Trans-motel

Excerpt from travel journal written on the 19th of September; 2013 in Kuala Terengganu.

Understanding People: A Virtual Journey

What Ramadhan Means.

Important: I need tabs for this song. Please. Anybody.

Brain Function Returning Gradually.

The Return of the Dreams.

If here, I was in a state of mild panic due to the lost ability to dream, these past few days have been bloody triumphant. The amount of dreams multiplied by a fuckfold and the intensity of them... Jesus fuck, I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not.

Eargasm of the day: Listening to this and going on a killing spree in Sleeping Dogs is one of the finer things in life.

Fucking Ob/Gyn.

Ah well, ignore the title. A break from the unlimited problems with women's fucked up pelvis.

If only it was that simple...

Comfortably Numb.

Lately I've been feeling like goddamned Delirium/Delight from Gaiman's Sandman. You know, utterly insane yet strangely cool with the whole fucking thing. This concerns me.

Add that to the list of women I'd kill to be with.

Youth.

You know a post is recycled when the first photo has nothing to do with anything.  Riddle me that, bitch.

And then Suddenly...

Exams are in two motherfucking days.

Combo Breaker.

I slept for 19 hours today. Today? How does one even categorise most-of-today-and-half-of-yesterday?

I should be studying. I want to study. But now in a fucking freak fucking fuck fucking fuck situation, my laptop decided that it wants to be in silent mode. So I can't listen to music any more. So now I can't fucking study. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I looked at the photos that I was tagged in before and it's awkward. It's like looking at the progress of a recluse throughout the years. How did I manage to smile that much and how did I manage to have that much people around me? It's a fucking question that I can't seem to get out of my head now.

I want to study. Fuck fuck fuck.

I found a game, those weird simulation shit that basement-dwellers seem to value more than their lives. I downloaded it and the main reason I actually considered playing it was that a little bird told me that there was quite a lot of fap-worthy content in it. So, okay, yeah, why the fuck not. Look at the title: Disability Girls. Okay, weird, still. Played the game. Go into depression. Not only can I not fap to whatever fappable contents there is, the storyline (Which, from a writer's point of view, is fucking brilliant) actually lunges and stabs one in the fucking gonads. And heart.

I guess it's the fact that there's so many broken characters in it. There's always some sort of fucking luggage, some sort of 'Fuck you, leave me alone and don't motherfucking prod into my fucking life' kind of shit that litters the game. It feels... Familiar, in a way. Should be made into a film, really. It's twisted, yes. Here you are, trying to get into the pants of women with no arms, or no legs or no sight or no hearing or half burnt bodies but behind that seemingly fucking straightforward appeal(?) there lies a sphere of manly fucking tears. God damn. God damn. God damn. Lilly; forever entombed in memory.

Yes, for what it's worth, I actually do feel like a pervert. Then I think about how I don't care about what you think. Then I further elaborate the point by knowing that you can't do anything about it. So I happily unzip my pants and bathe the world in alpha juice go on with my life. Seriously though, if it is to be considered; what's wrong with a disability. I don't exactly see the point in feeling ashamed when being around disabled people. They know they're disabled, you know it, so what's the point in trying to sugar coat your words.

Let's take an example. You meet a blind person. Fall in love for some weird reason (Fetish? Fetish.). Then when you go out to a new place, you feel awkward cause here you are, going 'Look at that! Look at that! Look at that!' when she can't fucking see. Then you apologise and live your whole life wishing that you're blind too.

You candy-assgot. That's what I don't get; that awkwardness. If it's a new thing and she can't see, fucking describe that shit to her. In detail. Like to the most extreme detail that even an autistic would miss. Don't be fucking sorry. She doesn't feel sorry, so why should you?

I am obviously looking way too deep into this fucking game.

Fuck that deaf cunt.

People are weird. I don't think I know how to communicate with them any more. There was this dude from Germany who came to visit my housemates and I couldn't talk to him. He introduced himself and I shook his hand and that was it. My friend had to intervene and say 'Oh, yeah, and that's Zufar.' I actually wished he had went on and said I was a freak of nature, that would've solved my problem. There's no more charm in strangers. Well, there is, but once they start to speak to you, the image is shattered.

That said, maybe I should work in a mental institution. Since everybody, is insane, I'm pretty fucking sure that there's bound to be something interesting that would happen everyday. Food for thought, I guess. I don't even fucking know what to do after school any more. Everybody is saying 'Do it for the passion!' or 'Do it for the money!' but that shit doesn't make sense to me either way. What about doing it just because you're doing it? For no reason? That's acceptable? Why must there be a reason when one wants to do something?

The novel is coming along well, I guess. I've got some things laid out for the plot progression. It sucks though, Getaran Jiwa is the easiest of the trilogy and I have no idea how to arrange the mountains of shit into a storyline for the next parts.

You know I'm thinking of something to write when I start posting fucking memes.

Yeah, I'm out of fucking ideas...

Eargams of the day: Because my laptop is being such a bitch.

Over My Dead Brain.

'Ah, nobody reads what I write anyway.'

'So you took it down?'

