I ponder the vicious cycle.
It seems like all has to be destroyed in creation.
Like a white canvas, that has to be marred as the first splash of paint is applied to create something more. The purity of origin is no more. Is it actually better? A lot more colourful and lively, yes. Better? Perhaps. It is a matter of perception I suppose.
Creative destruction.
Not so much an oxymoron now is it?
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Serenity In Murder
My mind is made up
One swift and deft stroke
It is done
Cruelty complete
Laid to rest
No more anguish or pain
I stare
Numbly
Tender open wounds
As life ebbs away
I have to
Turn and walk away
No remorse
Strange manic peace
Only serenity
One swift and deft stroke
It is done
Cruelty complete
Laid to rest
No more anguish or pain
I stare
Numbly
Tender open wounds
As life ebbs away
I have to
Turn and walk away
No remorse
Strange manic peace
Only serenity
Friday, May 20, 2005
Something About The Rain
It has been raining or the better part of the day today. A rather cold and refreshing day I must add. The day was like perpetual night, but that is okay, I do like the non-sunny days better.
Rain seems to leave me invigorated. I am musing, that the rain is liken to some pent up feeling from the many stuffed up sunny lashings, finally released.
I kinda like the feeling of renewal it gives. Life for things on this earth need the natural nourishment the rain brings. Every raindrop is like a cleansing, life renewing seed.
I love to just look out the window, and watch the raindrops pelt on my window. Watch it gather into a beautiful rivulets and start sliding randomly, leaving behind a refreshing calligraphy on the glass. I start looking at the roof across and watch the raindrops dance their familiar steps. Each drop sending a flourish of little sprays as it lands on the surface. Simply beautiful.
With all the lights turned off, and a candle lit inside my room at that very moment paints a poginant picture. I imagine myself looking in from the outside. Just let the melancholy pour in.
Like all things it ends.
Unlike the other of all things though, that leaves me empty when its over, because I know, one day it is going to start all over again.
Rain seems to leave me invigorated. I am musing, that the rain is liken to some pent up feeling from the many stuffed up sunny lashings, finally released.
I kinda like the feeling of renewal it gives. Life for things on this earth need the natural nourishment the rain brings. Every raindrop is like a cleansing, life renewing seed.
I love to just look out the window, and watch the raindrops pelt on my window. Watch it gather into a beautiful rivulets and start sliding randomly, leaving behind a refreshing calligraphy on the glass. I start looking at the roof across and watch the raindrops dance their familiar steps. Each drop sending a flourish of little sprays as it lands on the surface. Simply beautiful.
With all the lights turned off, and a candle lit inside my room at that very moment paints a poginant picture. I imagine myself looking in from the outside. Just let the melancholy pour in.
Like all things it ends.
Unlike the other of all things though, that leaves me empty when its over, because I know, one day it is going to start all over again.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
It All Came Apart
Remember love when it happened like a huge knitting, twined and tweeded into form?
Remember how it started closely knit, inseperable?
Remember how you thought no matter what the twine will hold?
Remember how it slowly came apart at the seams?
Remember how it began to unravel and fray?
Remember how you could literally feel each strand as it fell apart?
Remember how everything felt like loose strings ?
Remember how it looks like a maze of strings impossible to be reknitted?
Remember that last strand, string of hope that you tried in vain to hold on to?
Remember how you finally found the courage to cut away that last strand?
It was then empty. Surreal. Suddenly freed.
There was calm.
Strangely you found your breath again.
Then you started to cry like you have never cried before...
Remember how it started closely knit, inseperable?
Remember how you thought no matter what the twine will hold?
Remember how it slowly came apart at the seams?
Remember how it began to unravel and fray?
Remember how you could literally feel each strand as it fell apart?
Remember how everything felt like loose strings ?
Remember how it looks like a maze of strings impossible to be reknitted?
Remember that last strand, string of hope that you tried in vain to hold on to?
Remember how you finally found the courage to cut away that last strand?
It was then empty. Surreal. Suddenly freed.
There was calm.
Strangely you found your breath again.
Then you started to cry like you have never cried before...
The Wedding (Reprised)
In holy matrimony,together we stand;
We hold the future,it's here in our hands.
A pledge of love,this vow that I give;
I stand along with you,for as long as I live.
