Yeesh.

Lately - Or should I say since the day I was born - I have been having dreams which traverse the realm of peculiar into the realm of what the fuckuppery. For the past few days especially, it has been quite the adventure and by adventure, it means my mind is raped by a thousand gnomes.

1. The one with the charts.

So I was in a class for some reason and there was this guy who was trying to teach me some stuff. As the lesson progressed, he realised how I must have not given a shit about what he was talking about and he told me that okay, let's learn something better.

Yes, by charts, I meant charts.

He then took out a huge piece of paper with every single race in existence and their corresponding cheapskateness. The top ten? Dominated by Indians. If it was a film, I would have laughed. The problem was that this guy was explaining it to me in such an insanely serious manner, going through every single detail present. Then for some reason, I heard a housemate of mine say 'I gave you a blanket of pure bamboo'.

My face when I discovered there is such a thing as pure bamboo.

2. The one where I had three daughters.

I dislike kids in general. They whine, puke, throw tantrums and are general idiots. They also do not know how to walk, which sucks considering my plans for an army of darkness will be severely flawed. However, I have to clear something up here. In the even that said kid is my direct flesh and blood, I will literally smother the soon to be fucker with so much love and joy that it'd have a chance to die from it. Hypocritical, I know but what are you really going to do about it.

So, I went camping apparently. Or should I say 'We'. I remembered a stream and fucking wilderness, the whole shenanigans. Then while I was preparing lunch - Single Dad? Fuck yeah! - there were these three girls. Eldest looked seven or something and the other two was five and three I think. Anyway, the eldest approached me and asked if it was okay to go explore the wilderness. My first thought was 'Yeah, sure' but then thoughts of violent deaths and the fact that we were faraway from civilisation made me realise that fuck no, I'm not going to let that happen. Then this happened.

Me: No, we'll all take a walk once we finish lunch.
Girl: But Dad - Or something like that - we'll be careful.
Me: No, there's a lot of things that might happen to you guys, so wait. Finish lunch, then we'll go.
Girl: Why would you want to go with us?
Me: Cause there's a lot that you could learn. I know a bit of stuff about the wilderness.
Girl: But I think it would be better if we went without you.
Me: Really? Why is that?
Girl: Because you were the one who said that adventure is important!
Me: Of course it is, but it's not worth getting hurt.
Girl: But Dad, the characters in the stories you told us - Lay of Leithian comes to mind - didn't have Dads following them.
Me: Well, those are stories after all. They're meant to have happy endings. And they're very different people from us.
Girl: So you're saying the stories were lies?
Me: They're not lies, the important part of the story is the moral of it. Like going through hardship no matter the difficulties that lie ahead.
Girl: But that's what we want. If we went and got hurt, it would be worthwhile.
Me: But...
Girl: And if we went by ourselves, the amount of things we could learn will be so much more intense. We won't be sheltered, and we won't have anybody to act as the safety net.
Me: ... STOP TWISTING MY WORDS!

Then I woke up. Took a knife. Cut my balls off. Problem averted.

No, of course I did not. I remembered waking up and laughing because fucking hell man, those were awesome kids.

3. POW camp and the sweet insanity that ensues.

I went to a POW camp. Got a room. Did not have the urge to rebel. Sat around doing nothing. Never see any guards around. Next few days, room mate arrives. Female.

*Censored*

To be fair, the dream was a tad bit too short. No, it was pretty long but most of it was in the censored part. What I mean to say is that it was about to be a melodramatic dream thing but meh, most of the time I was preoccupied with a certain other activity. Morpheus must have given the fuck up.

4. The one that nearly became a nightmare.

This one was pretty long.

So my parents decided to go to India apparently and took me along. What they failed to notify me is that we'll be going with a fuckload - And by a fuckload I mean a fuckload - of Malaccans. Which later I would recognise as the fuckers who came back with us to Egypt after the revolution.

Anyway, somehow, we ended up on a train. We must have been in India already because sweet mother of strawberry poptarts that train was packed. Somehow or rather, I felt the need to check my luggage and this guy told me that the luggage room - We had a luggage room - needed to be emptied. So I went to the luggage room and took out my luggage but I left my toiletry bag in just in case.

I'd like to say that I'm making this up but... This was the luggage room.