'Yeah, I mean what's the use of writing in a blog when nobody reads it? A waste of time innit?'

'But that's three years of your memoirs gone. You don't appreciate it?'

'It's just words to me man, quit fucking around.'

Just words.

I've realised that there's a sharp decline in the amount of people who blogs nowadays, or people who write for that matter. Compared to when I first came here, everybody seemed to have a blog and everybody was whoring it. Read it, they'd say, read the fuck out of it the way you'd read the fuck out of Zooey Deschanel's tits. So I did, and in the event that they did write something I'd appreciate, I continued reading. If they don't, then I'll ignore whatever the fuck that was written. I actually thought it was a good thing. People have found out that writing is a wonderful thing to do.

Then, these people who constantly shove the fact that they have a blog in my face said something like 'It's just words'. Just words. Let me tell you something about writing. About these meagre words that you could brush off. Without it, you are nothing. Without it, the human civilisation would have been demolished as soon as it started. Without it, there could be no education. Without these words, wisdom would never be propagated.

I wrote this blog when I first realised that I was going to have to spend six years in a strange land - Which I know now as the void in which hope implodes - and I thought, hey, why not document my stay. Hence, it has become a memory storage mechanism. When I get fucked bad, I actually go through the archives and read what I wrote in the past and it comforts me. I could see how I've grown, I could see the progress that I made. I saw how I no longer dwell on the minor fuckupperies. It's like I've read a book about how I've matured. Written by me. And read by me. Holy shit, that's a bit twisted is it not?

Trippy.

I'm pretty sure that normality does not apply to me - And some say sanity, but pfft, what do those people know, eh? - but writing is... Sacred, I cannot think of another way to describe it. It heals, it mesmerises, it pretty much does everything. You're feeling depressed? Write, you gain much insight from it. You're feeling a tad bit bouncy and joyous? Write, you immortalise the moment. You're feeling angry and wrathful? Write, you can get the satisfaction of murdering whatever that's pissing you off in cold blood. That's the reason why I treasure my books so much - Obsessive was the word they used. Was. - and I have a damn good reason for it. So when you say it's 'Just words' I take the phrase as a personal insult. It's blasphemy of the highest degree even.

Overall, that's why I'm appalled when people could just disregard whatever it is that they wrote and could simply push it aside without any prior thought. When you could do that to something that's so personal, so goddamned intimate, pushing everything else away would be quite the easy task wouldn't it. But of course, I doubt that any of you even put half the effort when you write about meeting some hot broad from across the street and fabricate the fact that you took her home and introduced her to 'The Beast of the Heavens' that your zipper could never seem to leash. Yeah, who am I kidding, I'm the obsessed one here, aren't I.

Why yes, now that you've mentioned it, every time I  have to pee, I need to restrain myself maximally. Oh you know, just in case the Beast runs wild and causes the apocalypse. More tea?

It's fucked up because some of you - No, really, I'm not just trying to make a point here - have the talent to write amazing shit that impresses me, and I don't think I need to explain how not easily impressed I am. Sure, I'm not exactly certified to judge but then I know how hard it is to write, I know how frustrating it is when the words just don't flow and I know what a bitch it is to proofread your own story. Then I see people who have unlimited imagination, amazing story-line generation capabilities and PERFECT GRAMMAR - I hate tenses - and they disregard their fucking talents. I know, I'm not supposed to force anybody into something they chose not to do but Jesus fuckstick on a trampoline...

... Jesus fuckstick on a trampoline according to Google. The future is safe.

Sigh. Fuck it, who am I trying to convince anyway.

*

Euginio Merino's Stairway to Heaven (1975)

This... Has apparently angered a lot of people only recently, which is funny considering that the sculpture thirty-six years old. Never mind, always something new to find out and declare holy war upon.

The argument:

Depa lani bukan main lagi nak bagi semua orang tengok kita (Muslim) ni macam anjing. Boleh dipijak, boleh buat puki. Tengok tu, siapa paling atas? Yahudi laknatullah! Sebarkanlah gambar ni kawan-kawan semua, orang-orang beriman semua. Kita kena prihatin.

"Nowadays they're trying their best to fuck around with us, trying to show the world that we're dogs. They're trying to seed the though that we can be kicked around, we can be oppressed. Look at it, who's at the very top? The Jews! Spread this."

My Point of View:

I think this is the only time that calls for the use of the forbidden word. I shall do so.

LOLWUT?

Please. Everybody just calm the motherfuck down. Okay? We shall do this in a civilised manner. If I'm still a candidate for lynching, then at least let me get me Plasma-Buster 9000 ready.

1) You see what you want to see.

I agree, the first time I saw this, the only thing in my mind was this: What the hell is that... I don't deny it, the little bit of religious feud is sparked in me, just like what I feel when somebody says 'Keling' or 'Bau kari'. What differentiates me and the others is that I actually had the sense to do a little bit of research and well, it shed some light.

It shows a Muslim, Christian and Jew in the respective states of prayer. The holy books are also inverted in which the Jew is holding the Qur'an, the Christian holding the Torah and the Muslim having a Bible beside his head. What does this mean? Honestly man, I see religious harmony.

