C'est Pas Grave

It's half an hour past the 13th of the 5th, 

Or it was when I began writing. It's been a week almost two since.

It was my birthday.

"Hello again it's you and me, kinda always like it used to be," John Francis Bonjiovi

I've lived my life so far on a tiny speck of a nation west of far east and east of the wild west. I was born and raised on the world's third largest island, in a land once of headshrinkers, then three years ago I flew over to city mud in a peninsular. Three months from now if all goes to plan, I'll be off to a kingdom to which my home once served as a colony. 

Fleet flies the feet of time.

Ah... Time truly is more pliable than we conventionally prescribe it. Fluid, it easily fits the rigid molds we apply to it, minutes, days, years, millenia, our forms are easily accomodated but fail to capture, to encapsulate the sheer enormity of time's true nature. What would Kronos say? Petty tools for man's convenience, yet ubiquitous and fundamental to life as they live it. Time ebbs and flows following no mans dictation; sometimes weeks seem to stretch out and lounge in its sands, yet years may seem barely breaths apart. Seconds may vie with eternity, a whole lifetime flash by in the blink of an eye. Seems like our true relationship with time transcends the mere mapping of  moments. Time willingly bends not only our current experience, but our memory of it. It's all in our head, yes, but what isn't. Aha.. more half baked musing.

I think...

I flirt with relativity.

Long ago it seems since I've left my life at home behind. Only at times it doesn't seem that distant. Vanished have many friendships along the way. Ever gone to place wherever the lost gather.

Yay, I'd vote to remember it all, so we could live our life everyday. Oh regrets I could live with day after day, and regrets my memory would help prevent me making. Until the day I see no more and mine eyes close in lasting dream.

Gnite.

Dickens

I've always saw myself as an overly complex personality with overly self-righteous ideals, and an overly critical eye, with an overly insensitive soul.

But you know what?

I was wrong. I had it backwards.

I'm just a simple being in an unneccesarily convoluted existence.

I need not make peace with the world.

The world needs to make peace with me.

It was a good day.

Janus of the Gates

Ah it's been another year.

More actually, but...

A year without words to say.

A year without words to feel.

Thats a long period of indifference. Sometimes, well most of the time, this walk down the road we must all travel, this journey that thrusted upon us, this life that defines everything we are yet begs meaning of us... it still renders me inexplicably, haplessly, unforgivingly stranded in the only place I've ever been. Pages flip on yet somehow I forever find fragments of myself, two chapters ahead, two chapters behind.

I've tried to ignore it, the sirens slow silent sigh, but it beckons ever so seductively, ah so hesistant, so willingly do i court melancholy.

Recent event have done nothing to renew my faith in myself. If you're wondering why i haven't had post up regularly since 05, (which you won't since this is a lazarus blog that nobody visits anymore, and therefore 'you' strictly speaking exist as nothing more than a figment of my megalomania) its just cause words are my manifest soul, and for a long time there has been nothing to say. Do 'you' get me? 

Who do they see when they speak to shadows?

A being of myth and legend, a legion; a cacophony of a thousand voices in a mockery of song, or a silhouette of a friend holding out his hands; sheltering understanding within his fingers and palms? 

The will to stride down this path has long forsaken me. A weak traveler who has had naught but a smooth journey, complaining of trivial aches and the dust of the road in his eyes. He has heard and seen others down this path in which all paths end, some better dressed, most equally as lost, some with broken bones and missing limbs limping along with broad smiles on their faces. At times he travels in a band, but mostly and especially then they all truly walk alone. Men and women both has he met with gaping holes in their chests, so they search and they pine for the tinman's gift at the emerald city. In some of these incompletes this burgeoning thirsts assumes a darker aspect. That which they lack, they seek to steal. Vampires they become. leeches and bloodsuckers that cut open hearts and feast, turning others incomplete, giving rise occassionally to another of their selfish number. Flocks of children in their parents clothes crowd the road, assuming looks of sneering contempt upon their peers. The noble and godtouched walk alongside on the same gravel but are transcended by their grace, of these he knows little but tales. 

