Christmas Horror

Hope season approaches as we pack shopping centers in search of the coolest gifts in town between 10 and 15 bucks for the exchange come 25th. Mall music blare songs by artists of all kinds, setting us in the mood for the last holiday of the year. Then there was one, very very disturbing song. Almost horrific. 

As the song plays I couldn't help but wonder the visuals going through the writers head when he/she wrote it, whoever that may be. 


I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus
Underneath the mistletoe last night 

She didn't see me creep
Down the stairs to have a peep 

She thought that I was tucked up in my bedroom fast asleep 
Then I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus 

Underneath his beard so snowy white
Oh, what a laugh it would have been 

If Daddy had only seen
Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night 


Imagine your kids coming up to you, and with pride in their faces, belches this song out at the top of their lungs. Imagine if they actually understood the meaning of the song, that Mommy was a whoring bitch and Santa a two-timing bastard. 


If Daddy had seen Mommy kissing Santa Claus, they'd file for custody over your damned soul the very next day. 


Merry Christmas everyone

I have a Disease

i have a disease. i've been having it for as long as i can remember. a disease. i can feel it in me. sometimes strong sometimes weak. it reacts to my emotions. it reacts to my movements. it's uncontrollable. it grows. it feeds. it takes over. the disease takes over.

it craves for things. it craves for easy. it craves for all things easy. it craves for life and death and winning and losing and being at the highest and falling to the lowest. it is a disease. it eats me consumes me devours me. i fight it but i lose. every time i fight it i lose. i am weak. weaker than the disease. weaker than myself. weaker than my inheritance. i give up. but i still fight it. every time it takes over i fight it. i eat it back. i consume it back. i devour it back. i lose.

it controls me. it makes me say and think and do as it sees amusing. it feeds on my weakness. it feeds on the people around me. it is big. i am afraid of it. i avoid it whenever possible. i stop going to places that will feed it. i stop seeing people that will feed it. i stop saying things and doing things and thinking things that will feed it. i can't avoid everything. i lose to the disease.

it feeds on many things. it feeds on pride and glory and honor and money and ego and anger and help and love and hate and help and more help. it feeds on compassion and chances and more chances. it devours me. it consumes me. it takes over me. it controls.

i have a disease.

fucking disease.

i hate them all. i hate pride and glory and honor and money and anger and ego and help and love and help and more help. i hate compassion and chances and more chances. i hate them all everything that feeds the disease. it has nothing but it has everything to lose. it gives nothing but takes everything. it kills me. it kills itself. but it get stronger each time it kills me and itself. it eats itself and it grows. it grows and it grows. bigger and stronger. sometimes weakened by me but most of the time it wins.

the disease cannot take over. it cannot win. it cannot cannot cannot win. it's in me. i feel its strength. it can strangle ten men to death and it doesn't blink. it has no compassion but it takes all compassion. it has no love but it takes all love. it has no ego but it takes all ego. it craves ego. it needs ego.

its here in me. its here when i get angry. it feeds on rage and it generates tenfold of rage back into me. its here when i throw something. it feeds on strength and it generates tenfold of rage back into me. its here when i feel pain. it feeds on pain and it generates tenfold of rage back into me. it uses the rage to control and consume and devour me. it uses the rage to make me move and talk and do. like a marionette. like a fucking marionette.

it is selfish it is egoistic it is greedy it is evil evil evil. it does not sleep. ever. it waits for me to sleep and it feeds on me. my soul my joy my ambition and honor my dignity my bliss. everything. it takes all good and returns me all bad. it gives no attention yet seeks endless and boundless attention.

i need to kill it. i need to put it in a cell. i need to shut it up. i listen to music loud so it drowns it's voice in my head. i scream at it to keep it in its place. but it plays with my head. it makes me believe there's always good in the world. it makes me believe there are nice people and good people and honest people in the world. it makes me believe i can achieve the things i want in my life. and when i am hit by cold hard reality i fall. it feeds on my weakness. it thrives and grows and gets stronger.

people ask and i ignore. people talk and i ignore. people wonder and i ignore.

i ignore

i ignore

i fucking ignore.

i've been fighting. i fought and i fight. i will continue to fight. fight until its over. fight until its done. i will fight until the disease dies. the disease puts a beautiful picture in my head. flowers and birds and smiling people and friendly people and nice people. it wants me to fall. it wants to consume me again. i will take this picture. i will live by this picture. and i will fall. and i will stand up. again and again. again and again and again. i will stand up. and i will fall. and i will stand up. i will fucking fall again and again. and i will fucking stand up again and again and again.

i don't want help. i cannot get help. the disease knows. it will consume it and consume me. i don't want to be with anyone. i cannot be with anyone. the disease knows. it will consume them and consume me. it's dangerous. it's deadly. the disease kills and consumes. i hear stories and talks and speculations and whispers. i ignore them. i fucking ignore them all. i don't need the talk and the stories and the speculations. i don't need the people saying them and thinking them and hearing them. i will kill the disease myself. with a gun and a sword and an ax and a car and a sledge hammer. i will kill the disease.

it is not depression it is not a mood swing it is not an emotional breakdown it is not stress. i cannot take a break from it. i will not take a break from it. i shall not take a break from it. it consumes and it destroys and it devours and it does not take a break. it is evil it is the worst it is the deep darkness that is darker than fucking jet black. it is foul smelling and it is dangerous and it is deadly and it is fucking fucking fucking evil. it is cold ice cold it does not have a beating heart it uses mine.

stupid. i'm so stupid. all these years and i can't control the disease. all these years and i've only managed to make it grow in me. i cannot think. when i think i breakdown. when i think i fall. when i think i stop to move. i cannot think. i can only believe in the picture and go toward it. that's all i can do. i cannot think. i cannot stop to think. i cannot fucking ever stop to think. stupid. weak. pathetic. useless. weak. fucking weak. its true. someone used all those words on me when i was younger. used them a lot. its true. stupid. weak. pathetic. useless. weak. fucking weak.

do not judge. do not put words. do not speak. do not ask. do not judge. there's a disease in me and do not ask and do not judge. if you have to talk and judge and talk do not let me hear of it. i need to kill this disease this strong and deadly darker than jet black disease alone.