'What about the fucking hierarchy?!'

Well, say we try to invert it. The Muslim at the very top, the Jew in the middle and the Christian at the bottom. Gravity will then politely proceed to fuck everything up. What I am trying to point out is that sure, you allow yourselves to see that this sculpture is offensive and provocative and hence you immaturely act as imbeciles. Why the obsession with symbols and hidden meanings?

2) Allowing yourselves to be provoked.

You say that you're trying to set a great example as Muslims/Christians/Jews. You say that you want to change the mindset that people should not view Muslims as terrorists, Christians as blind fools and Jews as power hungry maniacs. You have great things in your minds, I approve of it but then you go ahead and destroy all expectation of that by being outraged by a sculpture. By something materialistic. Forgive me if I'm being too goddamned blunt here but you're making it much, much worse. Say I am a man who is hellbent on making you look bad in the eyes of the world. I believe that victory is mine.

3) Tolerance and forgiveness.

I don't have to search for a few verses in the Qur'an to make my point. There's a lot, yes, but my knowledge is limited. Instead, I am going to convey what my mother has always taught me: If a person has malice directed to you, and you suffer greatly because of it, don't do the same to him. You will not justify yourself, neither will you gain any respect for doing it. I admit, I myself have never put those words to heart at all times but you have to fucking agree with me here, the woman makes a lot of sense.

Are you not the one who preach non-stop about virtue? Are you not the one who tries his very best at practising what you believe? So then please tell me, why are you going batshit insane that you seem to have forgotten everything that you believed in? Is religion a valid excuse for you to conveniently leave the very heart of virtue behind and kill? Would God approve? Would He, when you die, tell you that 'No, it is okay that you killed presumably a few hundred innocent people. You did it for me, after all.'

Excuse my so called insolence but the God I believe in is not that shallow. The God I believe in does not see the martyrdom in bombing buildings filled with women and children. The God I believe in is omniscient, the God I believe in is merciful, the God I believe in is filled with so much love. This I say; I believe that if I die not waging a holy war in His name, he would find it easier to forgive me rather than if I had killed a million people.

For fuck's sake people, it's a fucking sculpture. A fucking sculpture. Look at your fucking selves.

The Colours of Our Flag.

I rarely write about politics. It's because I'm not interested in it and at the same time, I don't have the adequate knowledge. This however, is an exception because this is my country in peril and I will not let it pass without saying a word.

As most of you know, there's the Bersih 2.0 rally going on. So far there's the whole separation of the rakyat where some support Bersih while the others are against it.

Where do I stand? Right now, I can honestly say that I'm against both, the participants of Bersih and UMNO supremacists. I admit that I am in support of the idealism of Bersih. Who wouldn't be, really? A movement to remove corruption from the very heart of the nation, that would be such an idealistic vision. I want that, everyone wants that. What I do not want, is blood to be spilled over it.

I don't agree with the fact that there has to be a rally over this. Sure, I get the point that you want your voices heard loud and clear. I get the fact that the government aren't the most receptive things around. I get that you've had enough of whatever it is that you find flawed. However, I do not agree that a mass protest would be the best way to resolve this. What happened to forming a committee and sending representatives with the memorandum? I know that some are going to say that it is not going to work but I'm sorry for being condescending, you have not tried have you? If you had, and you failed, it would be to your advantage; you have a stronger point to convince the people with. The government are not run by idiots, they've been in power for 50 years not only because they're tyrants. It's also because they know how to win people over.

I wonder, however, at the aim of the rally. It's plain and simple, of course. To hand over a memorandum to the King, and strongly hope that it all goes well. At this point I must stop myself and inquire about the logic of getting the King involved. Why? What good does it make? Am I the only one who realises that the King is no more than a symbol in our country and that he holds no power whatsoever in the comings and goings of the fucked up administration? What could he possibly do with these demands? He could read it of course, support it, carve it into marble and hang it outside the palace but that's it. Why did Bersih not go to someone with a more direct involvement in the administration, say the Prime Minister himself? Folly? The fact that you have not tried is already a testament to your unwillingness to explore other option, instead you want to go through with the one which would generate as much discontent as possible.

The current government is shit, I agree. Spending the Rakyat's money as if it were milk poured into a huge bowl of cereal, I understand the need to be angry. I am angry. I am pissed the fuck off when I heard that a facebook page needs to be maintained at a cost of about one million Ringgit. I'm pissed the fuck off when I heard a fucking ring costs 73 million Ringgit. I'm pissed the fuck off when I heard that a proposed MRT project would cost 50 fucking billion Ringgit when the Trans Siberian link only costs 3 billion (Citation needed). Look, I myself am not sure about the facts but listening about this scares the shit out of me. However, and this is important, it does not stand to reason for any to bypass all the ethical and moral barriers just because of all this fuckupperies the present government. People are angry, they fear for the future, but there has always been a guideline to overcome these problems.

