Wednesday, October 31, 2007

The Homecoming

It is a good day to be a wrestling fan.

Albeit the mediocre ratings and the rush of key injuries of late, the only wrestling promotion that I watch, the (in)famous WWE, has successfully recruited the final tantalizing piece of the puzzle of excitement to complete the troupe of my favourite wrestlers. Now featured among the roster of its flagship show, Monday Night RAW, are the silky in-ring skills of three performers; coincidentally all known rockers in their own right.

After months of frenzied speculation and cryptic teasers instigated by his viral campaign, joining the evergreen show-stopping Heart-Break Kid, Shawn Michaels and the high-flying, death-defying daredevil Jeff Hardy is the one and only Ayatollah of Rock ‘n’ Rolla, Chris Jericho!!! Welcome back, interesting segments! With the amalgamation of impressive acrobatic wrestling and crafty mike skills, is it a surprise I am beaming from ear to ear?

It is a good day to be a wrestling fan.

Monday, October 15, 2007

The Letter

Written on the back of an invoice:

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To the Management of Royal Lake Club,

It is a shame that the supposedly prestigious Royal Lake Club decided to fleece its own new members by using various underhanded tactics. I am bitterly disappointed that I was charged extravagantly for a compulsory ‘Members Introduction Dinner’, especially when the food and services was not worth the RM252 that was billed to me. Because of this, please provide me with an itemised receipt detailing the prices incurred for this ceremonial banquet.

Similarly, I am flabbergasted by the audacity of your organization to impose the payment of a ‘gift’ back at myself when I was not informed of the cost beforehand. Hence, kindly credit my account off the Centenary Book that I ostensibly purchased and am currently returning. I have no intentions of keeping the historical chronicles of a disgraceful club when it is but another unscrupulous way it swindles its members.

All in all, I am happy to inform you that your apparent endeavour in keeping members away from enjoying your facilities is progressing promisingly, and I must assure you that I would not extend any recommendations to potential members who may be interested. In fact, I would be glad to assist in your mission of limiting honorary members within your establishment by circulating this letter through any electronic media I have influence in.

---------------------

Disclaimer: This letter was written in anger under time constraints, so pardon the lack of narration flamboyance and grammatical precision that you probably expect from this site. If the intention behind the letter remains elusive, all I wanted to say was ROYAL LAKE CLUB SUCKS!!!

Sunday, September 30, 2007

The Introduction Night

It recently dawned upon me: within this personal digital page dedicated to dilatoriness, I suddenly realised that I have never endeavoured in mentioning any of my brothers I have gained during my best years. Sure, considering how proudly I parade them to my acquaintances from my other stages of life, there was never a need to introduce them here. Yet for the benefit of my online fans I have never met, such integral elements of my character merit recognition.

I have always integrated myself into groups of four, and this one is no different. Recently, there was an unveiling dinner, even though it was somewhat sullied by juvenile assessments to be of decadent intents. Obviously this was not true. The immaturity of people astounds me sometimes. Nonetheless, petty nuisances were brushed aside as pretty guests were invited to witness the christening of my longest affiliation. It was made known that day of the existence of VICES.

However, I must admit that despite the unification under a new tag, no consensus was met on the actual denotation of the abbreviation. But this being MY blog, I am less inclined to compromise the sanctity of this space by promulgating elitism. So within my world, VICES is the acronym for the Victoria Institution Charming Enigmas – a worthy description of us I believe whilst paying homage to our alma mater among others.

Like most notable band of brothers, I am sure VICES is a kaleidoscope of personalities in spite of the prevalent parallels adopted. Even so - due to the similar origins of the members (explicitly our school for those a little slow today) - it was a challenge to distinguish and subsequently designate a part to each of its members. Credit goes to our alma mater I supposed, which has consistently nurtured versatile high-achievers like us, laudable in most areas.

Yet, for identification purposes, a distinction must be made. With my impressive intellect, what is the probability I would fail? However, before I venture further, be forewarned that there are perils to labelling that could beget a multitude of potentially dangerous implications. Even a moniker as simple as ‘the Smart One’ may trigger an inferiority complex in others, thus do not be foolish and think that the following cognomens illustrate the whole personality of each VICE.

Therefore, purely for entertainment purposes and with no offence intended, please permit me the privilege to present to you the prestigious people affiliated to the Victoria Institution Charming Enigmas, class of forever… *cue regal theme for dramatic entrance*

Bachelor No.1 is arguably the most successful in terms of individual honours with his collection of gold medals in martial arts sparring. Nominated as the Victorian of VICES, Nash is the Muscles of the company with his enviable lean body and his fascination for all things violent… virtually.

Next, Bachelor No. 2 is definitely the sharpest of the lot, considering he was the undisputed top of the class with his grades. Earning the highest already, Yew Boon (YB) is the epitome of Institution among us. Likewise, is there any surprise he is known as the Brain?

On the other hand, Bachelor No. 3 may not boast as many accolades as Muscles or Brain, but he is definitely Charming of the gang. It is Trent who plays the key role in luring unsuspecting ladies into this humble party of ours, since chatter tends to be incessant whenever he is around. Also known as the Face, his achievements varies from Scrabble to Archery; a fine analogy of the multitude of façades within one’s looks.

What about the Enigma then? On contrary to popular belief, I am not the Heart; even though it best exemplifies my influential decisions within the group democracy. Nor am I the clichéd Soul of VICES too, despite my inclination to bring everyone together in all deeds. Nay, I am merely the Arse. Before you demonstrate in dissent for such blasphemy, consider this: with the amount of shit coming out of me, which anatomy would be more appropriate in embodying me?