I remember

We're all here. Not all, but many whom I've forgotten to keep in contact with all these years. I remember them all. The good, the bad and the ugly. The uncanny, the simple, the sure and the stressed. The unworldly, the untidy, the unknown. All of them. I remember basketball Fridays. I remember Mc Donald's Fridays. I remember FAC Fridays. I remember Metrojaya Fridays. I remember Cathy's Toys Fridays. All of which are no longer in existence. I remember.

Some are business people, some are sales people. Some are travelers, some are comfortable. Some are risky, some are steady and sure. But all are friends. I look around me. All of them know me. All of them know my past. All of them know what I've become since. I know them. I know where they're from. I know where they've gone from there. I know them. I know them. They're friends. No. They're family. Family lost in time. Time it took for me to realize they're still here. Time it took for me to remember how much they meant to me. They're family.

I smoke and one of them smoke too. He told me Today we're gathered here to see one of our wedding. Next thing will be one of our child's baptism. Then it might be one of our death. Death. The course of life that is sure. The moment you realize the most precious thing you cannot let go of is not your bank account. It will be your memories. Memories you wish could be stored in a hard drive somewhere forever. Memories you wish someone would see and cherish. I remember smoking in stair ways. I remember playing KOF. I remember CS. I remember Snooker. I remember. I remember clubs and discos. I remember drinking and smoking up. I remember the days I cannot remember.

One of us got hit by a car one day. It was SPM month. A call came, and a prankster told me. Fuck off I said. No, really he said. Fuck off, I need to study I said. My friend woke up in the ward, demanding a Marlboro. His last wishes, even if he was going to die that day, was Marlboro. The hallway outside the ward was full. School uniforms. Smoking. In the hospital, smoking. His mom entered. School uniforms. No smoking. Dead cigarette butts crushed beneath white shoes. All of them. No smoking. Auntie we called.

If there was one wish. One prize. One thing I could do to my past. I want to relive it. I want everyone of us to relive it. Nothing to change. Just the way it was. Just the way it should be. No changes. I remember them all. My most precious belongings. More than my bank account. My memories of my past. Who I was. Where I came from. What I've done. The life I've lived.

I remember.

I remember.

I remember.

I remember.

Free Writing: I'm In My Car

I'm in my car. Waiting for friends to arrive so we can go for lunch. music playing. Boring. I've heard every single one of the 4 GB stash here over a million times. I'm bored. The car is running. I'm contributing to global warming.

The highway is nice to stare at. I don't know, but just nice. The flow, no congestion. Calming. Nice.

They're not here yet. I should have brought that book along so it could kill my boredom. The book. Where was I? Oh yes. Family Class. I understand why he'd be pissed off seeing his parents. he can't even look himself in the eyes, much less have his parents do same. Pale green.

Still not here. I wanna smoke, but her mom is here. She might think. She might talk. Her brother's back too, I think. Where's the other guy? Where's the black car? We're supposed to go for lunch. But I've been waiting and waiting and waiting. Nobody is here. I got work at home. send fax, wash car, redo letter. Wash car. The sky is getting dark. No. I must wash it. It's filthy. White. Smart. Get a white car, it looks nice. Smart.

I'm contributing to global warming. Car still running. Broken by The Frey. Heard it a million times. He's here! Finally we can go for lunch. Finally! I got many things to do. Send fax, wash car, redo letter. What shall we eat today?

Readings: Why Do Men Have Nipples? by Leynar and Goldberg MD

We don't like to read. Reading this post is itself a torture, which is the only reason why I always have to put totally unrelated pictures on every one of my posts. No, this picture makes sense for once. Its the cover of a cool book I just read, along with some decoratives I managed to salvage from my boring room.

I'm personally a very choosy reader. If ever I could figure out the ending before the book actually ends, I'd not finish it. If the way the author writes is not exciting enough, I'd not read it at all. So being able to actually finish a book is almost as rare as a meteor crashing onto Earth.

Anyway, this book is not a novel. Its actually exciting to read. Its one of those Q&A on human anatomy, hence Why Do Men Have Nipples? Inside include the most miraculous questions anyone would ever ask their doctors, andt would also really want to know. Like, Is There Really A G-Spot? and Can You Lose Your Virginity To Tampons? Don't worry there're enough questions in there for men too.

Authors Mark Leyner and Billy Goldberg did well to make this medical-related book interesting, and I'm sure you probably won't mind an extra light reading sitting next to your porcelain throne. Just don't sit too long, or you'll end up with hemorrhoid.

If this book is a CD, it'll come with "Parental Advisory, Explicit Everything" and if in movies would be rated, oh, about PG 18 or so. Be warned, mothers.

