Parallel.
So Desmond, Vin, Hazwan and Sham leave for Penang today. Somehow, an odd premonition beckons me. Nothing severe, hopefully. But I cannot deny the nagging thoughts at the back of my head.
You know what. Since the world's going crazy, I shall too! I am actually sitting here, in full preparation for sweat. I am going to run my beer belly off. And hopefully this determination will last long enough to make me look normal again. Determination, Ave!
Fat-ist!
Beams.
You can have all your pretty boys behind your pedestal, you can leave me in the lurch in the wake of night. Like you always have, like you always have. And I have always been right here, a fool amongst the midst of knights in silver shining armour. A crying shame in the wake of public, a violent drunkard in the late of evening.
A peasant boy walking next to his Princess. A valiant palace guard standing on guard outside the Princes's chambers.
You can have them all, one by one, two by twos. But you will never be able to find what I have offered in them.
Those handsome men don't know love. Only a fool will know love.
I miss you, I love you.
But the question really is 'where' are you?
Forehead Kisses again, I'd do anything.
So I sang your songs, I sang 'em loud. I kept myself up the whole night, knowing if I fell asleep that I would immerse myself in depressive thoughts of family and love all over again. I watched Bleach, nearly teared. I just got back from walking Cookie, watching all the secondary school kids scurry for the bus. It was warmly nostalgic, crimson's fond absence.
I miss those morning. Like when you wake up, the sky's still dark and blue. The last time I saw it was working on that Raintree film's set.
I wish I could fascinate like a anime serial. I wish I was more interesting to you, that you would spend your lifetime learning all about me as I would for you. You don't see how important you are to me, how special, how precious, how beautiful, how brave and daring. You don't see how I feel, that if you go I'd lose everything I know about love.
It's been a couple of hours but the house feels like it's been dead for hours. Greetings lonely home, be nice.
Who says size doesn't matter?
I am overjoyed. I finally have gotten my Audiotechnica ATH-FC 7's! And I'm telling you, it doesn't compromise on sound quality. Comfy speaker cushions, great compact fold design, beautiful sound.
I'm sorry, I'm one who likes to be completely drowned in my music. Normal earphones won't do, sound leaks with them.
Sony Ericsson also offers a Equalizer with their phones, so double plus. I just up all the knobs. Shiokness.
Dad wrote me a rather touching goodbye letter that he probably didn't expect me to read. For someone that barely shows much concern, it is a milestone to remember. Aww, I love you pops.
Time to embrace hell.
Zephyr
They say only fools love. I think they're god damn right. Dad leaves Singapore today for a week. Silence home, what's there to not get used to.
Come on, jump with me.
Spin, spin, spin. The wind pushes my wings on in a blood-rushed frenzy of surging disaster.
Fall, fall, fall. Further and faster as I hit the ground, face first into the reality of the situation of it all.
The escalation of pain is firstly derived from the elevation of the subject. It is a simple understanding. Action is equal to the forthcoming reaction. The higher a person climbs, the more like to become a fatality if he jumps. He steps off the edge, arms flailing, left foot over the edge. In a second, his right foot leaves the ledge and his body is suspended in the air for a mili-second or two. It is due to the overcoming of the inital inertia. It is then affected by the earth's gravitational forces and surrounding wind speeds. The subject suspended in air, is helpless in fighting against the forces that are now in control of his body. As he has no footing on the floor, or gravitational energy that sets his feet stable, his centre of gravity is hence; useless. He propels downward, gaining speed as he accelerates towards his plummeting demise. Largely dependant on issues such as wind speed and course obstacles, the general accelerative is roughly 10m/s.
The body splatter is then dependant on several variables; weight, surface area of end flight destination, surface area of subject matter, kinetic energy gained in acceleration and potential energy transformed in pre-flight. If the subject matter lands on a concrete surface with his head first, it will most likely have a burst-fire effect. A usually centralised flow of brain matter unlike the generally messy and wave like chart flow. Limbs will usually be entirely shattered upon impact. Paying attention to the main joints of course. As any distanced pivot and axel, the force generated against both sides of the beam will act against the joints at the end. For example, if the subject lands on his wrist, not only will his forearm be shattered but his elbows and shoulder joints as well. This domino like effect will work only if the subject decides to lands on all fully extended fours.
Maybe I should be a primary school science teacher after all.
Hey there, can you see me from up there? Haha, cool. My back's broken I can't move and would you mind calling an ambulance? No, come on don't walk away. Wait a minute, what're you doing with that rice cooker. Don't throw it down, don't! Noooo!
Pinch, twist and pull.
Take me up, tear me down.
But before you leave, turn my bedroom into a 18th century medievic battlefield.
Cheers mate!
You're a jester at her favourite act and I'm just your number one fan.
Greatest of luck to your new found love. I sure hope you won't be this cruel to him, have fun mate! And remember, everybody bleeds and hurts. Not just you.
I'm a piece of thoughtless, unfeeling, prime cut.
Bon Appetit, madame Gorgeous. I'm sorry, my thigh wasn't grilled in proper. It's a little fatty, filled with gushing fresh meat juices but a little burnt. Tender, however. Apologies and tell me if you want an arm instead all right madame? Sauces are on the side and please, leave the bones on the 'unwanted' plates. Scrap them to the dogs but leave a bone or two for burial will you? Thank you. Please, enjoy your meal.
Sinking.
Okay, this is my mental picture of my current state. I'm like a massive blob, and I'm gotten stuck somewhere between halfway and completly in this just nice hole. So I'm not really entirely sinking or perhaps at a rather slow rate.
Your words sting. Like a tattoo gun, like a blade.
You are still that perfect beautiful goddess, Ashley Mischa Amily Chia Yan Ling. I miss you so much I need these solvents just to escape thinking about you. You are still that crazy feeling, you are still the one I would do anything for.
Don't go.
Reminder to self; die today.
Dearest blog, you are apparently a boring whore.
Well, my head and my heart aches today. Slightly spinning, some reggae song, inside's a broken mess. Like a cordoned off murder scene.
'Sir, he's in there. His insides are all over the place, you might not want to go in.'
