Thursday, December 29, 2011

Quote of the Day

If you can't do anything without money,
Don't you think you have already been enslaved?

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Quote of the Day

When you can't accept the truth
someone tells you.
You tend to payback that person
with some form of hurt.

Mackie: Love is Forever


Pets are for Life.
Be Responsible.


Saturday, December 24, 2011

How Music and Lyrics Saved my Life

I sometimes wonder if musicians, singers and performers know how much of power they have in their hands. I come from a time when there were only 2 TV channels with limited airing time, one English radio channel and Rediffusion, nothing even remotely close to what is known as the internet but arcades which had pinball machines, space invaders and foosball. Some of the best treats I remembered having was to buy a vinyl record only a few months once after accumulating enough pocket money to purchase it. Though my collections were few they were definitely precious. Vinyls was one of those things we used to give as presents on birthdays and celebrations. The thrill of owning a beautifully designed album cover with perhaps only a few songs of your liking was a gift better than anything anyone could appreciate. The idea of getting it home and playing it on the turntable while you sit in the quiet of the room listening to it was just perfect. It was also a time when we could not own, purchase or get every song we listened to because of its availability or cost. In my hometown the record shops had a service, which is now known as piracy, and copy our song selections on cassette tapes for a fee. Other than that the only other way to appreciate songs was from the radio and I always knew when Patrick Teoh, Janet Ambrose, Faridah Merican or Constance Haslam came on air to host my favorite programs. Every Sunday was a feast for the ears because I could spend hours listening to hits from the US, UK and some local favorites. I usually arm myself with a pen and paper to jot down the names of the songs as soon as the DJs read them out and go to the record shop to add them to my collection.

I can still remember the first time I heard ‘Another Bites the Dust’ and how ‘Funky Town’ was a number one hit in both sides of the Atlantic, when two songs with the same title ‘Woman in love’ hit the charts and that one of the DJs used ‘Pilot of the Airwaves’ for her theme song. And on TV my best times were the midnight movies which really did start at midnight or later. I would sneak to the hall and sit as close as I could in front of the TV and watch with the lowest volume so that I won't wake anyone up to chase me back to bed. But as I experienced life and found that I was different from the 'norm' I began to seek for answers everywhere I could find. Along the way, from an innocent kid to one that was filled with depression and confusion, I always went back to the songs to help me get through the day and keep my spirits up. As life got harder for me carry as an adult I drowned myself more into songs and sang along to get the madness out of my system. I guess that is one of the reasons why I love musicals as well because for one they were repeated almost every few months on TV and practically became part of my growing up ritual. And the other thing was the way lyrics were written that seemed to know what I was feeling; like fallinf in love, feeling on top of the world and sticking to one's own beliefs. Once 'I could have danced all night' was my theme song, not because it was a love song but because it was a song of celebration of  life as though one has been given a new lease. To me, it was the kind of song that I would sing when my wish came true, and I did. I still feel that life is a musical whether its a composition from Lerner and Lowe, Rodgers and Hammerstein,Andrew Llyod Webber, Stephen Sondheim, Leonard Bernstein, Cole Porter, Tim Rice, etc.

The thing about liking a song or feeling close to it is the magic it brings at that particular time because it all seem to come togther and make sense. While struggling to get out of myself when I was caught in between worlds I used to sing pretty loudly to Kate Bush's 'Get out of my house' from The Dreaming album aka I've Gone Mad album so says Kate Bush herself. The song was actually inspired by Stephen King's novel The Shining and the lyrics go like this.

(Get out of my house)
No strangers feet
Will enter me
I wash the panes
I clean the stains away.
This house is as old as I am
This house knows all I have done

They come with their weather hanging around them
But can't knock my door down.
With my key I (lock it)
With my key I (lock t)
This house is full of m-m-my mess
This house is full of m-m-mistakes,
This house is full of m-m-madness
This house is full of, full of, full of, full of fight.


It really made me want to kick down the door of existence down and grab it by the throat. The Dreaming is still my favorite beside Hounds of Love, which I used to play full blast on my Walkman while making a deal with God. And it goes like this:

(Running Up That Hill)
It doesn't hurt me.
Do you want to feel how it feels?
Do you want to know, know that it doesn't hurt me?
Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making?
You, It's you and me.

And if I only could,
I'd make a deal with God,
And I'd get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
Be running up that building.
Say, If I only could, oh...


And Cloudbusting always gave me hope.


(Cloudbusting)
But every time it rains,
You're here in my head,
Like the sun coming out--
Ooh, I just know that something good is gonna happen.
And I don't know when,
But just saying it could even make it happen.


When CDs started to flood into the market commercially I purchased my very first which was The Best of Pat Benatar. One of her songs was featured in an underrated movie, so I think, which was a box office failure that garnered a lot of negative reviews. But I loved it and after a long and endless search I found it and rewatched it again recently. The movie, The Legend of Billie Jean, had an anthemic song by Pat Benatar call 'Invincible' that served as the music score and eventually built up to the grand finale to a underdog victory a la Joan of Arc.

(Invincible)
This bloody road remains a mystery.
This sudden darkness fills the air.
 
What are we waiting for?
Won't anybody help us?
What are we waiting for?
We can't afford to be innocent
stand up and face the enemy.
It's a do or die situation - we will be invincible.

