Incarceration

I have done enough, and you never see.
I have cried enough, from the pool to the open sea.
I have given enough, to you that is hard to please,
I have shut my mouth enough, don't have any words anymore to plea,
I have not eaten enough, till I turn into a stick and ebony,
I have spent much enough, and left me with not even a penny,

And yes,
I am so restless, please let me free

Tintinnabulation

I went to The Beach again. It has become a kind of customary to pay a visit over there at least once a month, the warmth of feeling at home is so undeniable, it keeps calling me for more.

Everything was normal, except....

I was dissolving myself into Newsweek, it was then that I heard bells ringing from afar. Wondering I did where the sound came from. It sounded so familiar, like the bells ringing from a bike of a man who sells aiskrim bantal, roti kaya that sort of ring. The last time I had such a great home made ice cream when I was 16 I guess.

The effort to wake up from the sprawled straw mat was not that easy - you know once you get used to the comfort of the warm gushing wind, all you want to do is lie down and do nothing - and I turned my head to the back.

And found nothing.

And I laid back on the stray mat. And the ringing struck again. Hell, I needed something to quench my thirst. And an aiskrim bantal totally would be perfect.

I woke up. And had a good look around. Then I saw a herd of cows. I mean a lot of cows. In a number of 10 or something. Then the ringing became so obvious, that I saw two gargantuan cows with rings shackled on their necks.

Ahhh. Now everything made sense.

Ahhh. Lu lembu bikin spoil aaaa

I Love You And I Think It's About The Time For You To Love Me In Return

Just for once.

Please

Learning To Love The Bomb

I just couldn't take it.

If my banters were misconstrued to whatever you were referring to, this bond that we have since seven eight years ago, seemed to me as useless.

Again, it seems like I have to be the good puppet over here.

I know, there are time bombs in you. When it explodes, it shatters my heart. I am learning to love the bombs now, so when it explodes another time, I won't get hurt as much as I am suffering now.

Half Cooked

There was the serene sermon projected from a huge speaker attached to the mosque afar, the cock crowed louder than any normal day, the morning was so cold, fog of steamy breath emerged from the mouth and lips that uttered words, the smell of the clean cut grass from the back of the lawn was so fresh and comforting, the sun on far horizon emitting just enough light for the morning of retrospection, the sound of tinkling glasses in the sink, exquisitely mix with the chatters from the oldies in the kitchen.

At one time, the smell of comforting fresh cut grass was killed by the great smell of home cooked delicacies, waiting to be consumed.....


Hey I shouldn't be writing this. It's raya. And.. Later~~~

Happy Eid Mubarak

Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri. Maaf Zahir dan Batin.

p/s: Technology diminishes the Kad Raya customary. Ooh I wish I get one.

Stop doing this to me or I am going to fall in love with you, again.

Just Wait

"That would be 13 bucks, sir"

Thank you, but it can't be that expensive, right? This is not a bouquet of gold studded roses, for heaven's sake!

"Here you go"

He walked away from the booth filled with unknown thousand of flowers, leaving a smell trace of sweet perfume. The Sunday was too good to be spent at home, and these flowers are too pretty to be left untouched in the buckets filled with water.

Someone deserved these multicolor roses and he could not be sure whether this would be right, or wrong. And if this was right, he'll be the luckiest man in the world, and say if he was wrong, man he rather considering himself to move out to Iceland.

The yellow cabs were flooding the road - just like a bunch of ladybugs, minus the black dots - exhaling invisible fumes that probably turned the temperature that day a few centigrade higher than the ideal number of what ecologists would probably agree. These cabs drifted his thoughts to Jamie, the guy that stole his good night dreams, and turning them into sleepless nights.

The memory of road trip they had together was so precious, no money could buy.

Ahh these stupid memories.