I heard (and am not entirely sure of this) that Bersih aims to follow the footsteps of the Egyptian revolution. I cannot hold back but ask this: Are you motherfucking insane? The Egyptians won, yes, but at a cost so high that we won't be able to pay. Not only were there countless casualties, their economy is fucked up beyond relief. There's a price for hard fought peace, and often, it is not one that we are prepared to pay.

Now there's this whole anti-Bersih thing. Not only do I find this extremely offensive, it's an insult to every single Malaysian out there. What happened to being tolerant and patient? What happened to keeping calm and analysing the whole situation? Or am I the one who is being delusional in believing that my fellow countrymen could do that? Fuck you Perkasa. Fuck you for being so fucking fragile and scared of change.

People are at the moment, delirious. There's a voice in everybody's head asking what is to happen to the country if this is what the government is like. I myself have been asking the question countless of times and I'm in Egypt for fuck's sakes. If I were in Malaysia, I'd probably start constructing a goddamn killing machine and go on a rampage. That's why I looked at the way Barisan National handled the rally as an embarrassment. They allowed themselves as the ruling party to be provoked, they allowed their ego to top their rationality and sadly, that brought much chaos. They did not think about the consequences of their actions but instead, they held dear the phrase 'To live during the moment.'.

They should have allowed the rally to go on. That's what I honestly think the best way is. If they had, the memorandum would be sent to the King (I'm still in doubt over the effectiveness of this.) everyone would have gone home and that's it. They would have prevented the loss of resources by dispatching the FRU, they would have stopped unnecessary violence and most important of all, is that they could at least have been praised by the media. Now, there's thousands of videos and what not condemning my fucking country and making the lot of us look as if we're a goddamn bunch of unruly barbarians.

What's worse is the by-product of the rally. Hatred goes without saying, racism, the seeds of a major catastrophe being sown into the minds of our generation; the generation that is supposed to take over the reins of leadership. I have personally seen on facebook how photos have been spread by obvious racists with condescending remarks and people react to it by showing how shallow they really are. They allowed themselves to ignore the brain they have and be swayed by what they see without factual evidence. So I ask, when will this stop? Do we need another 13th of May to finally realised what fuck ups we are? I hope not.

It's funny. Yellow and Red (and Blue, if you consider the police force) going at each others' throat when nobody stopped to see that all these are the colours of our flag. Our Jalur Gemilang. It's been far too long for one without the proper knowledge to talk, so I'll stop. Just my two fucking cents.

How Your Mind Fucks Around With You.

Now that I can finally access my fucking Blogger account and serenade thee with awesome profanities, I shall begin.

So, this week has been in total quite low-profile, since all the fucking assignments are done with. All there is left is Biochem which has been ramming it up me arse dry and well... Let's leave it at that.

Also, I time travelled.

Through time and space, onwards!

Allow me to explain. I found myself with a sudden urge to study Biochem a few days ago, which was on a Wednesday. It was quite appropriate see, there was sixty pages worth to cram into my brain and exactly three days to do so. Hence I began studying and again, strangely, I felt... What's the term. The feeling you get when something feels right and it all goes your way and the world actually makes sense for once... Counter-Murphy? I don't know. But I felt that.

So I went on with my life, finishing 25 pages of pure mashed up bullfuckerry and I went to bed. The next day, I actually finished Biochemistry, fucking Biochemistry, and it was good because I no have Friday to revise the whole thing. So with harps playing in me heart, I went down to the droogies' house and well, chilled.

And we drank... Milk.

So as per usual, we talked, insulted (Your Mom) and uh well whatever it is that we did until there came a point in the conversation about classes.

Droogie 1: Nah, I'm free tomorrow, hahaha, no classes for me.
Droogie 2: Crap I've got *Insert a medically related subject here*... Fuck this shit.
Yours truly: What the fuck are you fuckers talking about? Tomorrow's Friday.
1 & 2: What the fuck are YOU talking about? Tomorrow's fucking Thursday.
Yours truly: What? *More profanities* Tomorrow's fucking Friday!

This went on for quite awhile until I had to humbly accept that I have, in fact time travelled and went through the week a day in advance. That meant I had a full 24 hours to do more things. Seriously, I can't be the one who thinks that it's mind-fuckingly awesome?

I have a full two days now to revise Biochem. I can relax and bite the imaginary tits off the imaginary girl I just made up for this context because fuck, I have returned to the present!

Says it all.

I agree though that your feeble minds could only find fault with my logic, after all, it's easy for one such as me to say all this stuff since it happens quite often. I understand that your understanding of the world is quite limited, you're like the later Númenorean Kings, angry and frustrated at what you do not understand to the point where you'd rebel against those who do. Let me try and enlighten you.

1) Seriously, mate, it's me. These things tend to happen.
2) I'm not sure about you but... Forgetting an entire day is quite the feat... It's almost impossible.
3) I studied Biochem with vigour. It's a miracle.
4) Again mate, it's me we're talking about here.

If you don't want to believe than suit thine ignorant self, for I, Tar-Zufarion,  understands the limitations of the mortal mind. What I would like to point out is this.