My computer says, Outbreak Alert; You are not protected against 1 rapidly spreading threat. Oh well, it's too late now isn't it? Bloody genius, if you were so damn smart and technolog-ified then why didnt you save me a little earlier. You fucking git!
But I honestly doubt you can save me, I really doubt it. How does something in circuits break down to bleed down.
I laugh at myself, knowing how pure my intentions were. Almost mocking my intelligence, it does. Last night was a glass bottle shattering, remember that sound? Yep, I mean that sentence. Last night was a glass bottle shattering, the chipped remnants of my well being is numbed beyond any sense of escalation or feeling.
I'm broken, just like the Pantera song.
I slept on my right ear plug today. So it is very sore and swollen. So, there's nothing in it now. Wow, I can think of another place also.
And my reputation around this neighbourhood is really really blown now. I'm worse than an Indian drunkard. I'm like one.
I used to find those minor threats adorable, almost insatiable. Ask me now.
My blue heaven, where are you now? My goddess of pain, the Siren song.
The Right To Choose.
Mischa, I know you'be been really bothered about people and their perceptions recently. So I decided to be a darling and draw something for you. It's themed after this phrase, 'Don't cry, I'm the one who's hurting'. It really ain't much and neither am I of an artist. Hope you'll like it anyway. I miss you.
It's the line drawing or a tattoo needles at the tip, joined to a pen cap, then connected to a Niagra Falls inspired stream. The stream flows down one main course then at the start and end of the stream branches out several times in alternating directions.
I really don't have to explain it. Afterall you are a genius what. ;)
Hope you like it anyway.
The Right To Choose.
Mischa, I know you'be been really bothered about people and their perceptions recently. So I decided to be a darling and draw something for you. It's themed after this phrase, 'Don't cry, I'm the one who's hurting'. It really ain't much and neither am I of an artist. Hope you'll like it anyway. I miss you.
It's the line drawing or a tattoo needles at the tip, joined to a pen cap, then connected to a Niagra Falls inspired stream. The stream flows down one main course then at the start and end of the stream branches out several times in alternating directions.
I really don't have to explain it. Afterall you are a genius what. ;)
Hope you like it anyway.
Expressing In Absolution
It's amazing, how beautifully composed and natural I am around you. How careless to let loose, to reveal my flaws, to not have my guard up. I have never felt so lifted, so joyous and so amazed at it all.
As we lay on the floor, I felt so perfectly conjoined to you. I wasn't sticking our your side, I felt like I was already inside you like we shared one entity's space. It's a precious moment, so critical to my well being. It felt so right, it felt very much like love. It must have been.
Absolution. That's it. That must be it because I know no other experience that can top this one. No other romance ever so blissful, so amazingly childlike.
I can't help my fears. But I can try, I will.
All I'm thinking about now is just 5 more minutes, a few more words. I couldn't bear to see you walk away. I wish I could hold you in loving embrace for hours to come. Till the sun touches the skies, till you feel so bothered by me. I would never need the world, the riches, the clothes, the popularity. All I need is just you near me. I miss you already, I'm pining for my Fairy Goddess riding on her ticklish cloud. Every fraction of my being is crying out for you, every single molecule, every single hair, every single part of myself.
As I wished this was forever, it will be. In my mind, fresh memories. I know I will fall sometime and I know you will too. If it's anything, than today was a beautiful portrait. And I shall visit this portrait and lock myself in it every time I find myself broken. I will revisit this feeling of perfect belonging.
I'm there now again. Can you feel me?
Mindfreeeeek.
Maybe I am really overly paranoid.
Happy, beautiful thoughts, tree swaying amongst the nightsky. I want to die in this moment, I want to die in this moment.
Lalalalalalalalalalalalallalal.
Beef or Chicken?
Medium! Yarghhhhhh.
I feel like a jerk. I feel like a striker who just missed his one shot at game, a singer hitting the wrong note on American Idol, an artist getting drunk on his exhibition, a rockstar being sober and saying everything wrong.
I wish we were sitting under the stars, where we block out the world outside. Just trapped in our grey backdrop, chatting away like children discovering the world.
I miss you like hell.
Inequity.
I feel like a dying battery for a radio, left on for hours. I am dying out yet my functions keep the radio going on. It is soft and it is barely audible but I'm still there.
I said your name close to a thousand time in my stroll just now. I walked and thought, I walked so far I nearly did not recognise my surroundings. I walked back, speaking your name. Talking to an imaginary you, my brain computing all of your possible answers. I think back about all those beautiful conversations we had on the phone. All those moments that I captured in my imaginary bottle, that I'll keep for a long time to come.
All the way, in my pespiration soaked desperation to escape this. I was awaiting to hear Trouble Sleeping on my phone. That somehow it was all a misunderstanding, that you weren't angry at me. I was hoping, for a sign. Any sign at all. I tried and I tried so hard to contact you or rather to resist the temptation of calling you lest you think I was a psycho. You know how much it hurts everytime I hear that? I cannot help myself Mischa, I worry too much. I'm sorry.
I listened to Blackfield's Miss U on the walk home. My initial thoughts hearing the song when I first got it were terrifying. I was so afraid one day, I'd have to type out the song's lyrics via SMS or msn. I was terrified. And I knew someday I would have to.
"And tomorrow you'll be gone and I'll miss you."
Nothing captures my emotions right now more than that fucking song. Nothing better than that pathetically painful song.
I'll be right here waiting, that I can promise you, will be absolute.
Blackfield - Miss U
They said you're in love again, I'm not trying to hide my pain.
I was burried in my bed, with your pictures in my head.
You're living the novel life, it cuts me like a knife.
I'll help you understand, I'm the one who's left behind.
Tomorrow you'll be gone and I'll miss you.
Yes, I'll miss you.
Yes, I'll miss you.
They you said you're in love again and my eyes start to burn.
Wherever you are now, I wish you could hear my silent sigh.
It's not that I'm trying to blame; It just kind of rained again.
I'll help you understand, that I'm the one who's left behind.
Tomorrow you'll be gone and I'll miss you.