Through poverty or wealth,no matter which way;
I will forever love you,till my dying day.
If I were to go first,think of it as sweet;
There I will wait for you,again we will meet.
In a place far away, where even time itself fail;
There we continue,our final fairy tale.
Such then will be my daily prayer,
That we shall live and grow old together.
In mutual love that we may find strength,
To complete this journey no matter the length.
There will be times of peril and fear,
There I will be to comfort your tears.
I will hide you and weather the storm,
I will protect you from evil of every form.
In waking I'll hold you;
In sleeping I'll guard you;
Every bliss I'll share with you;
Every sorrow I'll bear with you;
In love then we will find victory,
Resound the Heavens our triumphant story;
For others may scorn they do not understand,
This vow between a woman and man.
We hold the future,it's here in our hands.
A pledge of love,this vow that I give;
I stand along with you,for as long as I live.
Through poverty or wealth,no matter which way;
I will forever love you,till my dying day.
If I were to go first,think of it as sweet;
There I will wait for you,again we will meet.
In a place far away, where even time itself fail;
There we continue,our final fairy tale.
Such then will be my daily prayer,
That we shall live and grow old together.
In mutual love that we may find strength,
To complete this journey no matter the length.
There will be times of peril and fear,
There I will be to comfort your tears.
I will hide you and weather the storm,
I will protect you from evil of every form.
In waking I'll hold you;
In sleeping I'll guard you;
Every bliss I'll share with you;
Every sorrow I'll bear with you;
In love then we will find victory,
Resound the Heavens our triumphant story;
For others may scorn they do not understand,
This vow between a woman and man.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Please Try To Understand...
"Please do try to understand..." says Girl
"I do understand. Does understanding make it less painful? Does it help to make it easier to bear?"
says Boy
"Understanding is just making sense. Understanding itself is empty.Sometimes understanding only makes it hurt more..." concludes Boy.
"I do understand. Does understanding make it less painful? Does it help to make it easier to bear?"
says Boy
"Understanding is just making sense. Understanding itself is empty.Sometimes understanding only makes it hurt more..." concludes Boy.
Feel Good Hit Of The Summer
Nicotine, valium, vicodin, marijuana, ecstasy and alcohol.
Cocaine.
Feeeeeels Gooooood.
Lyrics: Queens Of The Stone Age
Lyrics: Queens Of The Stone Age
Saturday, May 14, 2005
I Dream In Crimson
A wash of lush pink,
Sweeping in my sleep;
Motion,
Poignant,
Still.
Juxtaposed in blood;
Unexpectations untwirls;
Velvet tendrils entwine,
Malady consuming,
Pile the pyre;
Burn the fire!
Higher higher!
Fiery pyre!
And then
There was nothing left
Only embers and ashes...
I dream in crimson,
I dream in red.
I dream the bittersweet,
Never to be said.
Sweeping in my sleep;
Motion,
Poignant,
Still.
Juxtaposed in blood;
Unexpectations untwirls;
Velvet tendrils entwine,
Malady consuming,
Pile the pyre;
Burn the fire!
Higher higher!
Fiery pyre!
And then
There was nothing left
Only embers and ashes...
I dream in crimson,
I dream in red.
I dream the bittersweet,
Never to be said.
A Question of Role Models (The Downfall)
Saw this show on television the other day with the spotlight of the discussion on social ills in relation to the youth of this modern age. The topic raised a few interesting points and I do agree with somethings it has raised.
Foremost, it is the question of role models. More specifically, parents as role models.
Remember the snotty lil boy that proclaims loudly to his friends, 'My dad is very smart. He could solve the Rubiks Cube in 5 minutes!'
I think that was a long long time ago.
It was a time when information was not of the age.
It was a time when 'Heroes' still exist.
It was a time when parents had their kids respect, and holds a certain authority and allure for their children.
Something was lost in transition. Nowadays, parents are 'mere mortals'. They are seen with their faults as human beings fully blown in their childrens faces.
Children of the information age believes in parents that have been swept away like the bygone era, outdated it seems.
Children today believes, that their parents can be wrong too. Rebellion without a cause.
Children are outpacing their parents. The accelaration of knowledge is beyond what the generation before can patch.
