sharp pains. the doctor gave me some prescriptions and ensured me that it will be fine. soon after, watched grey's anatomy on star world. it is my favorite series to watch nowadays. i don't have a specific reason. i just like it. theres a line i could definitely use, for my current situation.

sheperd was having an argument with grey, she refuses to listen to him and said "i am an unplugged sink, everything u say just goes right through". sheperd was apparently confused with the analogy. later on he comically use that same line to another character. "i am an unplugged sink". loved it.

another quote states an unconditional love. "there is this woman i like. i wouldn't even mind if she gave me Ebola virus". which told me things. which made me think. i would definitely say that about a woman i like. silly me.

male bonding

2006-10-19T00:31:00.000+08:00

i deleted some previous entries. i feel it was too sad and melancholic for the blog. the past days my writing was deteriotating. i could not write decently because of my current situation. its taking quite a huge toll on me. i need a to refresh my approach. drink livita. now i am trying my best to up my quality. trying hard to find my writing mojo back. i really owe my blog a piece of writing marvel. someday, somehow or maybe sooner or later.

i think im bonding with my blog.

the love lost sonnets

2006-10-18T05:32:00.000+08:00

i wrote a sonnet a day. decided to put it everywhere, so that if someone tries to plagiarize it i shall know that i did it first.

sonnet 1

what is love without thee,
like words lost and forgotten,
like the ocean without the sea,
like fruits of love without the tree,

if thee i shall lose,
find not another so true,
as love so purest my true muse,
forever loss and sadness ensues,
take for granted thee, i shall not,
forever will thy be in my hearts knot.

sonnet 2

at the very sight of thee,
perpetual beauty in mind i painted,
eternally fixed my eyes will be,
on God's given sweetest flattery untainted,

beauteous as such inside i see,
deeper than any ocean,
deeper than any forestry,
deeper enticings than any love potions,
love, open thy eyes of beauty,
thou is the only one for i, truly.

slightly hot chick

2006-10-10T23:31:00.000+08:00

had a nice day out today with azuar. at first i planned to go to klcc to catch the bmw art show at the petronas gallery, but i decided not to although it is the last day of the exhibition. like azuar said, we could catch it in singapore. decided instead to go to ikano/ikea/curve. it turned out to be a good idea, since we could watch a movie, have a great buka puasa and ikea-nize our rooms.

planning to watch talladega nights: the ballad of ricky bobby for a month now. it was worth the wait. i thought it was the most hilarious movie of the year. how could it not with will ferrell and ali g the leading casts? the comedic barrage got into high gear, at the introduction of jean girard, a former french formula "un" driver. the non-chalant character was the creme ala creme of the movie. loved how he responded when asked what france had given the world, " we invented democracy, existantialism and the menage a trois".

later on, keeping with the french theme of the day we reserved a table at cafe marche. marche is market translated from french. the food selection is at an abundance. i decided to keep it subtle eating pasta carbonara, a cold young coconut drink and a hot teh tarik. it was delightful, as always when eating food when you are hungry.

afterwards, strolled through ikea. refreshed myself on what i wanted to enliven my room more with, a rattan agen chair in white. its wooden texture is a soft touch and the arms are great to rest upon. it wouldn't be a surprise if im dreaming of the chair tonight. i promise myself to get it later. i didn't want to go home empty handed, so i got myself a plant pot which i plan to use as a makeshift colormarker holder. ingenious!

what of the slightly hot chick u ask? actually, i didnt encounter any. i just thought it would be a nice title to sum up the day.

conversate to compensate

2006-10-09T01:04:00.000+08:00

i've been having conversations with myself again. in my head and at times verbally. i've been telling myself to tell myself how telling, telling myself could tell me. i've been doing that to compensate for my recent loss. im really beating myself up over this, zariq. the break up is taking its toll on me, in every way.

on friday, i got myself the chocolat dvd at a bargain price of rm9.90. i was estatic and i couldn't wait to watch it as soon as i got home. try imagining an irish johnny depp, with a tiny dash of cpt jack sparrow's swagger. do you savvy? yes, i thought so...

then on saturday, in the events of further compensation, i got myself a classic book. pere goriot written by honore de balzac. the first few pages got me hooked. after a few reads of contemporary novels, it rekindled my love for classics. it made me remember why i love reading them. i missed the flair of words, the overdramatics, the exaggerated description and the overall literary genius. i am going to thoroughly enjoy myself with this one.

resurrection

2006-10-08T00:35:00.000+08:00

i know. its been awhile. a very long while. if a while was an hour, i took almost 888,888 of them. a lot of things happened since my last confession. i should have written.