For long he had trudged grudgingly on, some steps coming easier and some faster but all blur together in his head as his eyes are turned downwards at his own feet, no longer did he watch the lives of others, no longer giving a care or a try to bring coherence to it. Then mindlessly he glanced up and saw the path he had walked while in a daze. He saw the steps he took, the choices he'd abstained. He saw. He saw, but he could not mend, for then he knew he was worse than the incompletes. Theirs was missing what they once had. His was yearning, but for what he has never known. But then perhaps he was only incomplete, and that is how all of them think themselves.

Emotion is a fickle thing. It appears and lingers at the worst of times, and vanishes without a scent when grasped for. It looks for home when none is to be found, then walks out the door when the nails are down. 

My head, my head. 

Call the Queen of Hearts for my head. 

There you go... passion to make up for a year, my anata. I will never leave you, mia amore of gray and silver.

Anno Domini

It's been a year.

So how've I been then?

mMmm..

Well, I did well enough in my pre-U to sneak into a law programme. Ah from the vicious introductions my lecturers have been giving there seems to be a monstrous amount of reading to be done. Thats just perfect.

Anyway...

I've moved into my new place with Jin Jack for an almost corybantic roommate. It's a nice place, I've got hot water and cold air. Good enough for Clay.

Ah..

Y'know I've seemed to have flickered somehow into a bizzarely languid state of being. I'm just.. being, just here, just cogging with the clockwork.

Anyone get me yet?

Ah.. I'm hardly getting words out.


* * *


Watch slowly at the setting,

Look see the airs a misty gold,

Quiet avalanche behind reminding,

Really should be pushing on,

No now be silent,

Don't let there be a sigh,

Just face the way you would,

And walk on through the blight,


This fog it's surrounding,

Its making all but blind,

Has it been mapped this labyrinth,

Where have gone the signs?


What do you make of it when all's the same?

All tastes of sunlight and shadows,

Of hands turning sadistic'ly,

Til they touched at throat,


Say no more,

Now go,

Go turn lead into gold,

Go speak words of wonder,

Write lines in history,

Make for the herd a field of straw,

Build for them a new bed,


Only this do I forbid,

No never lay still and idle,

There is much to do,

No now be silent,

Don't let there be a sigh,


If you find it please tell me,

The clue of all mysteries,

This missing piece of tapestry,

To fill the hollow within,

Puppets on lifes frayed strings,


Lyfe
Yew Li

***

G'nite

Drakhule

She takes a sip, bestill a sigh,
Dark sweet scent waft past closed eyes,
Back arched neck and parted lips,
Windswept locks pry at hands reach,

Feel the rhythm, it quivers so,
Pulsing so heavy with urgent hope,
To fill the need; the burning oh,
Of endless lust, of ceaseless thirst,

'Hold back no more, it is now time,
For the cold I feel, I feel it come,
It comes, it comes, for I see his face,
He comes at last to steal away'

Struggle so violent, to be unseen,
Torn to being; by spirit and soul,
Death or death, life or life?
Bring to which, oh agony,

Lips come down,
Lascivious blight,
Feel the drums they gather quick,
Glisten and trickle down to soiled feet,

'Feel the gush, can you hear through the pound?
Can you see tears through only a frown?
What do you see when I let go?
No more, no more, it is all but gone'

Feel the drums they beat no more,
Look into eyes which see gods warmth,

Eternity besought, a grave quiet chill,
Distant churchbells chime and widows wail,
Mourners gather; black crows circle'ing,
As the preacher proclaims life's dreary dignity,
Litany by chorus, hymns by name,
When the wind blows, leaves rustle, the dust settles refrain,

Succubus
Yew Li

***

mMmm like everything else I've done... it needs work. ;) But I'll probably never fix it up.

Did I ever mention I like vampires?

Gnite

For Deathbybananas, Morbida

Discombobulation

Somebody!!!

Send me inspiration to rise off me seat!

The slow creeping death of the procrastinate.

Awkward conversations with futility.

Is I?

Who be me?

Who am I to me; to she; to he?!?!

Eh...?

Dum de Dum de Deum... ... ... ... ... ... . . .

Poor cobwebs in my hollow head, shaken, stirred but not quite dead...

Ah... 12 months I gave to find myself?

But find who I just couldn't decide. To be me? Who once I was? To be me who I am to be?

To be me who but now but nothing?

Redundant trivialities...