Somehow the aura of invincibility of a model parent today is waning, probably gone altogether. Signs of being outpaced by the age.
Marks of the beginning of a downfall. Heroes of a forgotten age.
This sparks a revolution for parenthood.
Foremost, it is the question of role models. More specifically, parents as role models.
Remember the snotty lil boy that proclaims loudly to his friends, 'My dad is very smart. He could solve the Rubiks Cube in 5 minutes!'
I think that was a long long time ago.
It was a time when information was not of the age.
It was a time when 'Heroes' still exist.
It was a time when parents had their kids respect, and holds a certain authority and allure for their children.
Something was lost in transition. Nowadays, parents are 'mere mortals'. They are seen with their faults as human beings fully blown in their childrens faces.
Children of the information age believes in parents that have been swept away like the bygone era, outdated it seems.
Children today believes, that their parents can be wrong too. Rebellion without a cause.
Children are outpacing their parents. The accelaration of knowledge is beyond what the generation before can patch.
Somehow the aura of invincibility of a model parent today is waning, probably gone altogether. Signs of being outpaced by the age.
Marks of the beginning of a downfall. Heroes of a forgotten age.
This sparks a revolution for parenthood.
Friday, May 13, 2005
Fusing Thoughts On Diffusion
Diffusion. This lil bugger of a word has been hanging around in my head for a lot of the better half of the day. There is a gut feeling that pushes me to write.
I come to gather that the characteristics of a human being is kind of like a huge fusion process. It starts off with a core and along the way powerful and impact making words or circumstance will generate enough energy to permanently fuse itself with the core of a being generating a compound.
Having said that, I have this muse. Character and personality is volatile. It is just waiting for enough impact of a circumstance to start the whole fusion process. Food for thought isn't it? No matter how dormant the nature of a particular human being that has not changed in years, it is just the lack of the things around that shapes? And when it happens, which it happens to everyone, why should anyone be surprised at all?
I relate even further. Often, newly fused compunds have a lot of new energy. Again, how true is this? Whether the energy comes as endothermic (active absorbance) or extrathermic (active release) it reflects. Either someone becomes highly energetic to preach their new ideals or become recluse and starts absorbing the world around.
But think of those events, circumstance, words and stuff that fleets on without fusion. It never shapes or moulds a person. We just let them pass on by, like an insignificant spec of particle in this whole process. Just how much residue is left from all these fleeting particles? Food for thought isn't it? Just wonder where all the pockets of residue went?
Diffusion, works pretty much the same way. Just probably more painful. Something drastic happens and strips part of the element in the compound of our character away, revealing a new old mix probably with residue of the former compound. And diffusion also happens to generate a heck load of energy. (Think Hiroshima) Whether to channel such energy positively or to let it all meltdown like Chernobyl, is pretty much choice.
Rant and musings aside, I would probably want to remember, that we are all born with a core. Its just sad sometimes, through all fusion and diffusion, that this core, will never be the same again.
I come to gather that the characteristics of a human being is kind of like a huge fusion process. It starts off with a core and along the way powerful and impact making words or circumstance will generate enough energy to permanently fuse itself with the core of a being generating a compound.
Having said that, I have this muse. Character and personality is volatile. It is just waiting for enough impact of a circumstance to start the whole fusion process. Food for thought isn't it? No matter how dormant the nature of a particular human being that has not changed in years, it is just the lack of the things around that shapes? And when it happens, which it happens to everyone, why should anyone be surprised at all?
I relate even further. Often, newly fused compunds have a lot of new energy. Again, how true is this? Whether the energy comes as endothermic (active absorbance) or extrathermic (active release) it reflects. Either someone becomes highly energetic to preach their new ideals or become recluse and starts absorbing the world around.
But think of those events, circumstance, words and stuff that fleets on without fusion. It never shapes or moulds a person. We just let them pass on by, like an insignificant spec of particle in this whole process. Just how much residue is left from all these fleeting particles? Food for thought isn't it? Just wonder where all the pockets of residue went?
Diffusion, works pretty much the same way. Just probably more painful. Something drastic happens and strips part of the element in the compound of our character away, revealing a new old mix probably with residue of the former compound. And diffusion also happens to generate a heck load of energy. (Think Hiroshima) Whether to channel such energy positively or to let it all meltdown like Chernobyl, is pretty much choice.