Celebrate Sunset Sediments with Cider Sides

Its the beginning of a new world. A world with no trees. No TV and no Slurpee. No subway, no Coke, no cinemas, no actors, no camera. The war had passed. EMP, nuclear and everything in between. Yes, no PSP and no iPhones. No cars with Electronic whatevers, no ships and planes. 


"We're driving West for Days now."
Well, someone managed to salvage a working car, it seems. The West is the direction of salvation. Rumor has it, there's a place in the far west where trees grow and rivers run. People are so nice they'd smile at you, not run you down with lead. Food is abundant, water are clean. People got jobs and houses and families and Rights. Everyone could do with some of those right about now, especially the last. 
There were no indications to how far west it lies, or how it looks like. Only that nobody outside of it has ever been there, because when you're in you don't want to leave. Or so they say. 


"Do not falter, the journey may be long but God its worth it!"
Optimism is the key to reaching this promised land. Persistence is the drive. Be brave and face all the perils of the journey, for the reward is mind blowing. It is not for the faint hearted. It is not for procrastinators and lazy and pessimistic and  content and barbaric. It's for visionaries. It's for real survivors. 


"Around us cities in dust, beyond that barren wastelands"
The world is in ruins. All of civilization and its pride and glory is now rubbish. They don't feed the people now. The won't grow and turn into meat and potatoes. They now house bats and lions and giant lizards. The wild has reclaimed their rightful ownership of the land once taken from them. Grass grows, moss and shrubs. No trees. No forest. No waterfalls and no lakes. 


"They wear tie, slacks and black shoes."
To hold a job is to be able to contribute to society. To wear a tie is to be able to present and represent. To wear black shoes is to have the luxury of owning more than one pair of shoes. 


Life is only good when it is better than others. Life is only worth living when there's a mission and vision one can strive for. Sunset Sediments is the part that takes up less than 5% of your Iced Milo, but also the best. Too much would make you hate it, too little would make you not know how good it tastes. Sunset Sediments is the Promised Land of today, in which many around the world flock to become a part of. It is also the land of hypocrisy you'd learn to hate when you're in there for too long.   


Sunset Sediments is your weak and cheap car, generic MP3 player, 60 Ringgit shoes, middle-income home, mamak lunch and the inability to upgrade your old and cheap DLSR. 


Sunset Sediments is also your working car, the ability to listen to music on the go, a pair of usable shoes, a home that's yours, food in your stomach and a camera. 


Sunset Sediments is anything you want to be, if you so choose, when you so choose. 

Growth

Growth. The inevitable process of life, cradle to grave. Inch by inch we grow, inch by inch we die off. It's the moment of joy in revelation, it's the moment of peace in gaining comfort of, and it's the moment of boredom when it's over done. Growth is learning how to say 'Hello' in 5 different languages. Growth is learning what it is one gains from losing someone very dear.

We stop at nothing to grow, yet we do not allow others the luxury of so. Growing is when you know not to do something, but do it anyway and ending up exactly where you're expected to. Growing is looking fear right in the eye and owning it. Growth itself is what we fear. It takes you to places you've never been, and leaving you there to find your way back all alone. Growing takes the white sheet of paper you were, and tossing paint all over as you progress. Growth is from 'Lying is bad' to 'Lying makes me money'.

Growth is both an ascension and a degradation. You learn and you dispose. You gain new principles of life, and you forget the old. Growth holds you by the throat and chokes you dry of air. And just when you're about to lose everything, gives it all back. Growth makes everything you did in the past look stupid and silly, and you vow not to ever embarrass yourself again in the future. Growth makes you realize you'll never be able to not embarrass yourself.

Growth is the sun, its the moon and the stars. Its diapers and pills. Its paddle shifter transmissions and its Hybrid engines. It takes humanity to the brink of self annihilation, and it will take us back from it. Growth is prolonging life, and introducing things that will take those new years away from us.

Growth is renewal and decay. Growth is decaying faster and more than renewal. It is knowing we're all going to die one day, and waking up every morning to celebrate life. It is the personification of beauty, with age. It is turning the infinite universe of stars and nebula into sky. It is from loving everything you come to pass, to getting bored with the word 'LOVE'.

Growth is inevitable. It consumes us all, and leaves us to die. It will continue to live off every soul for generations to come, up to the day the world dies from the growth of mushroom-cloud atoms and people-killing cells. Growth will be the end of us all.

So have a cup of coffee, and toast to Growth.

In The Dark Ages

About a month ago a client of mine passed away, leaving much to be tended to in the unit he rented just months ago. Mr Anderson was one of the few closer clients of mine, mainly because I had to go supervise many repair works in the place all the time. This morning I went to collect the house keys from Mrs. Anderson, where I was told his story weeks before death.

Mrs. Anderson was back in her hometown during the Hari Raya (Muslim New Year) weekend, when she heard his husband had been admitted to the hospital. She rushed back to town immediately to find Mr. Anderson lying on the hospital bed, badly battered and bruised. The doctors told them many things. His kidney had failed, and there was a problem with his heart. First diagnosis was Dengue. But he was swelled up all over. Then the doctor said it was his failed kidneys that caused the swell. And then there was the heart. Some even speculated he was beaten by somebody in a car accident recently, which caused all these complications. 2 and a half weeks later, he passed away. The doctor walked up to Mrs. Anderson, now weeping in agony over her lost love, and asked,

"Ma'am, do you have any idea what is wrong with your husband?"

She looked at him with mixed feelings. She didn't know whether she should be angry at the doctor.

