Fragile, fragile, fragile.
Your views and your stands.
Evermore were you nothing but guile.
Nevermore are you and me friends.
Lies, lies, lies
Your every promise and intimation
Our friendship at a demise
The hellish road paved with your cruel intention
Unrepentant, unrepentant, unrepentant
In your ways and in your actions
Our time together and the caring irrelevant
My dear, you have no fucking justifications
Anon, Anon, Anon
You move on
I will not mourn
While I sing this angry song
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Criterion/Non sequitur
Right of the bat I'm telling you this isn't going to be another 3000 wonder. Maybe about a 1000 er(or less, depending on long the creative juices can flow until I get bored and be distracted by something else, like porn). Some people have been asking me why I don't talk about "serious" stuff here anymore ( I know, I was as shocked as you are to find out I actually have more than just 3 readers). The answer is simple. I do that for a living now, so why should I do it here for free? Regardless, whatever I say here isn't really going to matter in the big picture. I'm not rich, famous, an intellectual and, most importantly, I'm not good looking enough. It astounds and assaults the mind sometimes to see that popularity, as intangible as it may be, is won because of the number of pictures and videos of yourself that you put up, rather than the substance and context of your opinions, if you have any at all. This has also led to the commercialization of popularity in blogsphere , i.e. ads that you'll only get if you get a certain number of hits a day. Again, as mentioned above, this is determined by how many glamour shots of yourself you can put up, rather than having some inkling of social commentary and intellectual discourse and its sad to see blogger event organizers select its panel based on the above mentioned criterion. I'm generalizing here of course. There are lots of good blogs to read out there and I gladly read and support such blogs because its actually intellectually stimulating if nothing else. But in regards to the rest of the lot, whose content consists of 75% glamour/party/camwhoring shots, 15% memes, 8% food/shopping mall shots and 2% one paragraph OMGIBOUGHTSHOES! entries of no substance and purpose other than to notify others of said financial ability(yours or others) to buy said shoes and/or other apparels (and being annoying about it), I shall not be a statistic on your statcounter nor shall I be following you on twitter anytime soon.
Continuing ju-rants non sequitur traditions, here are my thoughts on Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist. Plot wise, it's your typical
Well, that was my attempt at doing a movie review. I'm no Roger Ebert obviously but I felt I stuck well within the parameters of doing a review from a technical standpoint and didn't give too much of the plot away. In essence, it really is one of the coolest jobs out there(next to island get away caretaker) and a great party ice breaker. "What do you do for a living?". "I watch movies and tell people if it sucks or not". The only job stress one would be facing would be reaching deadlines and having to endure crap like Twilight( Winning the most awards in the MTV movie awards doesn't really account for much taste and only represents the tween to 21 age demographic. Plus they keep playing the fucking Jonas Brothers over and over. I mean come fucking on! The MTV generation is dead. Long live Post Consumerism)
Batman, or rather, Bruce Wayne, is also dead. Long live Batman. Dick move by DC as usual, pun unintended(for those out of the loop, Dick Grayson, Nightwing/first Robin, is currently the new batman). But like Green Lantern(Hal Jordan) and the Flash(Barry Allen) I'm sure they will bring him back again after the predictable fan backlash after 15-20 years. It makes the novelty of comic book death exactly that, an inconsequential novelty which has been proven time and time again to bring no value to the comic and does nothing but incur fan outrage and reduced sales. Then again, I suppose DC and Marvel and the rest do reserve the right to publish material which may not always appease everybody.
Right. Thats all for now. As you can see, very intellectually stimulating stuff this discourse on movies and comics.
Pictures? Ok, why not?
Apologies for the text differential. Blogger is, as usual, fucking up.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
L' Historie des Julian et Michelle
Are you not entertained? By which I'm referring to the "blog war" of comments in the entry below. It missed the all time record of 15 by just 3 comments. As you, my dear astute and observant reader can read for yourself, me and Michelle are officially, as the Germans would say, Kaput.
So I know in post entitled 100 that I wouldn't be falling back on dwelling on the past. I have, obviously, not adhered to my own resolutions. In fact, it was said post and my impassioned(read;I did not think it through when I wrote it) writing that lead to the dissolution of our friendship. I would be lying if I said I did not feel a tug at my heart when it happened, but that's the bed of thorns I chose to lie on. Words have been said which I can never take back and I just have to accept fate as it is. Having said that, I will try, in an effort to get over said former 3 time apple of my eye, to retell our entire 8 year history. Bear and humor me in doing so. Its just my way of getting over it.
We met in Form 4, which would put a starting date to this roller coaster relationship in the year 2001, on that miraculous thing called IRC. I was on a Final Fantasy kick then and (disturbingly) attracted to the fictional character Rinoa. No prizes for guessing who had said nickname. So after the initial chatting, we graduated to another platform of internet chatting, that is to say, ICQ. Yes, that wonderful programme that goes "uh oh" when ever you receive an incoming message not too dissimilar from MSN's ring/tone/beep hybrid of today,and to the eventual evolution to the Phone. Yes, that's how it works in the cyber world. Moving from visual(reading) to audio(voice) was considered a step up back in the day. Keep in mind that the Ipod had not yet been invented and what would pass off as a USB thumbdrive with headphones with 256 mb space that could play 16 songs today was considered the height of technology then. The seeds of our chemistry had been sown there. To say that I fell in love(hard) would be an understatement and disservice to the emotions I felt then. I mean, spending 8 hours on the phone and not even realizing it(till the parents got the bill that is), 60rm on a dozen roses for valentines for someone I haven't even seen before...I couldn't be happier. What we said and did over the phone of course is something between myself and her and I would like to keep it that way. This went for about a couple of months or so, with me being blissfully in love. I was to find out later that I was also blissfully ignorant of the fact that she had been seeing someone else in the real world and when the news was received, it was not received well. I remember lots of sobbing, throwing of inanimate objects against other inanimate objects and a severe case of the asthma. I think at this juncture the seeds of my fragile emotional state were also planted, though I have a feeling this insidious rot started the day my parents divorced, but that's a story for another, more melancholic time.
So post sobbing and asthma attacks, I even spoke to her said real life lover. I said, the best man won(Yes, you read right. MAN) and he praised me for being humble and gracious in defeat(like that was going to help me in what way exactly?) in the pursuit of Michelle. And so I moved on. Or so I thought. This period is what I would like to term the Voon "the tyrant" Ping times. Again, the modus operandi here was (surprise surprise) the Irc and ICQ and phone method. In this regard, I must, for once, offer sincerest apologies to VP as, with the advantage of hindsight, she turned out to be nothing but a rebound. Now, why the tyrant title you ask? This is a snippet of how our usual conversations went.. ".. Where are you?!?!?! I'm with my dad. I told you I spend every Friday having dinner with him. Come home now!!! But I just started having dinner. If you don't come home now Im breaking up with you!!" As you can imagine, conditions were intolerable to say the least and the relationship lasting only 3 months. I was the one having dinner with my dad on Friday's by the way, just to clear up any doubt and confusion.
So post SPM and onto the college years, the best years of my so called life so far. I mean, talk about transition. No more uniforms, smoking(which I picked up during SPM anyway so no big deal), drinking, moustache and sideburns growing, independence of sorts from the strictures of school life... and them college girls. One of which happens to be Ms Cristine "I avoided you like a plague because my dick of a boyfriend hates you" Seow. Again, another tale for another time. Pre Ms Seow getting together with said dick of a boyfriend, I was making the moves on her. And i had supposed things were going well, you know, what with the dancing classes(YES, you read it right), the lunches and other assorted social activities, when Michelle shows up in my life again.