Yes, I'll miss you.
Yes, I'll miss you.
Grey splattered with traces of Black, White and Maroon.
I don't know what to do now, you won't talk.
I don't know what else to say, what else to believe in, what else to prepare for next. I am broken, wrecked and torn beyond belief. You are a drug, how long more must you test me? How many more agonizing nights must I be dragged through by my heels before you will understand that I am just another fool in love, with you.
I'm lost, lying on this floor of turning spaces. Like a movie set off an aeroplane undergoing turbulance, I am. Everything around me is moving, changing, twisting and contorting but here I am again, just sprawled out defenseless and unmoving on this wretched floor.
A painting, rubbed down with the artist's hands. Then he beats his fists unto the cement floor till blood drips down his swollen knuckles. After that, he pounds endlessly unto the canvas. Smearing blood and flesh unto the once beautiful dream that he had created on paper.
I sat in the lazyboy chair, with Pocupine Tree's Mellotron Scratch and the song that you said you think about me when you hear, coming off my handphone. I saw notes of bright brass, floating out the speaker. I felt ticklish tears streaming down my eyes again as I felt myself helpless beyond the imaginary gaze of yourself I put in front of me.
You say you're the mess. But no, you don't know me yet. You don't know all my pent up mental rampages that I have hidden from all of this world. How I have ever been so successful in lying to myself, deceiving my body and mind and I endure pain, playing trickery on all my senses. But I cannot numb out the pain in my heart and it is my Achilles Heel. It is the only one sense that I cannot ignore. Why do you think I drink? I can fall 3 storeys and not feel any pain, I can't beat my fists senseless against cement walls and not feel the cuts, I can be kicked in the gut and still stand up but I just cannot ignore the issues that plague my emotional senses.
I am a fucking God as well but I cannot erase my emotions.
My mind can control everything but my heart.
And you're in it.
Your pictures, that I have stolen off the internet bring me hope. They do, and I have quite a few. :)
Whoooooooooppppps.
In My Eyes
We all feel alone. The ringing of silence resounds through our rooms, we sit in our chairs as the sky outside gets darker and darker, the emptiness of it all emits itself from all the furniture.
We all feel discouraged. The repulsiveness from our work screams out for our correction, their words sink down our hearts like anchors in water, the cruelty of society and it's expectations hit us down like hammers.
But we are strong, because there are things, experiences and people that make it all worth going through another day. There are people that make you treasure every second you spend with them like Arabic jewels. There are heartfelt emotions, not ink on paper nor text on monitors that vibrate through your body, that make you feel like life is worth living. Fuck society, fuck what people expect of you.
But in the eyes of love, all my pain absolves. It melts away in the fear of love. Just like your Father's eyes bring hope and despair to you, that power is uncontrollable. So powerful, we have dictated the demise of our civilisation by the means of classification.
We, are afraid of what we do not know. Therefore, we classify. We give it scientific names and italic fonts. We decide how everything should be treated, how every action is met with a reaction in fear of liberation. We control, everything. We never let anything run free.
We cannot because we don't want it to disappear. We cannot because we love life too much. We cannot and it will cause our end eventually and we will willingly fight everyday with a cause of continuity. We don't want us to disappear, we want to prolong. We want to be around long enough to know everything and I say fuck society for that.
Why know? Why expect and why predict? Why can't we all allow nature to take its course. To allow risk to overcome failure, to let loose for once, to be human and not live like a computer system.
It is the only thing we have left. Our precious emotions, our precious scars that will bring us through another day. Wiser and stronger. We must never give up, because we want to live for as long as possible on this crazed drug like emotion called love. A love for humanity, a love for family, a love for one. It is love that we all have left and it is love that will bring you through.
Don't blame yourself for being intelligent and educated. This place is vile and escape you shall, I will bring you across mountains of care and joy and oceans of time. I will always be here.
I don't know if this is enough but I love you and you are what brings me through days. You are my pillar of hope and joy, my everything that I understand and that understands me. You are like no one ever, you are like an angel. You are like a soulmate.
Black/Nazi/Skin Metalheads are actually friendly.
Just came back from a supposedly deadly, chinese mudering Nazi/BM gig. I wasn't there to witness the throat squawking and guitar rampaging noise. Well, I was originally. Ended up helping Syed with the sound and fog machine.
It was fun as usual. It's surreal, how something as simple as knob tweaking and fog machine operating can be so damn enjoyable. Just seeing the crowds headbanging amongst the fog, delighted at the sight of their local music heroes appearing in a cloud of mist. Everything was okay, I was actually slightly on my toes when Tottencoff went up to play, the guy has a fucking Nazi emblem on his left chest. I shan't go on to say how the emblem and him is a total contradictory disaster that could get him killed elsewhere in Europe and all. He was nice enough to not boss me around in the soundman's box.
'Yo, soundsman. Guitar louder uh bro.'
Exact words. I was pretty pleased, shocked slightly at this pretty warm response. Considering their strong and undying hatred for us chinese people to play metal. It's strange, how so diverse our ideaologies are yet how united we are in what we enjoy most- music.
Black Torture's drummer Hilmi was performing as well. Considering he and his bassist is always so deadly brutal and kvlt in school. He's a nice guy, appreciative of my very mundane efforts to ensure he slews the crowd with his music. The organiser, Razly was warm as well. But during the gig, he was kvlt as fuck. He had a metal as hell face but after it all he came up to thank me and I guess being my very warm, receptive and smiley self, I smiled and said thanks. Can't remember, all the throat squaking black metal vocals plus me having to listen to the main monitors so frequently left my ears ringing like a cellphone on max output volume.
I took some pretty kickass pictures of Necroholocaust's set. I really enjoyed taking them, the guys put on such an awesome show with simply amazing stage presence. Am looking forward to hearing their stuff, plus the bassist, Firdaus is fucking nice lah.
So that sums up my day. Sorry fairy goddess, my creative juices have gone dry from the moshing that my stomache took. An elbow in my gut, not intentionally of course. I promise to be more creative soon. Sorry lah.