"What doctor asks me what was wrong with my husband?!"

A friend of mine was admitted to a hospital near Pangkor Island with an allergy attack. They administered an anti-allergy drug banned throughout the world for giving too many fatal side effects, and ended up killing my friend.

It is in this moment when I realized The Dark Ages no longer refer to a date in our history, but a place in the world. This modern age of nano technology opened our eyes to endless possibilities; possibilities to improve humanity's conveniences and cut down time on everything imaginable. In the midst of these provisions we forget to fulfill one of mankind's basic needs: placement of proper working judicial and medical system.

If Mr. Anderson had been treated by some a little less than half as intelligent as Dr. House, he'd probably survived this ordeal. If there was a CSI team, again a little less than, half as efficient as Gil Grissom's, Mrs. Anderson would probably see justice done to the person who beat her husband up over a fender bender. But there isn't. There isn't anyone out there who is capable of pulling even a fraction of these people's abilities. Sure, these are fictional characters. I'd understand if we see Dr. House as entirely fictional. He was, after all, built based on Sherlock Holmes ( House and Holmes). But don't tell me there isn't a person capable enough to at least do the right thing!

Maslow specifically stacked out the pyramid of Needs accordingly, so governments, politicians, business builders, Tom, Dick, Harry and Sally could work with. But why is it that we can now rise up to the tallest building in the world and fly out from the 'Best Airport in the World', but not provide the two simplest needs to out people?

We are now at the age where power no longer side the wealthy, but the many. If the authorities continue to fail in simple provisions to the many, they would never be able to gain respect from the many.

B**** Slap Your Best Friends

Ever had someone come up to you and told you how much of an idiot you are? No? Then you've not a single true friend in your group. Lets face it. None of us grew up not having done something wrong, or been someone intolerably idiotic. We can't help it. Call it genetic if you must, there has to be certain parts of us which was at some point annoying your friends so much they'd either walk up to you and slap you with contempt of simply ignore you.

We all face problems with people. Its the way life is meant to be. We are all made different for a reason. Its like we've been set to do different things in life from the very beginning. Accountants have to be very meticulous with cash, therefore they appear to be extra stingy and selfish with spending. But that's what make accountants so good. Some people are so good at lying, they'd make up the most exciting and believable stories in a flash. These people work well with marketing and sales. Its just how we are that makes us what we are in life. But all these has to have a line drawn. Because as a friend, we are neither accountants nor marketeers. We are friends.

I know some of you might say things like: 'I am the way I am, and if you're good enough a friend, you should accept me as I am.' That's a load of cow manure. As much as we don't like to be slaves to society and its conducts, they were set there initially for a good reason. For example, you won't want to shake the hands of a passionate nose digger because they're unhygienic. If you don't respect people, you don't get no people. Look in the mirror. Do you have something people just cannot accept? Is that why you can't seem to keep your friends around you? Now don't go slamming your heads with a sledge hammer just yet. As much as everyone would like to blame you for your disgusting character, its not entirely your fault. People find it hardest to understand him/herself. That is why The Encounter of the Final Kind refers to yourself.

Being a friend is not easy. There is no such thing as a scratch-free friendship. If there were, they're not your friends. Would you go up to your friend and tell him/her that his/her breath stinks or he/she is always being a sarcastic female dog? If you won't, he/she is probably not worth your effort, which also means he/she is not important enough for you.  Best friends always point out each other's character flaws, because they care for their friends and want the best for their friends.

"But it'll always end up in a fight!" Egos are both good and bad for a person. Don't ever try to break a person's ego. Go around it. When you know your friend well enough, you'll eventually know how to work your way around his/her ego. Remember, your purpose is to solve a problem, not to demean him/her. When you can walk up to your friend and say: ' I know this might ruin our friendship but I need you to know this because it's important to you', you're well on your way to becoming a person's best friend. And if he/she don't see that as a blessing, feel free to stick a 'Kick Me' sign behind him/her the next time you happen to meet.

Prime by Constellations of Sparky

I will attempt to unveil the deep dark secrets of Prime, by which I'm pretty sure isn't exactly rocket science. But since I'm in need of posts for my blog quota, why not. We all need the publicity anyway. 

Prime was, on the surface, a random occurrence of prime numbers intertwined in a series of verses with no connections whatsoever with one another, hence the name prime (for those who don't know, prime numbers can only be divided by itself and number 1). But in the essence, this song portraits people. More specifically, people who set themselves apart from others. For example the Mutants in X-Men, and Cloud and his AVALANCHE gang in Final Fantasy 7. 

We're all born into the world thinking there's a certain destiny set out for us. While trying to desperately fit into society, we're also finding a way to stand above it. We need recognition, we need attention, we need achievement, and we need respect. Because life would be pointless without it. So, we set out in search of a special purpose. Cloud and his gang were stigmatized as terrorists of Midgar and robbers of justice. Despite all the bad publicity, they strive for their mission simply because they believe in what they did. They sacrificed their good name for the greater good that they believed would in turn save everyone, including those who condemn them. 

'Its the 13th of the Month, says Jason'

Jason was a serial killer, clad in a hockey mask and slaughtering everyone in his wake. As a front, the public saw Jason's doing as downright unacceptable. Burn in hell, as they may say. But deep down inside, they envied Jason's ability to break the societal barriers and achieve ultimate freedom, because the freedom to take another man or woman's life is in itself pure nirvana. Please be advised that this post does NOT in any way encourage the mass murdering of people. 