Rant and musings aside, I would probably want to remember, that we are all born with a core. Its just sad sometimes, through all fusion and diffusion, that this core, will never be the same again.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
We just don't listen.
I think most people just don't listen.
Words float about our ears like random noise. It just buzzes about and with a swift flick of a finger, it slips away.
It makes me wonder, why in the world do people ask questions? As if there isn't enough rhetorics already. It is as if people ask just for the sakes of asking. Either that, or they are just hungering for some classical cliche to wrap up the formalities of a Q&A.
Think of the classic:
Q: Hi, how are you?
A:I am fine...
Imagine, answering anything other than that. Think about it, does anyone REALLY want to know how you are?
Then try this:
Q: Hi, how are you?
A:Not good.
Q: Oh...Whats wrong?
A:Well...bla bla bla bla
(in the middle of all the bla-blas)
Q:Ah, don't worry its all going to be fine. (e.g. I don't really want to know whats wrong)
Either way, it gave me food for thought. It is interesting how people can be easily prejudiced. We walk into a conversation, with the answers of our own questions prewritten in our head. Any answer that does not come close to our prewritten answers just get flung back to some far away corner binned and canned and never thought about ever again.
What's worse, is how we just love to shove the prewritten answers right at the face the someone that you have just questioned.
I guess it is a pattern. We don't ask questions to know. We ask questions to pave a way to shove our answers facewards, for whatever feel-good reasons that we may have. How good can it be, when your 'golden answers' don't address the problem in the first place?!
In my humble opinion, using a question to set up a sucker punch of the prewritten answer is as irritating as heck. It NEVER helps.
Ask only if you really want to know. Let it stop there. Offer empathy, not answers.
Remember, if we wanted answers, we'll ask.
Words float about our ears like random noise. It just buzzes about and with a swift flick of a finger, it slips away.
It makes me wonder, why in the world do people ask questions? As if there isn't enough rhetorics already. It is as if people ask just for the sakes of asking. Either that, or they are just hungering for some classical cliche to wrap up the formalities of a Q&A.
Think of the classic:
Q: Hi, how are you?
A:I am fine...
Imagine, answering anything other than that. Think about it, does anyone REALLY want to know how you are?
Then try this:
Q: Hi, how are you?
A:Not good.
Q: Oh...Whats wrong?
A:Well...bla bla bla bla
(in the middle of all the bla-blas)
Q:Ah, don't worry its all going to be fine. (e.g. I don't really want to know whats wrong)
Either way, it gave me food for thought. It is interesting how people can be easily prejudiced. We walk into a conversation, with the answers of our own questions prewritten in our head. Any answer that does not come close to our prewritten answers just get flung back to some far away corner binned and canned and never thought about ever again.
What's worse, is how we just love to shove the prewritten answers right at the face the someone that you have just questioned.
I guess it is a pattern. We don't ask questions to know. We ask questions to pave a way to shove our answers facewards, for whatever feel-good reasons that we may have. How good can it be, when your 'golden answers' don't address the problem in the first place?!
In my humble opinion, using a question to set up a sucker punch of the prewritten answer is as irritating as heck. It NEVER helps.
Ask only if you really want to know. Let it stop there. Offer empathy, not answers.
Remember, if we wanted answers, we'll ask.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Scream Your Name
Cold
Frozen dreams
Fade
Melt away
A technicolor blur
Bleakly erotic
Falling inwards
Tumbling slowly
Vertigo seeps
Off the wall
Echoes
Deaf silence
Muted scream
Your name, your name, your name, your name, your name
In eros
I etch
I scream
Your name.
Frozen dreams
Fade
Melt away
A technicolor blur
Bleakly erotic
Falling inwards
Tumbling slowly
Vertigo seeps
Off the wall
Echoes
Deaf silence
Muted scream
Your name, your name, your name, your name, your name
In eros
I etch
I scream
Your name.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
The thing with metal (and rock and the hard place)
I had an interview with a certain savage beast just the other day. It told me, (in a very crude manner that one can expect from a savage beast) that it is totally fed up of being soothed.