She played the Damsel in Distress. I played Sir Gallahad, the chinese version. Said distress required face to face meeting and in those 10 minutes, i guess you could say the old feelings came back.For both of us. We hooked up again. (or is this counted the first time since there was no secret lover i was not informed about, I hope, and this was in fact the first time I had seen her in the flesh). All thoughts of Ms Seow vanished in a split second and I only had Michelle on the brain. We went out on dates and did all the expected couple things, except kiss. No, we're both not Muslim or have some saliva transmitted disease. We just didn't do it for reasons I cant, till today, fathom. It was bliss again for me, for the better part of 5 months. Then, again for reasons I can't fathom or ever got an explanation for, things soured. We both hit a rut and it was mutually agreed that we both break up. Painful, yeah, but this was the only time we broke of relations in a cordial and amicable manner and was the least painful.
So there I was again, single , alone. Ms Seow, as you probably guessed, ended up with dick bf and as explained above, avoided me like the plague. I guess this was when i started doing 40 sticks a day and boozing every weekend. sometimes even drinking alone. The emotional fortitude was not at its all time high. Then 2003 came and it turned out to be the very best times of my life. Michelle turned up again, playing the damsel in distress(again). I was to discover that the cause of her distress was an ex lesbian partner and it involved financial matters (seeds being sown again here people) Being me, I again relented to helping her out and the scenes of the previous year played out again. I still loved her very much and she felt safe that she had me to fall back on. That someone genuinely cared for her. We got back together again(yes, again. that's 3 times). And we did it with a vengeance. 2003 turned out to be the year i got my first kiss and the year my virginity was lost. I was happy, and I believed we were happy. Until the I-completely-lost-my -mind- because- of- her- infidelity incident.
Again, thorough sheer blissful ignorance on my part and deceit on hers, Michelle was seeing a lesbian behind my back. And when she finally broke the news, I was distraught to say the least. I remember the loss of appetite, uncontrollable sobbing, and drinking to the point i don't even remember what happened post drinking. And that was the day before I lost my mind. Having been a perceived "happy" couple, she left a few of her mementos at my place and wanted to take them back personally. Fine, whatever, just take your shit and get the hell out of my life were the thoughts that were running through my mind. She arrived the next night, with the fucking girlfriend stealer in tow. I not so much as handed her her bag of belongings but threw them in her face. All the while, that fucking bitch(the stealer) was smiling at me, so fucking proud that she stole Michelle from a man. I lost it. I did a blood curling scream, broke the shoe rack, threw the keys into the driveway and smashed anything remotely smashable. I punched the wall till my skin broke, and then threw about 3 to 4 glasses which promptly broke. I then proceeded to take a baseball bat and smashed a lot of chairs. After that, I don't remember what happened. All I remember was sitting among a lot of debris with a baseball bat gripped loosely in my hands and blood dripping onto the floor. I'm pretty sure it was from my hand and not someone I murdered in my frenzied state.Hopefully..
Then i sobbed like a little bitch. I called my dad of all people and told him what had happened. I don't have a close relationship with my father, him having left the family physically and somewhat emotionally since i was 11. Calling him was the last thing I would have expected to do. But at that point and time, I was so thoroughly mind fucked that all I could do was call a family member, with their unreserved and unconditional love, and I chose my dad. And that's when he knew i was smoking. Simply because I told him I was, in that fucked up state of mind. He tried his level best to be a comforting father, and yeah, I did feel slightly better. But the week and a half after that passed by like a daze. Literally. I didn't know what was going on, hardly ate, and slept a lot. And I think this was where i started hating lesbians. I brooded on it for the better part of 2 years. And I let it fester willingly. I mean, could you blame me then and now? The physical and emotional scars are still there today. Every time i see that crack in the wall or the scar on my knuckles i could only think about that lesbian bitch. If she wasn't a woman i would have, quite honestly, killed her. It left me scarred, traumatised and its still a sensitive wound today, even if I do a good job of hiding it at times(speaking metaphorically here people. If the physical wound still hurt today I would be very worried from a medical and health point of view)
After that was the whole Gi Gyn incident which, suffice to say, in my fragile emotional state post girlfriend stealing lesbians bitch, didn't end well. In regards to Michelle, I would get the occasional call, to see if I'm alive or not, and how I'm doing. Time healed the wounds a little bit, and we started being civil again. It took a while to forgive her(and its still taking a while). But I think, now with this introspection, I I was blinded to the fact that I didn't apportion the blame enough to Michelle and laid it mostly against that other bitch. What can i say? I had a soft sport for my first love. And the chemistry remained. The feelings were always there I'll admit. But we both( or rather I) knew it was never ever going to be the same again. So we decided that we could remain friends. And for a time it was good.
She was by this time, a full blown lesbian. The thought of it rankled me at the time, and obviously still does to this day. But I hid it and tried to look past it, for the sake of our friendship which I held close to my heart. I had rather have her as a friend, then not at all. Being a friend of course, beholds one to a position of less importance than say, family or significant other. With this in mind we only contacted infrequently, her time being mostly devoted to whichever lesbian partner she was with at the time. I felt a pinch of jealousy, obviously, but was in no position to voice my opinions. We drifted apart physically and somewhat emotionally, but again the feelings were there and so was the chemistry if and when we talked or met up. In this time I saw the world a little bit. Literally. I was off in the UK and part of Europe( I don't care what you say, Italy and Amsterdam(airport terminal) counts as me being in more than one European country). I experienced new things and Michelle was temporarily not the centre of my world for once, though always an afterthought in the back of my mind. Having returned to Malaysia, I set about a seemingly pre set path of life doing things I didn't want to but did it anyway because I considered it right. Goes to show that my power's of deduction and reasoning are not up to par with Mr. Sherlock's.
Last year, during my failed attempt at the clp, I was once again in contact with Michelle. And things were at their usual . Friendly and platonic. With a smidgen of us revelling in the chemistry we shared and the undertones of desire for new experiences in old comforts on my part. And i felt the rekindling of past emotions and foolishly wanted us to work again. I subsequently left to the States to see my mother and I tried to keep in touch regularly. Again, she found another lesbian partner(that's like what? 7 already? I don't know, I didn't meticulously keep count, nor would I have wanted to) and i was relegated to friend only and I don't have time for you status. That and her work. Which didn't seem to deter her in finding said partner. Hey, another blow to my already fragile heart. Its like as if i set myself up to get fucked over by her at will. We exchanged words and temporarily lost our friendship then and there, with me in the States but diplomacy and a willingness to apologize for my brash(?) behaviour managed to redeem our relationship again. I didn't realize then that it was a foreshadowing of things to come.
Back from the States, we still kept in contact, albeit again infrequently. And I tried to keep it platonic. Key word here being "tried". Things between her and he partner inevitably soured, as the familiar pattern of her relationships always seem to dictate. And on Chinese new year this year, we met, as friends, and also as two lonely people with a shared past. We hung out as we usually did, and the more time we spent, the more our feelings got rekindled. The first and second social activity with her this year ended with a kiss. Why we both did it, I will never know, but it invariably led to a strengthening of feelings for one another. We went out, as something in between a friend and, something else. In fact, we went out more now than we ever did when we were supposedly in love. I don't think I've ever seen that many movies in such a short space of time. Well, comparatively to my usual cinema going habits anyway, which equaled once every 3 to 4 months. I made the first move foolishly after watching slumdog. I had delusions of grandeur that i was Jamal and she was Latika. It escaped my mind that she was in fact having a its-complicated-fling with someone else and for once I let my opinions and my heart wear itself on my sleeves. That is to say, I didn't like it and I let her know it. Like I said, delusions and denials.