Choices
I pondered as I held the pen over the blank spot. A chaotic battlescene of thoughts in my mind, as the ball point tip hung over the white sheet of paper, filled with names and their hopeful ambitions.
'Film, or Art History?'
I thought with that sense of predicament and fear, of never knowing what lies ahead of our weary feet. I called, hoping to find some resolvement in this begging closure. No response. I guess I shall really have to become in this challenge.
I wrote in bold, blue ink. Film. I handed the paper up, nearly in full resentment. I wish I had more time, I wish I could do both, I wish I could have been interested in graphic design. Well, it certainly adds to the neverending list of 'I wish's'.
I'm cold with decision making and this paranoia that I guess is the cause of it all. Or could it have been the lack of sleep? I can't think when I feel like I'm falling and creating a mess.
Dinisha, thanks for being there for me. You're a great friend when friends are needed. I guess we should all never question what we cannot control.
Cheers all.
Mom, I love you and miss you. Take the best of care and I would send you money to buy more roach traps if I could. Your boy, always. I send you the sweetest and most purest of love ever sent across oceans in internet relay. It's me and you against the world remember? Stay strong.
Perceptive Anomaly
This stomache pain has wrecked my body for too long. I stopped painting about half an hour ago, it's too great. Unmeasurable in it's valiant deeds.
I was browsing myspace profiles earlier. I was thinking to myself, if everyone has their own perception and identity of themselves. What is mine? I find myself a confused shipwreck of musical preferences and fashion. I think I will soon head down to Peninsula, get a short sleeve black jacket or shirt and paste all those band patches all over.
Dark Funeral, Malevolent Creation, Nasum, Lamb Of God, Deicide, Behemoth, Nile, Absu, Keep Of Kallesin, Enslaved and all the other cult or kvlt bands there are out there. Patch 'em all on my shirt. Would I be metal enough then?
Then, I'd go to Topman and get that part of skinnies, then I'll go fareast and go a new pair of the same Vans first ed I have.
What I evolve into then? Half emo half metalhead? I was rambling on to distract my stomache pains.
Listen to 3:06 on Blackfield's Epidemic. I noticed something very strange and un-rockish.
Novel Disasters & Tribulations.
So what is it like, in this modern society to be seen, appreciated, scrutinized and worshipped? Everyone begs for some recognition, I'm here to give you that. I won't speak in riddles and I shan't make you beg for virtuosity.
I reek of a vile stench, so composed yet so potent in all it's rememberance. I wish I could fly away. Yes, I'm having those thoughts of escaping again. All I relive in my little dreams are weird stares and genuine introductions. I wish I could walk right into those brand new doors of unfamiliar faces and reenact the entire scene countless times in my adrenaline rushed paranorma of introductions.
I do these thoughts, alot. In my head, on the bus, in school, when I'm drawing.
I would say.
Hey, I'm Joel. I'm an aspiring filmmaker, studying in art school. 19 this year, hopefully things go my way and I'll be around to make films till my hair grows grey and I'll don black rimmed spectacles for that classic intelligent look that all the film greats have. Like Martin Scorsee and Steven Spielberg, just like them. I love reading and writing, it's all I've ever enjoyed doing besides screaming and making indistinguishable noises into a microphone. You see, I'm a death metal vocalist as well. I have several projects, mostly relatively unknown, for now. I've had dreams of becoming like a rockstar since I was 15 you see. I'm an only child. Yes, it gets pretty much very lonely over here. I'm currently single, chasing the skirt of a philoshphical mythological Greek being. I enjoy the overly occasional beers, live music, drawing and playing the guitar. I sing songs about life and love because it is all we have left to understand and study. We are scientists, engineers but we are never truly complete. We don't understand the very vital remains of our lives. We are everything but poets and artists. Those who say they are, live the lifestyle but it is to not conform, to not plagiarize. So therefore we aren't. I could talk alot more but I guess this introduction will linger on with food, drinks and music. Thanks for your time.
Ingesting my own saliva disgusts me, the blood coursing through my veins are begging to let. The very act of breathing alone is taking so much toll of my mental strength that I would gladly undertake a painful, slow death. The touch of my own skin is a recollection of painful bitter memories.
I am disgusted with myself, I am dwelling in my own shadow of self-hatred and vile responses.
I do not deserve this pain, I do not deserve this slow motioned replay of pain and sharp edges.
I hate what I do, what I have done, what I will do. I detest my own life with a hatred so severe and with a devotion stillborn in it's premature womb. It is a distant replay of my own hatred inherit from others that I now have for myself.
I have failed.
How is it, that I could have gone ahead and hated the world and not have figured out I am a victim of it's plague as well. Premonitions of hugging and telling everyone I love them mock my former self.
I am just like everyone I diss. I'm a fake, I'm nothing like I had perceived myself to be.
Perceptions, I'm a victim as well.
I hate myself when I'm drunk, but often it's too late. I hate myself because every little thing I do warrants attention. Apologies to all that I have affected one way or another during my druken stupor. I can already think of one fine example, sorry okay.
I skipped school today. Was feeling really really under the weather and all that nonsense. Watched Kill Bill Vol 2. I loved the last part.
How Bill was talking about Superman and how Clark Kent was his critic on the entire human population. How we try to blend in and adjust our personal selfs to mould neatly around the edges of our society. Like wrapping your christmas gifts, like writing cards, like looking up to see if anyone noticed you walk by, like holding your cigarette in that way, like talking differently, like walking in a certain manner, like replying in a certain fashion, like smiling in a certain way, like wearing that pair of jeans, like dressing nicely.
We are a critic of our own kind, do you get me? To blame, is to know. To know, is to be. I hate our civilisation and our fucking perceptions on everything. My goal is to not have an identity, it is to lose mine. And that shall be my identity. Because I am not like them, I am separate and I am opposed to anything that is like yours.
Something like that, rant.
Save Your Spiritual Self!
The article below, was copied off Colin of the death metal band Vile. In a bulletin message on their myspace, do some thought. I did, it may sound cheesey. But think MTV; think.