This shattered dream you cannot justify.
We're gonna scream until we're satisfied.
What are we running for ? 

We've got the right to be angry.
What are we running for when there's nowhere we can run to anymore?
We can't afford to be innocent
stand up and face the enemy.
It's a do or die situation - we will be invincible.
And with the power of conviction there is no sacrifice.
It's a do or die situation - we will be invincible.


Each time I watch this movie I want to scream out and sing along with Pat Benatar and start a revolution. Well, that's saying so much about how songs really influence me. Heart is also my muse, or rather muses since they are Ann and Nancy Wilson. Just listening to their voices is enough for me to get by and believe since the sisters kickass like nobody's business. Whenever I hear their songs like ‘Never’, ‘What about love?’, ‘Alone’, ‘Who Will You Run To?’, and then some I know I can do anything.

Jim Steinmen is so far the one and only songwriter that I love best for his lyrics but I occasionally would buy into a Diane Warren’s compositions. His usual mouthful of poetic verses is quite a challenge to sing but if you love his creation you'd do anything for love.


(Tonight is what it means to be Young)
I've got a dream when the darkness is over
We'll be lyin' in the rays of the sun
But it's only a dream and tonight is for real
You'll never know what it means
But you'll know how it feels
It's gonna be over (over)
Before you know it's begun
(Before you know it's begun)

It's all we really got tonight
Stop your cryin' hold on (tonight)
Before you know it it's gone (tonight)
Tonight is what it means to be young
Tonight is what it means to be young


‘Tonight is what it means to be young’ was featured in the movie Streets of Fire: A Rock & Roll Fable, which again is cheesy and a little out dated but worth a watch.

After having gone through life's many complicated facets with the help of these god-sent angels, I have now mellowed down to Sting, Peter Gabriel, Bryan Ferry, Kim Carnes, Andre Bocelli, Fleetwood Mac and other veteran crooners, although I still get disco (yes I actually like these kitschy songs), new wave, rock, R&B, oldies and instrumentals in my random play. Depending on what I feel like at the moment I could be baptized by ambient music, soundtracks or show tunes and then go on to classical and opera and jump to a completely different genre. The impact of songs is so great I can't imagine a world without them whether they are ridiculous or superficial or morally guided. I'm sure many of us cried our eyes out, danced like monkeys, sang like there's no tomorrow, dedicated songs to each other or made them theme songs in our lives at least once.

If you were an artiste and you know that your songs change lives would you hesitate even for a moment to showcase your best works for the world to hear?

Quote of the Day

If you are living a miserable life
you know deep in your heart
you still haven't forgiven yourself
for what you've done in the past.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

My Dearest Friend

Hey,
I'd like to let you know that
I cannot be your friend anymore.
I hope you are alright with it
since I am going to be truthful and sincere.
It's not that I don't like you or
find you unpleasant.
But I realize I have grown
and change with the times.
I no longer wish to discriminate anyone
for being who they are,
I am through with comparing
the color of my skin
and the greatness of my religion.
I don't want to take any political stand
just because someone wants me to,
I can make that decision on my own.
I know we used to find stray animals disgusting
and how we sometimes hurt them for fun.
I have grown out of that ignorance
and I love animals more than I ever had before.
I am gradually moving into vegetarianism,
I don't need meat to satisfy my hunger anymore.
I can do without steak or bacon or pork roast
for I simply enjoy vegetables as fresh as I can get them.
My career days are over since I no longer
need an expensive lifestyle.
I don't want to chase something that isn't making me happy.
And I have no need for wealth beyond my dreams
because I have no intention to claim
a piece of earth and call it mine.
My weekly shopping days are no more a necessity
and my collection of bags and shoes and dresses are long gone.
I do with what I can and prefer to recycle hand me downs.
My taste for the nightlife has simmered down too.
All of a sudden I have no need for noise in the nightspots
and I prefer the peace and quiet in the home.
I have also learned to love the silence of good company,
I guess we have grown apart
and I appreciate your friendship all these years.
But I don't want to compromise myself
for the sake of keeping a friend.
I may have enjoyed dissing someone we knew
or cutting a stranger down to size
but it doesn't make sense to me anymore.
I don't need to do all those to be happy,
I don't have to follow a set of rules
created by people who doesn't know me
or understand me or think of my well being.
I know it's not my place to tell anyone to change
that's why I have to move on and tell you
I can no longer be your friend.
It was great while it lasted
but I need to find my way
through this sometimes bleak and demoralizing world
with an open mind and a heart inspired by
the very core of my spirit.
I enjoy beautiful things more than I wish to see them ugly
if you know what I mean.
Maybe someday our paths would cross again
but until then I wish you well
and I wish you everything that you ever ask for.
Love,
someone
who used to be a friend.