Now it got pretty weird. So the train stops, everyone got down and then it did not continue on its journey. It became our train, as in our personal fucking transport. A fucking train. After getting over that face, we went to our designated accommodation. Then one night my Mom woke me up with this worried look and asked me if I've taken my stuff out of the luggage room. I told her I did but then I thought of the fucking toiletry bag that I left. So I went to the room and there was hundreds of people outside. Then I saw this guy that I recognised, a mate from primary school and he was slumped on the pavement - Yes, the train is gone - so I asked him what the fuck is going on. He was rambling about how it wasn't supposed to go on this way, that he knew what he was doing and it was an accident. Sure, I was mildly amused but there was something about him that pretty much induced the fear into me heart.

So I pushed through the crowd to the front and I saw a deceased granduncle telling people that it's quite bad. He said:

'Okay, so the situation now is that a few of our young ones have idiotically dabbled in arts that they do not know about. Yes, I meant the dark arts and these fuckers have now summoned a demon.So yeah, they did ask everyone to remove any of their belongings but we found, well not us, the demon found a toiletry bag.'

At this point I was pretty much shitting my pants and hoping some other fuck left their own toiletry bag but of course, there can be no other. Then, this.

'So I talked to the demon and she told me that the owner is hers. And... She's going to give a complimentary full body massage.'

I think my brain just imploded from the hilarity.

Eargasm of the day: Suddenly; fairy tales.

Classes Are Perfectly Suitable For Dreaming.

There's something about classes that never changes for - I'm taking a wild educated guess here - eternity and that is the fact that everybody will find that it's the perfect environment to sleep in. I shit you not, especially when it comes to fucking Radiology. They expect us to last 6 hours. I regretfully say that nay, I am but a mortal and 4 hours is just about the maximum amount of attention I can spare a subject.

Not relevant, but awesome. Fucking Huskies.

Also, dreams can get real fucked up in class. Or am I the only one experiencing it? I dreamt that I was a fucker whose main method of transport is running on car rooftops and my mission in life is to troll the fuck out of everybody. Without leaving the roof. Then it got weird; I saw this dude who was the old version of the real life me and he was all cranky and shit. He got out of his car - My car? - and there was this surveillance camera that drove him batshit insane. He started to like tear at the camera with - I'm also assuming this - cyborg claws and then my mind decided that all of this was too much bullshit for me to handle. So I woke up, saw Radiology fapping in front of me and I finally came to terms that I do not want to live on this planet any more.

If I have a house one day, I'm going to model my room to a lecture hall. Then I'm going to hire an insomniac that gives enthusiastic lectures about Radiology and I'll have awesome dreams. On second thought, I'll just marry an insomniac Radiologist. Who's hot and have customisable body parts.

Eargasm of the day:

Sleepless Nights 56 - Retirement.

What.

Well then. I now officially withdraw myself from photography indefinitely.

Why.

Well, I guess it is simply because I am not putting as much of an effort in it as I did before. I used to photograph things as a passion and lately, it's becoming somewhat of a chore. I used to be happy when I do it, now it stresses me out, there's not enough props, there's no readily available model, equipments are fucking shit, things like that. I still have so much love in it, don't get me wrong.

I just believe that you should do things that makes you happiest and even then it is still not enough. You must be happy and content in which at the end of it, you can justly say that 'Yeah, it cannot get better than this'. In the state that I am right now, there is no way I can do it. I refuse to do it as a chore, as something mundane, something job-related. It might just be the thing that destroys my love for it.

Where I went wrong.

I'm a hard person to impress, harder still to be content. I also take criticism way too harshly at times, it's the ego, I believe. So I guess I pushed myself too far into the crowd, too eager and with way too much expectation. I firmly believed in my talents, and well as always, I fell from grace.

This place... Is destructive and while it might be a bad excuse for one to seek the incentive, I believe it has a role. I think that I might continue this when I'm on more stable ground, perhaps when I'm back in Malaysia.

What Now?

Now... Now I lie in bed with suicidal intentions. It's a painful thing to let go, I assure you. In all seriousness though, I do have a few items to accompany me.

First of all, I'm not going to call it quits completely. I will still take photos on trips and occasions but not in a serious sense any more. I'm no longer going to ponder upon techniques and visualise images after images, not going to try and construct a reflector from scratch, nothing which will make me go the extra mile any more. So yeah.

I guess I came to a point where I have to choose between being a writer and being a photographer. For a long time now, I've juggled between the two and have never really concentrated on any. All this with Lady Medicine still ramming it up my arse six days a week and it all goes to shit. So when I started my new novella, I found that I could no longer do it and I had to choose. Since writing is much, much more life preserving, I went with it. I need to concentrate on something for a change and with writing, I can at least not worry about equipment and such. I have my mind and my laptop, and it is enough.