I rest my case. =)

Saturday, September 15, 2007

The Practical Revolution

With the surprising finale of the F1 season for this cycle, I am inspired…

---------------------

I must admit that despite my eloquence and my apparent maturity, I am but a youth in his prime. Therefore, it is not strange that I suffer from the adolescent delusion of immortality and juvenile illusion of invulnerability to find it particularly exhilarating to speed on the many highways that are like arteries of our dear nation. Do not get me wrong; I still feel that a horrific accident involving some reckless driver’s brittle tin cans will cause my demise but hey, I am Superman now.

Being a reckless driver myself, prudent parties are not wrong to assume that I am courting Death (heard she is hot, albeit a little gothic) with my lackadaisical outlook. However, with the gridlock of motor inactivity plaguing our urban lifestyle lately, it is difficult - if not nigh impossible - to find a good long stretch when we can spur our mobile metal home to purr like it wants to. Alas, the short winding roads are a worthy price to pay in exchange for the many luxuries we enjoy.

Do not be too discouraged though, because other claustrophobic metropolitans are mushrooming throughout the world, urging an increasing demand for alternative adrenaline inducers. So when a racing-themed movie based in compact Japan was released not-so-recently, like mindless sheep, our nation’s youths embraced this new fad of negotiating tight turns without compromising speed. So while some arses vented their pent up aggression by weaving through traffic in the vehicle of their choice and somehow survived (for now) to brag about it; their equally dimwit counterparts are boasting about their latest drifting stint at some obscure location.

As indicated by my affiliation with IDIOT, I have no interest in swimming in the sea of conformity of course. Besides, with my bold driving and the resulting damages, who in the right mind would want to splash another few hundred dollars to frequently replace their worn-out tires? I seriously doubt any ladies with their wits intact would find the screeching of tires sexy anyway. Talk about torturing the ears! Heck, if you ask me, I would rather play around with this other gear rod of mine to make some other pretty thing scream (in ecstasy). But that’s just me and you did not ask, so let us keep that story for another day in another post.

No, my pursuit for adrenaline comes not from such orthodox endeavours. You will be surprised what little joys I can derive from the daily clogging of roads. If you are proactively looking for it, or if you are as sharp-minded as yours truly, such inconspicuous achievements on your travels will not elude your weak-handed grasps. Similar to other great skills, this guilty pleasure I have been rambling about goes by many names; the most prevalent one being Defensive Driving.

Yes, this is my declaration of my advocacy to Defensive Driving. Which intelligent city rat would not? It is after all tremendously effective (and enjoyable) when navigating within a metropolitan. But wait a minute; do I hear a whisper of ignorance? You should read more, my dear readers. If nothing else, you should know this: it is the failure of one Lewis Hamilton to master this technique that he is not the youngest F1 winner ever (yet).

Friday, August 31, 2007

The Quinquagenary

It is very uplifting to find so many fellow countrymen bloggers across the globe deferred from their usual depressive and/or hostile perspective on life and dedicated an exclusive entry within their private digital domains, just to commemorate the Golden Anniversary of our Nationhood.

I may not be the most ardent patriot, but considering how those within my circle of influence are professing their love for the nation, is there any doubt I would participate and celebrate such an accomplishment as well? Heck, even the staunchest critics that I had to convince of the wonders of our country are offering congratulations for this milestone. Well, notwithstanding the fact that beautiful women in their best attire flourished the festivity for me, that is. =)

It is equally encouraging to discover the number that had congregated at a ‘lesser known secret hideout’ that offers a full panoramic view of our distinguished Asian capital. Despite the rampant incredulous logic to evoke racism among the people that has plagued our political scene of late, to find a patient crowd of all demographics lingering past the hour mark after the countdown for a mere glimpse of the customary firework display, definitely made a Malaysian proud.

Alas, most turned back disappointed, for even from an elevated height, the more entertaining use of gunpowder could not overcome the buildings we have and rival the stars. (Yes ladies, there WERE fireworks. Sorry about that.) I am not sure that fact alone should invigorate my patriotism or douse it though. Should I be upset that our country did not invest in a definite crowd pleaser to commemorate such an event? Or should I be proud that our nation boasts skyscrapers that could obstruct a soaring exhibition? That is a thought for another day. At the moment, I am just grateful for the pleasant company that night of many firsts.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

The Speculation

Although blogs range from a collection of mindless photo journals to an anthology of outstanding daily chronicles to a compilation of thought provoking pieces, there seem to be a mutual attribute that ascend online journals from the sea of mediocrity: format consistency; regular updates; and constant up-keeping. Obviously, mine feature neither of these.

It’s been more than a fortnight since my last post, yet I have refrained from adding any interesting insights of mine to my previous post, disappointing many I’m sure. Well I guess this epitomize the direction for the rest of my writings: I write for pleasure, not for pressure. Then again, don’t hold it against me if I amend my position when my fan-base increases in magnitude.

In spite of the title of this web-waste, procrastination did not rear its ugly head throughout most tempting times. Instead of composing paragraphs of nonsensical ideas and opinions like a true procrastinator would, I found myself engrossing myself with paragraphs of relevant concepts and procedures in the form of official manuals over my last fortnight at work.

However, this does not denote the absence of thought and its subsequent desire to express them. In fact I’ve been mulling over this latest entry for days now yet I can’t seem to convey the vague ideas into actual words. It doesn’t help too when I procrastinate so much. Hey, don’t blame me. Consider the sheer number of luxuries I can indulge in. Besides, being the procrastinator I am, isn’t it generally accepted to find me procrastinating from procrastination?

So maybe I’ll stop blogging and let it die a natural death…

On second thought, maybe I should weather this mental impediment and persevere on. Too many a time have I preached to others on the healthiness of blogging. A firm believer of the psychological benefits of intrapersonal communication, all the encouragements to friends to continue in their endeavours of online journaling would be put into disrepute should I not practice the same. Heck, I’ll be labelled as a hypocrite.