Psychic dictatorship in our midst
I hope you guys enjoy my rants. If not, just go on with your business. :)
Of course, we all love Myspace. Its a fantastic and free way for us to communicate and share ideas and music from vast distances. But there is something else going on here, and indeed all over the mainstream media, that is designed to hurt us. And hurt us in the worst way.
Because Humans are not commonly recognized as spiritual beings, malicious attacks on their spiritual growth are not usually recognized. I have discussed in the other blogs that there is a campaign in progress to destroy us from the inside out. A new world regime is being put into place and it requires complete obedience from us, the Monkeys. In this "New World Order", individual expression is heavily curtailed. But before that can fully happen, we must be destroyed spiritually. We must be placed on the lowest vibrational level possible. Once this is achieved, it will not take much to herd us right in.
Myspace was acquired recently by Rupert Murdoch. This is when you started to see all the ads for sluts everywhere. You started to see all the inane little games like "Shave Santa's back and win a prize." You started to see Myspace choosing the the most superficial types of profiles to be selected for the "Cool new people" category. You saw an increase in the ads for the worst movies ever made coming from Hollywood, etc, etc.
What is going on here is that Rupert Murdoch and his gang are working for the folks that want to reel in this new regime. His job is to lower humanity to a lower level spiritually. To get us to react with our 'base' emotions. To train our 'Reptile Brain' to respond. The things that make the 'Reptile Brain' respond are sex, food, violence, low level animal instincts.
Humans are unique because they are capable of so much. We can actually view ourselves as separate from our environment, look back on ourselves and contemplate the deepest mysteries of the universe. We can tune ourselves into our environment and into the universe on a personal level. We can realize that we are each a different type of godly manifestation and we can explore this unique connection. We also have a soul that is regenerated time and time again and we can use our physical selves as a vehicle for this journey.
Now what do these concepts and aspirations have to do with the new Prison Break show? What do they have to do with any of the mindless crap that is rolled out before us constantly by Murdock and his ilk? Nothing. In fact they pose a direct threat you and your spiritual survival. Every time you respond to one of these ads, every time you recognize one of their faux 'experiences' as real, you go lower. You descend to a lower vibrational level. Every time you watch a show that honors the worst aspects of humanity, you give power to that concept, to the makers of it and you lose respect for yourself and your soul's journey.
Do you understand this? You are being shot at. There is a psychic dictatorship in our midst that is trying to kill us every minute of every day. But when we recognize this, and when we realize what this sick game is, we become so much more immune to it. When we reject the inane, low level attractions we become free. We become free to pursue what matters to us, why we are here, what we individually are doing on this planet. We can then turn inward for the answers that are already there speaking to us. And we finally become more powerful than the perpetrators themselves.
The perpetrators are shattered inside and they want to have a world full of others that are shattered inside. Only they want to control you, they want to be on top. They cannot have their victims be healthier than they are. That would not work.
I suggest that everyone who reads this send a little note to Murdoch or Myspace. Or maybe Tom's comment page. But remember Tom is not in control anymore and has nothing to do with this assault. If anything, thank him for inventing Myspace because it is a god-send. But let's pass on a little advise to Murdoch and his crew. "We're onto your psychic dictatorship, your attempts to lower us to our base instincts. We know you are soulless and barely human yourself and you have no power over us unless we give it to you. You are now being officially served. Get out and stay out!"
Colin
Lalalalalaloveisadrug.
I'm sitting here, on this smelly chair, my eyes sore from wearing my lenses for too long, with Skinless blasting Overlord and I'm worried about my incomplete work.
I have, let's see. Plaster cast of hand and one body part(Get creative!), 3D Research and idea development, 18 charcoal drawings of natural organisms and 2D's Acrylic paintings and final a3 piece.
I don't know about you darlings but it sure is a lot of work to do.
Let's see, recent addictions; Death Cab For Cutie, Trouble Sleeping by the Perishers, Caliban's disografia, Hatebreed's Destroy Everything and Defeatist, Blackfield's BlackfieldII! And definitely, thinking about jamming.
It's sad to see, something that was mechanised to run perfectly towards success- begin to fall apart. I'm gonna be hated when I say this but I make things work. I make people believe, I make people see success and we work together. Sadly, I don't know where the next step for Massecration is going. Only one person of the band might read this and I'm sorry to say this. But I'm not the captain that's gonna stay before the rest jumps off ship. I don't stay on sinking vessels. But we'd still be friends, I think.
I want to learn illustrator(hint). Tangy from Myspace has such beautiful pictures!
She's writing now, I wish I could peek into her brain. Just delve for a minute in that creative genius. Yes, it's you. ;)
Dear Mischa, listen to my heart's voice.
I was asked to write something interesting but it is just when you want to that your mind runs a whitewashed blank. I shall write like I always have, from experience and the heart.
I was constantly perturbed by thoughts of giving up today, during Sawn's PPD lesson. The overwhelming sense of a storm to come completely took over my senses as I feigned smiles usual; something I had adapted to ever so quickly since I was a mere infant. This pretentious gaze of not knowing and big bright smiles. I don't know if it happens to others as well but I've grown so accustomed to this defence mechanism that I forget myself. Only to face full reality of the raging storm after, in sleepless nights and druken speech.
It was starring right me in the eye; the mist covers the paths. I don't know where to turn, the shroud of mists blocks out all visibility and I don't know where to go. I only know what's for sure and it's you. Ashley Mischa Chia Yan Ling. The only one who keeps me from falling deeper and darker into my abyssmal depression. The only one I can talk to without holding any guards up, the only one that I can make known my 'other' side. I don't know if I should take up Art History, Journalism, Advertising or Film but I do know where my purest intentions lie, and it's in you. I don't know what is it exactly, but you retain all of me yet I can always run free in our conversations and gaze.
I would lie forever, next to you on the wet and muddy grass. I'd shield you from all the tremors from the lies they tell, I'd be there to catch you falling everytime you want to break down.
I don't know what to write anymore, you make me feel like painting even though I hate to paint. You make me want to splater colours and rub them down with my bare hands. You are all I know right now, all that I'm certain of.