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Look Up to the Night

I watch the sky at night,
looking at the stars,
the constellations,
the wonderment.
Observing the lights
that twinkle,
that are stationary,
that passes.
I look at the clouds,
the moon,
the darkness.
Breathtaking,
magnificent,
mesmerising.
Beyond reach
from the stains
of people down below.
No one,
not many,
looks up
anymore.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Into the life of the Living

As I walk along Gurney Drive
I hear voices
and sounds
people make to
be understood,
to be accepted,
to be comforted,
to be a part of that whole
business of belonging.
Talks of devastation,
discussions of passion,
calls for trades,
exchanges of ideas,
proposals that matter
and disposals of troubling anguish.
Through cell phones,
with lovers,
among friends,
a nod to strangers
and a gesture all alone.
The sea is calm,
the tide is out,
the moon hangs down
like a lantern
in the ebony sky.
Everyone had their meals,
everything's in its place,
everybody's walking
to wear away the excess
of their baggages.
They didn't see it
although they knew it.
They didn't hear it
although it was jarring.
They didn't feel it
although they scratch themselves silly.
But they will soon taste the saltiness,
and smell the fear
that they have buried
in the shallow graves
of their unrest.

Friday, December 2, 2011

Quote of the Day

For the self-righteous:
What you do now determines who you are today,
What you do tomorrow has yet to determine who you are

For the ignorant:
Shut the fuck up and do it already!

For those who already know but need a gentle reminder:
What you don't do today will still not get done tomorrow

A Glimmer of Hope





 

As bad as situations are in the whole world, thank goodness
there's still a glimmer of hope from the heavens.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Monday, November 28, 2011

The City's not my Home

The city's not my home.
Not the heavy thundering traffic
that crawl from day to night
from road to road
blocking street to street
and zooming highways and byways.
Not the smog and haze and cough mixture
of frustration and aggravation and indecision.
Not the unscheduled transports
that grind my hours into days
to get something done
while getting nothing done.
The runaround and the merry-go-round
and the screw around of that awful sound.
The city's not my home
where trees are uprooted to make way for cars,
to widen roads and to dig more tunnels.
Nature is obliterated, annihilated and eradicated.
For houses, for mansions, for condos
for those who pay with lies and deceit.
The city's not my home,
that's why I've gone back to the town
where trees are abundant,
wildlife is plentiful,
air is invigorating,
and humans are few.
But how long will my home last
before someone bludgeons
it with the grief of the city,
the agony of triviality,
and the vile smell of pride?

Bee having a go at a Rambutan




Kingfisher up in the Rambutan tree

Rambuts rambuts everywhere



Thursday, November 24, 2011

Quote of the Day

Art is beautiful when it comes from the heart
but when you slap a price tag to it and start the bidding war
it can be one of the most irrational things you'll ever see

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Monday, November 21, 2011

Be not a Hypocrite unto Thyself

Love the sinner but hate the sin; well ain't that the biggest bullshit ever.
It's like a vegetarian saying I'm vegetarian but I like chicken soup.
It's like you lover saying 'I respect you too much to want to have sex with you'.
It's like the man who tells his daughter not to say the word 'fuck' but he goes and cheat on his wife.
It's like a woman who hates the word 'bitch' but that is exactly what she calls other women she hates.
It's like a believer of god saying 'I tolerate other religions' but he prays for them to convert.
It's like the pious telling you not to use god's name in vain and yells 'Oh God, Oh God!' when having sex.
It's like politicians telling you they care for you and spend all your money on their monthly vacation.
It's like the government hugging you but screwing you at the same time.
It's like saying I hate his pedophilic acts but we'll ignore it since he's a priest.
It's like a man saying 'I'm not gay, but I get really excited when I see naked men'.

I'm just sayin' it...

The untold story of Madam Lai Kwan

Where is your heart Mitshubishi? Where is your heart?

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Quote of the day

When you are ignorant
your world remains belligerent

Quote of the Day

Once you are a victim, 
there's a great chance that you might become the perpetrator

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Save the Internet!

http://www.avaaz.org/en/save_the_internet/?tta

It always starts with something small and then before you know it it's 1984 all over again. Or Equilibruim or Fahrenheit 451 or Gattaca or THX 1138.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

How much do you Love Someone?

I was sitting in my sister's room working on my laptop on a makeshift table rewriting the Inspector Dores Mystery when the rains came unexpectedly. My father came in from the opposite room to close one of the windows that was most likely to let in the rain. Since the windows were tinted my father switched on the lights for me when it got a little darker and walked away.

I was so moved by his gesture it reminded me of 'Christmas Day in the Morning' by Pearl S. Buck. (http://www.allthingschristmas.com/stories/InTheMorning.html) If you've never read this small but inspiring story you must must give it a go. It will make you a better person whether you want it to or not.

And if you truly love someone with all your heart remember it is always the small things that matter. Below is the story:


Christmas Day in the Morning
By Pearl S. Buck

He woke suddenly and completely. It was four o'clock, the hour at which his father had always called him to get up and help with the milking. Strange how the habits of his youth clung to him still! Fifty years ago, and his father had been dead for thirty years, and yet he waked at four o'clock in the morning. He had trained himself to turn over and go to sleep, but this morning it was Christmas, he did not try to sleep.

Why did he feel so awake tonight? He slipped back in time, as he did so easily nowadays. He was fifteen years old and still on his father's farm. He loved his father. He had not known it until one day a few days before Christmas, when he had overheard what his father was saying to his mother.

"Mary, I hate to call Rob in the mornings. He's growing so fast and he needs his sleep. If you could see how he sleeps when I go in to wake him up! I wish I could manage alone."