With that, hopefully another post of a banal, poor attempt on self-discovery will emerge on this page again. Don't hold your breaths though, as I have just begun my journey towards traditional self actualization, otherwise known as another phase in my latest project. Who knows? Maybe in another procrastinating moment I might actually compose something astounding to avoid working on an all important report due the next day.

Till next time, God bless. God bless us all.

Monday, July 30, 2007

The Monthly Monologue

Today marks the first full turn of the moon since I offered my services under a new slave-driver, and I must admit I am quite excited. The monetary bribery they offered for my month-long labour is quite appealing for the poor man I am, while the presence of graceful beauties never fails to distract motivate me to toil, even though it means embarking on daily journeys to distant lands.

With my constant travels, I’m sure my compassionate readers will understand my inability to add any insights within this humble space. Yet, with this prolonged absence, previously unforeseen revelations were graciously accentuated to my limited mental capabilities. Not much of a spiritual junkie, the liberation that comes with such epiphany is but a recent discovery of mine.

I must say despite my boyish good looks and tantalizing charm, I was never the type to win any popularity contests. I am simply biologically and psychologically hardwired to favour relaxed yet intimate conversations at a hidden corner of Starbucks over parading around with fake plastic smiles to maintain visibility within a circle. This inclination I inherited from my mom.

However, similarly fated like my mom, I am still astonished by the frequency strangers approach me, claiming that they know me from some past affiliation. Although there ARE a select few who were able to provide such detailed descriptions of me to warrant a second suspicious look, most did not exude such creepy stalker-aura. Heck, most don’t even know my name!

Therefore, those graced by my presence identify me through the many oddities distinctiveness I happen to radiate. Despite my stark individuality, I am proud to declare that I managed to elude the many harsh lessons that span over one’s childhood and adolescence. No cruel epithets or any twisted desecration of my good name were attached to me throughout my youth.

Alas, such matters are inevitable as monikers have slowly gained foothold over this poor soul. A hypothesis that was concocted tells of the immensity of my potential and how it compels people within the vicinity to impart some sort of acknowledgement, yet no approach can be made due to the intimidation most have to endure in the company of one brimming with such promise.

Ironically, the month spent traversing through this new adult phase of life, embodied by a 12-floor office and its surrounding areas, have garnered me a few reputations to say the least. Due to the sheer enormity of the enterprise I’m currently affiliated to, in addition to the diversity of my evident mannerisms, each soubriquet is distinguished by the degree of exposure to yours truly.

A modern day princess once shared that the current corporation I am associated with populate its male half of the workforce with people who are pleasing to the eye. Nonetheless, I am recognized as the Handsome Fellow within the walls of my company. Says quite a bit, doesn’t it? Then again, which other dashing Chinese can boast a full goatee, portending his superior masculinity?

Obviously, such physical qualities cannot be explicitly articulated with the shrinking of the working relationship distances, especially when sexual harassment lawsuits are plethoric at the corporate stage nowadays. It is a dangerous world today, as telling the truth is often deemed offensive. Try calling a 20-year-old female co-worker a ‘girl’ and watch the lawsuits come in.

Hence, those within my department chose aliases that reflect more of my eccentricity rather than any outstanding physical traits, no matter how tempting. Thus, I am better known as the Bag Guy (not remotely related to the Bag Lady) due to my insistence to uphold the scouts’ motto. It can’t be helped that being prepared means some sort of carrier is needed to house my stuff!

Still, as the crowd gets thinner and the group grow closer, I go by another name. I must reiterate to the IDIOTs that I have not defected and established a new clique in this current chapter. It is true I exhibit a palpable tendency to tag along a particular bunch for lunch, but do not let these ostensibly habitual associations fool you. A deeper connection in mentality is still unreachable.

Nonetheless, that did not stop a handful of my colleagues from christening me with the third, and final, nickname for the month: Fung Yao Boy. It is no surprise why such appellation was affixed to me, especially when the moniker is not entirely original. A housemate of mine used it once and I am not afraid to admit again that it is ONE of my many proud distinctive features.

There you have it, the three titles that evaded my carefully placed defences against stereotyping after barely a month. I am sure that more labels will bloom as my sphere of influence increases, but I anticipate each will remain clung onto me for years to come. Are they pleasant or are they distressing? It is too early to tell. I am just glad that they are not that bad at the moment.

Sunday, July 29, 2007

The Reminder of Impending Death

After eagerly anticipating my turning of age since the beginning of the month, it seems like my birth anniversary arrived only for the briefest of moments. In a blink of an eye, we are now waiting for the next batch of birthdays to come. So after letting the disappointment permeate through my consciousness for a whole week, I have finally come to terms with such dire circumstances. Yet, one thought remains…


WHERE IS THE FREAKING 30gig WHITE iPod I WANTED FOR MY BIRTHDAY PRESENT?!

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Don’t worry. There’s always next year. =P

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Just make sure it comes with an extensive collection of alternative rock.

Saturday, July 28, 2007

Falling In Love


She wanted to be a cowboy
She was shooting them down
She was tramping around

He walked in crooked with the clear blue eyes
"There's a nice pool in my motel - you want to go for a swim?"
That night he moved in

The time between meeting and finally leaving is
sometimes called falling in love
The time between meeting and finally leaving is
sometimes called falling in love

At night she'd wait for the sound of his feet on the doormat
The sound of his hand on the doorknob
The sound of her heart beating in her head
He'd go out playing nickel slots ‘cause he knew he'd lose
She didn't know, so she couldn't choose

But one night while sleeping alone in her bed
The phone rang, she woke up, and sat up and said
"What time is it? What time is it?"
"Well it's 5:30 here and it's 2:30 there
And I won't be home tonight," he said

The time between meeting and finally leaving is
sometimes called falling in love
The time between meeting and finally leaving is
sometimes called falling in love

Now she sits in a booth in a diner
Waiting for someone to take her order
Waiting for someone to come and sit down

