Ratty Bulls

Yes, its beginning feel like last year farted a piece of turd for 2009.

While I have no utter belief in the zodiac, last year's rat year sure was ratty. And this year's bull is beginning to seem like it's going to hand me a nice big load of bullcrap as well. I can already feel the black clouds release a nice drizzle of piss.

The feeling of utter uselessness. Pointlessness. Of everything I do or say, or not say or not do. It basically leads only to throwing myself into another heap of dung.

I'm so tired, and filled with desires to meet a speeding bus head on. Though I frankly think that would only land me into yet another pile of shit.

Watching the Witching Hour

I watch the death throes of a diseased and despondent year. I watch it die in pain and wonder if I should smile. I wonder if it is dying from the pangs of painful labour, or is it a major bout of diarrhea.

I await to see with little hope, watching with eyes overgrown with cynicism. If in its dying push, would it birth a beautiful baby, or fart into existence, a little piece of shit.

Songs of the Morning

I've been woken up earlier than I would have wanted to, much more often than not, lately. Have you ever felt like dwelling longer in slumber and perhaps escape waking up to yet another day you wished you didn't have to see? Ever just wanted to sleep later, after a late night?

Then you might understand how incredibly happy people get, when they are rudely woken up in any circumstances.

Today, it was the sheer stupid inconsideration of a bridal procession. The noise made in a funeral procession has no qualms in silent curses, since the person is already dead anyway. But to drive in a procession of several cars into a carpark closely surrounded by HDB flats, in the wee hours of the morning, with every car honking away is just going to blow the fuses of the happy couple's neighbours, bathing their happy day with wishes they may not expect.

Tradition may call for loud noisy processions as the groom makes his way to the fetch his bride, but when you logically think about it, they have very good reason to do so. Ancient times saw people living faraway in possibly remote quarters, where the noise can aptly inform the bride and her family of the arriving groom and how soon they will be arriving.

These days. We have mobile phones. Need I say more?

This morning was the third I've experienced in such an early cacophony of honking vehicles, resulting in a rude awakening from a weekend slumber. I covered my head with pillows to muffle the noise which seemed to last forever. It isn't fun to wake up to a migraine. But I could feel it coming. I couldn't take it, I went to the window to look at the circus. I could feel the joy welling up inside me, similar to an untimely moment of diarrhea.

Then the noise got louder, this time a series of shouts and cheers from monkeys in suits who had gotten out and stood outside their cars, while the alpha male chimp strutted before them. Considering how happy they were in sharing their ape calls with everyone (no matter if the neighbourhood may actually need some quiet rest), it was only eventual that others may begin to join in the fun as well.

I could hear loud blessings coming from various windows around the carpark. Blessings of "KAO PEH LAH!"... "SHUT THE FUCK UP!!"... "DIAM LAH!!" (and one distinct anatomically correct description of the groom's mother) rang through the neighbourhood. It was a hard not to enjoy such raucous singing (some may even call it rapping or hip-hop) to show sincere appreciation to the monkeys' posturings. One can even imagine the background humming from a multitude of silent wishes and messages sent from other neighbours who may be too shy to publicly show their love.

The groom and his groomsmen must've been very touched by the neighbourhood's impromptu acapella performance in appreciation of their early morning wake up calls, as they stood there in silence, soaking in the love and attention of the rudely awakened neighbourhood.

I couldn't help but smile. I had almost wanted send them a congratulatory message by decorating their bridal car's windshield with a flower pot. But I was too lazy.

A Short Detour From Depression

Saw something as I made my way home earlier.

Stupid teenagers. Playing with the elevators. One seemed intent on slowing two others from going up and probably home. So he presses the button, everytime the lift nearly closes. Then he uses his foot. Then his hand. And ultimately, he peeks in. Yes, he didn't look very smart.

Yes, the door closes and does a fast clamp on his face. It opens almost immediately. And he groans as he squats by the door, holding his face. I think he broke his nose.

I wanted to help, I wanted to ask if he needed help. But I couldn't. I couldn't breathe. I was laughing too hard.

Sigh.

I think my morbid sense of humour is the only thing keeping me sane now. Or am I? Who cares. I felt alive for a moment. My life is in such a mess. I am absolutely in a mess, its almost laughable. I'm destroying everything I touch, and people I care for are probably among them. Perhaps I should just disappear. Sometimes, packing up that backpack and just walking off into the sunset is just so tempting.