Make no mistake. I foolishly thought we could make it work again. 4th time's the charm. Despite the fact that all my family and friends would disapprove in a plethora of frowns and tut tuts and numerous round table discussions(arguments) on my decision. I thought that love only mattered between two people and what was important was that i was, for once, happy, but it seemed to all sides, Michelle included, that my happiness doesn't mean jack shit. This was the backdrop against which my pursuit was set, and like all my other pursuits, I failed. Michelle perceived me to be clingy, spouting such casually barbed words as, "I don't have feelings for you (even if I kissed you)" and thus began the ignoring. Because, you know, the way the world works is that you run away from your problems without addressing it(problem =me). And, for the umpteenth time, I was hurt again, more by the suddenness of such ignoring rather than the substance behind it, which was in itself as flimsy as a guy on crutches. I knew that it wouldn't work for the 4th time, coming to the slow revelations that things would never be the same between us, that she was hated by my family(not without reason) and that she was overall still confused and, when in confusion, retreated to her comfort zone that is lesbianism.
It hurt that she would have used the copped out reason of me being too smart for her, or that I was being too clingy, when we only hung out on the weekends since we're both working. This, after all the time we spent together, was what broke the camels back and culminated in my "butches think they have dicks" commentary. It was used in the context of moving on, if only people would have read it properly, but I guess reading the metaphorical and contextual meaning of sentences is a lost art these days. And so 8 years of friendship got washed down the drain over, of all things, fucking semantics.
So that's it, our 8 year history compiled into 3000 words. It was more like 5000. But i decided to leave a few things out that will only remain between me and Michelle, as we promised each other a lifetime ago. So what was this entire exercise in futility for? Honestly, from the first words, I have no fucking idea. Perhaps as a chapter closing? Perhaps as therapy for a guy who;s clearly hurting but too proud to ask for help? One last good look at the rubble and ruins of the relationship I've spent blood sweat and dears building before leaving to build a new one and reinforce others? I don't know. I really don't. I don't know if we will ever speak again or if we see each other on the street randomly we will stop and say hi. I can't predict the future. Whatever may come, it's been a whole load of fun and a whole lot of grief as well. The time has come to say goodbye, whether for now, for good, forever, we can't say, but it's goodbye nonetheless. And thank you for the memories. All of them.
You're still here reader? Jesus. I didn't think anyone would want to get through all that. Thanks for reading. No comments are welcomed. Nor do I expect any.
So I know in post entitled 100 that I wouldn't be falling back on dwelling on the past. I have, obviously, not adhered to my own resolutions. In fact, it was said post and my impassioned(read;I did not think it through when I wrote it) writing that lead to the dissolution of our friendship. I would be lying if I said I did not feel a tug at my heart when it happened, but that's the bed of thorns I chose to lie on. Words have been said which I can never take back and I just have to accept fate as it is. Having said that, I will try, in an effort to get over said former 3 time apple of my eye, to retell our entire 8 year history. Bear and humor me in doing so. Its just my way of getting over it.
We met in Form 4, which would put a starting date to this roller coaster relationship in the year 2001, on that miraculous thing called IRC. I was on a Final Fantasy kick then and (disturbingly) attracted to the fictional character Rinoa. No prizes for guessing who had said nickname. So after the initial chatting, we graduated to another platform of internet chatting, that is to say, ICQ. Yes, that wonderful programme that goes "uh oh" when ever you receive an incoming message not too dissimilar from MSN's ring/tone/beep hybrid of today,and to the eventual evolution to the Phone. Yes, that's how it works in the cyber world. Moving from visual(reading) to audio(voice) was considered a step up back in the day. Keep in mind that the Ipod had not yet been invented and what would pass off as a USB thumbdrive with headphones with 256 mb space that could play 16 songs today was considered the height of technology then. The seeds of our chemistry had been sown there. To say that I fell in love(hard) would be an understatement and disservice to the emotions I felt then. I mean, spending 8 hours on the phone and not even realizing it(till the parents got the bill that is), 60rm on a dozen roses for valentines for someone I haven't even seen before...I couldn't be happier. What we said and did over the phone of course is something between myself and her and I would like to keep it that way. This went for about a couple of months or so, with me being blissfully in love. I was to find out later that I was also blissfully ignorant of the fact that she had been seeing someone else in the real world and when the news was received, it was not received well. I remember lots of sobbing, throwing of inanimate objects against other inanimate objects and a severe case of the asthma. I think at this juncture the seeds of my fragile emotional state were also planted, though I have a feeling this insidious rot started the day my parents divorced, but that's a story for another, more melancholic time.
So post sobbing and asthma attacks, I even spoke to her said real life lover. I said, the best man won(Yes, you read right. MAN) and he praised me for being humble and gracious in defeat(like that was going to help me in what way exactly?) in the pursuit of Michelle. And so I moved on. Or so I thought. This period is what I would like to term the Voon "the tyrant" Ping times. Again, the modus operandi here was (surprise surprise) the Irc and ICQ and phone method. In this regard, I must, for once, offer sincerest apologies to VP as, with the advantage of hindsight, she turned out to be nothing but a rebound. Now, why the tyrant title you ask? This is a snippet of how our usual conversations went.. ".. Where are you?!?!?! I'm with my dad. I told you I spend every Friday having dinner with him. Come home now!!! But I just started having dinner. If you don't come home now Im breaking up with you!!" As you can imagine, conditions were intolerable to say the least and the relationship lasting only 3 months. I was the one having dinner with my dad on Friday's by the way, just to clear up any doubt and confusion.
So post SPM and onto the college years, the best years of my so called life so far. I mean, talk about transition. No more uniforms, smoking(which I picked up during SPM anyway so no big deal), drinking, moustache and sideburns growing, independence of sorts from the strictures of school life... and them college girls. One of which happens to be Ms Cristine "I avoided you like a plague because my dick of a boyfriend hates you" Seow. Again, another tale for another time. Pre Ms Seow getting together with said dick of a boyfriend, I was making the moves on her. And i had supposed things were going well, you know, what with the dancing classes(YES, you read it right), the lunches and other assorted social activities, when Michelle shows up in my life again.
She played the Damsel in Distress. I played Sir Gallahad, the chinese version. Said distress required face to face meeting and in those 10 minutes, i guess you could say the old feelings came back.For both of us. We hooked up again. (or is this counted the first time since there was no secret lover i was not informed about, I hope, and this was in fact the first time I had seen her in the flesh). All thoughts of Ms Seow vanished in a split second and I only had Michelle on the brain. We went out on dates and did all the expected couple things, except kiss. No, we're both not Muslim or have some saliva transmitted disease. We just didn't do it for reasons I cant, till today, fathom. It was bliss again for me, for the better part of 5 months. Then, again for reasons I can't fathom or ever got an explanation for, things soured. We both hit a rut and it was mutually agreed that we both break up. Painful, yeah, but this was the only time we broke of relations in a cordial and amicable manner and was the least painful.