"Well, you can't, Adam." His mother's voice was brisk. "Besides, he isn't a child anymore. It's time he tok his turn."

"Yes," his father said slowly. "But I sure do hate to wake him."

When he heard these words, something in him spoke: his father loved him! He had never thought of that before, taking for granted the tie of their blood. Neither his father nor his mother talked about loving their children--they had no time for such things. There was always so much to do on the farm.

Now that he knew his father loved him, there would be no loitering in the mornings and having to be called again. He got up after that, stumbling blindly in his sleep, and pulled on his clothes, his eyes shut, but he got up.

And then on the night before Christmas, that year when he was fifteen, he lay for a few minutes thinking about the next day. They were poor, and most of the excitement was in the turkey they had raised themselves and mince pies his mother made. His sisters sewed presents and his mother and father always bought him something he needed, not only a warm jacket, maybe, but something more, such as a book. And he saved and bought them each something, too.

He wished, that Christmas when he was fifteen, he had a better present for his father. As usual he had gone to the ten-cent store and bought a tie. It had semed nice enough until he lay thinking the night before Christmas. He looked out of his attic window, the stars were bright.

"Dad," he had once asked when he was a little boy, "What is a stable?"

"It's just a barn," his father had replied, "like ours."

Then Jesus had been born in a barn, and to a barn the shepherds had come...

The thought struck him like a silver dagger. Why should he not give his father a special gift too, out there in the barn? He could get up early, earlier than four o'clock, and he could creep into the barn and get all the milking done. He'd do it alone, milk and clean up, and then when his father went in to start the milking he'd see it all done. And he would know who had done it. He laughed to himself as he gazed at the stars. It was what he would do, and he musn't sleep too sound.

He must have waked twenty times, scratching a match to look each time to look at his old watch -- midnight, and half past one, and then two o'clock.

At a quarter to three he got up and put on his clothes. He crept downstairs, careful of the creaky boards, and let himself out. The cows looked at him, sleepy and surprised. It was early for them, too.

He had never milked all alone before, but it seemed almost easy. He kept thinking about his father's surprise. His father would come in and get him, saying that he would get things started while Rob was getting dressed. He'd go to the barn, open the door, and then he'd go get the two big empty milk cans. But they wouldn't be waiting or empty, they'd be standing in the milk-house, filled.

"What the--," he could hear his father exclaiming.

He smiled and milked steadily, two strong streams rushing into the pail, frothing and fragrant.

The task went more easily than he had ever known it to go before. Milking for once was not a chore. It was something else, a gift to his father who loved him. He finished, the two milk cans were full, and he covered them and closed the milk-house door carefully, making sure of the latch.

Back in his room he had only a minute to pull off his clothes in the darkness and jump into bed, for he heard his father up. He put the covers over his head to silence his quick breathing. The door opened.

"Rob!" His father called. "We have to get up, son, even if it is Christmas."

"Aw-right," he said sleepily.

The door closed and he lay still, laughing to himself. In just a few minutes his father would know. His dancing heart was ready to jump from his body.

The minutes were endless -- ten, fifteen, he did not know how many -- and he heard his father's footsteps again. The door opened and he lay still.

"Rob!"

"Yes, Dad--"

His father was laughing, a queer sobbing sort of laugh.

"Thought you'd fool me, did you?" His father was standing by his bed, feeling for him, pulling away the cover.

"It's for Christmas, Dad!"

He found his father and clutched him in a great hug. He felt his father's arms go around him. It was dark and they could not see each other's faces.

"Son, I thank you. Nobody ever did a nicer thing--"

"Oh, Dad, I want you to know -- I do want to be good!" The words broke from him of their own will. He did not know what to say. His heart was bursting with love.

He got up and pulled on his clothes again and they went down to the Christmas tree. Oh what a Christmas, and how his heart had nearly burst again with shyness and pride as his father told his mother and made the younger children listen about how he, Rob, had got up all by himself.

"The best Christmas gift I ever had, and I'll remember it, son every year on Christmas morning, so long as I live."

They had both remembered it, and now that his father was dead, he remembered it alone: that blessed Christmas dawn when, alone with the cows in the barn, he had made his first gift of true love.

This Christmas he wanted to write a card to his wife and tell her how much he loved her, it had been a long time since he had really told her, although he loved her in a very special way, much more than he ever had when they were young. He had been fortunate that she had loved him. Ah, that was the true joy of life, the ability to love. Love was still alive in him, it still was.

It occured to him suddenly that it was alive because long ago it had been born in him when he knew his father loved him. That was it: Love alone could awaken lovve. And he ccould give the gift again and again.This morning, this blessed Christmas morning, he would give it to his beloved wife. He could write it down in a letter for her to read and keep forever. He went to his desk and began his love letter to his wife: My dearest love...

A Lesson in Life from 127 Hours

This rock...this rock has been waiting for me my entire life. It's entire life. Ever since it was a bit of meteorite a million, billion years ago. There in space. It's been waiting, to come here. Right, right here. I've been moving towards it my whole life. The minute I was born, every breath I've taken, every action has been leading me to this crack on the out surface.
127 hours is a biopic about a man, Aron Ralston, who got his hand stuck in a rock. You might wonder what is so great about a movie like this. Well, for one it has James Franco in it, and two, it's deeper than you can imagine. Like the quotation above many of us go about our lives doing everything that we can to reach this 'rock' of ours and when we finally do we ask the wrong question: Why me? instead of the right one: Why did I want to come here?

