Saturday, September 27
Friday, September 26
I realized last night was the last time I'm sleeping in this apartment. Since yesterday I'm telling everyone, this is the last time I'm going to use this road, this is the last time im taking this stairs, this is the last time I'm going to see this plant... sigh...
There is like 12 hours left and I'm still working with 3 deadlines left to cover.
My Wifi ID is 'Ghost_Wifi', hence now we know how the ghosts came about to my apartment.
V: r u confused GP?
Ghost Particle: yes
V: how long u r confused?
Ghost Particle: 29 years
V: smart answer
Suddenly backpacking is not backpacking anymore when the packed bags are jumbo sized and you have like a dozen 'excellent' contacts already waiting for you :( or :)
Haven't read the camera manual yet, shooting blind. Leaving the tripod behind.
Haven't been able to give a straight answer to the question of: 'Why are you going there?'
Don't know who is happy and who is not that I'm leaving now.
Apparently there is only ONE Tamil song that i've been torturing my car stereo with for the past 2 1/2 months.
And how did I cover 10000 km in 2 1/2 months while still be working 18 hours a day? I'm going to miss Niki.
How do you choose just 3 books out of 300?
Vista is killing me, why on earth can't I install XP on the Studio? :(
I'm worried sick about Internet over there.
Havent even emailed most of the friends about this trip.
It's raining heavily here. A good sign. I love rain.
Ipod Nano's are too damn thin.
Remember once I dissed Facebook's 'free translation' effort? Well guess what? Yep, you who knows me well, yes that is what did happen.
I'm asking myself: Wait, tell me why again? and I answered to myself...I dont know.
Some idiot is carrying 1.5 TBytes of data tomorrow coz hes scared of everything going blank!
Clients dont understand the words: 'Holiday', 'Extension', 'May I...', 'Please consider', 'Maybe I can...later'. So I'm going to shut of the mail and put a vacation reply. Yep.
I shall stop now and finish my work.
Hugs to all, will reply tomorrow.
oh...wish me luck :)
Thursday, September 25
~ Another blast from the past. Didn't switch on the car radio all day, and when the fingers accidentally hit the button this timeless song was playing. Its been good many years since I've listened to it or remembered to have listened to it. This is one great song by Crowded House, I liked a few from them, but the lyrics for 'Don't Dream Its Over' just tells so much. This song is still a defining favorite from the past for me.
There is freedom within~There was a time when the DJ's know your name, especially when you call at 3 am shouting out hello's to everyone sleeping :p. They defined my schooling years, taught me English and made me experience a new world without faces...a much deeper world They were the Internet of those times, of the 80's and 90's. The conversations at school was always about radio programs, especially the great DJ's, the ghost stories and many more. I dont know when I stopped listening to radio shows, maybe when the dj's became celebrities in the outside world and their command of language sunk to a new low, Manglish took the air and well most of the radio stations are filled with junk adverts anyway. Something killed the golden years of radio...but what was it?
There is freedom without
Try to catch the deluge in a papercup
There's a battle ahead
Many battles are lost
But you'll never see the end of the road
while you're traveling with me
Hey now, hey now
Don't Dream It's Over
[+] Crowded House
Monday, September 22
I know its like 6 days away, but the 'prosperity' Asimo just made my day!
Well...if you really want to...I mean for next year...I do have a place in the house for the real android! :p
Power of Dreams indeed.
Been with me forever, never says no to help me,
never ceases to smile even in the hardest of times.
Some goodbyes will be hard, but kindred spirits will always be together.