If you ask me for the truth, I'll say that I actually can handle all of them and reach a certain point of excellence. However I must say that I am far too much of a lazy candy-ass to make it work. It has been extremely frustrating; the rejection, the lack of subjects, the fucking equipment and most of all: The vision. I have millions of things which might look awesome but I do not have the means to make it happen. That is insanely depressing.

Now, I'm just going to focus on writing. It's been a while since I've had this sort of vigour and I believe that it would be very ungrateful of me to let it go to waste.

TL;DR: No more photography.

No Complaints Here / Welcoming Milady Winter.

Hmm... Am I the only one who's seeing pornographic photos on my Facebook feed? Or has this been going on for quite awhile now...

My face when.

What the fuck 'Loli Love' stop making me feel fucking awkward while I surf Facebook.

You see what I did there? I gave you a name.

*

Well our Lady Winter makes her entrance quite splendidly, I must say. After all, who in their right minds could rightfully complain about three days of endless blissful rain? No, I'm serious, I'm not being sarcastic there. Rain is fucking awesome.

It's funny really how people could die when the water supply is cut or something and then when it rains, they run for their lives as if it's sulphuric acid falling from the sky. I don't quite know what it is I love about the rain to be honest, but it just makes a day perfect. Cleansing. Yeah, maybe that's it, it just cleanses the fucked up world we live in. Also, streets are empty. Fuck yeah, rain.

Goddamit, this!

If I have a kid, I'd fucking force him to go play in the rain and act like a total retard. Sure, he might get pneumonia but meh, nothing like a life threatening disease to remind him of good times, eh.

Ah fuck, I miss home so much.

Sleepless Nights 55 - The Human Race.

I had a talk with me friend past two days or so and we came to a point where we talk about society in general. I don't think it's big fucking news that I have a deep seeded hatred towards society and its everyday ethics but then she said that the human race, us, we're all essentially good and kind. It is under circumstances like money and greed and shite that makes us bad.

I told her I've never heard of worse bullshit.

The way I see it, the human race is pretty much divided into three equal categories. The good, the evil and the ones who dabble in a bit of both. There's no other classifications when it comes to it, race and religion does fuck all when viewed from afar.

The reason why I have come to hate society today is that it forces us to create a mask of superficiality in which we are told that it's for the best. We're told that we should hide who we are, wear clothes that everybody else wears, speak like everybody else, do what everybody else does and then in an ingenious plot, they labelled this act as politeness. Acceptance. Tolerance. Failure to do this makes you a bad person, failure to do this gives everybody else the green light to patronise you, to insult you and to look at you as a subhuman species. How does this relate to the division of the human race? Simple. It blurs the line.

You tell a good person and an evil person to act the way you tell them to, with guidelines and rules. Then you further impose this on the basis that failure to do as told will eventually result in their apprehension and troubles with the law. So now you have everybody acting the same way, wearing the same clothes, loving the same things and it's all spiffy. Then you get involved with a person, close the door from which society could no longer keep an eye on you and get surprised at the fact that this person that was the same with everybody else just a few minutes ago, is now a fucking demon.

I love watching the news because of that. The newscaster tells the story of a man who massacred his wife and children and suddenly everybody acts so surprised and they say 'What a crazy world we live in nowadays'. They fail to realise that tomorrow they're going to work or study with the same people that might be thinking of bombing their local fast food restaurant.

I remember when I was a kid, I wanted to become an archaeologist. As in a real one that goes around looking for fossils and shit. Then when I told everybody, they told me that there are no more archaeologists in the world any more because all the world's mysteries have been solved. I as a kid believed in that wholeheartedly and most probably a bit too easily. Then I grew up, not having an aspiration in life. My point is that it's all about stability nowadays. Parents, especially, go batshit insane when their kids say they want to do something that's not professional i.e. Medicine, Law, Architecture, shit like that. It's sane yes, but then again, there's some sort of tragedy there, maybe something that will never be appreciated. Maybe one day the kids of today would look at a life of hardship and wonder what that'd be like. Before getting into Medicine I went to some education fair or something to see the choices in arts. So I met this guy, and we talked at length and he seemed happy I wanted to do arts. Then he asked me for my SPM results, to which I replied and he looked at me as if I was a three year old retard. He said that with my results, I should go into some Science based course instead of Arts. He went on rambling etcetera and I realised that what the fuck happened to what I want, eh?

Hypocrisy. That's the biggest problem nowadays. No one is spared from it and at the same time, everybody hates it.

*

The romance novella is surprisingly coming along pretty well. I've nearly finished the first part of what I hope to be a trilogy, so yeah, I guess that's a good thing.

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.

Sleepless Nights 54 - Alpha Penguin.

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