miaow

Tomorrow

Jun — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 06:54:34 +0000

If the world ends tomorrow,
i would have ,
by then, amassed a gigantic suitcase of regrets,
wishful hopes,
misguided wisdom,
and other silly things,
All smashed into a package of unimaginable size.
This suitcase would remain exactly where it was packed.
It would be too heavy to move.
I would sit atop, beside where the handle would be,
and eat a bag of potato chips,
slowly, and giving each one a name as i go along.
Watching the world burn into oblivion,
swinging my legs,
humming the last song i remember.
And i would wonder,
at that very moment,
what song she would be humming.
And perhaps,
my very last wishful thought,
would be maybe,
just maybe,
we would be humming the very same song.

Ramble

Jun — Wed, 31 Aug 2011 18:26:47 +0000

Let us ramble.
None of this seems to make sense.
Brain cells and human emotion.
Monstrous cookies.
Terminal illness.
Low exchange rates and unconditional love.
Books of photographs with people’s faces in it.
Dead birds with open beaks.
Old man buttocks.
Intangibility.

Ramble on.
Rocks dropped into clear water.
Mugs full of chocolate powder.
Defamation.
Dirty nostrils.
Ghost sweat.
The sincerity of insurance agents.
Automatic toilet flushing systems.
Stray handkerchiefs.
New shoes.
New shoes?
Wait a minute, it feels as if some thing’s missing.
What’s missing?

Ice cream sandwiches.
Music theory.
Homeless concepts.
Durian trees.
Public transportation.
Computer mice.
Countries near the equator.
Hunger at midnight.
The persistence of things.
Nothing, okay.

Ramble stop.

Mango confusion

Jun — Sat, 16 Apr 2011 18:19:58 +0000

Then, this happens.

Fuck shit mango confusion,
Time what passing oblivion.
Wasted wasting woolly mammoth,
Business card smells like vomit.

They never intended to change their minds.
Lies, all lies.

- 8-4-4-3-5-5 -

Jun — Sat, 17 Apr 2010 20:42:19 +0000

I am quiet.

The need to say something overcomes.

Then as the lips part,

not a sound is heard.

I miss her.

Still.

Kitten shit

Jun — Mon, 12 Apr 2010 17:59:50 +0000

Plain water tastes delicious.
Instant noodles, sublime.
Bus rides, lonely.
The ink stains wouldn’t come off the shirt.
Small stacks of unfolded origami paper.
Wasted.
Unread books.
Packs of unopened menthol cigarettes.
Baby kitten takes a shit by the roadside.
The middle-aged man contemplates.
“This is not a mid-life crisis.”
It’s okay for him to lie.
We all should, and do.
An optimist sobs.
An anarchist smiles.
Puppy takes a shit by the roadside.
Again.

We continue.

Weekend

Jun — Sun, 28 Mar 2010 17:37:56 +0000

26/03/2010
From the lobby of an economy class hotel in Melaka, i write in short sentences.
My grandmother is in the hospital.
From what little i know, she suffered a stroke.
From what i have seen, she’s dying.
From memory, she used to be a large smiling old woman.
Now, she’s stuck in a hospital bed.
She’s stick thin.
She can’t speak.
And i don’t know if she can hear me when i speak to her.
I think so, because of the very slight nods she gives me in response.
She has not been eating much, just milk.
I thought i saw my father’s eyes redden.
Only once before i saw him cry.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.
I don’t even want to take pictures.
Right now i don’t feel anything.
I’m just looking at all these.

I just need a smoke.
-
27/03/2010
From the lobby of an economy class hotel in Melaka, i write in short sentences.
I shaved.
We went to visit my grandfather’s grave this morning.
I took pictures.
Then in the afternoon, we visited my grand mother in hospital.
Situation hasn’t changed very much,
Her hand moved to cover her mouth when she coughed.
That could be taken as a sign of improvement.
We all care for her.
But we all look like we’re waiting for her to die.
We all sit around the ward, and take turns to talk to her.
I didn’t take pictures in the hospital.
I wanted to, but didn’t.
Then we went shopping at Jaya Jusco.
My father bought a pair of yellow shorts.
My mother bought a leg shaver for five dollars.
I bought a roll of film.
And a battery for my camera.
My sister bought a pack of chewing gum.
Then we went to the hospital again to visit.
Then we went to visit a nursing home.
On the way back to the hotel, i took pictures from inside of the car.
Of people, and the streets.
The internet access here doesn’t work very well.