[#] How long does it take, for you to realize some have been there for you forever? How long does it take for you to let them know, they matter? How long will they stay with you, to tell you that you are on the right path?
i tried listening
in momentary silence
to the raindrops
bathing my isolated hut
deep in the forest
i noticed a rhythm
patterns permeating space
a connection between
the darkness, roof and me
with living sound waves
as the drops
blind to me
continued to caress
the flat spaces it touches
then the rhythms
still alive, turned
from mechanical to chaos
from chaos to construct
from construct to life
from the air to the darkness
from my ears to my eyes
the ground wet
from tiny streams and lakes
to puddles in the morning
but we still did
navigate adventures in dreams
on those small lake worlds
feeling as young
walking alone in the forest, under the beautifully painted milky way
the skies that belong to all us
to my place
hanging from the tall mountains
along with other scattered inhabitants of
marvelous journeys, taken and ended.
we rest here.
sharing bonfire stories.
as solitary lights, bathe them and then comes the rain washing them away.
day after day, at night, the universe is reborn. One dream at a time.
[#] when you close your eyes, and imagine a beautiful face, among the raindrops and finally you realize its the world itself that's reflected on the face, and that is the true beauty.
Like a million daggers, piercing each and every cell, the visions of a million stars burning bright, collapsing atoms and dreams. I imagined starving children in the desserts of Sudan while digging into my gourmet meals, imagined blown up pseudo martyrs in the streets of uncultured lands and rotting corpses while enjoying my evening drink. In quantum seconds, vivid imagery of stories danced merrily in the columns of sun on the forest floors, trampling on memories of yesterdays.
I woke up today, dressed up and walked out of the apartment. I stood under the sun, praying in silence to the sun God, so that everyone will have a good day. I turned back, and in the minutes to come the sadistic part of my brains and memories wished something else. I cursed to the driver who drove close to me, I wished the idiots who throw rubbish out of the window that they die. My memories are rigged with diabolic sadomasochistic inventions on how to torture the souls of devils. The living devils of this world who don’t dream enough to be human.
Foreign winds circulating the globe bring shorts of joyous plantation songs where planters celebrated a bountiful year. The company bought the produce and sold it a hundred times more in the markets of growing Asia major. Asia minor by the way is populated by middle class and lower class rubbish who dreamed too much to be sane. Europe is a relic filled with dominant minds who had their ideas cocooned in layers of pearl, too expensive to buy, easy to be lost. Far Europe is beautiful and full of socialism and crap that scares the ghost of Marx. The American ghetto is full of monsters that you thought only lived under the bed. They have so much, and they whine so much. The American ivory lives an average life fighting politics to save the rest of the world. The dumps of America have the natural riches that can rival any other planet yet to be discovered, but they sold they trees to make chopsticks and toothpicks. A family of lemurs moved to the Singapore zoo only to be woken up during the Night safari. China is no mystery but the rest of us are just stupid.
Sylvia asked me, what is there in dreams. What causes this puny soul to sprout sensual vines rooting firmly on a yellow brick road that doesn’t exist? So I answered while holding her hand that dreams tells us that we are real and the rest is not. The Creation silently observes, probably amused of the whole event. We had sex that night. And that was in my dreams actually, because Sylvia left to defend the world against evil. Yet again, as I stood alone that day under the perpetual tree that occurs in my world, I asked myself why do we have this escapist dreams.
The ghost of my past came haunting my veins, slowly sucking every ounce of my blood because of the sins I have done. And I wish I had really done something to deserve all this. Istanbul hosted the last carnival of the 20th century because some historian who wrote a best-selling book managed to convince a hundred million people that Buddha was alive and living there. So they managed to get there, all hundred million of them, the biggest possible number of people that can be transported by land, sea and air transport in one week. Every nook and crook of the city was covered with humans chanting, dancing and being merry. And asteroid struck them at 3.45 am, destroying all of Europe. Yet again humans were blind of incoming threat. The next day, another 10,000 children died in Darfur. Just like the day before, but there were 168 more children this time. So that makes 10,168 children who died on a Thursday in the month of January on the first day of the new millennium.