"Why is music always pointed my way in some pathetic attempt to soothe me? I wasn't responsible for the embarassment of American Idol pop and what-have-you-nots! If I could I would shove it back into a certain orifice so deep..."*
*The excerpt above has been edited and heavily censored to comply to my personal discretion of choice language and descriptives.
The above conversation sparked me to think about music. Music, as the igniting force, not the soothing lullabye. In other words, music that gives you that sense of invincibility; music that could tide you through thick or thin; music that reflect the truth about life; music that expresses the social conscience. Simply, music that ignites.
I cannot seem to agree with with people that term metal (the genre not the substance) and its affliated sub-genres as "noise". What is wrong with these people? Noise is noise. Noise has no rhythm. Noise has no meaning. Noise are random vibrations of the soundwave that expresses zilch. Loud is not equivalent to noise. There is soft noise, and it is no oxymoron.
Personally, I think metal and rock have been aptly named. It is music with substance. Music thats hard and music that endures. Having said that, you should know why bubblegum pop and pop is named the way it is.
It strips away the facade of "all you need is love" and "the world is so wonderful". There is only that much one can tolerate before realizing its all farce. Angst require expression. The sick society requires a voice of conscience. The depressed and repressed need an outlet to be heard. Nuff said.
Metal music (and everything that rocks) is an artform. Strip away the layers of distorted instrumentation (and probably harsh vocals), one reveals, a music piece of thoughtful arrangement, highly skilled musical execution, strong message presentation and powerful expression.
Most of these musicians probably live off less salary than you or I. However, they are dedicated to their art. They are dedicated to show you life, as expressed in their music as they see it. If anyone bothered to read the lyrics, they will find, lyrical meanings and representations so deeply entrenched in intellectualism, it puts many of us to shame.
I suppose most people are dismissive. Most are not willing to look beyond the 'wall of noise' to find these hidden gems. Most are much happier wrapped under the cloak of serenity.
Picasso's art is ugly. Think about it. It took a long time before people understood 'abstract artform'. Nonetheless, it tells us, to appreciate art is to look beyond the surface, and understand the substance and fit into the artist's shoes. See what they see. Feel what they feel. Learn to abstract. It is all about expression.
So. The next time I hear metal music being equivalent to 'noise', I would gladly invite the said person to bring along their music to soothe the savage beast. I am sure Mr. Beast is looking forward to the meeting.
"Why is music always pointed my way in some pathetic attempt to soothe me? I wasn't responsible for the embarassment of American Idol pop and what-have-you-nots! If I could I would shove it back into a certain orifice so deep..."*
*The excerpt above has been edited and heavily censored to comply to my personal discretion of choice language and descriptives.
The above conversation sparked me to think about music. Music, as the igniting force, not the soothing lullabye. In other words, music that gives you that sense of invincibility; music that could tide you through thick or thin; music that reflect the truth about life; music that expresses the social conscience. Simply, music that ignites.
I cannot seem to agree with with people that term metal (the genre not the substance) and its affliated sub-genres as "noise". What is wrong with these people? Noise is noise. Noise has no rhythm. Noise has no meaning. Noise are random vibrations of the soundwave that expresses zilch. Loud is not equivalent to noise. There is soft noise, and it is no oxymoron.
Personally, I think metal and rock have been aptly named. It is music with substance. Music thats hard and music that endures. Having said that, you should know why bubblegum pop and pop is named the way it is.
It strips away the facade of "all you need is love" and "the world is so wonderful". There is only that much one can tolerate before realizing its all farce. Angst require expression. The sick society requires a voice of conscience. The depressed and repressed need an outlet to be heard. Nuff said.
Metal music (and everything that rocks) is an artform. Strip away the layers of distorted instrumentation (and probably harsh vocals), one reveals, a music piece of thoughtful arrangement, highly skilled musical execution, strong message presentation and powerful expression.
Most of these musicians probably live off less salary than you or I. However, they are dedicated to their art. They are dedicated to show you life, as expressed in their music as they see it. If anyone bothered to read the lyrics, they will find, lyrical meanings and representations so deeply entrenched in intellectualism, it puts many of us to shame.
I suppose most people are dismissive. Most are not willing to look beyond the 'wall of noise' to find these hidden gems. Most are much happier wrapped under the cloak of serenity.