She rubs the smudge off the photograph, puts it back in her purse
The grey sky was romantic cause he was holding her hand
He was her man

The time between meeting and finally leaving is
sometimes called falling in love
The time between meeting and finally leaving is
sometimes called falling in love
Sometimes called falling in love…

She wanted to be a cowboy
She was shooting them down
She was tramping around

Friday, July 27, 2007

Sex and Violence


I used to love you now I don't care
Now I turn around, you're everywhere
So you can chew me up and spit me out
You're just the little bitch I cared about

I know you can see me
But you don't believe me
I know that you're lonely
Time will tell and time is hell

No sex or violence
No morbid silence
Forever sleeping
You won't stop breathing

You hold me captive and it's not fair
Progressed insanity is everywhere
You need to love me but you kicked me out
My head is wandering so knock me out

I keep my head afloat I'm drowning in
The muddy water pulls me down again
I used to love me but I hate me now
I'm just a little bitch I cared about

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Heaven and Hot Rods


You can get it if you really want it
But you better off just leave it alone
You won't forget it if you ever had it
So you're better off just staying at home

She walked in with her alligator sister
Trying to get to Heaven on Sunday
You'll never get it if you never had it
So better off just leave it alone

And the dogs came in
Just to see her smile
And the dogs came in
Just to see her smile
Just to see her smile

You don't get it, no, you won't forget
So you're better off just leave it alone
If you don't stop thinking, soon you will be drinking
And you're better off just staying at home

And the dogs came in
Just to see her smile
And the dogs came in
Just to see her smile
Just to see her smile

Coming Down
Mom I'm still healing
Coming Down
Oh, and I'm still breathing
Coming Down

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

In The Arms of Sleep


Sleep will not come to this tired body now
Peace will not come to this lonely heart
There are some things I’ll live without
But I want you to know that I need you right now
I need you tonight

I steal a kiss from her sleeping shadow moves
’Cause I’ll always miss her wherever she goes
And I’ll always need her more than she could ever need me
I need someone to ease my mind
But sometimes a someone is so hard to find

And I’ll do anything to keep her here tonight
And I’ll say anything to make her feel alright
And I’ll be anything to keep her here tonight
’Cause I want you to stay, with me
I need you tonight

She comes to me like an angel out of time
As I play the part of saint on my knees
There are some things I’ll live without
But I want you know that I need you right now

Suffer my desire
Suffer my desire
Suffer my desire for you

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Becoming


Listen, heart
Listen close, listen
To the melancholy
Melody of your own voice

I am weary
Of my own dreaming
I am tired of waiting
So this time, I'm leaping

I reach beyond myself to see
What I find, beyond my mind, there is no time
In this place beyond my sight
My heart knows what is not yet seen
I'm witnessing my own becoming

Lash myself to the
Mantle of my desire I will
Turn from its temptations
But the wanting takes me higher

I am hurting
Oh, I am not yet born
I am the mother and the father
Of what is not yet known

I reach beyond myself to see
What I find, beyond my mind, there is no time
In this place beyond my sight
My heart knows what is not yet seen
I'm witnessing my own becoming

Darkness surrounds me
I scratch, I struggle, I breathe

I reach beyond myself to see
What I find, beyond my mind, there is no time
In this place beyond my sight
My heart knows what is not yet seen
I'm witnessing my own becoming

Monday, July 23, 2007

Pure Morning


A friend in needs a friend indeed
A friend with weed is better
A friend with breasts and all the rest
A friend who's dressed in leather

A friend in needs a friend indeed
A friend who'll tease is better
Our thoughts compressed
Which makes us blessed
And makes for stormy weather

A friend in needs a friend indeed
My Japanese is better
And when she's pressed she will undress
And then she's boxing clever

A friend in needs a friend indeed
A friend who bleeds is better
My friend confessed she passed the test
And we will never sever

Day's dawning, skins crawling
Pure morning

A friend in needs a friend indeed
A friend who'll tease is better
Our thoughts compressed
Which makes us blessed
And makes for stormy weather

A friend in needs a friend indeed
A friend who bleeds is better
My friend confessed she passed the test
And we will never sever

Day's dawning, skins crawling
Pure morning

A friend in needs a friend indeed
My Japanese is better
And when she's pressed she will undress
And then she's boxing clever

A friend in needs a friend indeed
A friend with weed is better
A friend with breast and all the rest
A friend who's dressed in leather

Sunday, July 22, 2007

The Lingering Rancour

Worrisome revelations were recently brought to my attention. To capture the complete scale of emotions involved without infringing anyone’s privacy, all I dare to mention is that a close friend of mine had an attack - not too long ago if my sources proved to be reliable. Further information is sketchy at the moment, but I have been assured that aside from the further deterioration of the condition, no other significant damages were observed, save for some expected minor bruising.

Albeit the rarity, it’s times like these when I question the wisdom of my parents.

Regrettably, I continue to harbour some resentment towards my family’s decision to retract my opportunity for post-graduation studies. Despite the blatancy, it is not my brother’s insistence to transfer to England for his law degree that left me disgruntled. Sure, there are more sensible, if not practical, options like completing his studies locally where he intends to eventually practice; or opting for Aussie alternatives instead of imposing the exorbitant exchange rate on the family.

No, I am disappointed at my parents for their integrity, or rather the absence of it.

Why did you agree to my proposals in the first place, building my hopes up in the process? Why did you rob me of my chance of enjoying my stay in Australia by duping me into returning home so soon? Why did you choose to divulge such predetermined verdicts AFTER my homecoming and distorted my forward planning into a lack of foresight? Why did you seethe with anger when you discovered I left a bulk of my possessions in Adelaide when foreknowledge was not granted?

So I waited, and interrogated, but no answers are forthcoming.