How many times have each of us prayed that we had more time? We, as humans, never seem to be content with what we have and that includes the time allocated for each of us. We need more time to leave a legacy, to educate our children, to continue our work with renewed vigour, to be ourselves. We always seem to lament on the fact that time is limited, there's too much shit to be done and I agree, wholeheartedly.

I am elated because I tasted what it feels like to actually have more time without consciously knowing it. I am elated because today I woke up and I realised that fuck, I can afford to sit back and just stare into space without having assignments raping my ear. It felt... Good.


You see what I did there? I educated you, motherfucker.

Of Women.

I have no recollection about the events which brought me to write this down, it must have been some random topic my brain must have conjured while I was walking home or maybe I just felt the need to write. Meh, fuck that.

When I was a tiny fella, which must have been about a couple of hundred years ago, the only days I saw my father was on weekends, or not even then. He was out there in the world working, too much at times which seems to be the family's curse, fucken workaholics, most of us that is. So at all times, we were under the care of my mother, she was the one who single-handedly carried the burden of educating us and at the same time, having to keep everything in order until we cretins went to bed. It must have been hell, I'm pretty sure of it, the lot of use weren't the easiest to deal with, no, far from it. She beat us a lot, sometimes daily and I used to think that it's because she hated these spawn of evil she gave birth to but nowadays, the lot of us could genuinely laugh about the whole ordeal. I'm sure she's proud of us, having raised us to be the children which have a level head on their shoulders. Enough on that though, that's not what I'm here to talk about.

Supermom. And Dad. Superdad.

Having been raised by this extremely strong (In a very literal sense and also figuratively) woman, I have developed this... Shrewd perception towards other woman. One would expect that I of all people, would grow up to be the least sexist of them all but thankfully, I did not. Of course, the term sexist here is for the benefit of your understanding. I look at it as logic.

I had this teacher once who put what I am about to say in very simple terms. I quote "...so yes, I am a sexist, a very big one. Until you (the girls present) could show me that you could climb up an electric pole and repair whatever it is that's wrong up there, until you could compete with me in terms of workload (To an acceptable degree), until you can show me that whatever I can do, you will be able to do better, until then... I will continuously look at you as an inferior person and this I say this not to the girls only, it includes every single person whom I meet."

Since he existeth not in color'd print, thy eyeth shalt  feast upon Yog-Sothoth

Sexism, like marriage, is fucking overrated. It's hyped up and every single moron follows suit. I do not believe that it is wrong for me to undermine a worthless worm because I know that aforementioned worm cannot come up to my standards. See, I would help another person when it benefits me but I will not deny that the pleasure (Now now, go easy on the innuendo) I get from helping is because the person clearly have weighed his/her options and sought me for help instead of another person. I know that he/she believes that I am a better option. So fuck your denial, fuck your faked humility, I take pleasure from being in the company of inferior people. It is the same thing with women, especially with today's women where I must emphasise that I am speaking for the general populace. Don't come to me screaming 'I AM DEFINITELY MORE AWESOME THEN YOU!'. I don't really care.

Excuse me truly for saying this but today, most women of this generation are spoilt to the point of ugh-ness. You whine when you don't get some stud to do your work for you, you give 'The Silent Fucking Treatment' when somebody annoys you. What happened to uppercutting other bitches that offended you?

Or, you know, DOUBLE-KNEE-ING THEM IN THE FACE

Look, I'm pretty sure that most of you females out there are starting to carry banners inked with pure hate to give to me when you see me but fuck it, I perceive what I said as the truth. Sorry to say, I've heard/overheard/ninja-heard some fucking cunt going "Ah you know, he's a nice guy and everything but can you actually believe that he didn't say anything when I told him some random guy whistled at me?" Why, why the fuck would he care? Did his whistle have some sort of magical sexual harassment powers which could automatically finger you? Why would it mater, and you would patronise a person just because he didn't say anything? What was he supposed to do, gather the brave and valiant to launch a fucking manhunt? You twat.

Sure, some of you are going to say 'Psh, I, being awesome and everything, need to care not about some sexually deprived dick making his lame moves on me.' My reply is, well, I don't think this concerns you. Go away. I remember having this girl which I fancied a millennia ago who, I shit you not, could physically trash me. I literally mean that. She could punch harder than me, could run faster, could curse much worse than me and fuck, the amount of respect I had for her was gigapowernormous. No, she's not some form of male-female hybrid of some kind, at times, she still openly showed her feminine side, wasn't embarrassed about it.

Most of you gals have this fantasy, being a fucking princess and shit, waiting for prince fucktard to skip among daisies and save you from some old hag. Sure, there are still those guys present, no, they're not gay, but really, do you honestly think they'd fall for fragile little you who can't even take care of your own basic necessities like you know, not getting fucking in trouble all the fucking time? I don't fucking get it, where does this ultimate pampering come from?

Even Mr. Apocalypse is foncused.