It might not be this month or the months ahead but as long as we're talking, I'm certain of a hope and it's all that's enough to keep me here. But I'd always be a friend for someone who has given me so much life and will to keep on going.
So don't give up just yet, it might come soon. Stay for the advertisments and the trailers, we have a movie, a novel and a fairytale to live.
I hope you are fine, and I miss your voice and eyes already.
Take care.
I woke up to the beeping of my alarm clock this morning. I snoozed it once, waking up a crude 12 minute later. I woke up, thinking to myself if only everyday would have been this perfect.
I dreamnt of Mom, Por, Alvin, Dwayne last night. Can't really remember much but it was like the Tampines days. Por, Mom and me.
Ashley, you don't know how much you brighten every dull day for me. Everyday, it begs to die. It begs to release itself from all this trauma but you have the power to keep me here.
Have a good day my fairy goddess.
I wish we could lie on the grass and talk about the sky as well, more than ever.
Spiralling down a pauper's release, I find myself numbed for an existence that's begging to end itself in it's heresy and self pittance. It turns to a blackened page splattered with blood, with the remnants of a seemingly beautiful piece of art. I have drawn for hours to come, writing commentry and visual ideas unto paper for so long, my fingers beg for some salvation. I am in a twisted, purple world of self absorbtion and I pity myself.
The piano hits a snazzy number and the light dawns on the luscious singer.
She sings like a bird, never forgetting the falsetto notes just like we never forget to fall to our addictions; sipping whiskey on the rocks and smoking like an Irish chimney. She sings more beautifully than ever as we slide down a mysterious hole of blackened desire and morbid fantasies. We lose ourselves, eventually. And are carried out the door by muscled men in tight black shirts.
For a single moment, a combination of our loyalty and admiration was conjoined at our hips in a single purpose of reluctance and pumped up gazing.
That's my image. I can't draw it out in a design. Damn it.
Been pretty busy with getting back to school, readjusting to waking up in the morning,going out and stuff all school related. Thus, the lack of regularity here.
I have been pretty okay, mentally stable and on an emotional high. Thing's have been good these days.
I start to notice all the slackers in class and I am so tempted to drop my form but no, I shan't. I must strive.
I shall, then.
Fairy of All Fairies.
You have me immersed in beautiful thoughts about beautiful times;
In the dawn of day, at the lowest of moments.
I have screamed all I could in my recollection of a cruel world
and now I realise where all my angst must end.
Your eyes bring me to places, I could have never been.
A dimension of happiness and pristine thoughts and neverending sun.
You are the nemesis from my works,
The alpha of my desires; the end of my hatred.
I see you in movies, romance novels and songs.
My perfect escape from my falling self.
Beseech me, leave me not,
In friendship or with romance; for I will never leave your side.
You could be the Sun and I just the Moon,
Never close enough to touch but always feeling my core.
And I would be content, to spend, ages and generations;
Basking in the comfort of your radiance.
Till galaxies collide, and stars fall;
Till oceans divide and the wind stalls.
When everything turns a little quiet.
I had a silent breakfast with Dad today, an awkward silence. Not the usual, stoned/hungover silent silence. I held back tears knowing that I've done it again, that I've hurt someone with my intentions again. I held back tears knowing that the only family member I have left here cannot face himself to speak to me.
He has given up on reprimanding me, all he said in his defence was for me to never tell him anything about what I'm gonna do again. I could feel his hurt, his prideful intentions turned sour. Just like before, I saw his dreams of a perfect son; an altar boy, an A student, a sports talent, a upright man to be, a filial child. Like before, I saw them all crash, burn and fade into the diminishing light of his happiness. I watched slowly as they burned out in the flicker of parental obligations and then extinguish in his sigh of disappointment.
I then will watch him turn away and pace quickly, perhaps hiding his tears. I will then follow behind his footsteps, that resentment of a crushing feeling residing ever so permanently in this pathetic shell of a heart. I would beg silently, in my mind that perhaps someday I would make you proud of me again. I love you, more than you ever know. I never hated you for the divorce, I cried myself to a numbed slumber every night of the separation. For you were my hero, my idol, the one I looked up to. And then, you were gone.
I prayed silently every night that somehow something magical and mysterious would happen and I would watch my two loving parents return in embrace and shower neverending love on me. Like a monsoon shower, I watched disappointment and anguish rain down on my hopeful dreams.
I only have a few notions in my defence, Father. Will I ever change so much in character that you will shun me out of your life, Will you be embarassed of me in public or rather, have you already been. Will you not acknowledge me as your boy, donning his goalkeeper's uniform in pride as you watch me dive and grovel in the mud. Will I never be the same child, returning home from sweaty basketball matches? Will I never make you as proud as you were of me, when I won my prizes in golf? Will I never make you as proud of me like when I passed my assessments? Will I never make you proud of me when I make you breakfast? Will I never make you understand that somehow deep inside, I am still that little boy of neverending smiles and a glaze of cheerful smiles, just that I am different now.
That I have lost so much in return for being myself. That I have been kicked and knocked further down into the ground just plainly trying to seek my own comfort, my own reality, my own perception.
I am doing this, simply to remember. That throughout this life, you lose so much of yourself to painful memories and to the society around you. I'm doing this to remember that I was once in love, in maddening love. So proud to bear my scars and hurting, because I am in love with myself for being in love. This is for me to never forget that there was once I would give all of myself in devotion, only to be silently turned away. Just like how you see it around you, that you feel it yourself with Mom.
I will tide the consequences, with my strength and your love.
It's the depiction of Hanya. A Japanese character, who waits and dies slowly in the winter cold, awaiting her loved one to return to her side. I must remember it on my skin, this perfect bliss of being so carefree, so appreciative. I love you Dad, and I always will. I hope you will too.
I know we haven't had a heartfelt conversation in ages to come. But you always know that your boy never has given up loving you. And I applaud your patience and willingness to love me. That perhaps as I have changed in my age, my appreciation for my doting father has never altered in any dimension.
Forgive me.
The pounding reenacts in my head, the cabinet doors tremble in shock. I hear John shout, 'what the fuck is that?'. I turned away and all I see is Mal's grostesque human circus display. She's crying and I want to help but she's a mutant animal and fear has it's vices over me. I'm stuck in the middle of these two realities I don't know where to run.