So there I was again, single , alone. Ms Seow, as you probably guessed, ended up with dick bf and as explained above, avoided me like the plague. I guess this was when i started doing 40 sticks a day and boozing every weekend. sometimes even drinking alone. The emotional fortitude was not at its all time high. Then 2003 came and it turned out to be the very best times of my life. Michelle turned up again, playing the damsel in distress(again). I was to discover that the cause of her distress was an ex lesbian partner and it involved financial matters (seeds being sown again here people) Being me, I again relented to helping her out and the scenes of the previous year played out again. I still loved her very much and she felt safe that she had me to fall back on. That someone genuinely cared for her. We got back together again(yes, again. that's 3 times). And we did it with a vengeance. 2003 turned out to be the year i got my first kiss and the year my virginity was lost. I was happy, and I believed we were happy. Until the I-completely-lost-my -mind- because- of- her- infidelity incident.
Again, thorough sheer blissful ignorance on my part and deceit on hers, Michelle was seeing a lesbian behind my back. And when she finally broke the news, I was distraught to say the least. I remember the loss of appetite, uncontrollable sobbing, and drinking to the point i don't even remember what happened post drinking. And that was the day before I lost my mind. Having been a perceived "happy" couple, she left a few of her mementos at my place and wanted to take them back personally. Fine, whatever, just take your shit and get the hell out of my life were the thoughts that were running through my mind. She arrived the next night, with the fucking girlfriend stealer in tow. I not so much as handed her her bag of belongings but threw them in her face. All the while, that fucking bitch(the stealer) was smiling at me, so fucking proud that she stole Michelle from a man. I lost it. I did a blood curling scream, broke the shoe rack, threw the keys into the driveway and smashed anything remotely smashable. I punched the wall till my skin broke, and then threw about 3 to 4 glasses which promptly broke. I then proceeded to take a baseball bat and smashed a lot of chairs. After that, I don't remember what happened. All I remember was sitting among a lot of debris with a baseball bat gripped loosely in my hands and blood dripping onto the floor. I'm pretty sure it was from my hand and not someone I murdered in my frenzied state.Hopefully..
Then i sobbed like a little bitch. I called my dad of all people and told him what had happened. I don't have a close relationship with my father, him having left the family physically and somewhat emotionally since i was 11. Calling him was the last thing I would have expected to do. But at that point and time, I was so thoroughly mind fucked that all I could do was call a family member, with their unreserved and unconditional love, and I chose my dad. And that's when he knew i was smoking. Simply because I told him I was, in that fucked up state of mind. He tried his level best to be a comforting father, and yeah, I did feel slightly better. But the week and a half after that passed by like a daze. Literally. I didn't know what was going on, hardly ate, and slept a lot. And I think this was where i started hating lesbians. I brooded on it for the better part of 2 years. And I let it fester willingly. I mean, could you blame me then and now? The physical and emotional scars are still there today. Every time i see that crack in the wall or the scar on my knuckles i could only think about that lesbian bitch. If she wasn't a woman i would have, quite honestly, killed her. It left me scarred, traumatised and its still a sensitive wound today, even if I do a good job of hiding it at times(speaking metaphorically here people. If the physical wound still hurt today I would be very worried from a medical and health point of view)
After that was the whole Gi Gyn incident which, suffice to say, in my fragile emotional state post girlfriend stealing lesbians bitch, didn't end well. In regards to Michelle, I would get the occasional call, to see if I'm alive or not, and how I'm doing. Time healed the wounds a little bit, and we started being civil again. It took a while to forgive her(and its still taking a while). But I think, now with this introspection, I I was blinded to the fact that I didn't apportion the blame enough to Michelle and laid it mostly against that other bitch. What can i say? I had a soft sport for my first love. And the chemistry remained. The feelings were always there I'll admit. But we both( or rather I) knew it was never ever going to be the same again. So we decided that we could remain friends. And for a time it was good.
She was by this time, a full blown lesbian. The thought of it rankled me at the time, and obviously still does to this day. But I hid it and tried to look past it, for the sake of our friendship which I held close to my heart. I had rather have her as a friend, then not at all. Being a friend of course, beholds one to a position of less importance than say, family or significant other. With this in mind we only contacted infrequently, her time being mostly devoted to whichever lesbian partner she was with at the time. I felt a pinch of jealousy, obviously, but was in no position to voice my opinions. We drifted apart physically and somewhat emotionally, but again the feelings were there and so was the chemistry if and when we talked or met up. In this time I saw the world a little bit. Literally. I was off in the UK and part of Europe( I don't care what you say, Italy and Amsterdam(airport terminal) counts as me being in more than one European country). I experienced new things and Michelle was temporarily not the centre of my world for once, though always an afterthought in the back of my mind. Having returned to Malaysia, I set about a seemingly pre set path of life doing things I didn't want to but did it anyway because I considered it right. Goes to show that my power's of deduction and reasoning are not up to par with Mr. Sherlock's.
Last year, during my failed attempt at the clp, I was once again in contact with Michelle. And things were at their usual . Friendly and platonic. With a smidgen of us revelling in the chemistry we shared and the undertones of desire for new experiences in old comforts on my part. And i felt the rekindling of past emotions and foolishly wanted us to work again. I subsequently left to the States to see my mother and I tried to keep in touch regularly. Again, she found another lesbian partner(that's like what? 7 already? I don't know, I didn't meticulously keep count, nor would I have wanted to) and i was relegated to friend only and I don't have time for you status. That and her work. Which didn't seem to deter her in finding said partner. Hey, another blow to my already fragile heart. Its like as if i set myself up to get fucked over by her at will. We exchanged words and temporarily lost our friendship then and there, with me in the States but diplomacy and a willingness to apologize for my brash(?) behaviour managed to redeem our relationship again. I didn't realize then that it was a foreshadowing of things to come.
Back from the States, we still kept in contact, albeit again infrequently. And I tried to keep it platonic. Key word here being "tried". Things between her and he partner inevitably soured, as the familiar pattern of her relationships always seem to dictate. And on Chinese new year this year, we met, as friends, and also as two lonely people with a shared past. We hung out as we usually did, and the more time we spent, the more our feelings got rekindled. The first and second social activity with her this year ended with a kiss. Why we both did it, I will never know, but it invariably led to a strengthening of feelings for one another. We went out, as something in between a friend and, something else. In fact, we went out more now than we ever did when we were supposedly in love. I don't think I've ever seen that many movies in such a short space of time. Well, comparatively to my usual cinema going habits anyway, which equaled once every 3 to 4 months. I made the first move foolishly after watching slumdog. I had delusions of grandeur that i was Jamal and she was Latika. It escaped my mind that she was in fact having a its-complicated-fling with someone else and for once I let my opinions and my heart wear itself on my sleeves. That is to say, I didn't like it and I let her know it. Like I said, delusions and denials.
Make no mistake. I foolishly thought we could make it work again. 4th time's the charm. Despite the fact that all my family and friends would disapprove in a plethora of frowns and tut tuts and numerous round table discussions(arguments) on my decision. I thought that love only mattered between two people and what was important was that i was, for once, happy, but it seemed to all sides, Michelle included, that my happiness doesn't mean jack shit. This was the backdrop against which my pursuit was set, and like all my other pursuits, I failed. Michelle perceived me to be clingy, spouting such casually barbed words as, "I don't have feelings for you (even if I kissed you)" and thus began the ignoring. Because, you know, the way the world works is that you run away from your problems without addressing it(problem =me). And, for the umpteenth time, I was hurt again, more by the suddenness of such ignoring rather than the substance behind it, which was in itself as flimsy as a guy on crutches. I knew that it wouldn't work for the 4th time, coming to the slow revelations that things would never be the same between us, that she was hated by my family(not without reason) and that she was overall still confused and, when in confusion, retreated to her comfort zone that is lesbianism.