Some of you might say that it's because I'm used to the environment where equality is the norm, where male and female work side by side etc etc. Fuck yes, I agree, but my question is why the fuck can't the general populace be like that? Limitations? What limitations? I don't see the lot of you walking round without a limb where you'd need help doing every single chore which exists. I refuse to believe in that, flat out. We are all born different yes, in stature and in awesomeness (I understand your need to feel inferior, of course) but none of us, well; most of us would be more appropriate, are born without the normal physical strength needed to do the daily activities. Sure, opening the car door for you would seem romantic, and I'd do that if you're dear to me and hot beyond anything in the multiverse but seriously, to be throwing a fucking tantrum just because some guy didn't open the fucking car door for you is short of blasphemy.

I've met, in my life, women whom I respect to the point where I'd actually slam your head against concrete till your brain dribbles into your worthless fucking yap hole if you insult them. That's why I'm so pissed of, if it's only one woman, then I could actually give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe that age has ended and I shall remain a bachelor till I die but it's not. So what fucking reason, other than you are clearly fucking retarded , could you give me?

Guh. You disgusting being.

Lay Back, Look Up, Enjoy.

I was actually supposed to write a very intelligent article - Intelligent in my books that is, which roughly translates as insane ramblings of a twisted soul in plain English - but then, as I opened my journal - Yes, it exists - in which I have written a page of so of said topic, I suddenly and of course, rather theatrically realised that I had written it in another journal which was, of course; being me, left in Malaysia.

I remember bits and pieces of it but simply said, I really could care less, I mean fuck, you can't expect me to write the whole thing back for your reading pleasure for nothing. That was not a very good comeback, yes, I realised. Summarizing what I wrote would be easy, I literally do not believe in change. All that exist is just a plain metamorphosis of the self.

Almost.

What made me write this post is the realization that sometime, you have to accept some shit. You have to accept the fact that some fucker will eventually fuck up, you have to accept that some things are not only not worth changing but it would not make sense in changing it. It's like trying to take a Labrador and change it into a Golden Retriever. It does not make sense.

That's why people with this Messiah complex irritate me a great deal. Sure, in your definition, you're trying to save a soul from damnation and potential overdose, and mark my words, I would respect you if you accept the fact that some people would not change with your meagre words and you might just exacerbate the situation further with your messed up mentality. It happens a lot, push a person that's on the edge and he ends up dead. It'd be nice if you actually cared for your actions, but of course, why would you care, he's just a junkie aye?

There's so many things that I hate, literally, there's an abhorrent tidal wave which seem to just well up and shoot out of my eyes like jell-o laser beams every time I see something which disgusts me but fuck, I know my capabilities, I know what I can do and I know what is appropriate to do. For example, a pious dude walks up to a couple at an eatery and starts lecturing them about whatever the fuck he thought was wrong with the whole thing. Turns out, the couple were engaged and the soon to be caged man almost gouged said pious fella's eyes out. He should have. That would have been great entertainment. Digression.

That's my point. No investigations, no nothing, that, in my books, is an inch away from going all radical with suicide bombings and shit. Viva la Mussalman eh?

I have no idea what caused this but I think I dare bet my money on the fact that none of them have ever seen the Milky Way. Who am I kidding, of course they haven't. It's a joke really, to talk about God and celestial beings etc etc when you've never even cared to look up and gaze at the stars. I'm going to do you a favour.

Tsk.

Anyways, frig it, I'm concentrating on a long short story which I, for once, quite like. Till then.

If I Could Have It My Way, No One.

Years ago, one of my greatest pleasures is rummaging through the mini-library of my home. It still is, really, something like a must-do thing every year when I get back home. I'll take a few books, add quite a lot and it goes on. However, this scribble is not about how I seem to do that on and on and on, oh no my dear fickle readers, this is about a time when I was doing the whole routine and I saw a book.

It's a normal, 200 pages or so binding of mindless babble - I have yet to read it, hence I must allow myself to label it that way - but what caught me was it's title. Simply; 'Who Will Cry When You Die'. I think it has been about five years since that discovery but finally, I have found out what abhors me so much about it.

The moment I saw it, something in me rebelled. Like a mutant foetus, it clawed and drove it's presumably scaly foot against the wall of my stomach, trying to tell me something but of course, answers never do come to you instantly does it? It hovers an inch away from your extended, grasping hands and it laughs. It's for a good cause, I suppose, if it does not do that, we'd still think that it's definitely safe to jump from twenty story buildings when life gets too problematic.

It's been five years. I guess that with age, wisdom does come skipping through the fields of daisies while singing those damned fucken Sound of Music shit. It takes awhile but there's a price to everything. Forgive my continuous rantings, it's very enjoyable, see but what I'm trying to say is that given that I were to die, I would hate it if people shed countless tears at my funeral.

It's not that I think that sadness is non-existent, far from it actually. I have learned that sorrow is quite the potent emotion and I was fed copious amounts of it when Babe died. What I am trying to say is that most of us have lost the grasp on what sadness and despair is nowadays, most of us have simply, forgotten how to cry properly.