'53 Windows Leading out to Undivided Odds'

People want to be special. We want to be able to change the world, for better or worse (hopefully less of the latter). We seek out unique households by which we would wake up every morning with a smile across our faces, reciting " Damn, I'm special". We want to be better than the world at something, therefore making ourselves believe we already are better. Driving to work, we'd encounter a driver who drives less as obedient as we are and "What an idiot" comes out. Comfy in our 100 grand posh ride, we whisper "Loser" to anyone with cars cheaper than ours. And we also go " Must be fake" to ladies clad in monogram handbags. But not us. We do it right, and when we do  go fake, its for a good reason. 

'We are Primal, Insightful Martyrs'

We're seeing the world in less light than it allows us to. In our attempts to depart ourselves from mediocrity and normality, we become so. Put it simply: when everyone wants to be special, everyone becomes normal. But no. We'd like to believe we're out of the ordinary. We make sacrifices to be where we are right now, and no one should reach there without giving out any less. That is what makes being where we are special. 

'Incantations, Numerical Rhymes'

In the end, Prime is still a song with 17 prime numbers running all around it. I will now attempt to make myself feel special by telling you that 17 is also a prime number, but I'm sure you already got it. 

PRIME

71 km to reach the outskirts of the city

As I'm doing 83 clicks on the fifth day of the week and

Its the 13th of the month, says Jason

37  Cuban Axes

Why do they throw him out 2 97 stages of hell?

541 table spoons laid out here for you

Elusive dihedral scores is unfactorable no

We are primal, insightful martyrs

We are undivided by the

Rows of 4s and 6s of 15s

Incantations, numerical rhymes

61 highways lead to 199 towns

97 broken bridges under 17 officials

Mango 3s orange 11s

Crime is 101 to void when

There are 53 windows leading out to undivided odds

541 table spoons laid out here for you

Elusive dihedral scores is unfactorable no

We are primal, insightful martyrs

We are undivided by the

Rows of 4s and 6s of 15s

Incantations, numerical rhymes

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ns35SxMZEjk

By Michelle Teng with bad Throat Problem

Can anyone figure out what she said????

i weel wike ewing mcwowald wren wrie,
i wink whe wiwwa wave me woat woh-wem.
whe woke alwo. your whone wust wing,
wot mehegge. you winish wathing we.
wye-wye. wite wite.

Life end when we leave school (Facebook Note)

Life ends when we leave school. i was 9 when they spilt my class up to reduce the number of classes that year. i met a guy who kept on wasting my liquid paper away. we became friends and there were 5 of us. i had problems talking. i'd stammer. people made fun of me. everyone but them. the 4 of them. one guy would make fun of me, and they'd chase him all around the school field and whack him up. one day we played sword fight in school, and ended up breaking almost every broom stick in the school. and i got slapped by the head master.

life ends when we leave school. i didn't know why dad would sit out at the yard and smoke every night. he'd kicked mom out of the house. i hate the way the house was. i wanted to see if smoking solves problems.

life ends when we leave school. one of us would use a note book to draw up characters, each with different skills. the rest of us would choose one, and play his game. we'd play all day long at the back of the class. a gas lamp caught fire one day in class, cos the teacher didn't know how to use it. everyone left, but we were in the middle of a battle with a boss. we couldn't leave. we didn't, until the fire extinguisher fogged up the whole class room.

life ends when we leave school. we all went to the same secondary school. things were fine for a while, but we'd find new friends. adrian and kel met some gangster kids and started hanging out with them. eric and jun made new friends. i did too. a whole new world for us.

life end when we leave school. we were 15 when adrian left us. he had to go to a faraway place to stay. then there were 4 of us. it didn't mattered much, cos we all had our own friends to hang out with. but we still felt one less.

we'd save up money all week. we'd come early to school to play some b-ball. then we'd go eat at mc donalds with our week's savings. and we'd head up to the 4th floor for some arcade games. snooker maybe. we would feed the horsies too. there's this shop that'll charge us 3 bucks an hour to play ps games.

life ends when we leave school. we were 15 when kel left. he got into trouble and had to leave for a while. it was quite a long while. the next year, me and jun would walk from school to the bus stop everyday. we'd smoke at the phone booth in front of the police station. the booth's gone now. so is the blue building we'd always hang around, stealing action figures and smoking at the stairways. in the other building, some of us would steal east paks and pens and sell them to other students.

life ends when we leave school. at 16, me and jun would skip almost all the classes that year. except for modern math. the teacher got our respect somehow. i'd skip school and sleep at home. then they'd come knocking on my door. they'd drag me out for counter strike.

we'd sit in a mamak stall, 5-6 people chipping out money for a pack of ciggarettes then costing less than 5 bucks.'tabung haji' we called it, with no disrespect whatsoever. each puff and each stick meant alot, and we'd pass each around to minimise the time the ciggarette was left burning itself out. it was wasteful. we'd talk about the day when each of us would have our own packs of ciggarettes. how cool would that be.

people around us were already getting into drugs and serious gangster shit. i'd try the drungs out. i'd be high while i was catching a bus home. many times, actually.

life ends when we leave school. we'd spend weekends at each other's place, hang out from dusk till dawn. we always said we're blessed with 24-hour mamak stalls. we were. there were snooker centers and horsie centers as well. every weekend, one of our friends would have a birthday party. at least that was what our parents kept hearing. sometimes my mom won't let me out, but she could never stop me.

