a story best left untitled

She stares vacantly at the rainy skies, her demeanour belying her emotions. Her feelings reproach her; her thoughts swirling mists of deluded fantasies, lanced with reality and recognition. A battle rages, and sense falls by the wayside. The screaming epiphanies, the gentle discernment, they should have nudged her towards the horizon. Yet she turns her back on them. Her choice resolute. In her mind she wields a blade so sharp, thrusting through a wall of crystal, driven deep to hurt, to end all hurt; so wither the petals, so succumbs the plant. She feels strangely liberated, the freedom to roam with wild abandon. She pauses for the slightest of time; she still has one last ride in her. Her doubt doesn't linger, hers is a self-fulfilling prophecy. She knows the folly of her choice; it won't end well, of course, but such is life. Hinc illae lacrimae.

drunken ox in a china shop

CNY has come, and gone. Ya ya, I know it lasts for 15 days, but for those who don't actually celebrate the festival, it's over.

Funny how future financial plans are always scheduled for after CNY, and not so much in tandem with the Gregorian New Year. Really, think about it. Whether it's finding a new job or starting a business endeavour, almost everyone seems to set post-CNY as the starting point for expected prosperity. I guess that's another indicator of how multi-cultural Malaysians are, despite the government's best efforts to polarise the different ethnicities.

Still with CNY musings, it's been one DVD after another for the past three or so days. I reckon I've watched more movies in 72 hours than most do in a year. The roll call: Slumdog Millionaire (bloody fantastic), Outlander (bloody crap), The Good Shepherd (quite engaging), Pontianak Harum Sundal Malam (bite me, please, ponty baby), Rec (freaky) and Prince Caspian (decent battle scenes). I would have watched more, but almost all the DVD shops (including my regular one) were closed. Next on my list: Valkyrie, Pontianak Harum Sundal Malam 2, Puteri Gunung Ledang, Histeria (hattrick of Malay shows?), A Wednesday, Gran Torino and Changeling.

I'm so in love with someone from PHSM, I tell you.

Back to reality. Got a healthy dose of clubbing over the weekend. I've got to find an alternative to alcoholic beverages; one that doesn't screw up my digestive juices. Two Citrus Presses later, and I could feel the acid in my stomach swirling. Coke and Ginger Ale are way too sugary, I realised (finally?), while I definitely can't be sipping coffee throughout the night, can I? I'm thinking mocktails, but not every club serves them. And no, I won't be caught dead drinking a Bloody Mary or Shirley Temple. Bailey's, I don't mind. A Drinker's Dilemma.

The Battle of the Bulge resumes, for the twenty-second time. This time, it's six-pack or bust. Hmm, one unintended pun too many there.

money can buy everything, almost

So money isn't everything in football, after all. The much-dramaticised saga of Kaka's potential transfer to Manchester City has ended with the Brazilian displaying his commitment and loyalty to AC Milan. Traits which are sadly missing in most modern footballers these days.

Since the rise of the EPL, more and more players have been stooping to selling themselves to the highest bidder in England; popular mercenaries who kiss the badge of their respective teams on Saturday, and demand a transfer to the Premier League on the following day. And just when the cynic in most fans started to mouth 'I told you so', Kaka reinforced a belief many thought was dead - there's more to football than just money.

So I guess it's goodbye, and good riddance to the 108 million quid. And hopefully, CR7 as well.

somebody told me

An insightful weekend, by all means. It's incongruous how I spied upon the inner workings of my emotions over Chinese tea and cigs. Spied, or should I use 'revealed'? Mere pedantry; it's now inconsequential. Yeah, definitely helps talking, and talking, and talking; I reckon for 6 and a half hours or so. Sometimes I don't fancy being told I'm wrong; there are moments when I dislike being right. This time, I looked forward to being wrong, I couldn't be fucked to be right. Being open really helps in grasping clarity of thought and action; no strings attached, no hidden agenda. I'll get by with a l'il help from my friends.

Well, I want to believe the signals and signs and gestures and everything else. Of course I do. But believing and reality are sometimes poles apart; and bring about painful repercussions when confused with one another. I should know, I've been culpable of several disastrous mix-ups over the years, when I was way younger. Every gesture is thoroughly analysed to the point of being completely remoulded from the original act. You erect a magnificent castle beyond the clouds, only to find out you're barking up the wrong tree.