Sylvia came back that Saturday, while I was at the sea collecting shells for my aquarium. She came towards the beach and we hugged. I told her of the tragedies that happened. She laughed and pushed me away. I returned to the shore to fill another bucket with sea water and more shell. I turned back to see her gathering some driftwood into a pile. That evening we lit up the wood and around the bonfire, Sylvia summoned the shamans of old Pangea. I brought out the aquarium and placed them under the stars. I asked the shaman leader if he could make the galaxies dance. In seconds the trillion stars converged into a giant galaxy that stretched all of eternity. It was the most peaceful image I have ever seen. All over the land, the bits of reflecting sand, water and glass, mirrored the starlight.
The Elysium fields just outside the city of ancient Roma housed a billion souls who came for salvation. At the gates of Elysium, beyond the sea of truth stood might gods summoning giants to build shelters in the forests of enlightenment. I could never figure out how my sister could make up these stories. I remembered every grand space the stories occupied in time. She made more of her 2-second ideas than me. And every evening we would walk the fields behind our house and she would tell another story of this universe. I silently thought she was an alien. Sylvia appeared for the first time when I was in my thirties and wandering the Siberian plains in search of a life. She answered my every question except of the future. The future she tells when I am asleep in my dreams. When I wake up and find her to illuminate some truth, well she says, dreams cannot be true after all.
My jagged days are in tandem with my memories of the days I stood in the trenches during rainy nights scanning for enemy spies. In the morning the war smoldered everything, while I asleep in the damp underground bunker. Every night I will come to find that Frank and Terry died the day before. Nothing of a mystery that at the end of the century, fate decided to kill all of Europe where incidentally all the war criminals, all one billion of them hid, may they rot in hell. Fate in the form of asteroid Alpha Beta Gamma 1999 slammed its belly into Istanbul, melting the land as far as anyone can see.
I woke up on a Saturday two weeks back after a horrid night. At 3 am, I saw kids on the street wooing gays and cross dressers. These fags, they live in every town, fake their emotions to say they want to be someone else. Something of a mystery, I see outside 7-11’s girls with Marlboro's and Buds flirting with biker gangs. Turning the heavy Saturday paper holding a glass of OJ on the other hand, I saw seven images of children and young girls. All raped and mangled by some beasts in the streets of the Metro in broad daylight. A parent just stood by to watch her daughter’s body conspiring against her will to some madmen with blue eyes under the yellow sun drenched in grey smog. She jumped into the traffic killing herself. I took a big chunk of turkey sandwich and washed it down with the OJ. Savouring the creamy delight, I turned to the back pages to read the world news. Again those images of rapes, murder and terrorist. Finally I flipped to the comic section and jumped into the world of Calvin. We made some snow men and bashed up Hobbes.
Sylvia passed on a chilly Thursday morning in the garden of good and evil at the suburbs of Moscow in the year 2035. Draped in mortal black, a group of children undertakers took her body into the mobile crematorium and returned a few minutes later with a gold urn. I took it to the beach at night under the starry skies and gathered some wood for a bonfire. My synapses wrote more stories of her grand life trying to show me a way out of this cycle of dreams and reality. Until today I can answer her question, I myself don’t know what dreams are. I died twenty years after her. Someone from my creative writing class found my bones a few weeks after that and buried me on the beech. Every night I come back to sit near the bonfire starring at the night sky hoping for some shaman to bring me to the ends of the universe. I still do everyday.
[#] This was first posted more than 2 years back. One of those 'did I really write that' feelings...tell me if its still relevant :) thx.
Sunday, September 21
[#] Btw, pics are not proccesed (except the one marked), jst resized. If anyone wants a bigger sized snap of any of the photos here, jst leave a comment.
Travelers: Indran, Kumar, Vj and Ghost
Saturday, September 20
hey...did you know, Tesla died a miserably lonely death. Yes...i read him once. And? And...what? I know you are trying to equate something here, but I don't understand it. Don't go when you are not ready. I will never know when I'm ready. And he is Tesla, he never did die! We shall see. I'm just another one in the mass, the world prevails. Save that for when we meet, wont do justice over the phone. Ok, but its good to know that you thought about this as much as I did, never figured you would care. The hints were there for like what...years now? Heh!