kel would come back from time to time. he'd expect us to be the same as before. we couldn't be. he gets disappointed when he comes back to his friends who'd already be hanging out with new friends, no longer the same. he can't blame us. he left. we can't blame him, we'd expect the same.

we'd get into fights. not me. i'm always the reactive one. meaning i only hit you when you hit me. and when i start hitting you, run. keep running and hope i lose interest. anyway, they'd always get into fights, and we'd always back them up. our policy is: whack now, talk later. we'd usually talk when we see blood on the ground. how to make blood? you'd be surprised how helpful house keys can be. sometimes we end up finding out our friends were at fault. what was done was done. at least we had fun throwing a few punches and kicks.

we skipped school one morning and we hung out at the stair ways outside the arcade in the blue building. some kids inside were smoking. amateurs. one guy went in and took their ciggarettes out. the kids came for them. i told them to go home and learn how to smoke in their toilets, cos it's embarrasing to not know how to smoke and carry ciggarettes around.

life ends when we leave school. things were great when we were 17. exams are coming, but since it was too late, there was nothing to worry about. we'd fail anyway. some of us learnt to drive. but because petrol seemed rather imposibly expensive back then, we didn't do much travelling.

spm ended. we knew we'd screw it up. no shit, sherlock. one guy made a school stamp. another learned how to forge the signature. many of us got into college using forcast results. the rest of us took the time to have some fun. going up to genting for the 'smoking in a cold weather' sensation, going to pd just because one of us wanted to smell the sea.

life ends when we leave school. that's what i think. many may disagree, saying life goes on, and life is when we make millions. i say money and status is crap. we had so much fun without much money. we had friendship. people who'd pick you up when you fall, back you up when you're bullied, take the fall with you when you're caught. life has ended. now, we're like fishes in an aquarium. we swim around all day for food. and we eat so we have the energy to swim.

now, there's still 5 of us. working people. some already planning to settle down and taking it to the next level: parenthood, others taking roads less travelled. we all had fun when we were living. the least we could do now is allow our next generation to experience it. because life ended when we left school.

He had to go for his CS game (Facebook note)

He had to go for his CS game, but there was still time. It was only 12.30 pm, and school hasn’t ended yet. At least not for those who went to school that day. There was a restaurant somewhere in Oldtown. Upstairs was a snooker center. They went there often, but never to play snooker. The cues were crooked. The tables were bad. The balls were never polished. Nobody goes there.

He walked up the stairs, counting the time he had before the game. There was still time to kill. Nobody was in the snooker center, save 5 of his friends. Some were laying on the snooker tables almost unconscious, others playing free snooker games. The counter guy was holding a cigarette self-wrapped into a cone shape, lit. The game was already paid for, just not by cash. He joined his friends, dropping his school bag aside. There was nothing in his bag but his school shirt. Maybe a pack of cigarettes. He couldn’t remember.

One guy was rolling a new stick. He pulled out some chopped up leaves from a plastic bag and laid them onto two cigarette papers. The smell of it escaped the bag. Bad, but good. Peppery and fresh, somewhat. His friend told him this was good. Better than the others before. This was fresh from up north. Mango, they called it. He took a drag. He couldn’t tell it if was good. He had another. Before he knew it, he was laying on a snooker table, unable to lift his head. It’d spin. His lips were dry. His throat was dry. He’d ask for the lady downstairs to get him a drink, but he was too busy enjoying the moment.

He’d left the center, walking toward the bus stop with his school bag around him. He couldn’t remember leaving the center or getting off the snooker table. The wet market was to his left now. He could smell the stench of death looming in the atmosphere. He could come up with big words when he was in that state. He smiled wide. A car drove to the side of the road in front of him and came to a stop. An old blue car. He couldn’t make out the brand. He walked up to the car, and saw no one in it. It can’t be. He didn’t see anyone leave the car.

He was already sitting in the bus stop, waiting for his bus. He must, must, must get on Bus 27, and nothing else. Bus 27 Bus 27 Bus 27 Bus 27 Bus 27. He had to make sure it was the correct bus. A friend was there. He was asked questions, and he answered without knowing what he’d said. They talked for quite a while, and he had to make sure his friend didn’t suspect a thing. He couldn’t remember what they talked about, or what he said, but his friend seemed quite entertained. He was, too. But not by the topic of conversation.

He blinked, and he was in a bus. A ticket in his hand. Bus 27. How did that happen? The bus floated up and down, like a boat. It swung left and right like a boat. He was out of the bus now. The place seemed familiar. Old Klang Road was the hardest road to cross, he thought. To him, maybe. And at that time, maybe. He might die. He needed to concentrate. A truck might hit him. He couldn’t estimate the speed the cars were coming at. He might end up in the hospital, with the doctors finding out what was in his head. He was already walking in the inner roads. He stopped and saw Old Klang Road behind him, the sound of traffic already drowned by distance. The cyber café was just in front.

He logged in and began configuring his keys to the CS game. When he got in, he played. Something was wrong. When he strafed left, the character moved right. Must be his head, he thought. But should he believe his eyes or his hands? His hands. The eyes are closer to his head, and his head wasn’t in proper working order, he thought. He moved according to how he remembered the layout of the map would be, and started shooting at walls. There’s an archway with doors, he thought. Someone should be there, he thought. No. this is not right. He went out and checked his key configurations. He had set it up wrongly. How stupid that would look to those who noticed.

