The throbbing isn't going to stop anytime. It will keep on throbbing, pounding my chest like a chinese drum. There isn't much of me, I know. I an neither famous nor successful in anything, I know. But the throbbing, it is not beating like a clock; tick tock but an amplifying firy base of carnage. I'll wander more with more revealing emotions and spectres if I continue and I'll probably bore you death so I'll stop right----------------> here.

I love you Hujan

Little did I know that the kissing picture appeal to more readers than the gun. I wasn't expecting such a response. But well in a society that taboo-es kissing more than gossiping, I'm not half as surprise.

But kissing is beautiful. The mixing of warm saliva connects more than lips, it connects people to a whole different dimension, if it is done to the right lips of course. The way tongues collide and twirl and grip is electricity. Most of us grow up celled from the visual of love. We never (or rarely) see our parents kissing or show affection and yet, teenagers especially unmarried ones do it so often that we ought to think that marriage is something that simply cease love.

I've kissed someone back in highschool but the kiss remain to be an exploration, a flirtation with rules and self-governed goodness. An edge to life, so to speak. The warm saliva was nothing more than me tasting her ketchup tasting tongue. The awkward wrestling of tongues is just an awkward wrestling of tongues. Breathing to eachother was done necessarily.
But I could imagine now, that when I found my true love, kissing won't be as a matter-of-factual as it was. It'll be a constant reminder on why I choose to share a part of myself as well a moment of temporary insanity. Why, I'll do it in front my kids (if I have any) to show them that kissing is what loving couple do and not something indecent and revolves delinquince.
Aaah. An insightful (a bit revealing) entry at last... My cynical side gets weary when it rains; only to be replaced by sprouting daisies and watermelons. And pink durians. And suggestive looking skin coloured rambutans. And pursing lips kind of flower that kisses the sun with sounds of joy. It'll sound something like 'kissu kissu kissu kisssss'


I could be wrong but our society are now keener in making their own porno videos. Since digital cameras are more affordable now, personal pornos are sprouting like cendawan atas pokok basah yang dah lama mati sebab kene tebang oleh isteri pak leman, mak tom.
Rape videos lah, blowjobs lah, sex with indonesian whores lah. I do find them repulsive, mostly because most of the 'actors and actresses' are dead ugly and not so well-endowed. Hahah. Plus, the lighting is out of place and there's no audio auditing to cover up the shrieking: Bang, cukup Bang, Solehah dah tak tahan!!! Solehah, Aisyah, Khadijah. Beautiful names shrieked in the most unpleasant tone by wrangling bodies in the most unimaginable positions. And I do find it funny that in most videos, the men's face are never present. Only the women's.
And I wonder why are most of the porn stars Muslims? Most of these sexual acts are in form of adultery and some are instrument of vengeance by sore ex-husbands. By it keeps on coming. Every week. More and more. In blogs, pasar malam, thumbdrives, LAN, everywhere.
Abstinence people, abstinence. If not from sex, from the camera lah. Don't be stupid. And girls, if your boyfriend wants to record you getting humped, make sure there are face shots of him too.
A friendly reminder from a guy who lost his appetite watching those vids even though he was in the middle of gorging himself with his all-time favourite char keow teow.

Good to be back

I haven't been blogging for the longest time! Heck, I've been busy (presentation and everything else that follows)

One of the colleges in IIUM was alerted to the authority with a case of gun posession.
The catridge however was empty at that time. The gun was functional but was not loaded.
It was apprehended quickly by the security guard. Note that the same security guard shot down the misunderstood monkey in front of my room. The monkey was innocent I tell you. He was just minsunderstood....(sings a Bon Jovi song)

The guy who owned the gun is probably a crook wannabe. Or an OTAKU (japanese). He was rumoured to be an Indonesian student. I don't know lah. The very fact that there's a gun in a room is pretty staggering. AND LOOK AT THE BLOODY WALL. Hah, it's paint. I'm not trying to badmouth the guy or anything but seriously, paint? Could've used chicken blood. You can get them in any cafeteria.
Swords and stuff. By now, you should already know that he is just potraying a crook, which he is obviously not. What goes around comes around, it's the ferris wheel basic principle. At other parts of IIUM, dating or the ridiculously popularized word 'coupling' is rampant.

The building behind them is KAED, my Department.
You are looking at a genetically altered vampire who sucks stomach acid instead of blood. Guys, get married lah. If not, just don't take experimental pictures that will eventually passed on to someone as curious as me.