I acknowledge that non-preferential treatment among siblings should be practiced to ensure the healthy growth of every child. In fact, I wholeheartedly agree that favouritism is damaging; even though it indirectly ended my academic aspirations with its philosophy, its cursed rationale that each individual should be allowed similar chances as seen fit. But don’t you dare accuse me of exerting my influence as the favourite when it is clear I command no such affections from you.

It fuels my indignation, so much that I am now running out of rage.

Yes, a deep breath later and I could almost feel my exasperations slowly seeping away, shifting the emotional energies into the equally dangerous realm of envy. Commitments have shackled me, denying my pleas for mobility, so now I can only stare longingly beyond the ocean at the places I scheduled to visit, the cuisine I planned to savour as well as the endeavours I wanted to experience.

Hence, this is a thank you post to the cunning - the ones dictating my future.

Thanks for robbing me of the opportunity to tie up loose ends before my homecoming. I’m sure it makes you feel superior for pointing out all the things I would have done. Thanks for robbing me of the chance to capitalize on my stay overseas. I will never share any of the unique experiences that I revel in so much. Thanks for robbing me of the prospect to strengthen my friendships. An emotional distance exists now, and growing, between my friends due to my prolonged absence.

If anything happens to my buddies abroad and I start losing friends, guess who I’ll blame?

Saturday, July 21, 2007

White Lips Kissed


Wake me up, only nightmares take me in
Through these walls the winter bites
A draft from all sides

Why did you not include me on your list?
Let me in through the ceiling
White lips kissed

Our love is a fickle love
Keeps itself locked in a suitcase
To be ready to go always

I won't cry when the silver lining shows
But you're right, you understand
You ride with both hands
Worrying is the breathing that you need
So there won't be far to fall
You mustn't climb tall

Things that are supposed to mean lots
Leave you cold
And with a malady of the soul

Our love is a tricky love
Bet you know this, bet you noticed
Bet you know, which is why

I should know better than anyone ever could
Soon as I let go
Everything falls apart

I won't cry when the silver lining shows
But you're right, you understand
You ride with both hands
Worrying is the breathing that you need
So there won't be far to fall
You mustn't climb tall

Wake me up, only nightmares take me in
Through these walls the winter bites
A draft from all sides
Of course you can, there are diamonds in demand
It's a shame and as you know
The stain will not go

Friday, July 20, 2007

Saliva


And I'm sorry about you and me
And I'm sorry about us

You tried to give it your best but to what end, Saliva
You may not think so at first but I'm your designated driver
But this roadside is not yours or mine
And it's about time that I stop

She is the grey weather
At end of my tether
I didn't quite make it
I had to forsake it

And as I sit on the train I can taste her in my saliva
But I still depend on my Thursday friend, Saliva
And there's no book about you and me
All the snippets remain

I get a light, I get a light from everyone
That's right so undetermined
All I do now is just horrible and mean
I used to think that she and me could only be
Just fine, and to begin with
Nothing seems wrong
But it's not a happy song

And I'm sorry (I’m really, really sorry) about you and me
And I'm sorry (I’m really, really sorry) about us

She is the grey weather
At end of my tether
I didn't quite make it
I had to forsake it

I'm finding out
That you can't mess around with Saliva
And I drive a lot
Cause I can't stop thinking about her

(I'm in your hands)

I'll be yours, you'll be mine
It'll be fine, intertwined

Wet your dried out lips with saliva
What's more strange than this? Your saliva
If I did not miss you saliva
If my lips could kiss your saliva still

Thursday, July 19, 2007

Symmetry

Bo, this is for you.


I'm caught in the symmetry of your mind
But I'm not happier than you
I'm caught in the symmetry of your mind
But I'm not happier than you

Did I really see you or was it just a dream
(Dreaming) that it was seamless, not a trace of wrong
(Wrong) words that we have spoken little did we know
(No) bigotry no tears shed, oh if only

You'd try to be polite thinking you were right
Only to find that you're unkind
But ironically you will always be
Belle of The Ball ...at least to me

I'm caught in the symmetry of your mind
But I'm not happier than you

But my words are frail, not audible
They do not even convince me, perhaps they are untrue
(Truly) with you the worst is always true
I gave you all the benefits of all the doubts I had

Never hoped to be as benign as me
Funny how you always get through
But ironically you will always be
Belle of The Ball ...at least to me

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Comforting Sounds

To my Midnight Angel, in memory of better times.


If you have not noticed, I do not like to upload live concert clips, but this is the only snippet that features the longer, more complete version of this song. Besides, if this is any indication how cool a Mew concert looks, feel and sounds like, I can't wait for them to drop by Malaysia, as unlikely as that maybe.


I don't feel alright in spite of these comforting sounds you make.
I don't feel alright because you make promises that you break.
Into your house, why don't we share our solitude?
Nothing is pure anymore but solitude.

It's hard to make sense, feels as if I'm sensing you through a lens.
If someone else comes, I'd just sit here listening to the drums.
Previously I never called it solitude.

And probably you know all the dirty shows I've put on.
Blunted and exhausted like anyone.
Honestly I tried to avoid it. Honestly.

Back when we were kids, we would always know when to stop.
And now all the good kids are messing up.
Nobody has gained or accomplished anything.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

City Voices


From the sounds of approaching footsteps
I got scared that it wasn't you
I had heard ‘bout that thing that happened
Still I hope that it wasn't true

But there in the dark
Voices call out someone's name
Have you heard ‘bout the city voices
Voices that tell you secrets?

Your eyes told of a million memories
Your mouth spoke of a million things

I said you were cool
You said 'no', I asked you why
You said don't trust the city voices
Voices that fill you with lies

You said don't trust the city voices
Voices that fill you with lies

Monday, July 16, 2007

Behind the Drapes


All of us now
Dent as we fall
To amorous light
We call out

Why are we so alone
Even with company?
If not the moon
Will us guide
Will then the street light?