It hurt that she would have used the copped out reason of me being too smart for her, or that I was being too clingy, when we only hung out on the weekends since we're both working. This, after all the time we spent together, was what broke the camels back and culminated in my "butches think they have dicks" commentary. It was used in the context of moving on, if only people would have read it properly, but I guess reading the metaphorical and contextual meaning of sentences is a lost art these days. And so 8 years of friendship got washed down the drain over, of all things, fucking semantics.
So that's it, our 8 year history compiled into 3000 words. It was more like 5000. But i decided to leave a few things out that will only remain between me and Michelle, as we promised each other a lifetime ago. So what was this entire exercise in futility for? Honestly, from the first words, I have no fucking idea. Perhaps as a chapter closing? Perhaps as therapy for a guy who;s clearly hurting but too proud to ask for help? One last good look at the rubble and ruins of the relationship I've spent blood sweat and dears building before leaving to build a new one and reinforce others? I don't know. I really don't. I don't know if we will ever speak again or if we see each other on the street randomly we will stop and say hi. I can't predict the future. Whatever may come, it's been a whole load of fun and a whole lot of grief as well. The time has come to say goodbye, whether for now, for good, forever, we can't say, but it's goodbye nonetheless. And thank you for the memories. All of them.
You're still here reader? Jesus. I didn't think anyone would want to get through all that. Thanks for reading. No comments are welcomed. Nor do I expect any.
Monday, June 01, 2009
Days of Days
So yesterday was supposedly World No Tobacco Day. I didn't realize that there was actually such a day but even if it was to my knowledge I would not have participated. I do not believe that my right to smoke should be infringed by self righteous save the world and whales hippie organizations or persons. Yes I know its killing me. Yes I know secondhand smoke is bad. Regardless of these facts I still enjoy smoking and I do not see the point in forcing me to stop. If I want to stop it will be of my own volition and I don't need to be guilt tripped into quitting. Jesus, its not like I go to every non-smoker and peddle and force my cancer sticks on them, nor do I intentionally stop every baby occupied perambulator(pram in layman's terms) and blow smoke into Douchebag junior's face. So take that hippie. *Takes a long drag from currently lit cigarette hanging nonchalantly on my lips.
Today also happens to be World Milk Day(I'm not kidding). Like Valentines day, I fail to see the point in there being an especial day where something everyday is celebrated on a specific day. I drink milk everyday, so why should today be so special? Methinks the likes of Dutch Lady and HL have gone down the dark and shadowy path of marketing akin to that of the Hallmark and Roses Int. Inc. in creating Valentines day. If you wanted it to be such a special day how about sponsoring a ship load of milk and milk products over to say, I don't know, Africa? Where infant morality rates are the highest in the world due to malnourishment, let alone milk? So yeah. Fuck you too corporate douchebags. Then again, if there is a more nobler purpose to all this, and you are, in fact, sending milk to countries that actually need it, instead of "celebrating" its nutritional properties.. then yeah, happy World Milk Day.
Speaking of freedom, I'm a firm believer of free speech. In that regard, Ms. Thong, you are allowed to say whatever it is you want to say on your blog about me. Similarly, I am allowed to have my own personal and humble opinions about you and the lesbian community. It is not, nor have I ever claimed it to be, the gospel truth and people can judge for themselves what or what not to believe based on their own powers of reasoning and rationale.Having said that, you're so full of yourself into thinking that it was alright to mistreat me and are now trying to justify it by labeling me as an emo fuck. Yes, I am in fact an emo fuck. And the fact that you couldn't deal with it doesn't justify the way you treated me. Two wrongs don't make a fucking right. Furthermore, when I say, "women who think they have dicks" it's pretty much obvious to everyone else I meant it metaphorically and/or symbolically. Obviously butches are comfortable trying to be "males" without the added appendages otherwise they might as well have gone for a fucking sex change. But you know, you're obviously free to interpret it in any way your little mind desires. Isn't freedom of speech wonderful boys and girls? There should be an International/World Freedom of speech day. Oh right. There already is one. Go Google it.
Oh, before I forget, Tweety died. Tweety is the name of the bird that yours truly helped back into the nest. Let's just say... Sylvester ate him.
So no cleavage references today. But then again it is World Milk day... so.... would it be politically incorrect to show a picture of cleavage and milk in its awesome togetherness?
Guess not.
Today also happens to be World Milk Day(I'm not kidding). Like Valentines day, I fail to see the point in there being an especial day where something everyday is celebrated on a specific day. I drink milk everyday, so why should today be so special? Methinks the likes of Dutch Lady and HL have gone down the dark and shadowy path of marketing akin to that of the Hallmark and Roses Int. Inc. in creating Valentines day. If you wanted it to be such a special day how about sponsoring a ship load of milk and milk products over to say, I don't know, Africa? Where infant morality rates are the highest in the world due to malnourishment, let alone milk? So yeah. Fuck you too corporate douchebags. Then again, if there is a more nobler purpose to all this, and you are, in fact, sending milk to countries that actually need it, instead of "celebrating" its nutritional properties.. then yeah, happy World Milk Day.
Speaking of freedom, I'm a firm believer of free speech. In that regard, Ms. Thong, you are allowed to say whatever it is you want to say on your blog about me. Similarly, I am allowed to have my own personal and humble opinions about you and the lesbian community. It is not, nor have I ever claimed it to be, the gospel truth and people can judge for themselves what or what not to believe based on their own powers of reasoning and rationale.Having said that, you're so full of yourself into thinking that it was alright to mistreat me and are now trying to justify it by labeling me as an emo fuck. Yes, I am in fact an emo fuck. And the fact that you couldn't deal with it doesn't justify the way you treated me. Two wrongs don't make a fucking right. Furthermore, when I say, "women who think they have dicks" it's pretty much obvious to everyone else I meant it metaphorically and/or symbolically. Obviously butches are comfortable trying to be "males" without the added appendages otherwise they might as well have gone for a fucking sex change. But you know, you're obviously free to interpret it in any way your little mind desires. Isn't freedom of speech wonderful boys and girls? There should be an International/World Freedom of speech day. Oh right. There already is one. Go Google it.
Oh, before I forget, Tweety died. Tweety is the name of the bird that yours truly helped back into the nest. Let's just say... Sylvester ate him.
So no cleavage references today. But then again it is World Milk day... so.... would it be politically incorrect to show a picture of cleavage and milk in its awesome togetherness?
Guess not.
Friday, May 01, 2009
Chick
So i helped out a chick last night. Unfortunately the chick looked like this
Instead of this
Bwuh...............cleavage.......... so anyway a baby chick fell out of its nest and yours truly helped put it back into its nest. Since I didn't think to have my camera with me during said time i have commissioned an artists rendition of what actually happened.