Call me insensitive, - I'd actually appreciate asshole more really - but nowadays, people seem to cry at almost everything. See, I believe it's fine if it has something to do with you, like a lost loved one, or even while watching movies but I find it hard to accept how people seem to cry at random things. This would be where you call me the scum of the earth, because really, I do not understand why you'd cry when there's a disaster occurring at some distant faraway land, where you have no association to said place, and frankly, no reason to feel any sadness at all. Reflection, maybe, but sadness, I dare say not. If you want to cry and whine at how sad the whole affair is, then cry twenty four hours, seven days a week. Better still, go to the disaster struck area and cry with those people who've lost everything because in my books, you're fucking insane.

Nowadays, this world is full of sorrow that people have made it into a god damned normality. It's as if the logic behind the matter is that 'Since everyone is doing it, I should probably join in'. That's why I don't want people to cry when I die. It would be a direct insult to me or what's left of me. I'd rather have one person sitting by my grave and laughing and thinking about those times where we did so and so, rather than a thousand people crying but then going home and not feel a thing. If I die, I want to leave behind nothing more than fond memories of myself, I think that's good enough. I don't want to leave a legacy behind, I don't want to die famous. I do not want people shedding tears when they themselves have no idea why the fuck they're doing so.

I sincerely hope that said book does not tell people on how to die and leave a million bawling fuckers lost in the world. That would be the end of creative writing and I could imagine Tolkien begging God to be resurrected for just a day so that he could strangle the author with his own bare hands... Really, I couldn't have been the only one to have seen that book, anyone read that shit yet?

170220110140

It is funny how in times of great boredom, I begin to think, to ponder upon my past sins. Perhaps they themselves have prepared themselves for this moment, in which the absence of stimulation whether physical or mental allows my mind; that twisted void of hate and confusion, to break free from it's bonds, it's heavy chain and shackles. It gives them the freedom to flood my mind with the poison called self pity, it corrodes and it digest my impaired self. Hence, I must ask to be excused, to be forgiven even, for I shall begin this post on an apologetic note.

I have recently been haunted constantly by memories of a great lover, whom I still regard as a person undeserving of what befell her. Yes, she too fell victim to the jagged, poisoned edge jaws of my non-existent attention span, one which I truly do regret. As the days of our romance came to a close, when the gates began to shift, to close, I found myself adamant upon searching her flaws, her faults, some too small for me to even make a fuss on. I, of course, being an egoist, have no illusion on her being perfect but close to it, yes, I shall allow myself to believe it.

We were not, of course, the perfect couple so to speak, not the Romeo and Juliet of modern times but nay, at that moment, fueled with adolescent lust and overdriven by hormones, it did not stop us from brushing off those voices of friends who told us not to. It was perhaps for the greater good, but I for one, do not regret that we took that leap into the welcoming arms of oblivion. Yes, I admit, at the time, I had a few scandals going round, particularly with a close friend of hers and with another friend whom at the moment, I did not particularly have the attraction too. We were happy though, if I have to really say it, I was Orpheus, while she, well fuck, she was Vina Apsara in the flesh. I guess that was the problem really, we might have been great lovers but somehow, our stories did not match. I being Orpheus, seeked her in the underworld and eventually lost her forever and Vina, well Vina really didn't give a fuck did she?

Of course when it comes to the blame, I admit that a large share of the failure falls solely upon myself. I became, as most egoist do, possessive, like a mother and a child, I smothered her, unfairly I might add when I knew that there was an unspoken rule about the whole relationship. We were nothing more than two people looking for solace in each others' arms, once we have depleted each other of warmth, sucked them dry right from inside the bones, we would part.Three years it had taken me to realise that fact and come to think about it,  could have salvaged the relationship, repaired it even, picked up the broken pieces and glued it together again and yet, I did not. I believe that it must have been because I was afraid, fearful of the commitment, being bound to only one person, I thought that would be the death of me. I still wanted to have fun, still wanted to be in the market, still wanted to be, well, a pussy magnet if you could excuse the term. I still have not the slightest inkling on what her full name is, nor her age - I suspect that she is a few years older than me - and her favourite food? Fuck that, I was too busy to notice. I must've wounded her quite deeply I must say, especially when she needed me to listen. She sometimes told me of a relative whom she was very close to and he died at a tragic young age. Until a few days ago, I never did believe her, to put it in simple terms, I suspected that it was a ploy to gain pity, to let me ignore my guard for long enough that she, as a succubus, could get to my soul. Yes, I am quite twisted.

To say that I was acting ungentlemanly would obviously be an understatement, an asshole might suit me better. Whenever she would not express that public display of affection which I thought was quite a suitable way to tell the world that we were in love, I would be overwhelmed by this tide of wrath and fury which now makes no fucking sense. It did not occur to me even once that maybe she was embarrassed or that she had a different way of seeing it. The very fact that she was a celebrated beauty evaded me, any association that she had with any males was a direct bitch-slap on my part, I was envious, the very manifestation of jealousy and it amazes me how I failed to see that she was deeply hurt every time and her heart progressively became icy.

I do however have an excuse, whether legitimate or not, I could really care less for no relationship related matters could actually be the fault of only one party only and for this matter, I put a small share of the blame on the - What else! - Indian gene. See, what I had in mind was a huge epic love story, influenced by no other than those motherfucking Hindi movies where we should, by the fucking logic of nature, traverse plains of existence, soar above skyscrapers and go fucken dance in fucken space beside the fucken stars or something along those lines.  I wanted it to be a story where people would actually remember and pass around; in short, I had illusions of grandeur...