Jamie wait there. I'm coming

Top/Middle/Bottom

You know, life is like a huge sludge pond. With multiple giant aerators floating on the surface. The impellers spin, bringing the ground level shits at the bottom to the surface, giving it an endless supply of oxygen so that the bottom shits can decompose faster in a faster aerobic reaction.

And with this differential pressure, the grande shits that greatly buoyed at the surface, has to go down. Spin itself in tornado of still water, forcing self to be that low so that the top shits know how morbid it is to be at the bottom.

The middle shits? Middle shits never exist. Whether they are going up there, or going down, following the law of gravity.

Can't see which one are you in this analogy? Don't be that skin deep. You know which shit who you are.

Again

The leaves on the sand swirl as the wind from the east coast sea blows, not too harsh and not too mellow. Just a nice on-the-beach kind of blow. Grasses and ferns covered most part of the un-sand land, with a few tulips of pinkish flowers emerge out of untrimmed greens, giving a fresh look to a tad too many fresh colors at once. Twigs from the branches above fall on the ground, yet again giving a sharp contrast against the green grass.

I am at The Beach. My own beach. Nothing much has changed since I came here three weeks ago. The smell, the colors, the serenity, the quietness it offers do not change a bit. Except for a shattered beer bottle on the driveway, on the sand of my entrance to The Beach.

It is freaking annoying to know that someone has come over here, and whatever they did, they did change this place. It annoys me to think that there are so many muttbunch out there that do not know how to at least to cherish this little gift from God.

You may find your tranquility in the heart of bustling noisy city. But this is my place. Well, maybe not really my place but at least there's no one over here to claim so, so why the hesitation to say this is mine?

I may need to come back tomorrow and do a little cleaning instead.

Oh and yes, I don't think about him right now. My laptop battery is going to die. I will spare the mellow bit, thinking about you, later at home, OK?

How I wish this is never going to end,
ZA
Cherating, Pahang

In The Memory of F Kamal

I felt immobilized. Like staring into one hell of the scariest figment of imagination came alive. Or like when your super massive big secrets came to surface of everyone's day-to-day talk. Or when you were about to die. Or else when you have died and you afraid that it would be eternal, you wailed to come back home.

I felt immobilized. Where the solid body shaped figure that used to be the static entity in my eyes slowly dispersed like a bubble being blown hard in the air. It sailed curvaceously like a harmonious sound from the reverberations of the strings of an old guitar that being salvaged from a burning home. The color of the bubble so enchanting it reflected vivaciously by the sun.

Now I am, staring into an empty space which its owner used to stretch a smiley face on me. A cute smiley face of someone I adored so much. A comforting look I've longed to see or at least a comforting look that could steer me away from this mess.

Two weeks of less-than-enough laughters, two weeks of heavenly world, two weeks between you and me.

Now you're gone. I am going to miss your presence, your smell, your sweet talks to me, our virgin date, our very first kiss.

And your eyes.

Good luck F. This letter of dismay shall not leave you in emotional depression.

I love you

This Road I'm Taking

I can't tell if I have made the right choice. These past few weeks, I have been contemplating and projecting futures over 10 years timeline, and though it may look promising, I may fall into the dark pit in no time. These charts I'm making, the charts that draw my look, taking control of the God's job.

How stupid.

Best case scenario, I'll be retiring with money the size of Kilimanjaro. Worst case scenario, I'll be sacked for writing too much, cramping working hours and savor the rest with a lot of Facebooking. These aborigines, shooting glances and unlikely thoughts to me. It hurts so much, I can't cry.

I still do not know what am I doing.

After all, life is not about the big bucks alone, it is all about family, friends, good colleagues and accessibility.

I hate you, snobbish douche bag.

Colors

I set a DVD on play and Katherine Heigl out of thin air appeared in front of me in a tiny LCD screen. Her complexion was perfect, her smile, her huge pair of eyes, the dimple not so deep on her cheek. Not to mention her golden blondie hair. That was the moment that I was gaping in awe, couldn't be envious enough for such a living beauty. The room was ill lit and the only light source was from the screen and the gowns on the brides illuminated brightly on the screen - like being painted on a black canvas - accentuated pieces sent from the Haven above.