Yeah. Great artist. So after said putting-chick-back-in-nest incident its mother bird promptly kicked it out of the nest again this morning. Using the trusty little technological device/God we all call the internet, I googled "Baby bird fell out of its nest, what do I do" and the result with most hits featured a a guide to assisting wildlife babies . http://www.tc.umn.edu/~devo0028/guideto.htm suffice to say i wasn't supposed to put the baby back in the nest. Its where we get the saying, "leaving the nest" in regards to emo kids finally switching from slipknot to 311 and Incubus pre new ablum. Or leaving the house and going off to college and being "independent". Or being mature. Whichever suits your fancy.
They say a picture is a worth a thousand words. I have enough words here to get you an A+ on your dissertation paper sans giving blowjobs to the lecturer.
In conclusion, Maria Ozawa is hot and furious masturbation inducing. With the sound turned way down.
Instead of this
Bwuh...............cleavage.......... so anyway a baby chick fell out of its nest and yours truly helped put it back into its nest. Since I didn't think to have my camera with me during said time i have commissioned an artists rendition of what actually happened.
Yeah. Great artist. So after said putting-chick-back-in-nest incident its mother bird promptly kicked it out of the nest again this morning. Using the trusty little technological device/God we all call the internet, I googled "Baby bird fell out of its nest, what do I do" and the result with most hits featured a a guide to assisting wildlife babies . http://www.tc.umn.edu/~devo0028/guideto.htm suffice to say i wasn't supposed to put the baby back in the nest. Its where we get the saying, "leaving the nest" in regards to emo kids finally switching from slipknot to 311 and Incubus pre new ablum. Or leaving the house and going off to college and being "independent". Or being mature. Whichever suits your fancy.
They say a picture is a worth a thousand words. I have enough words here to get you an A+ on your dissertation paper sans giving blowjobs to the lecturer.
In conclusion, Maria Ozawa is hot and furious masturbation inducing. With the sound turned way down.
Friday, April 24, 2009
100
You know, this is about the fourth time I'm attempting to write something meaningful to commemorate the 100th blog post on this here blog. The first 3 times all ended up with me raging and ranting against Ju's Bitches. You know, the same old formula of fuck you, you mistreated me, you disappoint me, hope you get crabs and gonorrhea.. that sort of thing. And honestly, that's getting a bit tiresome. Even for me. I'm just really tired of letting these women still affect me even though its already been 4 years, more than enough time to finally bury them in their respective bad memory graves and piss all over it. In more kinder terms, to forget them and move on. And so I shall. I have to develop some mental fortitude and grapefruits of steel. Of course it won't be easy. Whenever I think about gi gyn and michelle, i still get angry and sad and always utter their names followed by the words "fucking" and "bitch", followed by a good 15 minutes of smoking and calming myself down and chanting the mantra of "move on" repeatedly till my man child mind gets distracted by cleavage and snickers. Mmmmm.. snickers and cleavage...
Anyway coming back to my main point. It's painfully obvious that both women aren't as affected by their past interactions with me and have moved on to bigger dicks, or women thinking they have a dick in Michelle's case. So its a bit aggravating and lop sided that I'm still carrying all this emotional baggage and they're most decidedly not. So, goodbye gi gyn and michelle. I still don't understand why you treated me the way you did, but I think at this point and time that's rather irrelevant. Have a nice life. Its more than you deserve but hey, live and let live.
The other girls? Ah well, it wasn't meant to be. Specifically because I don't appreciate being dominated and treated like a handbag(that's you Voon Ping) and being lead around because you think I'm SCARY. Boo. So long .
Of course I'll be the first to admit I did a few things wrong as well. I'm sorry if I came on too strong. I'm sorry I cared too much. I'm sorry I kept staring at you but it was only because I thought, at that time, without knowing your real personality, that you were hot. I'm sorry I was too intelligent for you. I'm sorry for a lot of things I know I shouldn't be sorry for, but hey, fresh slate and all that jazz you know.
Oh shit... I did it again didn't i?
Anyway, sans the above mentioned events and people, life's been great in the last 4 years. Degree holder, job not related to said degree, good family, good friends, bad smoking habit. I daresay, the good memories far outweighed the bad ones if I step back and look at the bigger picture. I let myself get too traumatised by these women till it almost became all consuming, and I apologize for acting the way I did with my real family and real friends. I promise to try to be "happier" and less cynical about shit in life.
Hopefully this marks the first of many steps to me being a less emo man child and being more emotionally balanced and matured.
And to the rest of you lot.. whether you got here by clicking on the wrong link, curiosity or just plain boredom, thanks for reading. Here's to another 100 posts .
Special mention to penis elongating commenter, I'm fine with the size of my dick. Really. I don't feel inadequate at all. Will have the future women I sleep with fill out a survey if you want.
and to anonymous who finds my language "offensive and rude and will never come here again" well, you gave yourself better advice than I could (backspaces FUCK YOU YOU SENSITIVE CUNT!)
May future posts begin with "So me and the gf were fucking each other's brains out the other day ...."
Anyway coming back to my main point. It's painfully obvious that both women aren't as affected by their past interactions with me and have moved on to bigger dicks, or women thinking they have a dick in Michelle's case. So its a bit aggravating and lop sided that I'm still carrying all this emotional baggage and they're most decidedly not. So, goodbye gi gyn and michelle. I still don't understand why you treated me the way you did, but I think at this point and time that's rather irrelevant. Have a nice life. Its more than you deserve but hey, live and let live.
The other girls? Ah well, it wasn't meant to be. Specifically because I don't appreciate being dominated and treated like a handbag(that's you Voon Ping) and being lead around because you think I'm SCARY. Boo. So long .
Of course I'll be the first to admit I did a few things wrong as well. I'm sorry if I came on too strong. I'm sorry I cared too much. I'm sorry I kept staring at you but it was only because I thought, at that time, without knowing your real personality, that you were hot. I'm sorry I was too intelligent for you. I'm sorry for a lot of things I know I shouldn't be sorry for, but hey, fresh slate and all that jazz you know.
Oh shit... I did it again didn't i?
Anyway, sans the above mentioned events and people, life's been great in the last 4 years. Degree holder, job not related to said degree, good family, good friends, bad smoking habit. I daresay, the good memories far outweighed the bad ones if I step back and look at the bigger picture. I let myself get too traumatised by these women till it almost became all consuming, and I apologize for acting the way I did with my real family and real friends. I promise to try to be "happier" and less cynical about shit in life.
Hopefully this marks the first of many steps to me being a less emo man child and being more emotionally balanced and matured.
And to the rest of you lot.. whether you got here by clicking on the wrong link, curiosity or just plain boredom, thanks for reading. Here's to another 100 posts .
Special mention to penis elongating commenter, I'm fine with the size of my dick. Really. I don't feel inadequate at all. Will have the future women I sleep with fill out a survey if you want.
and to anonymous who finds my language "offensive and rude and will never come here again" well, you gave yourself better advice than I could (backspaces FUCK YOU YOU SENSITIVE CUNT!)
May future posts begin with "So me and the gf were fucking each other's brains out the other day ...."
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Tunggu Sekejap
Tunggu Sekejap wahai kasih
Kerana hujan masih renyai
Tunggu Sekejap
Dalam pelukan asmara ku
Jangan Bimbang
Walaupun siang akan menjelma
Malam ini
Belum puas ku bercumbu dengan dinda
Tunggu Sekejap wahai kasih
Tunggulah sampai hujan teduh
Mari ku dendang
Jangan mengenang orang jauh
Jangan pula
Jangan tinggalkan daku seorang
Tunggu Sekejap kasih
Tunggu
P. Ramlee
nota : Tiada kekasih yang tunggu untuk saya atau bertunggu dengan saya. Saya hanya ingin berkongsi lirik-lirik lagu P Ramlee ini yang sangat bermakna bersama anda.