All of us now
Breathe it like smoke
To know what it's like
Breathing to choke

Well for nine days
A small moth has
Tried to escape
Our bedroom

Why are we so alone
Even with company?
We are the prey
For each day
A striking distance

Why are we so alone
Even with company?
If not the moon
Will us guide
Will then the street light?

Why are we so alone
Even with company?
We ought to pray
For each day
A striking distance

Sunday, July 15, 2007

The Retort

Much has been spoken about the contents of this page; of my refreshing views on life in general and the provocative perspective I propagate. That is if any of my readers are able to comprehend the message I am conveying.


Yes, I admit my penchant of extravagant word arrangement can be baffling sometimes, and my phrasing techniques give no credit to most scholars of the language. But I love words; the long, the short, the exquisite, even the coarse.


One need not go far to comprehend my style of writing; my influences range from the unorthodox euphemisms in sombre musical lyrics to the appositely evocative verbal imagery featured within tomes of the fantasy genre, hence the preference for unconventional idioms.


Moreover, this web-waste has been a reluctant victim faithful companion for my experimentations. It provides me with a convenient opportunity to integrate any recently introduced terminologies or composing methodologies immediately, albeit with impertinent results.


In other words, this blog is my chance to flaunt and boast about the remarkable vocabulary that I have amassed throughout my years of reading eloquent novels, while showing off my impeccable taste - which incidentally is comparable to any respectable connoisseur - by indulging in profound rhythmic poetry that is alternative rock. The fact that all these literary pieces are obscure and are unpolluted by the mainstream media further illustrates my sophistication in the arts. =)


Alas, I am compelled to descend from my superiority to appease my ardent legion of enthusiasts. Their devotion merits some form of reciprocation on my behalf, and I honestly would rather have them apprehend the subtle profundity of each message composed here.


Yet, I shall not repudiate my noble intentions to foster a strong appreciation of the language in its various forms. Thus, as I cease my inducement for palliatives on my readers with my confounding prose structure, I leave the literature to the proficient.


Yes, the acclaimed Anthem Anthology is back again, except for some noticeable exclusion. Even though the relevance of the forthcoming featured tunes to my current predicaments is peculiarly significant, I intend to abstain from funnelling complementing the formation of your independent interpretations. So, pardon me if no supplementary commentaries accompanying the included songs are incorporated.


Putting it in layman terms, I’m lazy. So think embedding the song, or its video equivalent, as well as researching the respective lyrics is more than enough labour after a long day’s work consisting of a combination of interviewing bosses, generating reports and long-distance travelling. =P

Saturday, July 14, 2007

The Night Out

I have contemplated about sending you a message to express my appreciation for all that you have done tonight, the significance of a seemingly inconsequential act of friendship. But I have decided against it. I believe a post here would prove to be a fitting reflection of my gratitude, far more than what a private correspondence would ever achieve.


Fear not for the confidentiality of this humble entry, because I believe only significant friends dare venture into this realm of confounding arrangement of words and they deserve an opportunity to agree and share such recognition for your contributions. Even if unintended eyes chanced upon this proclamation - particularly the company of special people who abandoned your camaraderie recently - they should grasp the magnitude of their loss and realize the tremendous gain that I am fortunate enough to inherit.


So thank you for rescuing me from another night of isolation when no one else cared, especially when external forces rendered me immobile to seek my own amusement. I treasure your efforts in helping me experience my favourite routine that I have lost with the divergence of my previous clique members’ directions. It is always nice to travel down the avenues of fond memories.


More importantly, I appreciate the fact that you spent some of your precious time to shed new light on crucial philosophies that may probably instigate major life developments. Your offering of alternative perspective on current distresses is invaluable too, despite the bitterness it caused. Hopefully, the day will come when I am able to repay such gestures.


Either way, it is high time I reciprocated and feature you in my writings. I hope you will find this fitting enough as the inaugural dedication. However, if you find it lacking, feel free to share your thoughts regarding this. I promise I will shrug and give you my version of the ‘life is never fair’ speech. =)

Sunday, July 08, 2007

The Blossoming Hatred

I’m starting to hate the National Band Competition.

It is not my place to comment on whether I am capable of looking past my thirst for competition and lose gracious when the rarity surfaces, but Liverpool fans can empathise with me when our team have been on a decade long losing streak from any significant competitions. It’s frustrating to find that bands from other states have evolved by leaps and bounds while our quality have been waning to the standard we would laugh at years ago.

It is also true that despite the questionable direction our great alma mater’s flagship has taken, most of the alumni will persevere in weathering our rivals’ jeers proudly and extend our cheers towards the latest leadership. Yet, I can find no resemblance in the current batch when compared to the band I once loved. Why must a cadet corps resort to insipid gimmicks to convince the attending masses of our conviction to be champions?

But that is not why I’m starting to hate the National Band Competition.

It is the indirect torments that I have to endure after every failure. All the feigned sympathy from friends with similar interests but different allegiances needs a courteous, albeit difficult, response. The denigrating criticisms from every self-proclaimed band expert within the vicinity have to be defended and/or deflected for loyalty sake, no matter how hard they are to ingest. But worst of all is the fact that these derision are strangely directed at me, even from within the alumni.

Is it the need to appear intelligent and cultured that compels you to dwell in the negatives? Is it the resentment of my ability to affect changes within the hierarchy of the band? Is it the jealousy of my significance to the existing batch of leaders that I had a hand in nurturing? I’m sure anyone can reap these if they cared enough. So don’t blame me for your failure to contribute. Your mere words alone are useless without actions to support them.

I’m starting to hate the National Band Competition. But I will not stop loving my band.

Saturday, July 07, 2007

The Evolution

Wow, after a week’s passing, where should I begin? The sheer number of occurrences within my growing checklist of blog items renders me paralysed in indecision, slender fingers poised above the keys. Therefore, please accept my humble apologies for breezing through some of the latest developments and leave your critical thoughts your own. Further clarification will be provided if what you read here does not suffice, so feel free to approach me in person.