Going home tomorrow.
-
29/03/2010
From the confines of my room, i write short sentences.
She’s getting better.
She says she feels better.
My aunts say it’s because we visited.
She says she’s feeling hungry.
But the doctors say she can’t take solid food.
I helped cut her fingernails.
I nod at what little she manages to say.
Even if i can’t hear her frail voice.
We should really stay by her side.
But we have to go back to work.
I have to back to work.
So we all go back to work.
My father’s car broke down.
My uncle sent me to the Johor checkpoint.
I had no money on me.
My sister bought my dinner and bus fare home.

Tomorrow’s another monday.
Wait, it already is.

On the validity of dead squirrels

Jun — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 17:54:25 +0000

Guess my worst fears get confirmed now.
They were already confirmed before, but now, they’re as sure as a squirrel who died peacefully in its sleep. Dead squirrels have no chance of coming back from the dead. They’re just dead. They decompose and go back into the dirt. But, beyond logic and reason, one such as me refuses to believe the validity of dead squirrels. Long after the squirrel died, I was still giving it CPR, hopelessly hoping with all my heart that it will come and gasp back to life. That went on for quite a while. Now, i realize that CPR won’t do it. I want to create a zombie squirrel. I know it’s wrong and un-natural to do so, but i just cannot help myself. I just can’t. I’m bluntly stubborn about this and i won’t. I already know how this story will end. In a way, I’m simply going through the motions. It’s stupid. I know. What a whole lot on unnecessary heartache. Why won’t i just let dead squirrels die.

Hm. Bad metaphor.

One forty-seven in the morning

Jun — Mon, 14 Dec 2009 17:49:21 +0000

So that’s why people do it.
In the heat of the moment, your back’s against an imaginary cold and hard wall. It all falls apart. It’ll pass, just like time. Be aware of that, it’s still important, i guess. But right now, it just feels like your heart softly, and quietly, explodes in slow motion. Hurts like hell but not in a way regular physical pain normally does. He writes down the words, “you are all i can remember” in really bad handwriting, and all the letters are in lower-case. People never ever take their own advice, and never appreciate what they have until it’s not there anymore. What a hopeless trend. Other things just go on, like the time, passing. Like the globe, warming. Life, living. It’s all normal. In times like this you feel like doing something stupid for some form of distraction.
The stupider, the better.
Anything would do.

Careless

Jun — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 18:24:50 +0000

The aliens have landed,
The world has ended,
I don’t give a care,
Because there’s a fucking cockroach in my coffee.

Did he commit suicide?,
Was he suffering from depression?,
I don’t give a care,
Because that fucking cockroach is in my coffee.

Cockroach begins with “C”,
Coffee begins with “C” too,
They do not belong together,
Because there’s a fucking cockroach in my coffee.

There’s a fucking cockroach in my coffee,
So i guess there’s coffee in the fucking cockroach,
Maybe he was just quite thirsty,
Because there’s a fucking cockroach in my coffee.

There’s a fucking cockroach in my coffee,
There’s a fucking cockroach in my coffee,
Forgive my constant repetition,
Because there’s a fucking cockroach in my coffee.

(no title)

Jun — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 16:54:11 +0000

Couldn’t remember the title of that song. It’s quite annoying. It’s worse when it happens more than once because you feel like an idiot. I can hum out its tune, but if you asked for lyrics, not even a word. Was it in English? Cantonese? I know for sure it’s not in Tamil but i just can’t even remember that. … All I can recall (vaguely) is the tune, and that it was a beautiful, beautiful song. So beautiful it’ll make you cry. Really want to let her have a listen to it.
Okay.
I’ll let some time pass, maybe it’ll eventually come to mind. I hope. All i got is the tune, can’t do a google search if i don’t have any words. Maybe there’s some computer software that does that. Or i could just ask someone else. I’ll call somebody for help.

(calls somebody)

Hello?
Yes.
Hey i need help with something.
what is it.
I’m going to hum the tune of a song, tell me if you know the title okay?
Why?
Because i can’t remember the title and i want to find the song on-line.
Why don’t you just google it?
I don’t know the title of the fucking song.
Yeah, just type “the fucking song” in the search bar an-
I DON’T KNOW THE TITLE OF THE SONG. (desperate and almost in tears)

(a moment of awkward silence passes)

Okay man, you don’t have to type in capital letters.
Sorry, I’m just really desperate to know the song title.
I’m sorry too. Anyway, why don’t you go ahead and hum it.
Okay, here goes