Bloggers United My Ass
“Bloggers like to spread rumours, they don’t like national unity. Today our country has achievements because we are tolerant and compromising. Otherwise we will have civil war." says Tengku Adnan. (Tourism Minister)
Bloggers, in self-defense, regarded the statement as prepostorous. Isn't that the problem right there? Self-proclaiming yourself as BLOGGERS is just another form of bothersome generalization. And when conforming to such label, its human nature to gang up and protect each other. Like a tribe. We never call people who complains in newspapers COMPLAINERS do we?
Opinionated, bloggers should accept that PEOPLE, yes people have their opinions too. Including ministers. Even the nasi lemak makcik. Knowing how to write well do not exclude you from being a CIVILIAN. And since many literally praise their own definition of liberty, have the liberty to listen and you will find out that the problem is not the government or the royal families or the kampung people or Rosnah Mat Aris.
It's YOU and ME.

Night and Day

The cruel pace of night and day, night and day, night and day is amounting some kind of rush within me. The rush that only gushes through my head, like a sucking sound. Panic. Relevantly similar to manic, I'm considerably drowned in the depth of it and yet I find more reasons to philander with new torrid superficiallity. Novels are sweeter as movies are blissful. And the rush of imaging a structure. God, two escapism dwelling in the same river of time.

Never contradicting, the sense of time is more real to me. After 2 years of late submissions (who hasn't?) I am getting more attuned to the logic of procrastination. And instead of evading it and lose the self-willed spirit of imagination, why not embrace it? Embrace the mood and make full use of it. Or in other, drunkard friendly words: work hard, play hard. The only difference is, playing is working and working is playing. Both are workable and playable. Both are related like distant cousins.

Yes, Life as I understand now has no plots like wisping gossips. It has no endings like plays. It has a beginning that intends no end. It is Life. A four letter word that defies any philosophical definition by men.

Lee Hom Concert

Concerts are just refreshing. Like a pegaga juice during an intermission of a long journey from KL to Penang in a car with a moody air-conditioner. And all concerts has a certain familiar perk (or so I thought). A similar feeling, immensed in the richness of music and vibe.
The concert I recently attended which was Lee Hom's was different in a sense that I was given a VIP pass and seat. It was different because I dined at the all-seeing podium before the show. And I was with a person dear to me. It was all a big blurry picture, the concert. There were so many interweaving emotions that knitted the day that I can't possibly make out the end of it. Or the general outlook. Is it a mitten or is it a jumpsuit? But there is one thing for sure that stood out that night, I was really in my skin, comfortably refined. Maybe because of her. Maybe it's that night's mysterious moon light. Maybe its because I'd been considering even more maybes before that day.
Chinese or not, music is universal. It may appear so in video clips and MP3s but it has the universal effect when the tune vibrates throughout my body and into my heart. When the beating of two different vibes appeal to one another, sending off signals so my head will bob and my hands tap. And then the similarity will kick in, the drifting of thoughts. Like in when I'm sunbathing at the beach, no matter how pleasant the prickly heat bounced off my bare back I will drift away in another dreamland: a spring-feeling field with soft, wavy grass.
My drifting of thoughts was routed in my -underconstruction- design. Amidst the pop and jazz, lines and points flew and blurred. Flew and blurred. Like castle making in disney world. Like whip cream. I went back to my room contented and pleased. And again, in my skin. Another break from from a stress-willed weeks ahead.

Cool ke?

Kids, smoking is NOT cool.
Smoking will not impress your friends, or girlfriends.

Smoking will affect your body odour. An average smoker is:
Fourteen times as likely to die of lung cancer
Fourteen times as likely to die of mouth or throat cancer
Four times as likely to die of cancer of the esophagus
Twice as likely to die of a heart attack
Twice as like to die of bladder cancer
It can, no, it will
Smokers will also live 12 years less than non-smokers.

You know what's cool? Watching this music video:

not expecting anything

I was recently defeated by my own expectations.

A bowling competition organized by my studio was held two weeks ago and it sucked. BIG TIME. I was expecting 15 groups since I's already instructed my team members to get a hold of 4 groups each. My initial expectation (and the more sensible one) was 12 groups.

Unfazed, but also unsurprised, 5 groups attended the bowling competition. Solo, with less that half a dozen studiomates to assist me, I had to promote the competition to the public and I was successful of persuading 3 more groups to join in. It was a frustrating failure for me, something I would want to lock in a safe, only to drop it off at the nearest atomic bomb infested land. It also taught me a valuable lesson in project management.

Knowing for a fact that the level of commitment among my studio members are barely tolerable, I'm making money single handedly and will only in return, grant a 20% of the profit of whatever projects I'm handling. Because I still give a rat's ass, that's why.