He couldn’t use the MP5. He couldn’t use the AK47. He’d keep dying. Let’s try the sniper, he thought. With every click of the mouse, the bang echoed in his head. He’d shoot so fast, the only way to know if he’d killed someone was when the cash counter turned green. He’d click 50 frags in the open server before his friends arrived half an hour later. The thing in his head would also already fade away. He wished there was some more to keep him in killer sniping form that day. And they lost the game that day. 

Selfish Shellfishes

There is no such thing as selflessness. To be selfish is to be human. To be selfish is to live.

Animals are selfish. Lions fight each other so they can get all the hot lionesses for themselves. Trees grow higher and shade out everything below so they can get all the sunshine and leave nothing for the weaker competitors.

Through our entire course of life we make decisions. We think about ourselves when we make these decisions. Most of all ourselves first, over anyone else in the world.

You're in a cafe with your beloved little brother/sister/mother/father. You've been longing for that legendary blueberry cupcakes, and you know he/she also like them very much. But you've been craving for them all week. You decided to let him/her have it, because you love him/her more than the cupcake. You probably walked out feeling all fuzzy inside, convincing yourself you've been a selfless person today. Wrong! You let go of the cupcake for a greater prize: feeling good. You were being selfish in there just now because you wanted to give him/her that cupcake. It wasn't taken from you, you gave it away. And got what you actually wanted: feel good.

Your partner and you have been together for years now. He/she met up with you to tell that you both need to go separate ways. You didn't want to let him/her go, but agreed thinking: 'Well, if you love somebody you gotta let him/her be free and happy'. Amidst the break up depression, you felt somewhat relieved. You did a selfless deed today, and it's something most cannot perform. Not true! You gave him/her up so he/she can be happy, because that will make you  happy. In the end it did come down to your own wellbeing.

You're a manager in a multinational company, chief of at least 30 subordinates. You teach them well, hoping that one day someone would be able to take your place. Do you think you're special because you are big enough to risk your own seat for the greater good of the company? The truth is far from that. You do well because that's what you're paid to do. Sure, not many bosses do that nowadays, but that's what makes it better! When someone do take up your seat, you'll be sure to take up your boss'.

You are driving one day, and stumbled across an idiotic road hog. He swerved out of the junction onto the road inches from your car bumper. You honked a "Yo, watch out!", and he mistaken it for a hostile honk. He stopped you at the side of the road, and was already asking for a fight. You have to rush to work. You decided that despite the flaring anger in your heart, to let him win and apologized for the misunderstanding.  You're naturally an egoistic person, but this time let someone else win instead. You're happy you realized you're not that selfish after all. But you are. You merely let him win because at that moment something else is more important for you than winning that seemingly pointless argument.

You'll soon realize that every decision you make in life is a selfish one. Because although you made it to make someone else happy, the fact that you become happy when he/she is happy, you're only thinking about yourself. The only difference is when you're being selfish and thinking about yourself, do you stop to become selfish while also making someone else better off? Its in our nature to be selfish, because it is the essence of every living being's survival instincts.

The Revelation

Death and killings, gore and blood spill. The representation of humanity nobody can accept. Humanity is brought into the world as a white sheet of paper, innocent and naive. As years go by, this not-so Conquering paper gets itself stained by temptations. Temptations that will lead to greed, jealousy, and so on. Parents hope that all their children turn out no worse-off than themselves, if not better. Education is the way to keep children railed in the right direction. Or is it?

Do you have children now studying in kindergartens? If you do, listen carefully. If you don't, listen carefully as well, because you might have children in the future and you'd need to know this.

You took the day off, and spent the morning cleaning the house. You got everything done, and still have time to take a nice shower before your children come home. You decided that you'd want to go get them from school instead, and take them out for ice-cream on the way home. You head out to the kindergarten. Thought of them screaming at the sight of their mother excites you. You could her their voices echo in your head now. You've reached. You parked that silver A4 Station Wagon outside and walked into the school. Teachers all around recognized you instantly. They invited you in, and told you that your kids are very good at singing songs now. They also told you that you were lucky to have come in time to see your kids sing. You happily clamber up the little stairs to the top floor. You could already hear the kids singing, as if shouting at the top of their lungs. Keys were off, tunes were sung wrong in so many parts of the songs. They were kids, so its okay.

You could see at least 20 kids filling one half of the classroom, while the teacher standing in front of a white board in the other end. They were happy, the kids. Working so hard to memorize the lines to that few songs, and finally being able to sing the whole thing out. You smiled. But your smile quickly faded. On the whiteboard were words to the songs they were singing to. You caught a few lines.

" All the King's Horses, and all the king's men.

Couldn't put Humpty back together again."

"Along came a blackbird and peck off her nose"...?

"London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down"

"When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall.

And down will come baby, cradle and all."

"There was an old lady who swallowed a fly...... Perhaps she'll die."

You were dumbfounded by this discovery. You turned to look at your kids, now calling you. They were happy, smiling from cheek to cheek.

Nursery rhymes that you were taught as kids are sick renditions of the world's horrors, put together in the form of sad over-sized eggs and a poor baby from the tree top. All these while you thought Hollywood made you a bad person? No, they didn't. They merely awaken the demon slumbering deep inside you, long ago instilled by your lovely neighborhood kindergarten your parents paid to have you go.

Driven

Driving is like walking. It's like drinking coffee and watching a movie. It's like picking your nose while staring out into the endless rain crashing down your roof one evening. It's your life. Day in, day out. You drive to work, for food, even to your grand ma's two blocks down from your home. You sit in your car more than on any dining table, definitely more than on your electrically-heated, pink-fluffed thrones.