Life goes on as it never ends.

I'm feeling weird tonight. Must be the lack of shut eye.

Wake. Would I please wake? Too many days just blurred together. I can't believe where I am anymore. It's all just so surreal. If a machine took me back in time... Last week I'd probably still be in high school. Or sitting for SPM or UPSR or PMR . It's all the same. I have no sense of it all. It could have happened all at the same time. Relativawhat?

I just realised something. I'm who I am now. And I'm who I ever was.... Make sense? When I was 12 I was me. When I was 3, I was me. Now I'm still me. Who I am now is only for a breath, it ain't more focal than me two years ago. All of who I was before defines me. All I am now defines me. All i choose to be defines me.

Whats the lesson in all of this boys and girls? One year of inactivity teaches you a lot about nothing. Introspection... it's overrated.

LoL if you think this post is whacked think of me! I have to deal with me everyday! Pray for me will you?

He stepped off the mountaintop,
And into the sea,
Swam like he could,
But he couldn't could he,

Ah... my head killing me... thumping headache. I was gonna stay up. Need to be somewhere this morning but, god... mmm What happens to the guy that couldn't swim? He drowns! Whoa no happy ending? Nope. Like I'd ever give one.

Gnite,

G'morning, whichever u prefer.

I think I'll scramble me some eggs before I crash. Wow this post is way off my blogs theme.

Tribute

I talked a little to my brother today.

I hardly see him. Haven't seen him for a year i think. And even then he was back for only four days. Most of the time he was out. LoL. Someone used to tell me I had a busy social schedule. Well, she hasn't met my brother. He did get me a pair of VC IIIs when he was back though. They were fantastic shoes. And a ball too.

Anyway... Truth is, I guess I've almost forgotten what it was like to have a brother.

Then i think back when we were both lil kids. For the peeps who know me. Yknow that scar I have on my forehead? Yea... he gave me that. We were at the playground. With the swings and all. I was giving the family dawg a hard time. Chasing it everywhere my two feet could carry me. I kept my eyes so focused on her that I didn't see where she was going. Yea. I hit my brothers swing seat. My mums heart must've stopped for a moment. She told me how she got the peeps playing basketball to help her carry me to the car. I don't remember. I opened my eyes to a hazy view of needles, strings and the family doctor; who we never had to pay. Dr.Tang was nice enough guy i suppose, I will always have the vision of him telling me to drink more 'plang' water. It was good for me he would say. He usually spoke hokkien. Just before I'd leave he'd slip me some chewable vitamins. They were sweet so I kinda liked them. For being a good boy he'd say. Ha haa... yea a good boy. Thats me.

When my brother was a lil older probably 11 or 12 he used to bike around a lot, sometimes with his best friend eugene i think. Or at least thats how it seemed to me. As often as not he'd take me along too. I'd sit on the chassis of the bike, balancing precariously at first, but as the rides grew more frequent I got the hang of it. It was fun. He'd cycle fast and the wind would blow past our faces. I think I was happy. I fell off once. I remember him telling me to look at the reflection of my face in the car mirror, but I kept looking at the window. I kept telling him the light wasn't right and i could see how I looked. I remember sneaking back home, tiptoing past my ever vigilant mum and pretending to have a fall in the bathroom. I recall despising the fact that I was gonna be made to look like I was idiot enough to fall down while in the shower. But well, I didn't want anyone to get in trouble.

I remember the many many times he would take out the gazillion action figures we had and bring them to life for me. He had all kinds of clever plots and twisted endings. His play was always much better than mine. Ah... of course I eventually figured out that his original storylines were uncannily similiar to episodes of transformers and thundercats and what not. Still he did the best voices. And all I had to do was sit and watch. Occasionally he would bring home a new toy. Ostensibly for me, but I think he enjoyed them a bit himself. As time passed by however, his action figure drama theater slowly faded away. He didn't have time for it anymore.

Thats when it all changed.