Friday, September 19
and your stories are the same as mine
the steps we take travel the same path
beautiful days dawn at the same time
fall colors create the same paintings
do we see the same sky?
Travelers: Vj, MJ, Ghost
Thursday, September 18
[Read the full, you will like it too]
I'm sorry that while you were shooting your failed opus at Tisch, I was jamming toxic silicon toys up my ass for money. I get why you're bitter. I took exactly one film class in college and-- with the curious exception of the Douglas Sirk unit—it bored the shit out of me. I also once got busted for loudly crinkling a bag of Jujubes during a classroom screening of Vivre Sa Vie. I don't deserve to be here. We've established that. But I'm here. Five million 12-year-olds think I'm Buck Henry. Accept it.
Listen: I've been telling stories my whole life. Even when I was a phone sex operator, I was the Mark Twain of extemporaneous jerk-off fiction. I took every perspiring creep on a fucking journey. I don't know how to do anything else.
Wednesday, September 17
Why the sudden plans? I don't know actually, I wanted change. But that's what you've been talking for so long and you are still here. I am stuck, I think of many people. I have to think about many people. They define my life, that's why I'm stuck here. Why don't you think first of what you're asking, I mean what you want. What is there to think, another day is like another dagger into my heart, I cant even focus on what they are asking me to do. Leaving or creating my own space is my plan to overcome this. Don't talk nonsense, you're too young to make this kind of decisions.
They why didn't they let me do it earlier? Maybe it's all for the good, maybe you're still here because of that. I am not blaming anyone, you know this and I know this. We've had this talk long before, I asked for my space and I took it because they were reluctant to give it. And how sure are you that you'll do good this time? I learned a lot from the past failures. It was a big one, we were there, and don't tell me we did not support you then. It was, but it would not have happened if my aspirations, my dreams were respected last time. We will go around in circles talking about those times, and you know it well. Then just let me go.
[+] Bruce Chatwin, in his introduction to his last book 'What Am I Doing Here' wrote "The word 'story' is intended to alert the reader to the fact that, however closely the narratives may fit the facts, the fictional process has been at work".
[#] These are my stories and conversations, about me leaving the comforts of home and my circle, retold from memory.
[+] The Print version of Glossolalia Vol. 1:1 can be ordered now here [Glossolalia]
Tuesday, September 16
It is at this moments you realize who is serious about this exciting hobby and who is not. There were many kids who just throw their nets and get loads of fish, but when we look further we realize it was the summer seasons and the ponds are drying up. When the monsoon seasons come the ponds are full, larger fishes swim there. So being hobbyists, they plan their trips and go there at the right times. The ones who fish when the ponds are shallow are fishing for food. A temporary excitement, fun and joy but it feeds people. The anglers are doing it for their satisfaction, they're calm and they wait. Honing their skills for a another day or a competition and a lot of other events. Fishing teaches us a lot. It separates us according to our skills and motivations. The end results are not always satisfying, but we get to do something that we like. That's important.
Monday, September 15
The benefits of being youths living in a lawless world is that, when we see a door... we can kick it open or break it down. But is there still a risk of people saying that we are irresponsible? When we are just trying to open the doors to opportunity, in a society trying to cement such doors shut.
Sunday, September 14
Saturday, September 13
Something about love that makes you want to live forever. Even if its in memories only. Or something that makes you want to die over and over again to make it happen the right way. I choose to die, that way I can see new worlds.
~A beautiful composition from IR
How does it work? There are elements of channeling, dream interpretation, retracing your life and if we can related some of it to black magic, then it was used as well. Despite them claiming its all for the good, I think I know what all this is. I did not seek to see about the ghosts myself, I think I know the answers to this already. Most probably I will have a ghost following me too and I need to be cleansed as well. But the shaman did ask me to drive carefully. So there ends my short career of drive by photography.