They say the best way to start is in the beginning, and with me at my wits end, I will rein in my tendency to rebel and follow suit. The beginning of the week played host to probably the most noteworthy event so far as Monday saw the commencement of my new career. I have since shed my previous role as a project manager and assumed new responsibilities as an internal auditor - or in official terms a business advisor. I suspect that more cunctators will be familiar with the job title of a consultant though, even though it is ever so slightly misleading. Nevertheless, each position is one and the same. More information on the company will be divulged later.

This should be a good juncture for me to announce that this space will experience some degree of change to suit my latest endeavours. Do not be alarmed, fellow cunctators, for this is merely a natural progression, as amendments to the fundamental objectives usually herald an adjustment in standard procedures. I must admit that I can no longer sustain this blog’s frequent maintenance with the demanding workload expected from me, nor do I want to.

It is no secret how much I enjoy words, used in composing and deciphering subtle messages, so this is not a notice of this web-waste’s termination. No, this is simply a request of your graces in regards to the future lack of such indulgences. I do not believe it is within my capabilities to churn out as many posts as before. I do not wish to exploit this blog as a façade for my concentration on a computer given that I do not need an outlet to avoid work anymore. The company facilitates the passing of time between my coming and leaving for me, limiting my contributions here to nights after work (if I’m not too exhausted) or the weekends like today.

For now, I must excuse myself to recuperate after the hectic first week. Too much information has been forced into my feeble intelligence, and the quarter I spent on mindless procrastination has diminished my knowledge absorption rate even more. Do not fret though, for more updates are forthcoming, as and when I am able to write them. Just don’t wait for it with abated breath. There is no use for my faithful readers to start dropping like flies now, is there? =)

Sunday, July 01, 2007

Radios in Heaven

It is the end of an era, in more ways than one. I have successfully completed my last week of my job as a Project Manager without complications; before embarking in the next phase of my career path as a Business Advisor. Instead of being wildly enthusiastic of my future prospects, I am only reminded of the disintegration of something more important. Friendships are fracturing lately due to everyone moving in separate directions according to their destiny.

As the semesters of various universities abroad and local colleges conclude their courses, the life of a lonely KL-ite regains some sort of resemblance of happier and simpler times. Fellow IDIOTs away are trickling back to the Motherland of Mamak Cuisine, promising future ventures late into the night in search for food and brotherly companionship. Yet, as familiar faces flood the arrival gates, I cannot help but notice the absent faces among the throng.

The heart is weary at the stream of memories, filled with both fondness and sorrow. It is always a shame to lose someone close to our hearts indefinitely, especially a character brimming with life and optimistic dreams at a fresh young age. I am sure many of us are still reeling from the shock and subsequent struggles to move on with our routines; but hopefully, only faith of a better place perpetuates now.

It has always been a peeve of mine to not honour a passing like many others had. As touching as they are, words of commiseration and gifts of condolences consecrated by those within my circle further compound the agony of loss. It has been an arduous journey, but after a little more than the passing of two full seasons, I have finally come to terms with one of existence’s inevitability. So at the risk of rekindling gloomy reminiscences, I dedicate this to the Boss himself.


*Rubin, you still feature in our thoughts.*

Friday, June 29, 2007

I Can Only Imagine

Apparently my curt words implied Christian songwriters are shallow and inarticulate for producing pieces that focuses on being catchy rather than being profound. Well, to all the tactless critics out there, I would not have come to that conclusion if I was exposed to the same amount of songs, would I? I very much doubt I would only limit my musical features here to the meagre if you cared to share when I asked for recommendations.

Sorry for that outburst, innocent readers but please do not let certain hypocritical prigs to ruin this post. Before I get myself bombarded further, I am featuring a song that synchronizes eloquently evocative lyrics with emotive harmonies. The only one I know. I guess the title summarizes the main message here, and I must add that the idea does pique my mind at times. Beware though, for the tune is catchy and will most probably be stuck in your head. =)


I can only imagine
What it will be like
When I walk
By your side

I can only imagine
What my eyes will see
When your face
Is before me
I can only imagine

Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel
Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall
Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all
I can only imagine

I can only imagine
When that day comes
And I find myself
Standing in the Son

I can only imagine
When all I will do
Is forever
Forever worship You
I can only imagine

Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel
Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall
Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all
I can only imagine

I can only imagine
I can only imagine

I can only imagine
When all I will do
Is forever
Forever worship you

Thursday, June 28, 2007

Redeemer

This is the song that broke my stereotypical barrier in regards to Christian music. No offence to songwriters of this genre, but I did not know Christianity inspired lyrics would indulge in intelligent writing. Granted that my repertoire within the genre has never been the least bit extensive (since most ‘Christians’ are reluctant to help cultivate my spiritual growth with music via sharing), the majority of hymns I came across exhibited a preference for uplifting tunes instead.


Either way, before I offend some and confuse even more, take a moment of your time and enjoy this piece. Ultimately, both methods allow the message to have as much impact as possible so it does not really matter much. I suggests that you listen to it twice, once to immerse yourself in the video and once to savour the lyrics. Yes, I found the video fascinating despite its simplicity. If only more people will be like me and be a texturaholic… =)


Who taught the sun where to stand in the morning?
Who told the ocean you can only come this far?
Who showed the moon where to hide 'til evening?
Whose words alone can catch a falling star?