What I Learned Today: The Day Frank lost his Miller

http://frankmillerink.com/2011/11/anarchy

From the horse's mouth on the Occupy movement:
“Occupy” is nothing but a pack of louts, thieves, and rapists, an unruly mob, fed by Woodstock-era nostalgia and putrid false righteousness.

This is no popular uprising. This is garbage.

...go home to your parents, you losers.
 Is this the first sign of dementia?

Monday, November 14, 2011

Occupying that little space called Earth

Sometimes I get so disgusted with people who tell me they spend RM500 on a dress or RM200 on their hair or RM1500 on a hand phone or RM800 on food or something or rather that they are so proud of to have spent that kind of money for their pleasure. Knowing that some families could survive for a few months with RM1000 makes me sick when I hear all these. Maybe that's why I'm such a misanthrope, finding fewer and fewer people I want to be friends with and who want to be friends with me.

I live in a low cost apartment in PJ where most families are of the low income group and foreigners who share an entire apartment with 3 bedrooms or a shop lot with only a hall. Their meals are simple and life is purely survival. Since the exterior of the apartment is something getting used to, because of the filth, I realise I am able to move out of the place anytime I feel like it, which is by end of this year. But when I see families who are stuck there for more reasons than one I feel so disheartened by this so called distribution of wealth and where the line of poverty is drawn. No one knows the true facts and figures because they are all hyped up or watered down.Where is the assistance? Where is the education?

Eating meat is still considered a luxury and especially the poor are duped into buying them to supplement a decent meal. Also, unnecessary purchases of commercial products which serve no purpose, are drummed into their heads to make it top priority. Most of the people at the apartment where I live don't speak English and life is a day to day endurance just to make ends meet.

While I myself find it difficult to contribute a solution I know this imbalance is going to tip over one day. So is it any wonder why http://www.occupytogether.org exist?

What I Learned Today: Exploding Head Syndrome

http://www.sleepassociation.org/index.php?p=explodingheadsyndrome
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exploding_head_syndrome

I just found out that there is such a thing known as this. The syndrome itself sounds like a title of a horror story or movie. Perhaps I will write a story based on this incredible condition. Isn't science wonderful? I mean dreadful.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

What I Learned Today: Tanka

Tanka: A form of Japanese poetry; the 1st and 3rd lines have five syllables and the 2nd, 4th, and 5th have seven syllables (Wordweb)

http://tankaonline.com/
http://tankasocietyofamerica.com/index.htm

I look through the lens
of someone's eyes like my own
but I cannot see
with the blood of animals
and the tears of fallen trees

Friday, November 11, 2011

What I Learned Today: The Great Embrace

Today is the second wave of the Great Embrace.

http://www.globalintentionsforearth.org/111111gateway.htm

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Farid & the Supernatural Sleuths in the making


Illustrated cover by Edwin Kho. A planned children's novels/animation series.

Dreams: Doors & Levels

I was invited to a house with many doors and levels. Some doors were slightly ajar but some were locked. There were shows, performances, artist's gallery, studios, kitchens and cafeterias. People were moving everywhere in haste. I took a walk to see my ex students staging a play and got lost in the maze of corridors. And I couldn't find my way back. I tried every door I could see but it was always the wrong one until I saw this man who came out of a very inconspicuous door which lead me back to where I was going. He told me to lock it well because it was a secret door that none should use as a shortcut.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

What's Your Purpose?

Why was I born with a crooked spine?
I ask myself sometimes.
It makes it hard for me to sit upright,
It makes it hard for me to stand for long.
At night when I sleep, I toss and turn
to find the right spot to catch a cradle song.
I wake up with a variety of headaches
That range from subtle throbs to loquacious poundings,
My bowels are always a constant battle,
Cos' moving it always needs a little coaxing.
I've always believed in purposes in our lives,
Be it a simple gesture of love or compassion.
While we carry baggage of all shapes and sizes,
The end comes sooner than we'd like to imagine.
Despite pain or agony some people strive for gold,
Making life easier for you and me and all the rest.
But sometimes, comes someone, who makes it old,
As though life is nothing but a series of mandatory tests.
What's your purpose, where do you go?
Do you have a home, how far do you roam?
What's your purpose, what do you do?
Do you strip someone naked to see his hue?
What's your purpose, do you want to be a superstar?
Do you spread joy or do you leave behind scars?
What's your purpose, are you timid or are you bold?
Would it make any difference if you were born without a soul?

Monday, November 7, 2011

An Interview with my Desire

http://latitudes.nu/interview-with-julya-oui-author-of-bedtime-stories-from-the-dead-of-the-night/

Thanks Melissa.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Today we Begin

Some days you see the light coming through your window,
Some days you see darkness that leaves you with all its horror.
Sometimes you just want to stay in bed and fornicate with sorrow,
But some days you want to wake up to a new day and live forever.