Sure i didn't happen all at once. I even have some of the best memories from the time. That was when he introduced me to the world of final fantasy. It was the best game ever he said. Sit and we'd play. Great! He'd play and I'd watch following the web of plots as if it were some great piece of poetry. And to me it was. The soundtracks were amazing. The character fully fleshed out. All too human with their flaws and weaknesses. It was also when he also brought me into the world of contemperary fantasy. I remember the first real fantasy novel I read. It was one from the death gate cycle, by margeret weis and tracy hickman. Something like that. I hardly understood it when I read it the first time. But my brother had told me what an amazing story it was. I read it again. For one of the few times in my life I pulled out a dictionary. I learnt what the word hapless meant. Doomed I think. A few other words too. I still read almost exclusively fantasy to this day. Theres just something in those worlds that call to me. But it was my brother that put me on that path.

I remember my brother being the person who was always patient with me. if he got a lil pissed oh well he'd just whip out a wrestling move of stuff me in between the mattresses where he and sister could tickle me without the inconvenience of my arms getting in the way. Thats why it was so disturbing when it happened.

He was watching TV, when i came into my parents room. I was doing what little brothers do best, being a pest. I kept jumping around talking to him asking bout god knows what. And he just... he hit me. He hit me so that my glasses flew across the room. It wasn't hard. Not physically at least, but... he'd never ever done that before. Then he glared at me. I walked back to our room. I didnt pick up my glasses. It hurt me. That much I remember.

I can't remember if it was before that or after that incident, but i remember him waking me up and bringing me to a coffee shop nearby late one night. He ordered tomato noodles for me. I didn't really like tomato noodles but whatever, I wasn't fussy bout food. Then he took out a cigarette... He lit it. And he smoked. I don't know what it was. The unceasing propaganda from the government telling me how much smoking sucks. How my mum told me it would gibe me cancer and kill me if i ever did it. Or reverse peer pressure telling me that smoking was for sheep. BAAA... I pushed away my plate of noodles. I wasn't hungry anymore. It doesn't make sense, but right at that moment I decided I hated smoke and smokers and everything about them. Later in life I amended it to hating smoke not the smoker. Now pretty much everyone I know smokes. I don't hate any of em. Amzing how strong our principles are eyh?

So, we drifted apart. He'd still bring me action figures from time to time. Waiting to see that spark in my eyes that told him more than words how much i appreciated it. He got it at first. But I think he realised when that spark dissappeared. He'd ask if I liked what he got me over and over. I'd say sure. I love it. All I knew was smth was missing. I don't think even I knew at the time that what I really enjoyed were the moments we'd have when he'd do reruns of ripoffs from cartoon series with our figures for me. It wasn't the toys that captivated me. All the while I was growing up too.

I don't know when we stopped being close. We were brothers and always will be. But there was a brief time. A couple of years when I didn't know who he was. It's funny it was that time when he was at his most popular in his school life. I don't really know how popular he really was, he was my older brother it was practically my duty to look up to him. I remember being referred to as Isaacs brother alot. He got into lots of trouble at least to my eyes at the time. He'd get into fights. He had a string of pretty girlfriends. He had friends with full body tattoos. And some other stuff I won't be putting up here. Maybe he watched too much young and dangerous. I dont know.

The closest I ever was to him at that period of time was when I'd wake up in the middle of the night, to hear him composing sappy love songs on his acoustic guitar. Hah to think I remember the words to this day.

Then he left to study. He's never really been home since.

Like I said. I talked to my brother today.

He's my brother. I'm sure of it.

In a world where so many are different, its sanctuary to find one with so much the same; or at least one who understands.

Awh hell this whole post has been overly mushy.

Zack if your readin this. I think we're brothers. Only by blood. Maybe a lil more too.

I just realised that you make up more of me than either of us will ever know. I've always looked up to you. Why? Well because, everything you did made sense to me. The things you talked about that were important to you. They were important to me. You told me more in action than words that friends are important. You taught me that its important to try to do what I think is right rather than what the world tells me is right. You showed me poetry. You showed me dignity when you were at your lowest. Today you told me something different...

To be honest I've been flirting with those thoughts myself. These days, when I'm nice, I'm nice. When it takes effort to be, I'm not anymore. Why? Cause I'm tired of trying. Yea, it ain't worth it and I seem to @#$# things up either way. I guess we'll never figure this world out eh?

I'm all emoed and worded out.

Funny, I never knew how much of my brother stayed with me til i wrote this post.

Wow I guess blogging does have its benefits.

Gnite.