Well I know my Redeemer lives
I know my Redeemer lives
All of creation testifies
This life within me cries
I know my Redeemer lives yeah


The very same God that spins things in orbit
Runs to the weary, the worn and the weak
And the same gentle hands that hold me when I'm broken
They conquered death to bring me victory


Now I know my Redeemer lives
I know my Redeemer lives
Let all creation testify
Let this life within me cry
I know my Redeemer, He lives


To take away my shame
And He lives forever, I'll proclaim
That the payment for my sin
Was the precious life He gave
But now He's alive and
There's an empty grave


And I know my Redeemer lives
I know my Redeemer lives
Let all creation testify
Let this life within me cry
I know my Redeemer
I know my Redeemer
I know my Redeemer lives
I know my Redeemer lives
I know that I know that I know that I know that I know my redeemer lives
Because He lives I can face tomorrow
I Know I know
He lives He lives yeah, yeah I spoke with him this morning
He lives He lives, the tomb is empty
He lives I got to tell everybody

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Hallelujah

Continuing with the Christian theme this week, I cannot think of a better song to include next. This is a little unorthodox so incorruptible Christians only. I do not want to be blamed for people losing their faith when it is weak to begin with.

Anyway, the frequency this song is used in various channels can be comparable to the regularity its title is articulated. And do not let me start on the lyrics, for apparently the original complete lyric is 15 pages long! Other than that, it is pretty straight forward and catchy. So, enjoy…

I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Your faith was strong, but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Baby I've been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the Marble Arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah

There was a time you let me know
What's real and going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Maybe there's a God above
All I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who out drew you
And it's not a cry you can hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Jesus Loves You

As the month end draws nearer, I am reminded of my declaration to dedicate this month to the beauty of music, using songs to reflect random thoughts and emotions I underwent. Despite this proclamation, the songs featured under the banner of Anthem Anthology are merely my favourite tunes, planned in advance according to a linear relationship I saw. In a way, it is comparable to psychology, where philosophers form theories and draw conclusions to rationalize common, but chaotic, sense. In spite of my meticulous planning to favour this imaginary linkage, I am humbled (and amazed) how each song fitted perfectly according to the daily developments.

For instance, I had a rough day at BSF yesterday. The one of the main messages of the sermon was predestination and close Christian friends should know how I abhor this theory. (Due to the complexity of the concept, ask me in person if you are not familiar with this Christian jargon or if you are curious.) I guess this makes today’s Anthem fitting, especially with the first line standing out against the usual spiritual fare. Do not be fooled by the title or your stereotypical assumptions. Unlike most songs within this genre, this gem by Jewel has a twist. So despite the accuracy of her outlook, arm yourself with a sense of humour before listening to this song, ok?


They say that Jesus loves you... what about me?
And they say that money breaks you... well, I still wanna see
They say that you’re only half-alive
Till you give extra whitening a try

Well I wanna see
I wanna see
What can you do for me?

Showing ta-tas on the TV is ok, I wanna be ok too
And having my picture in a magazine makes me special, how special are you?
They say if I donate, even I
Can buy a space in heaven before I die

Well I wanna see
I wanna see
What can you do for me?

I want someone else to pack my lunch
Gonna get someone else to pull the punch
Oh, pay a psychic for romance
Gonna pay a priest for a will-you-give-me-a-second-chance?

They say abortion will send you straight to a fiery hell
That is if the fanatics don’t beat Satan to the kill
Its not what I can do for anybody
Its what their body can do for me

So I wanna see
I wanna see
What can you do for me?

They say that Jesus loves you
....but what about me?

Monday, June 25, 2007

My Own Prison

Pardon the absence my dear readers but morbidity strained its neck once again and established itself as the prevalent theme throughout this week, as news of death and dying continue to haunt my soul. I have no intention in sounding callous but terminal illness seems to be the current fad lately, rendering most helpless and troubled by hard decisions. Dark tidings reverberate from all quarters of my sheltered life; from family and friends, to colleagues and acquaintances.

Reminders of our mortality never fail to bestow a sense of peace within though, justifying all the times I lived for the moment and charged into things with (relatively) wild abandonment. Being a straight-edge Christian limits some 'indulgences' certainly, but none that I care to regret too much. Coincidentally, this makes today's edition of Anthem Anthology fitting, considering the message behind the tune recount the potential outcome post-mortem.

Besides, today marks the continuation of the Bible Study Fellowship (BSF) for young adults after the winter break (don’t ask), so this uncharacteristic spiritual discourse is an apt reflection of my enthusiasm for the knowledge to come. Before I prattle on, just enjoy the rock song, ok?

Warning: this well written work of art is one of the few songs that wield the power to strike a chord within, sending chills down the spine. Hair follicles may not resist the urge to stand upright when full apprehension of lyrical meaning envelopes.


A court is in session, a verdict is in
No appeal on the docket today, just my own sin
The walls are cold and pale, the cage made of steel
Screams fill the room, alone I drop and kneel
Silence now the sound, my breath the only motion around
Demons cluttering around, my face showing no emotion
Shackled by my sentence expecting no return
Here there is no penance, my skin begins to burn

(And I said oh)
So I held my head up high
Hiding hate that burns inside
Which only fuels their selfish pride
(And I said oh)
We're all held captive out from the sun
A sun that shines on only some
We the meek are all in one

I hear a thunder in the distance see a vision of a cross
I feel the pain that was given on that sad day of loss
A lion roars in the darkness, only he holds the key
A light to free me from my burden and grant me life eternally

Should have been dead on a Sunday morning banging my head
No time for mourning
Ain't got no time
Should have been dead on a Sunday morning banging my head
No time for mourning
Ain't got no time

(And I said oh)
So I held my head up high
Hiding hate that burns inside
Which only fuels their selfish pride
(And I said oh)
We're all held captive out from the sun
A sun that shines on only some
We the meek are all in one

I cry out to God seeking only his decision
Gabriel stands and confirms I've created my own prison
I cry out to God seeking only his decision
Gabriel stands and confirms I've created my own prison

(And I said oh)
So I held my head up high
Hiding hate that burns inside
Which only fuels their selfish pride

I've created, I've created, I've created, I've created, I've created
I've created my own prison

Should have been dead on a Sunday morning banging my head
No time for mourning
Ain't got no time