I'm not drunk this time you sick motherfuckers, I was completely sober. I can't understand people and their perceptions. It's real, like the a living piece of bleeding flesh. It was real, I swear it.
I cannot escape this repeating nightmare as I type those decrepit images are replaying on loop in my fucking head. My fucking head isn't mine, where's help? Where are you?
I need to break.
I had a terrible nightmare. It was so graphic that I puked hot bile out, the images are still in my head. Fuck, I can't eat or sleep. I can't, it's stuck in my head.
I feel crazed, like a sadomasochistic dream. It never washes away, I feel disturbed.
It's not leaving my head. Help help help help help help help
There's something in all of us, that died a little more inside everyday.
A childlike escape, a lost memory, a rememberance of liberation.
Lost amongst the rubble of society and past failures;
I would give anything to remember myself.
It is a sign, a mark for me to remember. This emotion, this surge of creative energy and brainwaves.
Murder in Romanticism;
Like my mother, who loved with all her heart and faced the adolescent fury.
Like all who have been great and kind and had their faces turned away.
Like the ones who never remember, that always forget, that were always forgotten.
Like my blood that will drip unto the floor, much closer than any ties that you call friendship; for I am I and I live for only I.
Like all the times you've loved and had your heart broken and as you writhed silently on the floor; intoxicated with agony and desperation, the beauty of your fighting heart that always fell prey. Becoming a delicate, softened, creature that knew no evil thoughts. The beauty of giving whole heartedly and never wanting anything back in return; with no wanting to take anything but to give your all.
That's what I want to remember, my mark shall be permanent and it shall be bold. But so is something that you barely feel more than twice.
Will I be any more different? Will I be any worse? Will you think of me the same?
Will I be a different son, a different friend, a judged individual?
Splatter your thoughts like a grey paint, collecting on it's canvas.
But I shall take my hands and paint you my heart, with colours, blood and greens and blues.
Till you understand this sanity, the only thing that is keeping myself alive.
The only reality that I can live in.
Perceptions.
They call me an artist, a poet, a writer but all I am is in love. They call me alcoholic, a drug addict, a slave to addiction but all I love is to escape. They call me a freak, a satanic lullaby, a call for attention but all I enjoy is pain, self-mutilation, heavy music and a masochist.
I was inspired by Sony's ad. The one where the guy is a robot and he turns human when someone(conincidentally beautiful) and he turns human(coincidentally beautiful).
I wish we were all robots. A plague on humanity. So we would never judge, we would never compliment. I wish no one had perceptions. I wish I looked just as good as you, I wish I could hold her beautiful hands and walk under the rain without the protection of an umbrella and be soaking wet without a care of the world and their fucking perceptions.
I wish I could kiss your forehead endlessly and never have to worry about the world around you. Fuck killing innocent people in wars, we should be killing perception.
Liberation!
A word all of us have forgotten. A word that comes to us in dreams and wishful thoughts. Do you know what I'm thinking about? Do you feel what I feel? Do you yearn to touch me and hold me? I do, I do, I do. All I'm begging for is to see you again, another 45 minute escapade in a reality that did not exist. Just to see you and hear you again like you never knew how I felt.
I'd hold on to you forever. Like absolution in the mist, something you can't see. I'd hold on.
I think of you so much like a NNB CCB C.A.B
C.A.B = Chao Ah Beng
C.A.B:how ishh euu? i ishh tinkingsss ofz euu lykz crazziiee le.
We ended yesterday on a horrible note. At least worse than the normal goodbye goodnight. I hope everything's fine, I've been driven a little more psycho than usual today. I spent the last hour at my friend's drawing but all the mental images in my mind were of trees and you. So I drew a really scarred tree and another cartoon attempt of you which I must add that is really really horrible. I will never draw nice cartoons, unless I do something really really hardcore extreme abstract. Like stickmen, one boy one girl running around an oak tree in the chilly winter.
You say not to call you a Goddess. You are, and I'm your humble servant so madly in love with you but always hiding her affection in fear of a headless cremation. I don't like my head on stakes and I sure as hell ain't thinking about dying anytime soon.
Schoolwork's crazy(or crazzieezzzz.), I'm short of so much stuff and I won't be finishing tonight for sure. Will probably stretch into the wee hours of 3rd January. Isn't it so much easier to count when it's at the start of the year? Hahaha, I think people get so lost counting up to 30's every month that we forget the days. Well, I haven't forgotten. It's been about 14 days since we first started really talking and I'm still in the craze. You keep me so alive it's almost as though I've never lived. It's been so long since I've felt this way. Oh well, you hate the mushy shit and I shall not chase you away in disgusting affection.
I wonder how's your day been?
I wonder if you're feeling okay or still pissed off.
I just ate, have you eaten yet?
Oh yeah, today a very old secondary school classmate talked to me on msn. I was so shocked, like we haven't had any sort of communication over months and months and all of a sudden she talks to me on msn. Haha, that warm sense of friendly fuddy duddy is in me. She was a good friend, surprising that we got so far apart. She was actually in Singapore Idol but the Top 40 or something like that. But long enough to have been on tv lah. You know Singapore Idol compared to American Idol is so so tame? And so much more entertaining, it's probably the one thing that we can really show ourselves. Besides totally ripping of the show title lah.
My eyes are so tired, I'm gonna nap. Then it's back to my full fledged homework assault, I hope.
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Mutated Fairytale One.
He was always the jovial character, the brightest mark of any glooming day, the blossom of a rotting flower. He was always smiling, to strangers, to friends, from innocent babies with blushing cheeks to old women who stood so brave amongst the train crowd. He was a matyr for all things happy, a soldier fighting humanity's greatest war.
Then, in all too tragic a spiralling twist. He sets eyes on a beautiful flower, one that shook his mind and threw his body in convulsions. She held gazes like a bee to a flower. She walked through the crowds like a neon sign, a shimmering streak of hope to a unfortunate world. She help so much hope in her eyes, so much kindness and neverending goodness. Like an angel, she floated amongst the masses of admirers. Never stopping to allow them the slightest of conversation. He wondered in amazement, even the most dubious of princes and the richest of merchants had not been able to steal away her attention.