Well, I guess it doesn't really matter now eh. We can all go walk the fucking dinosaur for all I care.

Perversion.

I've been ranting on and on for so long now, I guess it's about time I write about something serious.

As usual it's about writing in general. Why? Because I'm awesome.

*

What tears me apart nowadays is how the general public refers to writing. It used to be an intellectual hobby, somewhat elegant and classy. Yet nowadays, all we have is this: Extremely bad grammar, spelling which would put a toddler to shame and the lack of study and material put into said writing. I admit right now that I am not a lover of what the public calls fan-fiction, however, I do know that it takes quite a lot of skill to write a piece as shown here. What truly disappoints me is that some of these so called authors of the new age, just do not care about what they write.

Now I know, some of you might go ahead and present to me your rebuttal, saying that it does not matter, all is good if the readers like it. I agree, but only to a certain extent. Correct me if I am wrong but how is it that one writes masterpiece after masterpiece is one does not love one's own writings? Frankly, I do believe that it is preposterous, impossible even. Having no love for your writing is; and forgive me for giving this example, like trying to procreate without a partner and that is exactly what you see nowadays. Too many people are trying to gain fame and in the end, writing becomes just another means of greed. The pattern goes as follows: Write as many as possible, promote it by ways which by all means is abominable and then watch as it is either loved or left to rot. And if it does rot, the cycle begins once more.

I remember having a brief chat with a distant cousin, who herself is a fellow writer. Good or not, I forbid myself to decide because I have never set eyes upon her material. As we were discussing about certain authors, she sad to me and I quote '... so I've decided to race you. Our goal is to become the first to write the great Malaysian novel...' Of course, I did not overreact and slap her with my gloves, because one; she's four decades older (Yes, hence the term distant) and two; I do not own any gloves. Only gauntlets. Digression.

That showed me though what writing has degenerated into nowadays. A race. A common game. Mankind has succeeded once again into destroying one of it's finest jewel.

Laziness has now come over me. I shall retire and rest.

One last thing.

Fuck. It's never complete without that eh?

Being 19

It just occured to me how utterly awful it is living life as a 19 year old person.

For one, 19 is an odd number, which simply means that its a number that equals that of an undecided nature. There's this constant demon that reminds me that hey, you were 18 last year, you had fun and shit. Now you're 19, the last year of your teenage life. And what are you doing? What the fuck are you doing with your life? 20 is coming, and so is responsibility. See, being 19 is like having a session with a psychiatrist and he asks me to look back and think hard bout my life. So I did.

I realize I'm a fuck up.

Then there's the issue of my teenage life coming to an end. How unfortunate that it's a big thing. I like being a teenager, I get away with a lot of shit. I get free stuff constantly and hell, being young is just fucking awesome. This thought keeps coming to me. This is my last year as a teen and what the fuck am I doing? Fucking wasting it in Egypt.

Heck, when this shit start to invade my mind, everything clicks together... I mean, looking at my first few posts, it seemed so fucking cheesy, disposable even. I'm not even making much fucking sense now.

I guess I'll wake up tomorrow and realise how foolish I've been tonight and laugh it off. Of course I am, it's fucking human nature isn't it. Dammit all.

41 degrees

Why is it so bloody hot... Ah fuck, more migraine then.

Anyways, I actually gained 10 kilos since I arrived in awesome Malaysia and heck, it doesn't bother me. Finally for once I actually got pass the 60 kg barrier.

For the first time in my life - I'm not shitting you on this - I did not go back to Penang. It's a funny feeling really, as if I've just lost something.

I finally understood what people have been saying about times changing and shit. Zip! Before you fucking know it, you've aged two decades. 'These are the times that you have to man up and show to everybody you parents especially that you can take care of yourself. No more fucking around, being an adult and shouldering responsibilities is not, in fact, limited to your age. You can be 12 years old when you become an adult, it all depends on the situation. Your time is now.' Thanks Bu.

Also, for the first time, I find myself with way too much material to work with. There's 3000 pictures from Europe which needs editing and fuck, so far, I've only finished Rome. Okay, I lied, I'm not even done with Rome. Fuck. Damn you Michel Angelo and whatever artists that made those awesome art.

A few days later, there'll be a wedding, then a few days after, back to Egypt. Oh and a test a few days later later. Yeah, life's good.

*

'I'm not even kidding.' She stared at him with a glint of annoyance in her eyes.

'I know you're not, and why am I under fire here? I didn't even mock you.' All he wanted was suspense.

'Well, what's your answer then?'

'Who am I to deny you of your love? The only thing I could do right now is acknowledge the fact. Yeah, you love me, now I know that but hey, you can continue loving me and I will say nothing to stop you.' She looked at him, in confusion and a slight tinge of anger started to smear her canvas of emotion. He down the rest of his tea in one gulp, flicked his cigarette and stood up. As he walked away from her, he muttered.

'Don't.'