Kerana hujan masih renyai
Tunggu Sekejap
Dalam pelukan asmara ku
Jangan Bimbang
Walaupun siang akan menjelma
Malam ini
Belum puas ku bercumbu dengan dinda
Tunggu Sekejap wahai kasih
Tunggulah sampai hujan teduh
Mari ku dendang
Jangan mengenang orang jauh
Jangan pula
Jangan tinggalkan daku seorang
Tunggu Sekejap kasih
Tunggu
P. Ramlee
nota : Tiada kekasih yang tunggu untuk saya atau bertunggu dengan saya. Saya hanya ingin berkongsi lirik-lirik lagu P Ramlee ini yang sangat bermakna bersama anda.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Anna Molly again
You're just like every other girl that I know. You come and go as you please. Its only when I don't think about you do you appear to me. Like as if you want something from me. I remember this time it was all very old Americana like. The jukeboxes, the soda fountains, neon lighting and plaid skirts. It was very "swell" and "dandy" as people of the era are prone to say. The fact that I was back in time crept ever so often into my consciousness. Any thoughts of irrationality and realization that one was in a dream of sorts was soon forgotten, intentionally or otherwise, when you walked in. Cue slow motion and sudden mysterious breeze that blows your hair in just the right way. You were gorgeous. You always have been. I've met you before. In a different time, in a different place, when you and me were different characters, different actors on the dream scape. As per your usual modus operandi, ours eyes meet for an eternity in a second, before the world comes flooding back with its swing music and period chatter, the cook in the kitchen yelling out orders. He looked like Al from Happy Days. I was expecting the Fonz to show up, leather jacket, rebel attitude and all, to engage in his constructive vandalism of the jukebox but alas he did not appear.
The soda in front of me was delicious to say the least. A chemical cocktail topped with more chemicals to create a chemical response on the palate. I think it was vanilla. The song in the background was Buddy Holly, though I forget which hit. Its the little details that I can remember, but its always you that I fail to capture. Something in the eyes, the hair, the way that you move, it's the little things that I notice and yet words fail to do you justice. Its apparent that armed even with a dictionary I cant begin to describe you. I stare as I usually do, with you perceiving me out of the corner of your eye but never engaging me. I approach you as I always did, that knot in my stomach turning, the beads of sweat starting to form, the heart pounding for the end of the world just to engage you in conversation. I start with the greeting, the anything but casual "hi" or "hello". You turn and you smile that damned smile of yours. I ask for your name as I usually do, and, like always, before your lips part to utter your sought after name, I am awaken.
Cursing, fidgeting, trying to grasp at the dust of a dream slipping away, I inevitably lost you again. Or so I thought
Drifting off again, I find myself back in more contemporary times. The sodas have been replaced with alcohol, of the consumption kind. The music had changed from timeless classics to present day flash in the pans. It wasn't in Al's soda shop anymore, it was a random house party with familiar faces. And you again. You were wearing what appealed to me, a simple sleeveless black top and fitted jeans. My dear, even if you were in rags I did still consider you the most beautiful woman in the world. You were holding a solo cup, casually talking with someone, I don't remember who. I felt a pinch of unfounded panic. You smiled your smile at him. I always thought it was exclusively for me. A familiar face passes me a drink, a jovial and fun face. I smile and thank him, feeling a little embarrassed for not knowing his name but thankful for some respite to distract me from you. I head out to the balcony, averse as I am to a noisy party full of familiar faces but unknown names, and to fight the feeling of insecurity when I see you and not know your name either. The sight of the city before me, the amalgamation of home and away and as yet unvisited places is breathtaking, and I commemorate the occasion with lighting up a cigarette. Even here, in Dream Scape, I can't forget the addiction. I contemplate as I usually do when I smoke, about you. I have seen you, I know you, but we're just two perfect strangers. The uneasiness that this is just merely a dream creeps back into my mind. Can I never find Nirvana, even if it isn't real? Can't I just have a little bit of reprieve from loneliness, even if I know it's not real? I'm in such a morose state of mind that I don't even realize that you're next to me, staring out into the city, contemplating, even as I am.
You catch me staring at you. You always do. You smile your smile again, just for me. You part your lips to speak again, and I wait with some trepidation for the dream to end again. But it does not. And I hear your voice for the first time. Your first words to me were "Do you have a light?". It is husky, casual yet full of confidence. I stumble around for the lighter, still dumbfounded to have heard you, to be interacting with you finally, after the endless chase through the Dream Scape. It's a black lighter. I ignite the flame, and you hold my hand to steady it while you light up your own cigarette. You take a steady drag and exhale. I watch with rapt fascination. You ask me "Why are you staring?". " It's because you just so.. beautiful" , I reply unsteadily. She smiles her smile again and thanks me. "But that's not the only reason is it, Ju?". She knows my name..
"No. I've seen you before. I see you every time I close my eyes. You're always there, wherever my dreams take me. But I don't know who you are. I've never even heard you speak, until now. I've chased you forever in Dream Scape."
She takes a drag again. "I know Ju" she replies in between exhalation. "I'm what you've always wanted in a girl. But you don't even know what I'm really like"
"If you're what I've always wanted, I don't see how that will be a problem."I realize that as I'm saying these words I'm inching closer to her. She wears a fragrance that seems familiar but again the name escapes me. Its intoxicating but in a good way.
She puts one hand on my shoulder and the other strokes my cheek. I respond by putting my hands around her hips and pull her closer to me. I stare into her eyes, and it as if the entire universe was blossoming behind those eyes. Her windows of her soul showed the happiness that could be had. The bliss coming from a woman who would never have trifled with my feelings. A woman who knew the true meaning of love.
"That's the problem with you, Ju. You love too easily." she says. I can feel her breath on my face. Her heart beating against mine.
"You're not making it difficult." I tell her. I can still hardly believe that I'm actually speaking to her, holding her, feeling her touch. "I can see through you. You're not flawed. You're not like the others. I feel like like I've known you my whole life. When I see you in my dreams, and that isn't often, I've longed to speak to you, to hear you, to feel you. Now I've caught you. And I don't intend to let go"
"You don't even know me.." she says, looking sad for once.
"I'm about to change that." I kiss her and she doesn't pull back. It's hard now to describe how it felt. There was an overflowing of emotions. We lost ourselves in the kiss. I wouldn't have cared if the world ended there and then. Her lips were soft. I stroked her back while she stroked my hair. A small sigh escaped from her. I felt a tear on my cheek and I realized it was hers.
"You don't even know my name" she said with a sad sigh, and she looked down. "And I know you know this is only a dream. So why are you so hung up on me? You don't even know me"
I knew it was a dream. I knew eventually I had to wake up. "I know," I tell her " I know you're not real. But I rather be with you then in the real world, so full of cruel women. That is why I love you. That is how I know you." I begin to feel a tear in my own eye. "Even if you aren't real"
I kiss her again. With more passion. I know it's about time that I got up. She breaks off the kiss, her face tear stained now, as mine is. She cups my face in her hands and smiles that smile for me again.
The night gives way to sunrise. I begin to feel as if I'm being pulled away from her. I grab at her outstretched hands and try not to leave but I know it's futile. Tearfully I ask her for her name.