Despite having to drive an average of almost 3 hours a day for a gazillion years, many still despise driving. It's like learning the ABCs from Count Dracula, and hating him in the end. Driving is the epitome of self-awareness. It sets you free from Sardine cans lined in red and blue, fume facial while waiting for your bus, and 10 effing bucks for trip around KLCC in the cab. And you still dread at taking control of that wonderful contraption, hate having to send it for service and when you start its engine you can't wait to turn it off immediately.

Sure it emits dangerous amounts of CO2 which would inevitably kill the entire world and everything in it, but it's also the modern version of what fairy tales call 'The Angel's Wing'. Okay, that would be the plane. But not everyone can fly around to work and back everyday, and have it parked in your garage now can they. Look at your face in the rear-view mirror one day when you're stuck in the traffic jam, and see how much you frown when you get on the driver's side of your car. Seriously, why do you hate it so much? You've got a radio, which now plays MP3 in thumb drives ( Too bad for those who don't), air-conditioning to ward off evil heat wave, and comfy generic car seats with cheap upholstery. It's not that bad! Automatic trannies mean you only need to work, of 3598 parts of your body, only your right leg, two hands, two eyes and some of your brains. That's easier than photostating your daily minutes!

On your way home from work, do you find it hard to come out of junctions into big roads? Wanna know why? Cos like you, everyone tends to stick their car noses so near up the backsides of the cars in front, so damn afraid of letting anyone in between. It's like each car they give way to will make them miss an entire episode of ASTRO On demand. Firstly, you've barely lost 1 second of your lifetime. Secondly, its ASTRO On Demand. It means you can watch it again, and again, and again.

However there are of course some lesser being who thinks not giving way is a sign of control and a habit to gain supremacy over everyone. I think its downright stupid. Even if you're uneducated, you could at least act like one, so people won't talk crap about you. Seriously, what do you have to lose? Save your ego for something worth fighting for.

So get a good night sleep tonight, with a smile on your face. Wake up tomorrow, step into your car, and try to enjoy the trip to work. You'll learn to notice beautiful things about your car, like the lever to trigger Turn Signals which you never knew existed. Chill out in your car, and start absorbing everything in. You're gonna be driving till you're at least 50, so why not learn how to like it.

Profile Setup

The year is 2009. I remember 13 years ago when cyber cafes would charge 13 bucks for an hour's usage. These days nobody would pay 3 bucks for a cafe without 22" LCDs, super comfy seats, awesome Altec woofed-up sounds and Black Adder guns and swords. Heck, they won't even pay 3 bucks it it'd come with those!
Anyway, back to the point of this post. Every other year some awesome mind blowing community site will reveal itself, driving the world foaming to be the first to enlist. You're not one of them? Impossible. You got a Friendster account? Facebook? Twitter? MySpace? No?

We've all got at least 2 of the abovementioned accounts, I guarantee that. Remember creating an account and filling those endless forms? Remember having to crack your head trying to figure out what to write in the 'Favourite Whatever' section? Okay, this post does not apply to people who can't be bothered to fill in those sections. Frankly, it takes a lot of self discovery for a person to be able to fill them in. And I can safely say I don't have much of it. Read my profile and you'll know.
Anyway my point is, try to dig up old accounts from which ever sites you've lost interest in (still possible, 'cos they don't usually delete them even if you haven't logged in for 100 years) and start reading your profiles. I'll assume that we've been actively searching for trendy community sites to be a part of since before we left school and started working, because that's me.

Firstly, you'd realize that your favorite movies are no longer our favorites, most probably because you've destroyed countless pirated DVDs watching them again and again. Then you'd find your favorite songs are now old and disgusting. Feeling embarrassed, you'd delete them even though you know nobody's gonna see them. Then comes the column where you're supposed to tell the world what your favorite books are. You prolly filled one or more of the following: How to Kill a Mocking Bird, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Da Vinci Code, Twilight, and Angels and Demons. The first mostly because you know many people have 'read' them, and the latter ones because you've watched the movies and they're trendy reads, so you'd look trendy having read them and you'd know the story because you watched the movie. Lets face it. We are Malaysians. Our reading stops after we leave school. No, it stops even before we leave school!The only thing we'd read are newspapers, and even so, only those with tacky headlines like PAS This, or BN That, or 100 Dead, Bus In Flames.

"Let's not stray from the topic," the writer reminds himself aloud.

Then we come to the Favourite Hobby/Pastimes column. You will find a certain pattern to what you filled there, based on when you did it. Your first may have countless hobbies, like Rock Climbing, Surfing, Skiing, Shopping, Clubbing.... and so on. You'll fill in whatever you did in your entire miserable lives, even if it was only once, and you were too petrified to try again. Notice that as you got older, the number of hobbies you have get shorter? I take it your latest account is Facebook (disregard Twitter). Open your profile up and read it. It may now only contain a few of the following: Yum Char/Tani (Non-alcoholic please)/Lim Teh, badminton, futsal, football, cyber cafe. Most of the above you only do once a week, forgoing other hobbies for it. Please don't put in hobbies you do once a year, because the lack of frequency makes it less of a hobby. For those still young at heart, well this don't actually apply to you.

People, pleeaasseee... Don't lie to yourself when you're filling in forms for that account. Imagine if someone read it, and asked you, and you said "Huh?" Plus, it does make you all fluffy inside when you're honest to yourself. Try it..