Anyway, his friends pulled him into the elevator and probably brought him home. Yes, they couldn't stop giggling too.

Words. Just words.

Loss.
Defeat.
Failure.
Nothingness.
Bewilderment.
Depression.
Death.
Cowardice.
Tears.
Pain.
Self.
Destruction.
Loathing.
Fading light.
Fading will.
God.
Take me home.

Masks. And superficiality. That is all anyone will ever see.
I am not me. And for what I have left, I leave only for me.
For you. I shall be.
An illusion of what you want me to be.

And if even that is unsatisfactory.
I already know forever is not to be.
Perhaps oh Lord. In eternity.

Myself, my echo, my shadow.
Only true companions I know.

Lost

How does one live?
Knowing death will come?
How does one love?
When told it will end?

Will the measurements of joy bear the pain that is to come?
How do I live without you?
Perhaps in my dreams,
perhaps in a sleep that never ends,
I will see forever.

In My Dreams, In My Wake

There was a time some time ago
When every sunrise meant a sunny day, oh a sunny day
But now when the morning light shines in
It only disturbs the dreamland where I lay, oh where I lay
I used to thank the lord when I'd wake
For life and love and the golden sky above me
But now I pray the stars will go on shining,
you see in my dreams you love me

Daybreak is a joyful time
Just listen to the songbird harmonies, oh the harmonies
But I wish the dawn would never come
I wish there was silence in the trees, oh the trees
If only I could stay asleep,
at least I could pretend you're thinking of me
cause nighttime is the one time I am happy

You see in my dreams

We climb and climb and at the top we fly
Let the world go on below us, we are lost in time
And I dont know really what it means
All I know is that you love me, in my dreams
I keep hoping one day I'll awaken,
and somehow she'll be lying by my side
And as I wonder if the dawn is really breaking
She touches me and suddenly I'm alive


A song by REO Speedwagon that I loved, and still do, for the many reflections of my personal life's.

I am fading. Like the dreams in every waking moment. I hide, like the child who loves to hug his mother, yet fears her frequent ire for his precocity.

For what is true togetherness? I have no answer. When we humanly fail in our inabilities to see the differences that make two people truly become one. That one should fade and become the other? Or that two should draw upon and feed upon the other's love, differences and strengths?

Or are we looking only for our own reflections?

That in moments of darkness,
you seek the sun and its light.
That in sunshine,
you soon wilt and despise its heat.
Seeking its very essence and yet,
you do not really want what it gives.

Seeking the wind for its breezy comfort,
yet cursing it for the dust and tears in your eyes
it also carries in its wake.

What are we truly looking for?

I am fading. I am a face without true meaning.
I am the moon, whose light is not my own.
A dark soul, lifeless and dead giving naught
but reflections of what people want to see.

There is no me, for I can only be,
When the world does not see.

There I Be

When you hear the breeze, its me whispering...
When you feel a warmth enveloping you, its me loving you...
When you're cold, its me missing you...
When your fingers brush your lips, its me wishing...
And when I flicker through your mind, its me...
thinking, dreaming and waiting... dying

for you. Always.

True Happiness

Have you heard of the 17th-century theologian Samuel Rutherford? Perhaps it’s time to resurrect his faith-inspiring memory.

Rutherford, a member of the council that wrote the Westminster Confession, was imprisoned because of his beliefs. While in prison, he wrote this soul-strengthening letter expressing the joy that sustained him through his trials: “If God had told me some time ago that He was about to make me as happy as I could be in this world, and then had told me that He should begin by crippling me in all my limbs, and removing me from all my usual sources of enjoyment, I should have thought it a very strange mode of accomplishing His purpose. And yet, how is His wisdom manifest even in this! For if you should see a man shut up in a closed room, idolizing a set of lamps and rejoicing in their light, and you wished to make him truly happy, you would begin by blowing out all his lamps; and then throw open the shutters to let in the light of heaven.”

When the candles that light up our darkness are blown out, let’s rejoice that God is throwing open shuttered windows and pouring in the sunshine of His love.

Pitch Black

And then the ray of light fades.
I fall, kicking and flailing,
clinging on to illusions
and holding onto nothing.

Never place your hopes on anyone. For they can and will drop you along with all the empty words once spoken into the void, leaving hollow sights and sounds in old familiar places.