About asking the shaman, you can ask anything. Just about anything and everything will be revealed. From your job to about you family to your love life and even death. If there are some vague revelations about any of this, so the seeker would immediately confirm to it and start telling the whole story and that's how the shaman will continue the spin. Most psychics and readers use this technique as well to validate their readings. I'm not so sure about the aural readings, connecting to your inner self, etc. They can also send their 'assistants' for remote viewing. This part is freaky, because the same assistant will also do their bidding of anything. And about them coming into your lives, don't be scared. It doesnt work easily when you have your own strong opinions. And even if it affects you, its temporary. Just dont let the mind wander. And seriously, it doesnt work, there could not be such bad things that you cant get out of the rut yourself.
This whole region is the land of black magic. Some might be good, some is used for very bad purposes. Well if you believe it, then there is every chance that you can be affected. Blind faith? Or if you believe their cure, then maybe its like the placebo effect. The display of knowledge and power will make you a believer. Especially if they can retrace your past in detail, even your past life sometimes. Knowing about this is not good, asking about the future is worst. I'd rather stick to moving forward with time (and science). Now I so well understand what the skeptics are saying, we have so much information that we have many choices. And we have so much good interpreted results that its better we choose science.
I wanted to write more about all this, but I hate it when someone says to me that I have to believe in something sometime. Makes me think if what I was believing all this while is wrong. Its not, not perfect but I am on the right track as everyone else. And that's what my housemate been telling me since yesterday, that I need to believe it. The point is, the ghost entered coz he was weak. And he was easily manipulated by the shaman because he was weak. Both are the same thing. I just hope he doesn't start to preach, it will be bad.
Oh and the world is ending in 11 years. Don't ask me how the shaman knows this, but the story just blew me away, especially when it was told at 3 am! Kinda made me dying to the sun this morning.
[#] Im off the library, need to regain the 'trust' in myself :D
That will be travel for the day.
[+] There are many books about the concept of black magic in this part of the world. It is an ancient form of belief. There has been countless documentaries on the networks about this, from SEA to India to Haiti. Will update if I find any articles.
Friday, September 12
How often should you publish?
How many movies should you star in next year?
How many records should you release? How many songs should you write?
How many times a week should you post to your blog?
What does the movie tell. Again and again its about him not being the hero, he was not supposed to lead. That's the fact. They kinda throw it at you, just subtly. Its a great metaphor for our lives and for the age we live in. It is the age of anarchy and chaos, but the world is bigger than Gotham. We don't see it in open, we don't have to subscribe to it since we're already in the system and slowly strengthening the agents of chaos.
I dont know if the future will still believe in one two white knights, the legends are all dead. It's not enough for a person to change anything significant, or to start a revolution. More of clinging to hope, more of creating circles of safety and slowly expanding it to make things better for a few people and to groups and communities.
And its all about love isn't it. When you cant see how to solve the world or answer its questions, love will be the judge and juror. How far it will take you is a question of perspectives and distance. Yet again, how far it will push you is not a question at all. In essence its about changing the change that initiated itself, to push the boundaries ever so slowly and finally engulfing soul after soul to listen to you and follow your path. And then it ends, just like that.
[#] Ramblings, unanswered yet again. But its only a movie, how it touches you depends on how serious you are towards it.
[#] And is this what they term as self-realization or just watching your life on screen minus the costumes?
More than that actually, the world politics have changed, international students were stranded everywhere, airports closed. Even lab equipments and chemicals take 6 months to a year to be cleared and reach the universities. Satellites and other sensitive equipments are categorized as weapons and controlled items for import export (what I gathered from one of my job interviews with a sat station, not sure if its a new ruling).
Frankly, everything around the world changed, the rules changed and the amount of spying and snooping your records increased tremendously. It becomes clear if you can see that every phone call is monitored, everyone is an enemy, that's how the world changed. We really don't know what is right or wrong, but we have to acknowledge the fact that every country has the rights to defend itself. Through fear or something else, everyone 'had asked' to be unwillingly put in their places.