He was astounded. Walking away, to the green pastures. The ones that help undulating richer greens and the surface a more sickly, nauseating green. He walked in time, with her on his mind like a magic spell. He saw her running across fields of golden corn, only turning around to ever so playfully taunt him with her eyes. He surges forward in dreamlike ecstacy and glee. They ran about in her acres of garden and floral heavens for hours and hours till the day came to a darkened grey and they left for home.
Smiling he awakes, numbed in sleeping thoughts and the beautiful dream. He realises the pain of waking and the bitter aftertaste it holds. He takes a stroll, he does not believe his weary eyes. There, she is. The flawless flower of beauty, she is sitting in the grass. Her dress dirtied, her cheeks sore, her knees bleeding. He rushes over and helps her to a dry log.
She had been robbed, of her most precious of gifts. Her emerald necklace that had been inherited from her Heavenly heritage. Who would do such audacious acts in Merryland? He wondered in disbelief and amazement. He held her hand but she pushed his away, she was fearful. Oh so fearful of yet another thief, how could anyone have known a thief's face by it's features and expressions? Afterall, couldn't it all have been an act to steal her other jewels or an attempt to kidnap the precious daughter of Merryland?
Then she looked into his eyes and saw his heart. His strength and his good nature. He looked into hers and fell into a dream. Golden dresses with sparkling silk tunics, she had the most beautiful gown of all. Her hair twisting so beautiful around her back in a grace of a Swan, her eyes like doors to the heavens. As she walked, the area behind her darkened till only she could be seen. Everything around her turned dim and there she was. Standing in the lonely light. They danced the night away till their feet grew tired and the wine had brought them a happiness no night had ever witnessed.
He kissed her in farewell and held her close to him. If only he had known, he would have held her closer and would have not let go.
He left home to witness a tragedy that only evil witchery could perforn.
End.
It's 6 and I'm not really that tired since I woke up at like 11?
I want to make a public apology to all that I have forgotten during the passing of 2006. Happy new year guys!May 2007 hold more beer than 2006 did.
I fucking miss Dwayne and bunch. How we used to drink Heineken's(the big coffeeshop bottle) like it was water. 10 each, a bomb spent every single time. How we started discovering this whole world of body modification and tattoos together, how we worked together at Timbre, smacking some slap into the faces of high and mighty. Aiyah, plus we live so near each other.
I also fucking miss my secondary school chums. I wonder how they're doing. Gee, must it always be someone's birthday for us to meet up to chill? I saw Kenneth Liew in the bus in the other day. Everybody's changing so quick. To think we were bloody bitter enemies in a love triangle, to think he actually got Daniel Li to punch me in the face. Gee, Chee Hong has already gotten his bike. I ride the common bus.
Have a great 2nd Jan everybody. I will drown under my homework. Damn it.
5 minutes to midnight!
I was starring at some new clock my Dad bought for me, it has all that big digital numbers and stuff. Pretty cool. I then realised it said 11:55. I was transported in memory to Bedok jetty, yesterday. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh, you made me more happy than I'd ever been.
I'm sorry, I don't have much time. So, it's gonna be easy this one.
Everything's like a crazed painting, splotches of black amongst the pink, messy yellow and white lines on the flower petals. I have so little time left to complete everything and deadlines are coming. Plus Amande just sent me next semester's clay workshop timetable. Gee, will I even make it that far? I wonder. I hope you will understand? I wish I could hear your rants and be there to talk cock with you all day long, trust me I'd rather do this than anything in the whole world. I hope all's fine, stay strong. And besides, you kinda need the time too.
It'll always be you from now on, from which if you were actually even referring to me. I had to take a chance so yeah.
To wire bending and mad sketching!
01/01/2007
I just got up not too long ago. Handphone was a mess, missed calls here and there and most importantly. I missed the message twice! I feel like a stupid midget who stood under the sky as wishing stars flew above my crown and I never had a clue.
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644477777777 99966688 5554445533 266 244 2233664.
Handphone's ringing again.
Oh, tonight is full fledged homework assault!
00:00:00
That was a beautiful, beautiful time. Close to being the most wonderous and fufilling thing that happened in oh so yesterday's 2006. I was in a land of dark skies, falling stars and fiery unicorns. I was trapped but had never felt so free, I was bound but never restricted. Oh, I would love to paint this portrait of a heavenly place with vocabulary but I apologise. My eyes are failing to stay open, my body is wreck with fatigue and my mind is 5 minutes from shutdown.
Let's just say I 'spent' the passing minutes of 2006 and the inception of 2007 with a very special person, over the phonelines. Right now, I love love love love love Starhub for not cutting me off and Sony Ericsson for making phones that last for the most importance of moments. Well, kinda. I could be a real big bitch but I am nice because I am happy.
Here beautiful,
School work preparation is horrible, FIRST ALWAYS HOLDS THE REAL PRIZE.
Make me a writer;
I shall never forget all the times.
Silently, watching the Neverend.
Charismatic in all her charm,
Having been lost in her eyes.
A lullaby to my ears,
,
You expected a lonely poet.
Opposed to reconnection;
Under the starlit nights.
Monstrous, I shall walk again, in, your gaze.
Admidst your starring crowds;
Dis-symmetry.
Escaping, the ogre must hide.
Menancing, your beauty scares.
Empowered by my fear.
Thee have crossed thy admirer's heart.
Hallowed by Cupid's arrow.
Embracing in dancing embarassment.
Harps, hear the harps.
As you watch these golden ribbons;
Persuade forthward.
Persist, I must.
In all that hearts hold, I trust. It;
Emulates the purest of emotions;
So heavy in sadness,
Tilting reversal in glee.
Belong; Who do we?
O' Sweet love.
Your heart holds mine.
To bleeding days;
Oh, we shall embrace.
Darkened nights with chilly howling;
As we watch the moon dying,
You shall then fuel the sun.