These are the days
These are the times
You decide to make
You decide to break

News of dying and news of death
News of the wealthy and news of health
Songs of sadness and songs of love
Can you sing when your heart's about to burst?

Some nights are made of dreams and creations,
Some nights are nightmarish and filled with indignation.
Some of us are full of fire and generous with our desires,
Some of us all watered down and quickly to fold and retire.

These are the days gone bad.
These are the times gone sour.
Your option is to be happy or to be sad,
You can count them in minutes or by the hour.

News of madness, news of insanity,
News of progress, news of calamity.
Mother Nature is simple and all that she is,
But human nature is marked with some kind of disease.

Some days I'm a grouch with the world on my shoulders,
Some days I'm an angel of hope to all the lovers,
Some days we begin to love and understand,
Today we can start by listening and just be a friend.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

What I Learned Today: People do change

I read in the news article about a reformed skinhead and found the story amazing and inspiring.

http://news.yahoo.com/reformed-skinhead-endures-agony-remove-tattoos-162205881.html

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Today there may be something,
May be nothing.
It's the beginning,
it's the end,
It's somewhere between
an insight or a sacm,
a hype or a plan.
What do I know?
What do you know?
I'm a dashboard blogger,
You're a roadblock warrior
and we both make a team
Of human hoggers.
Now that I am,
Now that you are.
How much is enough for you?
How little do you share?
Everything is just pure madness
When your life is incomplete.
Still, a smile is a smile & a kiss is a kiss,
Oh, isn't that so magnificently sweet?

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

What I Learned Today: 28th Oct 2011

This is the end of the creation cycle and not 21st Dec 2012 like how we were lead to believe. This Friday is when we reach Zero Point. So what does this mean?

Comet Elenin?
Financial crash?
Frequency increase?
Countries going bankrupt?
More natural disasters?
Personal changes, heightened consciousness, higher level of frequency vibration, more compassion?
The arrival of the flying spaghetti monster? (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flying_Spaghetti_Monster)

You decided. Isn't it time to love that someone you have been neglecting?

Monday, October 17, 2011

What I Learned Today: The Voluntary Human Extinction Movement

www.vhemt.org

I was researching about human genocide and massacres when this site popped up in the search. I was always thinking about the same ideology - for an unwritten scifi novel which I was planning - and now I believe I am not alone. I love the way they answer all the frequently asked questions which makes a lot of sense to me but I doubt if everyone would agree.

And I love their motto : 'Live long and die out' and would have loved to attend their talk 'Thank you for not breeding' if I ever get a chance.

Now, how cool is that?

Sunday, October 16, 2011

What I Learned Today: The 100th Monkey Phenomenon

Extract from http://www.wowzone.com/100th.htm:


The Japanese monkey, Macaca fuscata, has been observed in the wild for a period of over 30 years.
In 1952, on the island of Koshima scientists were providing monkeys with sweet potatoes dropped in the sand. The monkeys liked the taste of the raw sweet potatoes, but they found the dirt unpleasant.
An 18-month-old female named Imo found she could solve the problem in a nearby stream. She taught this trick to her mother. Her playmates also learned this new way and they taught their mothers, too.
This cultural innovation was gradually picked up by various monkeys before the eyes of the scientists.
Between 1952 and 1958, all the young monkeys learned to wash the sandy sweet potatoes to make them more palatable.
Only the adults who imitated their children learned this social improvement. Other adults kept eating the dirty sweet potatoes.
Then something startling took place. In the autumn of 1958, a certain number of Koshima monkeys were washing sweet potatoes — the exact number is not known.
Let us suppose that when the sun rose one morning there were 99 monkeys on Koshima Island who had learned to wash their sweet potatoes.
Let's further suppose that later that morning, the hundredth monkey learned to wash potatoes.
THEN IT HAPPENED!
By that evening almost everyone in the tribe was washing sweet potatoes before eating them.
The added energy of this hundredth monkey somehow created an ideological breakthrough!
But notice.
A most surprising thing observed by these scientists was that the habit of washing sweet potatoes then jumped over the sea —
Colonies of monkeys on other islands and the mainland troop of monkeys at Takasakiyama began washing their sweet potatoes!*
(*Lifetide by Lyall Watson, pp. 147-148. Bantam Books 1980. This book gives other fascinating details.)
Thus, when a certain critical number achieves an awareness, this new awareness may be communicated from mind to mind.
Although the exact number may very, the Hundredth Monkey Phenomenon means that when only a limited number of people know of a new way, it may remain the consciousness property of these people.
But there is a point at which if only one more person tunes-in to a new awareness, a field is strengthened so that this awareness is picked up by almost everyone!

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Be Ready

It's how you define yourself.
It's how you want to see the world.
It's how you judge the good and bad,
draw the line between right and wrong.
Everyone can tell you everything
but you determine what you want to do with it.
It's your choice.
If you want to follow
that is also a choice.
If you want to be blind
you choose it for a reason.
No one can screw you up
as much as you can screw yourself.
Your ultimatum is the way
you keep tab of yourself.
Your indecision is just another
reminder of your disillusionment.
And your diabolical mind
is just a playground for the
demons you have raised.
It's how you see life for what it is
and not meddle with other people's.
But if you choose to be
what you've become.
Be ready to accept the rewards
or pay the price.