"It's ......"
And that's when I woke up, my hand's holding on to nothing. I look around to see the familiar surroundings of my bedroom. She was nowhere to be found. I fought the urge to shed a tear and I reached for the cigarette instead.
"Motherfucker..." I muttered as I took the first drag of the day. And just like my dream this is how the post will end.. Abruptly.
The soda in front of me was delicious to say the least. A chemical cocktail topped with more chemicals to create a chemical response on the palate. I think it was vanilla. The song in the background was Buddy Holly, though I forget which hit. Its the little details that I can remember, but its always you that I fail to capture. Something in the eyes, the hair, the way that you move, it's the little things that I notice and yet words fail to do you justice. Its apparent that armed even with a dictionary I cant begin to describe you. I stare as I usually do, with you perceiving me out of the corner of your eye but never engaging me. I approach you as I always did, that knot in my stomach turning, the beads of sweat starting to form, the heart pounding for the end of the world just to engage you in conversation. I start with the greeting, the anything but casual "hi" or "hello". You turn and you smile that damned smile of yours. I ask for your name as I usually do, and, like always, before your lips part to utter your sought after name, I am awaken.
Cursing, fidgeting, trying to grasp at the dust of a dream slipping away, I inevitably lost you again. Or so I thought
Drifting off again, I find myself back in more contemporary times. The sodas have been replaced with alcohol, of the consumption kind. The music had changed from timeless classics to present day flash in the pans. It wasn't in Al's soda shop anymore, it was a random house party with familiar faces. And you again. You were wearing what appealed to me, a simple sleeveless black top and fitted jeans. My dear, even if you were in rags I did still consider you the most beautiful woman in the world. You were holding a solo cup, casually talking with someone, I don't remember who. I felt a pinch of unfounded panic. You smiled your smile at him. I always thought it was exclusively for me. A familiar face passes me a drink, a jovial and fun face. I smile and thank him, feeling a little embarrassed for not knowing his name but thankful for some respite to distract me from you. I head out to the balcony, averse as I am to a noisy party full of familiar faces but unknown names, and to fight the feeling of insecurity when I see you and not know your name either. The sight of the city before me, the amalgamation of home and away and as yet unvisited places is breathtaking, and I commemorate the occasion with lighting up a cigarette. Even here, in Dream Scape, I can't forget the addiction. I contemplate as I usually do when I smoke, about you. I have seen you, I know you, but we're just two perfect strangers. The uneasiness that this is just merely a dream creeps back into my mind. Can I never find Nirvana, even if it isn't real? Can't I just have a little bit of reprieve from loneliness, even if I know it's not real? I'm in such a morose state of mind that I don't even realize that you're next to me, staring out into the city, contemplating, even as I am.
You catch me staring at you. You always do. You smile your smile again, just for me. You part your lips to speak again, and I wait with some trepidation for the dream to end again. But it does not. And I hear your voice for the first time. Your first words to me were "Do you have a light?". It is husky, casual yet full of confidence. I stumble around for the lighter, still dumbfounded to have heard you, to be interacting with you finally, after the endless chase through the Dream Scape. It's a black lighter. I ignite the flame, and you hold my hand to steady it while you light up your own cigarette. You take a steady drag and exhale. I watch with rapt fascination. You ask me "Why are you staring?". " It's because you just so.. beautiful" , I reply unsteadily. She smiles her smile again and thanks me. "But that's not the only reason is it, Ju?". She knows my name..
"No. I've seen you before. I see you every time I close my eyes. You're always there, wherever my dreams take me. But I don't know who you are. I've never even heard you speak, until now. I've chased you forever in Dream Scape."
She takes a drag again. "I know Ju" she replies in between exhalation. "I'm what you've always wanted in a girl. But you don't even know what I'm really like"
"If you're what I've always wanted, I don't see how that will be a problem."I realize that as I'm saying these words I'm inching closer to her. She wears a fragrance that seems familiar but again the name escapes me. Its intoxicating but in a good way.
She puts one hand on my shoulder and the other strokes my cheek. I respond by putting my hands around her hips and pull her closer to me. I stare into her eyes, and it as if the entire universe was blossoming behind those eyes. Her windows of her soul showed the happiness that could be had. The bliss coming from a woman who would never have trifled with my feelings. A woman who knew the true meaning of love.
"That's the problem with you, Ju. You love too easily." she says. I can feel her breath on my face. Her heart beating against mine.
"You're not making it difficult." I tell her. I can still hardly believe that I'm actually speaking to her, holding her, feeling her touch. "I can see through you. You're not flawed. You're not like the others. I feel like like I've known you my whole life. When I see you in my dreams, and that isn't often, I've longed to speak to you, to hear you, to feel you. Now I've caught you. And I don't intend to let go"
"You don't even know me.." she says, looking sad for once.
"I'm about to change that." I kiss her and she doesn't pull back. It's hard now to describe how it felt. There was an overflowing of emotions. We lost ourselves in the kiss. I wouldn't have cared if the world ended there and then. Her lips were soft. I stroked her back while she stroked my hair. A small sigh escaped from her. I felt a tear on my cheek and I realized it was hers.
"You don't even know my name" she said with a sad sigh, and she looked down. "And I know you know this is only a dream. So why are you so hung up on me? You don't even know me"
I knew it was a dream. I knew eventually I had to wake up. "I know," I tell her " I know you're not real. But I rather be with you then in the real world, so full of cruel women. That is why I love you. That is how I know you." I begin to feel a tear in my own eye. "Even if you aren't real"
I kiss her again. With more passion. I know it's about time that I got up. She breaks off the kiss, her face tear stained now, as mine is. She cups my face in her hands and smiles that smile for me again.
The night gives way to sunrise. I begin to feel as if I'm being pulled away from her. I grab at her outstretched hands and try not to leave but I know it's futile. Tearfully I ask her for her name.
"It's ......"
And that's when I woke up, my hand's holding on to nothing. I look around to see the familiar surroundings of my bedroom. She was nowhere to be found. I fought the urge to shed a tear and I reached for the cigarette instead.
"Motherfucker..." I muttered as I took the first drag of the day. And just like my dream this is how the post will end.. Abruptly.
Friday, April 17, 2009
nicer
i swear i wanted snickers after seeing this. now if that's not good advertising i dont know what else is.
and now, selected conversations which the above picture provoked
T says:gosh those are some breathtaking mounds
thanks for the mammaries
J says:snickers... brrrrrtttt
do not put me into a conference now with you and J*@^#.. i'll blurt out SUGAR TITS
T says:home is where my habits have a habitat
man..that fiona apple
J says:man those snickers....
T says:hahaha
J says: indeed
so is sugar tits done with her studies or what?
or is she doing the bar there?
or a masters?
or working with snickers?
T says: i asked ^%#^# abt masters she said brb
motorboat?
hahahaah
J says: putting a candy bar somewhere i suppose
T says: HAHHAHAH
man neither of us are going to let this go away that easily huh?
J says: we'll get bored of it eventually
T says: yeah
J says: but im going to milk it for all its worth.
pun intended
T says:HAHHAHAHAHAH
HAHAHAHAH
fuck!!!
*note : brrrrrrtt = motor boat engine sounds. because breasts like snickers and sugar tits induce the desire to stuff your face between said lady lumps and make like a motor boat
names have been changed to protect myself and T from libel suits.
i never claimed i was a very mature person. especially when tits AND snickers are involved.
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