So you learn from your cock-ups. You 'collect' these gestures, these actions; and you store them in your treasure chest. You gently cup every word, every sentence and put it away safely. And once your treasure chest is overflowing, that's when you know it's time to cash in, to run the final mile. You know you're safe, the hook has landed, you stuck it in. It might have taken an extra year, but it's worth it. But there's a catch. Like points accumulated, they expire. So you toil and keep filling the chest, but what's at the bottom has dissipated into thin air; your interest's feelings have waned with each passing month and now he/she thinks you're not interested, or has outgrown the sweet emotions he/she felt for you. And all you're left with is a treasure chest full of dusty memories.

Okay, so how do I relate this to myself? I'm not sure; I think I got carried away with the analogies and forgot what my point was. Wait, I know. I need to have a cut-off point, a point in time when I decide to just rush in headlong instead of loitering by the sidelines, analysing and permutating. Come to think of it, I've been in a couple of relationships which have lasted more than 11 years, collectively. It's time to shake things up, and follow the path least travelled. The moment I overcome my debilitating fear of humiliation. Which is, like, never.

ang pows and oranges

One more week to Chinese New Year.

And the malls are showing signs of its fast-nearing approach. Throngs of people, masses of bodies. And noisy car parks, inundated with blaring horn and toxic fumes.

I must say, like all Malaysian festivals, CNY is a very merry occasion, full of colour and tradition. From mandarin oranges to firecrackers, CNY is more than just gambling and ang pows. If only people would appreciate the finer aspects of the celebration and be less repulsive as they shop.

Like being more polite, and less rude. By giving way, rather than snatching at everything. By gently walking by, instead of barrelling past. And by being more considerate, and less obnoxious.

So yeah, hopefully, people have learnt subtle lesson from all the chaos caused by the collapse of the world economy. Everyone wants to get a good deal, or buy an item at a knocked-down price, or get freebies. But not many are willing to think of others, instead of their plain old selfish selves.

Then again, who are we kidding right?

the little twitch at the back of my mind

Exactly two weeks into 2009, and already I've started the new year on the backfoot. Nothing but one issue after another, on a daily basis. Mentally-sapping would be slightly understating current state of affairs. All of a sudden, relatively, 2008 doesn't seem that much of a disappointment.

Sleep has been hard to come by; there's been plenty of bedsheet-rustling, and not of the pleasurable kind. Almost impossible to fall asleep without some degree of vigorous tossing and turning. Can't recall the last time I had a solid 7-hour sleep session. Think it must have been during the time when I had the flu; piriton always sends me into dreamless slumber.

These days, I feel like there's a dark cloud hovering over me, shadowing my every move. Every time something good happens, the cloud erupts and throws a yang to temper the yin. Akin to finding a thousand bucks, only to spend it on unforeseen liabilities a couple of days later. Or losing a bucket load of calories on the treadmill, only to end up piling it up all again in one seating of banana leaf or Baskins Robbins.

Or maybe it's all my own doing, or undoing, which ever way one looks at it. Perhaps I'm at it again, gripping my shield and wielding my sword, off to fight some other's battle. Perhaps I'm being a Bush, getting involved in some conflict far away from home. Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.

Then again, I've never been one to sit down idly and watch others struggle, without leaping into action. Okay, maybe not leap; slowly arise, stretch and then join in the fray. Though what will eventually happen is that I'll get bogged down in the muck of things, while the initial protagonists climb out to safety. It baffles me, to say the least.

Okay, happy thoughts.

brain fade

Would you believe it, I've got a blogger's block? Who would have imagined eh? I'm struggling to write this post, that's for sure. The keys are not flowing, the flow disjointed. I blame it on the Monday blues, though I've never had difficulties posting entries on the first day of the week. Guess there's always a first.

Okay, no more Frangi's on Fridays. It's not at all productive, and quite effort consuming after a while. Across the road, 21 seems promising, offers more potential. Or maybe Laundry, if access is granted (smirk). Savanh Too tends to have a disappointing turnout during weekends; if only there actually were more patrons than staff there, I'd park myself there more often.

Nope, still don't feel the words flowing. Have I finally run out of topics to write? (Dramatic music). Or is it due to the fact that I'm trying to find the killer word that I'm over-taxing the grey matter? That's a distinct possibility. Doesn't help that the late evening finds me at my literary worst. How does one muster the strength to key-in tens of letters to an empty screen after having a long and taxing day? There seems to be quite a number of questions in this post.

Alright, I promise to return with a vengeance, eventually .

have morons, will boycott

Here's something taken from The Star:

KUALA LUMPUR: More than 2,000 Muslim restaurants in Malaysia will remove Coca-Cola from their menus as part of a boycott of American products in protest against Israel's bombardment of Gaza, officials said Wednesday.American companies are being targeted because of the US Government's support of Israel, which is carrying out a military offensive on Gaza that is says is aimed at stopping rocket attacks from the Hamas-controlled territory.