i woke up slightly late today. which is 10am. preplanned my photography assignment for today. the assignment requires me too submit, 5 pieces of 11" x 14" black and white photos of a subject with an interesting job. i came up with the idea of documenting the life of a street cobler. i find it to be a challenge to document someone who has such a humbling work and way of life on film. im required to interview the subject, which im sure will only help me understand more in what is needed to be captured on film.

this assignment is actually a degree syllabus, in which somehow i got myself into. i had to take the degree photography class since my other classes clashed with my original classes. at first, i was told by the lecturer he would go easy on me on the assignments since the degree syllabus was a tad too much for me, or so he thought. eventually, on the first assignment, my photography works is said to be examplary. my 20 piece photo proudly hanged on the wall for a month. all i hear was kudos from the lecturer from that moment on and i was made into a star, unwillingly. now, for this next assignment i have to live up to my prodigal photographic abilities. which adds more pressure in my already hectic schedule.

for my corporate identity system assignment, i volunteered myself to do both the syllabus and inducity assignments. in which im very proud of.
inducity assignment : MEBA Malaysian Emerging Brand Awards.

syllabus assignment : Arca Solutions, an architecture consultant firm.

currently working on the local product packaging. i pitched my ideas for budu and cencaluk. i named the brand "cecah : malaysia". cecah means dip in english and my concept is for people to dip into the taste of malaysian recipes and i wish it is promoted internationally. "budu bliss" and "tingly cencaluk", i think the names would even tickle anthony bourdain's taste buds. took some time to name the product and i think it was worth the while. i concur, they both fit well in the idea as well as the design. i shall complete all of it it by next week, i hope.

so that gives me time for other assignments.

2006-06-02T10:11:00.003+08:00

read

nick cave

gregory david roberts

thomas more

watch

listen

in the clouds of thought

2006-04-11T21:29:00.000+08:00

act1

scene 1. in the clouds of thought.

enter - sadness, happiness, love & hope.

sadness : i am never happy,
i am purest melancholy.
never shall i feel what thou feel,
happiness to i, is seeing beauty behind a veil.

happiness : i know not of what thou say,
i know only of sweetness like the darling buds of may.
like the delicate soft swaying winds,
gently singing happiness in hymns.

sadness : thou speak of absurdity,
such things i do not see.
i am happy, that is a lie,
i am sadness, that is i.

happiness : think not of worry,
it shall not be an absurdity.
think of love and hope in times of frailty,
remember, there is still the power divinity.

love & hope : it is true like a bind that ties,
happiness speak the truth and not of lies.
open thy eyes and shall be seen,
what the world is made of and the happiness within.

sadness : kind words are spoken,
happiness left yet unopen,
sadness still left instill,
but with love and hope,

happiness shall i find and will.

[runs like a child looking for mother]

encapsulations

2006-04-11T19:25:00.000+08:00

all i did since sunday was procrastinate. i sat infront of my computer and stare blankly at the monitor for hours, strummed, picked, shred on my guitar for hours and read my book for hours without realising what i was reading. now its tuesday, it is still the same, a dejavu some might say. i say precognitive clairvoyant-ish prediction. seriously, the long hours got to me.

cue sadness. i've always been a sad person. ever since i could remember. but it is always suppresed. never shown. like sadness encapsulated in a shell. the shell being a mask that never stops smiling. suppression is always not a good option. but sadness have been good to me. sadness inspires me. sadness initiates me. sadness, i think does relate to being a realist and a pessimist. to which im not. im still in denial. cue sadness again.

i think im deprived of coffee. or is it love? does coffee and love go together? i shall find out!

but first, coffee.

meeting her

2006-04-08T21:43:00.000+08:00

started the day with nescafe.

today is the day i've been waiting for the past month. meeting nadiah. i've missed her so much its beyond words. the long hours of staring at her pictures, texting, talking over the phone just couldn't cut it anymore.

i reached class a tad early and an empty classroom greeted me. don't blame me for being the morning person, i think a coffee person is always a morning person. there i was in a chirpy mood in a chirpy mood destroying empty classroom with my book. and so i waited...