What legacy remains, I'm not sure for how long though, but whatever remains in memories will eventually be forgotten. Just like the Sunday morning protests, then anti-war campaigns, our voices are no match for the political powers. To see the histories from a' cleaner' perspective, just follow the money trails, see who profits from these markers in human history. Many answers can be unraveled. 9-11 had many believers in the early years, but right now the skeptics and conspiracy theorists outnumber them. There can be no more positive spin to this event, only the negatives sell. We have to wonder how differently the world would have reacted if the tragedies were to happen elsewhere. But look no further than how Iraq has been decimated to sell news. The world is moving too fast for people to stop and take notice. Just like any major anniversaries, this too shall be forgotten tomorrow. That's what history has taught us. Only the affected will light a candle today, only the ones in pain will remember the day.
God Bless everyone because it somehow dawned today that many more people gave their lives compared to the ones who perished that morning. But none shall be forgotten. In every tragedy, every day, every second. Everyone's a survivor, live life and learn to love it. :)
Thursday, September 11
[update] Okay, now im abit calmer, not blogging with the cell from the middle of the city. The housemate, yes the one I don't like, went to see a shaman a few months back, he discovered he 'picked' up a lady ghost/poltergeist when he was a teen while playing football in some field (yes yes, the shamanic visions are vivid, ud be shocked). I'm not sure how to name it. In Tamil its called a Mohini. And its been following him all over for like 10 years of his life! Apparently it wont disturb others, but then again it wont let him get a girlfriend or get married. And he's seen it before! I don't know how bad this is, but this explains a lot of what ive seen myself and experienced all this years...the shadows, the 'thing' standing at the end of the room... So the shaman has offered to exorcise it, and well move it to an empty house where apparently it will find another weak one to stalk! or get married to. Do I have to be nice to him till he gets rid of it?
[updates...sigh] just when I tought this will end peacefully, tomorrow the shaman is coming to the apartment. I dont think its a good idea, got to get out of here somehow...well its the weekend anyway. Will update on what happens later on.
Wednesday, September 10
Wait...what the...the world did not end, everyone still here. sigh :-(
It's been more than 3 years since I last wrote anything on the Large Hadron Collider, LHC. The ATLAS detector was still being built then, 2005 was the International Year of Physics and there wasn't much fanfare regarding the LHC at all. That is until tomorrow...where the world might end, or some real physics gets done.
And here we go, tomorrow (Sept 10 at CERN, Geneva) the first attempt to circulate a beam around the LHC will take place, which I fail to understand how it could destroy existence in the first place, because the first collision of two beams, or at a target isn't even scheduled until the 28th of October. So everyone still has good time left to do what you love, quit your jobs, etc and wait for the world to end.
What does LHC do or create? For that, we have to go through 1000 pages of Particles and Fields of Phys Rev D. I lost it at the first few chapters years ago, so we better not for the moment. Basically the LHC is a particle physics experiment aimed at discovering the superstar particles; Higgs Boson (the ghost particle :P now you know where the nick came from), gravitons, magnetic monopoles, deciphering energy fields, the CP violation, and earth destroying black holes. The physics is pretty exciting, the experiment itself is huge, its expected to generate 15 million Gigabytes of data annually!!! and the whole mechanism and how the experiments will be executed is well laid down on the web. So head on to the links and have fun.
[+] LHC Outreach (~laymen info)
[+] LHC Grid Computing
[+] LHC At Home
[Updates - WIRED] [Cern_Gallery][Best & Worst Case Scenario]
Tuesday, September 9
Sunday, September 7
The 22-year-old, who was six months pregnant then, was waiting for a relative at a coffeeshop in Brickfields, Kuala Lumpur, when a raiding police party asked to see her identification card. She could not because she had lost it. Worse, she also forgot the IC number.
The tired days eventually melts away into the deep night. And a new world of dreams emerge like before, ever so often. Sometimes I loose track of time, waking up days before or days in the future. Not knowing the present, all the markers, papers, broadcasts in my travels never echo time or the date. I watch the skies and stars for my direction, my signals.