Monday, October 3, 2011

Thought of the day

It's always the same - the sun comes up and the hours slip by. The noise that the people make in the morning to let everyone know that they are alive and preparing to make good of themselves for the day. The noise from the machineries and mad-made gadgets, and the sound of inaudible voices vibrating through the silent air. It makes me wonder where this is all going. It makes me sit at my corner and sip a hot drink and look out the window to see high rises blocking my view of the sky. It makes me ponder on how long more I want to be around all these. Around things that agitate my tranquillity and shake my heart with irresolution.

How you turn the world

Are you happy now? Are you so elated, so exhilarated, so utterly rapturous that you put someone down today? Just because they are different from what you believe yourself to be? Are you and your god celebrating the death of a person who took his own life because you had a part in it? You put them down with name calling, with your ideals and values, with your principles, with your  narcissistic beliefs and your laws and governance. Are you happy now that you have driven someone to death because of all this?

Last night someone committed suicide. Last night someone was killed. Last night someone died for no apparent reason. Last night you murdered someone with your selfishness and you continuing living because of that. How the world turns for you. How you turn the world.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Extract from Lamia

there is this time,
a time of loss ...
somehwere between achievement
& failure in life's course.
a moment of quiet voidness,
somekind of uncomprehended noises;
an evening transcending into night
& the darkness condescending upon us.
a walk through chambers of nothingness ...
rooms without doors.
nothing becomes logical,
nothing to be perceived,
in the limitations of our psyche,
a time loss consumes our cries.
what are we most afraid of?
what fear do burn?
it's of course
an origin of the timescare elements

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Read at your own risk

Disconnecting the Dotted Line

It goes like this.
Take this pen
and dot by hand
lines that lead you somewhere.
It can spread like a disease,
take a form
or be what it is.
If you know Georges Seurat
you may want to know
he started this genre
call pointillism.
But today it's known
as stippling too
if you're not into
that kind of religion.
Or hell it's just doodling
while you're bored out of your head
and if it doesn't satisfy you
you could use lines instead.
Once you're done
the dots could mean
fold or tear
or simply you're not all up there.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

And then there were Five

I counted them
one,
two,
three,
four,
five,
and asked where's the six.
But
they told me
there was
only five
all
along.
Are you sure?
I asked.
They nod
and agree
unanimously,
There are only five,
always have been,
and always will be.
But I knew
there was one more
deep within
the recesses of
their belly
since one of them
burped.

Here's the poster, here's the deal


As far as I know it's yet to be available but do come back and check.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Unbelievable! It's finally out.

                             

One of the first manuscripts I had to look at was this collection of short, disturbingly creepy stories by Julya Oui. It's publication was stalled for months for one reason or another.

What a relief it was when we finally passed the manuscript to the printers.

According to Oui (pun-tastic surname!), the stories were written and compiled over a number of years, way back when. So there were marked differences in... quality. I could only imagine how old she was when she first started.

I worked on it for a total of over two months. It was a... challenging assignment, partly because I'm not a fan of horror or the macabre. But Oui's imagination's like... whoa. Every few pages, I'd ask myself, "What does she smoke? Think I might want some." Sadly, I don't and can't smoke.

Creepiness abounds in the pages. Upset with her own life and angry at the world, a girl kills herself in the dead of night, adamant that nothing could be worse than the cold embrace of death - and is soon proven wrong. Over and over again.

A priest who laments his flock's disinterest in confessing their sins gets more than he bargains for when a prominent, well-respected member of society walks into the confession booth and opens up about his terrible hidden sin.

A thunderstorm traps a quarrelsome quartet in a mansion with a sprawling front yard filled with derelict vehicles. However, it soon becomes evident that there's something sentient - and sinister - about the roof over their heads.

For a reclusive unfortunate, the shadows between the trees ringing his home harbour a darkness from a violent war-torn past. Elsewhere, an overworked executive is haunted by the scarred, grotesque figure of a laughing vagrant.

A man who would do anything - yes, "anything" - for a million bucks is challenged by an extremely wealthy old man whose idea of "anything" is far worse than any Fear Factor challenge ever devised. For a country girl seeking her fortunes in the city, the harsh reality of the rat race is only the beginning of her nightmare.

Justice comes to a belligerent and cruel robber-rapist in an unexpected, yet most appropriate and macabre manner when he picks the wrong victim. An erotic dance of a different kind in a dim, squalid parlour (are those bloodstains on the walls?) leads a woman to a place she doesn't want to go - or does she?


Julya Oui loves a good story, and writes to appease her imagination and reaffirm her sanity. She loves dreaming up things and making them come alive with the stroke of her pen. Gazing at the night skies, listening to trees, and taking long walks are just some of the things she enjoys doing when she is not lost in the alternate realm. ...Whoa.

Bedtime Stories from the Dead of Night, her first book, came off the presses a couple of days ago, which means it'll be about several weeks before they hit the shelves at all major bookstores.

Just in time for Halloween.