10.30 am. class concluded sooner than expected. i had time to kill and i did what any other coffee drinker would do. go to starbucks and have coffee despite that i already had my nescafe an hour and a half ago. i literally ran on coffee that day. got myself a hot cinnamon streusel latte. a delightful drink for the mornings. sat at the corner with book; the rebel sell in hand.

it was time. i was thrilled. im meeting her. i feel like a fat kid love cake. on the way to b.u, i noticed how congested the highway was. there i realized that its going to be a long day at the parking lots. went to midvalley for the cinema. as i predicted, it took almost an hour to get a parking. excuse me for being a little edgy after that.

we decided to watch gubra after finding out that v for vendetta ran out of seats. i find gubra a little dissapointing. i had high expectations with my eagerness and all. in my opinion, the film didn't reach the standard sepet had set. i feel the story didn't mesh and some scenes leads to nowhere. it felt like a drama series, but instead, you watched the whole season in an hour or so. although, i do find nam ron's potrayal of the bilal very cool, in every sense of the word.

at the end of the day. im relieved and very happy to see nadiah again.

as moon shines light that entwines,
so is my heart with thine.

retirement of classics and fiction (for a while)

2006-04-04T23:41:00.000+08:00

i was ready to stay at home today. but, i got a call from azuar asking me to join him at klcc. i was thinking of getting myself some advertising/branding/marketing books to jumpstart my lifeless advertise-easy. it is really hanging on a balance right now. i got ready and figured that i'd look sharp with my fedora on, its been a while since i wore my hat. took the new bus with the new route to asiajaya's lrt station as i had to meet up with my mum at bangsar. the lrt ride to bangsar was odd, half of the lrt's benches was missing. it is as if some giant monster tore it right off. on top of that, the air-conditioning did not work. so, here i was on my way to bangsar and sweating. as soon as i was there, a dash across the station hallways, a quick run down the stairs, a jump over the few steps, a talk with my mum and some resource refunding, i was on my way to klcc via a half-full, well air-conditioned, well benched lrt train.

got there a little late. should have said sorry to azuar. sorry azuar! he waited at kinokuniya for ages. but i don't think that bothers him too much with kinokuniya being his spiritual home. being in the company of books is always hospitable.

we later decided on an enlightening visual and auditory feast of roberto benigni's la tigre e la neve translated the tiger and the snow. i predicted that there would be less than ten people watching, sadly, i was a little off on that. the film is in italian with english subtitles as evidently stated on the film's poster. it is a poignant romantic comedy, showing how far a man will do for love. it is life at its most beautiful. i thoroughly enjoyed myself watching roberto benigni's character as the fumbling poetry professor. i couldn't stop laughing and thinking about it afterwards. it is a must watch.

later on, went to kinokuniya to get my book. i couldnt really find a suitable book even with the help of azuar. i was hesitant i guess. instead i got myself the rebel sell : how the counterculture became the consumer culture. i figured that it would be good to retire myself reading the classics/fiction for a while and read on other peoples ideas and point of views. it is a book on "how to mock the system and jam it so that it will collapse". booyah!

as the night approaches, i slowly made my way home via the trusted public transport.

lucky number seven

2006-04-03T23:08:00.000+08:00

today i submitted my seven photos for my photography assignment. which i am really proud of. "good on ya mate" *pats self on the back*

here's three of them for some viewing pleasure;

"sunset" at sokcho beach, south korea

"clowdy day" in subang jaya

"sun ; the post" midday in subang.

ironically later on, i watched "lucky number slevin". the movie unfortunately is not as stellar as the casts. how the storyline unravels itself is pretty interesting. although early on, i already figured out that the kid at the beginning of the movie is going to grow up to be josh hartnett. ultimately, the movie evince that revenge is really a dish best served cold.

world, designer. designer, world.

2006-03-30T22:14:00.000+08:00

i am an avid procrastinator. right now, i shouldn't be. especially with the hefty amount of design work i recently acquired.

world, designer. designer, world

with the "hello's" and "nice to meet you's" out of the way. if the world doesn't know. a designer is pledged with an overwhelming amount of work each time. the amount of work to be done and combined with the designer's fickleness and perfection in execution. oh boy! it really takes a long time. time, on the other hand always favour the designer not.

i miss nadiah.

the beginning is the end is the beginning

2006-03-29T23:46:00.000+08:00

again. another blog of mine. im a serial blog maker! one after the other. im still wondering why i keep doing so. i suppose i get bored of blogging easily. i really do love writing. hopefully, that should keep me blogging on. i think, this one is a keeper (:

as i was enjoying my pretty, perky, cutesy new blog, i checked out a few random blogs using the the blogger navbar. I stumbled on an interesting blog by justin kahn, aptly named the concept of irony . written with sarcasm and irony in mind, the writings are deadly hilarious. upon further observation, i found a few more writings of his and this one i thought was smartly written, how i got out of writing an essay on h.g. well's the time machine. reading them inspires me to write. a deftly ingenious written fiction is on its way!

fyi, writing this post took 46 minutes.

and so it is

2006-03-29T15:43:00.000+08:00

just like you said it should be. life goes easy on me. most of the time.