Not far from where I sat, hidden in between Vogue and Discovery Channel magazines, there lied 27 Dresses' DVD box, with an image of a man and a woman as a cover, looking completely dissolved in their own fantasy.

Their own doctored fantasy.

Watching 27 Dresses did leave me with an unintentional emotional stir up, placing my own self in her shoes, of not having anyone to be married with, and keeping dresses from all badly arranged weddings, hiding in the closet just to have a shot of tranquility to weep alone, trying hard to look bold and strong, and plastered a big wide smile for friends who went through the biggest day in their lives!

A bouquet of White Roses. A Mom's dress. An Altar. Reserved tables with Familiar Names. A wedding ring. A Kiss. A Solemnization Ceremony. Hundreds of Witnesses. Numbers of good friends. Tears from Mom's Eyes. The Pride in Abah's smile.

Like what Katherine Heigl saw in every wedding she attended, I too, see the exact similar thing. Wedding, a miracle, the magic that binds two people together, the colors, the smiles from all faces, the awkward similarities that everyone shares, the costumes and dresses, the gifts, the laughter from the kitchen, the chaos from one little brother who shouts a roaring thunder to sluggish lot of waiters, the kids that gleefully running in no direction, the cute flower girls.

Every single detail.

If I were to sit at a corner where no one would notice, I will be happily observed this intricate celebration, while holding a lens mounted on a camera, looking for any perfect moment to be caught in film. Such a waste for letting this moment passed by unnoticed, for it won't be repeating again. And should it happen again, it won't be this big and this happy, and this loud weaved with a calming serenity.

These kids may not understand, but their presence adds another spectrum of noise in this joyful event. I hope they won't grow up that fast, because if they do, they won't be this cute anymore.




And the ultimate question that always ends up this joyous ceremony,

Bila nak kahwin? Umur dah senjakala

Errr.. I'll answer that later :)

Mr. Ah Meng

I always tell my friend that I like that kind of guy, this kind of man, that muscular thug, any good l0oking men. Well, it is not particularly correct as I have my own ideal criteria to at least filter out The Perfect Man I need. Far from stringent I may say, but at least, please abide to at least three criteria that I have listed as per below.

1) Good financial ground. No credit cardS please.
2) Speaks English. I mean Perfect English, spoken and written (I don't do Perfect English. So as a man, he should be better than me, y'all).
3) Good looking, slender, washboard abs, looks Perfect with aviator.
4) Humorous. I hate stupid jokes, so please refrain yourself to commit to such sins.
5) A faith Muslim. Perform 5 times/day obligatory prayer.
6) Romantic. Not kind of romantic that calls every 5 minutes and interrogate every single thing that I do
7) Owns at least a Functional car and a house (at any fancy neighborhood preferably)
8) And a few more things I can't remember right now

Look at Mark Wahlberg or Jeffrey Donovan, and you may get some ideas.

Hihihihi

Short Message

I'm flying back to KL this Friday.
Is there any chance that we can meet up and have a chat?

To You

How Are You Mr. Blue?

I always believe there's always light at the end of a tunnel. It doesn't matter anyway where does the light come from. Torchlight, sun, car rear light. Anything. At least I know that there's someone over there. Out there. Not to save me from the darkness but rather wait for me to get out from such a bleak and gloomy moment.

Well, I saw my light today. After struggling more than a month in a new place, at last there's someone out there waiting for me to walk out from the gloom, bleaky tunnel.

I saw a cute man today. With goatee. A subcontractor. And in a blue jacket. With a bluish goggle. And a hell of sweet smile.

The deprivation hasn't seen the end of the road yet. But at least, this kind of sugary moment, shall make me smile, maybe for a day. This new found motivation jiggles the excite button in me!


Yay~