The nationwide boycott will be launched Friday by several Muslim groups after they seek God's blessings at Friday prayers, said Ma'mor Osman, secretary-general of the Malaysian Muslim Consumers Association which is leading the campaign.In addition to Coca-Cola, he said they have identified some 100 other products ranging from food to beauty and clothing such as Starbucks, Colgate, McDonald's and Maybelline.

I reckon we should boycott these 2000 or so eateries; note how they're very quick to boycott US goods, yet have still not reduced the prices of food sold, despite the plunge in oil prices. I mean, if there ever was a blatant example of hypocrisy, these jokers are it.

Hence the term, pulling a fast one. So I say boycott all these restaurants until the price of Milo Ais drops to below RM 1.20 and a plate of nasi kandar costs less than RM 5.

Are you with me?

the bug bites again

There's something very strange going on at home. Sometime deep into the night, the power trips and there's no electricity. It's been happening since Sunday night, as far as I know, and only occurs at extremely late hours. I'm not sure about the first two nights, but last night the lights went out at around 4.45AM. And it kept going off despite the power switch being turned on each time. I think it only stabilised at around 6ish. Really weird, I tell you.

A case of a poltergeist perhaps? A long-departed spirit of some TNB staff maybe? Whatever the cause, it's bloody irritating; I've been beleaguered with restless sleep for days now, what with the weather being all hot and humid. Don't be fooled by the occasional downpour, we're moving slowly but surely into the dreaded hot season.

I have this sudden craving to visit Laos, for yet another strange reason unknown. I've no idea why, just thought I'd check out Vientiane, and maybe Cambodia if I've the time, and more importantly, the money. All I have to do is wait for Airasia (yes, them again) to drop its fares and it's off to Indochina I go. However, I'll need to do some background research first (enter Wikitravel) cause climate is a big factor; the difference between a wonderful holiday and a miserable one. With the latest developments in my financial state of affairs, though, I don't foresee going anytime within the next three months (CNY would have been a perfect time to go, if circumstances were kinder).

Ah well, good things come to those who wait. I've already identified the hotel I want to stay at; the same one Hunter S. Thompson stayed at after the fall of Saigon. I'm a real sucker for colonial-style hotels; be it French, English or Dutch. Hence one of the things on my to-do list is spend several nights in the E&O in Penang.

Back to my travel plans (which I hope are not mere castles in the sky), I wonder how much it'll cost to do a tour of Vientiane, Luang Prabang, Siem Reap and Phnom Penh. Of course, being used to relative comforts will help expand the expenditure by quite a bit, but then again, why on Earth would I want to lay on some straw mattress in some dingy-looking insect-infested motel eh? I'm a child of the modern age; I need my spring mattress, duvet, hot water, cable TV and room service. I would also like to include Hanoi in my travel itinerary, but principles prevent me from doing so. There are some things I can let slide, and there are some things I will not turn a blind eye to; Vietnam comes under the latter.

So if anyone out there has any useful info on Laos (and I really mean useful), your two cents would be most appreciated. And please don't start by telling me it's safer to drink bottled water; that applies to almost every country in Asia. And yes, I will take charcoal tablets (activated carbon to the pedant).

Enter 2009 (splutter splutter)

And thus another year begins.

Pity it began on the wrong foot, personally that is. Being broke by the 1st of January is no cause for celebration, by any stretch of the imagination. Being broke because one's money got stolen makes things even worse. Ah well, maybe it's some sort of cosmic metaphysical interplay. Previously, the trend had been to start the new year rich and end it broke; maybe it'll be the other way round this time, which would mean that I'd be loaded come Christmas 2009 onwards.

Then there's the question of resolutions. I'm beginning to resent the word, probably the most over-used word in the month of December, every year. Who really cares about what you've set out to do or not do, at the end of the day? Resolutions just make good fodder for idle chatter and nothing more.

On a more 'serious' note, I've decided to give up drink, indefinitely. Why? I don't know, can't really distinguish a glass of whiskey coke from a cup of coffee, they all taste the same to me. And when one doesn't get a kick from drinking (and I don't mean tipsy), then there really is no point in contributing to the bartenders' pension fund, is there? I also plan to cut down on the cancer sticks somewhat drastically, and that's a necessity. I reckon 10-12 ciggies a day aren't too bad, for starters. And who knows, maybe I'll only light up a couple a day as the year draws to a close. Dare to hope, I say.

So yeah, 2009 is well and truly upon us, yet I don't exactly feel like jumping up and down. Maybe I'll feel more chirpy as the weeks walk on by, or if I get a sudden financial windfall (Go Toto!). Something in the region of a couple of million quid won't be too shabby, not at all.