Picasso's art is ugly. Think about it. It took a long time before people understood 'abstract artform'. Nonetheless, it tells us, to appreciate art is to look beyond the surface, and understand the substance and fit into the artist's shoes. See what they see. Feel what they feel. Learn to abstract. It is all about expression.
So. The next time I hear metal music being equivalent to 'noise', I would gladly invite the said person to bring along their music to soothe the savage beast. I am sure Mr. Beast is looking forward to the meeting.
Old Emails Revisited : The Opening Bit
Life in cyberspace grows. Much like life in flesh and blood, it tends to leave behind a trail of dirty, sordid and depressing stains that usually goes unnoticed until someone decides to take a deep long breath and dive into the muck to uncover them lil jewels and bring em back out to the open.
Okay, seriously, it wasn't all so dirty, sordid or depressing. In fact it has probably been a pretty enjoyable trip out here so far. If it has been all so depressing, I probably would've committed cybersuicide or something.
Something struck me though when I was just rummaging through my Inbox to finally rid the crap thats jamming up space. Yep, I saw all them old emails crammed up in there; emails that I have thought at some point of time in my life that this mail was 'important!' and couldn't actually bear to send the 'cherished' bits and bytes to the cyber-shredder located in the other room marked 'Thrash Folder'.
My intrigue got the better of my common sense this night. I started clicking on those emails again, just to re-read those emotion-filled, oft-corny but mostly depressing content. I also started reading my replies to the said mails (leftovers from the very considerate folks , who had actually left my reply to their mail on their reply to my mail, just so that I could remember what the hell started the whole mailing thing in the first place!).
It reads like a diary, albeit a sporadic one at best. Sporadic, not because of time lapse or anything; it's just my own deceitful nature of deciding to keep the 'sweetest' moments in my Inbox. (I am sure you do it too!). But alas! The lil bastard finally stripped it's 'sweet' disguise and bares it's nasty teeth.
Hell, sweet deceit is just reality sharpening it's teeth. Once it bites, its freakin depressing.
It's depressing because it reminds me that the moments didn't last.
It's depressing because I am reliving the broken promises.
It's depressing because I am reminded of stupid decisions that I have made.
It's depressing because I have rereading things I shouldn't of have said.
It's depressing because I remember that I cared.
How ironic, that the sweetest moments in life could hurt so bad later eh?
Ah well. I am still diving through my muck of an Inbox. I am sure there is more than just the depressing bits in here somewhere. It is just a bit harder to find.
Somehow, hurt and pain just seem to stick out more. Like a sore thumb.
Okay, seriously, it wasn't all so dirty, sordid or depressing. In fact it has probably been a pretty enjoyable trip out here so far. If it has been all so depressing, I probably would've committed cybersuicide or something.
Something struck me though when I was just rummaging through my Inbox to finally rid the crap thats jamming up space. Yep, I saw all them old emails crammed up in there; emails that I have thought at some point of time in my life that this mail was 'important!' and couldn't actually bear to send the 'cherished' bits and bytes to the cyber-shredder located in the other room marked 'Thrash Folder'.
My intrigue got the better of my common sense this night. I started clicking on those emails again, just to re-read those emotion-filled, oft-corny but mostly depressing content. I also started reading my replies to the said mails (leftovers from the very considerate folks , who had actually left my reply to their mail on their reply to my mail, just so that I could remember what the hell started the whole mailing thing in the first place!).
It reads like a diary, albeit a sporadic one at best. Sporadic, not because of time lapse or anything; it's just my own deceitful nature of deciding to keep the 'sweetest' moments in my Inbox. (I am sure you do it too!). But alas! The lil bastard finally stripped it's 'sweet' disguise and bares it's nasty teeth.
Hell, sweet deceit is just reality sharpening it's teeth. Once it bites, its freakin depressing.
It's depressing because it reminds me that the moments didn't last.
It's depressing because I am reliving the broken promises.
It's depressing because I am reminded of stupid decisions that I have made.
It's depressing because I have rereading things I shouldn't of have said.
It's depressing because I remember that I cared.
How ironic, that the sweetest moments in life could hurt so bad later eh?
Ah well. I am still diving through my muck of an Inbox. I am sure there is more than just the depressing bits in here somewhere. It is just a bit harder to find.
Somehow, hurt and pain just seem to stick out more. Like a sore thumb.
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