Bedtime Stories from the Dead of Night
Julya Oui
MPH Group Publishing (2011)
218 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-967-5222-64-1

Monday, September 5, 2011

Quote of the day

If you are able to love everything about yourself
then only will you be able
to love others without judgment

Friday, July 29, 2011

I dream of Cormorants

One morning, before I woke, I dreamt of a flock of cormorants, which was entangled in a net, flying by and then perching on a tree. I told a friend who was on the phone with me and explained to her what a cormorant was. I got help from some old friends and we headed for the tree but no one did anything. Everyone was waiting for everyone else. When I asked why nothing was done, someone said they were waiting for another friend. Another person told me they couldn't find the right scissors to cut the net. I got a little frustrated of waiting and the excuses and started to walk to the birds to free them myself. And then I woke.





This is a cormorant.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Urbanscapes within spools

 And so the spool...


Into the night...
That grew out of love...


And into this sight...


The Tree of Life...

Look ... our hands ... such sheer delight...

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Goodbye Abroko

19 May 1974 - 14 July 2011
 
 
The first time I met him I couldn't get his name right until someone spelled it our for me. I knew him as Abroko but I later learned that he was also Avroco. I thought his name was unique and his character was far from anyone I knew. His soft spoken personality amazed me since I knew he was quite the rocker and punk. And for the times he made me laugh with his silly antics, I am grateful to have known someone so special. Have a wonderful after life the way you know how and thanks for being a part of the artistic circle of life.

AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH

Press Statement by Doctors on tear gas and chemical laced water were shot into the compounds of Tung Shin and Chinese Maternity

by BERSIH 2.0 [OFFICIAL] on Wednesday, July 13, 2011 at 9:46pm
AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH

We, the undersigned  doctors, wish not to enter into the polemics of the Bersih 2.0 march on 9th July 2011 but would like to clarify the inconvenient truth.

We are outraged at the incidents, and the subsequent responses  from the authorities, to the events where tear gas and chemical laced water were shot into the compounds of Tung Shin and Chinese Maternity Hospitals, two adjacent buildings along Jalan Pudu, Kuala Lumpur, with scant regard  for the safety of patients, staff and the general public who were at the buildings  that afternoon.

Hospitals  are considered  as safe sanctuaries for all, even during war times, but these consecrated places of refuge and protection were violated by the defence forces that afternoon.  Police even entered the buildings in search of some of these peaceful marchers.  What was most frightening and witnessed by many  was the unprovoked violent assault within the hospital compounds and apprehension of several protesters who had merely run into the hospitals to seek shelter from the tear gas and the water cannons!

It is repulsive that the authorities entrusted with policing the nation and protecting the weak and needy, have shamelessly denied publicly, the occurrence  of these incidents  IN SPITE of countless photo/video and eye witness accounts of what was evident to all independent observers.

A few of the undersigned were actually visiting or working in the hospitals concerned at the time of the events and will gladly provide sworn affidavits, if required, as to veracity of the incidents

The Malaysian public expect holders of high public office to honour their positions accorded by the citizens, by discharging their duties with moral integrity, dignity  and transparency.

Their failure to do so raises the public's  doubts in their competence and credibilty as much as it demeans those high offices.



Dr Ng Kwee Boon - Consultant Obstetrician & Gynaecologist
Datin Dr Low Paik See - Consultant Paediatrician
Dato’ Dr Musa Mohd Nordin - Consultant Paediatrician & Neonatologist
Dr Mazeni Alwi - Consultant Paediatric Cardiologist
Dr David Quek - Consultant Cardiologist
Dr Sheikh Johari Bux - Consultant Obstetrician & Gynaecologist
Dr Steve Wong - Consultant Plastic Surgeon
Dr Ahmad Farouk Musa - Consultant Cardiothoracic Surgeon
Dr Ng Swee Choon - Consultant Cardiologist

Sunday, July 10, 2011

There was a 'Bersih' event and the fan fell on me...

Yesterday was the first day of my art exhibition. It was really hot under the tent and I was restless. So I got up to walk around as much as I could to keep from drowning in my own perspiration. Since my next door neighbor was the watercolor society and a master was at work I decided to mosey over yonder to get a glimpse of an artists at work. Just as I stepped inside the tent I felt something hitting me really hard on my left shoulder and I wondered if there someone actually did that like an old friend doing the friendship whack on the back.

Everyone around gazed at me as though I was some kind of a sideshow attraction when I realized they were stunned and shocked out of their system at an incident which could have been worse than a scratch on my shoulder. This guy kept asking me if I was okay and his ashen face was enough to tell me what he must have seen. After a moment of shock myself I piece the entire thing together upon seeing the fan on the floor just inches away from me. I still didn't make much fuss about it but the people wanted to really make sure I was okay. I looked for signs and felt a little stinging on the shoulder and found a superficial scrap on my left calf. Other than that I was unharmed. What a thing to remember on my first art exhibition. The organizers were so afraid of what could have happened to me that they kept appologizing every chance they get. One even suggested I could have been beheaded by this freak accident but it gave me only more ideas for a horror story.



I was also thinking very much about the Bersih 2.0 rally happening simultaneously within the city limits while I was feeling hot and restless with loud music blaring throughout the flower fest. I couldn't help but wonder if my friends were there and if they were okay. If everything was under control or everything was chaotic and frightening. I kept asking for divine intevention or was it alien intervention to help ease the people's march for a cause they believe in. I don't know what the future holds now but I know it can be good ... only if everyone wants it to be.