In one occasion, about a year ago I walked into a long, winding mountain road. A wormhole across the dense jungle all around me, as far as the mind can see. Intermittently waking up, to the rush of the monsoon to close the windows, and in the dream to wind up the car windows. Something soft and warm in the heart about yellow headlights of the car and the shards of raindrops it encounters. All along the route are death stones, more markers of events. A few times I stopped to look at the most vivid ones, the colorful Tibetan prayer flags and sometimes hanging coffins.
The destination emerged out of nowhere at one side of the road, to the right after a corner - I remember now. A narrow pathway carved out of soil and rocks. I drove straight to the majestic building at the end of it. The nearer I was to it, what seemed like the fountain of daylight pouring on the tall gigantic building slowly emerged as hundreds or maybe even thousands of lanterns on every corner of the building.
In another blink - waking up of the thunder, the car disappeared and I was walking along the corridors of the many halls of the building. There are people there, and like all the dreams, I can only see the faces of one or two. Then she came, she was familiar. The one whom i imagined in my many stories, that long dark braided hair. Where did she come from, suddenly the smile and the warmth and assurance. We walked along the halls, still silent and me desperately wanting to ask questions. At one moment she opened a door, where I figured must be at the far end of the building. We walked in into a small cozy reading room. Tables and green retro chairs, something from the 60's. And books on shelves with glass sliders. After what seems like an hour, me still there staring at her and the liberating feel of the room she opened the door again and...asked me to go. I walked out into a hall with shelves as high as twenty or thirty stories, so tall I could not even see the top, the ends. And I turned back to see her smile and close the door. And I started to explore. Walking among countless people, in strange symmetry with the lines of the corridors, with books and reading lamps repeating everywhere I look. All eyes closed.
[#] If you're new to the stories of Strange Days, what I'm writing are recollection of my dreams, lucid dreams as some might see it as. There were many, probably hundreds, but I just recently started to note them probably starting two years back. As you can see it sometimes stops just as I see things, sometimes I can continue the lucids, sometimes I loose it forever. Not remembering the details.
Thursday, September 4
Wednesday, September 3
slowly digging through
vivid regoliths of the mind
only to find
shards of sharp judgments
poking every second
for every reason you have
welcoming you to reality
telling you to get over it
or just die
on other days
I see people
from the scapes
for their own use
to be thrown
they know more
about the pain of others
who are unfortunate enough
not to be able to re-scale their minds
or control its intensity
to receive such jokes
as just words
and it repeats
and i asked
till the day dawned
and a new morning was born
will she ever come
will they ever come
will she ever come back
and he answered
*she comes back to leave again
coz i haven’t changed
and she has not started yet
and I wait
for another lifetime
*words from nayan, thx bro.
there are words
that im searching
waiting ever so hopefully
to fall from the sky
so that I can convince
them to extend deadlines
but all seems futile
as today their minds
are on holiday
and their fingers can only
Mimpi / Dreams
(English subtitles, bt knowing Indonesian will make the experience a whole lot better)
[#] Anggun Cipta Sasmi means Grace Born of A Dream in Balinese...such a beautiful name. Thx Vj for the pointer/ song.
Tuesday, September 2
On another ride in torrential rain, across mountain ranges all I could see was grey scapes blending in the shades of green, of the giant trees standing majestically still in the crushing rain. And below them were critters and bugs of all sorts, sheltering and yet again looking at us in the vehicles. Fireflies dot the miniature sky each tree creates and they were observing stars and evolving. Maybe the bus was traveling back in time.
Many more days on the roads and paths where humans seems to thread less, time had stopped still until the next sentience pass through awakening such miracle images of monuments and mechanical beings walking lands that doesn't exist anywhere else. I closed my eyes every time, at every moment another creature stares at me. I slip into time travel and wake up in another journey or dimension. Those were the best days.
[#] My dreams are so much interesting than the real world :)
[+] I did write about this dreams in fiction in another story set [The Search For Jim Thompson]