mrglglglglglgl

murlocs? in your oceans? more likely than you think.

murlolocs here.

also, mudkipz. i hear you like them.



man, those silly murlocs. always good for some lulz.

bourgeoisly devoted to you

[curtains open to reveal a grand ball, where everyone but two persons are standing still, eternally disposed by a soft and subtle dance. as the curtains retract, slowly crescendoes a classical piece, which soothes and waxes as the two characters, etcetera and fuchsia detach from their dancing partners, and engage in conversation.]

e: society is such a wonderful thing, do you think not?
f: indeed, everything so dreary and malicious must be wonderful. that is the great contribution our species has offered this world.
e: au contraire, my dear. if anything, i think that is a social cliche the british could learn to live without. why, society can be moral and philantropic just as much as animals can. surely you have had the pleasure of meeting our young american guest? how could anyone be so disdainful after meeting such couture of manners!
f: you speak much truth, but i must differ! if anything, it is merely a facade us women put up for men. and not all men are so deserving of the finest falsities, only those so puritan and naive. why, i think i should compliment you on garnering such esteemed coities from said cleopatra - i was just with her and the young lord huntington, and they were in much delightful chatter over how corrupt and decrepit london society is become.
e: indeed! why, i am surprised to hear such a thing. if i did not know you better, i would call you a liar as you stand. and knowing how you are so well brought up, i fear it is the dernier cri of this age to be so contemptuous.
f: verily! nothing is as good as a wild passing, and nothing is as enticing as a good slander.
e: then you are the very best amongst us all.
f: but of course. it cannot fit a young woman these days to be out of quick wits and contrite gossips. why, i would imagine that lacking such things, a woman is a wonder to pick up any attention in a crowd.
e: i can assure you, you will pick up the best of attention in the biggest of crowds.
f: ah, then it is tragedy for me, as you duly point out that i am neither as atrocious as the most beautiful of us, nor am i as saintly as the most intelligent. i think, such contrast is life's greatest comedy.
e: and it's greatest romance, i should think!
f: [laughs a coy laugh] my dear etcetera, what would you know of romance? one so innocent as yourself. i think it is your greatest attraction that you are so devoid of such things!
e: oh, do not continue mocking me such! i find that your greatest attraction is how sincerely you make one's shortcomings his exceptional value. if i were to meet you for the first time, i would surely be smitten and taken aback at the same time.
f: then it is fortunate that we have known each other forever, is it not?
e: quite. [picks up a glass of wine and slowly swirls it in his hand, a look of great surprise upon his face].

[enter fermina, who proceeds to dance with fuchsia's previous partner for a while, as etcetera and fuchsia are unmoving in place. as the dance ends, everyone is silent again, except for the two protagonists].

e: such remarkable association you have here tonight. i expected no less from such an extravagant hostess.
f: then you are at the wrong party, my dear. i cannot think of how horrid the persons are, here, and how severely egotistical the hostess must be to keep such company. unless. unless, of course, you are referring to someone in specific [glances at fermina].
e: you sell yourself short, as always [sips his wine slowly, as he chooses his words with care]. but i cannot imagine a more distinguished line up of people.
f: and that is a social commentary on how society is nowadays. one cannot fathom any better, when one knows none.
e: oh, but i assure you, lady red, i have been brought up in the most derelict of countrysides, by the most banal of people. surely i have known better?
f: i suppose you do. it is god's greatest joke that we are more civil, the less fortunate we are, and more fortunate the less ethical. surely he laughs at his own mockery and rejoices in the unfortunates' pains.
e: you should not speak so lightly of such spiritual affairs! it does you no justice.
f: just as your cowardice [glances at fermina] does you none, too?
e: ah, you stab so wildly in the dark, yet you cut me every time. i bargain you either are enjoying yourself in my folly, or are proceeding to offer assistance.
f: oh, neither. i am not known for being much of a meddler. i am more of an observer. a connoisseur of sorts.
e: then my pain is the sweetest honey, and my tears are of ambrosia?
f: of course not! but the joy that births from such tragedy, is this not the most savory of tastes? what more can a man ask for than his mistreatment by women?
e: if being evil is the greatest of us all, and being nonchalant is the greatest of women, then verily so, i guess.
f: of course it is. you cannot see it now, only because you are such a puritan. such an ignorant. so unenlightened. so unspoiled. why, you really are a phirristine!

[close curtains. end of act i]

it's-a-me!

they tell me that you cannot know,
the pain inside the heart,
of a person devoid of roe,
of ice cream and of tarts.

is it worse than giving birth?
is it worse than death?
is it worse than lost first loves?
or worse than a hog's breath?

is it as bad as pms?
as bad as sinful desire?
is it like a trailer wreck?
one with a burning tyre?

i don't know how i can explain,
the feeling oft described as pain,
but if you have, say, half a brain,
i hope none of this is in vain:

because truly, madly, can't you see, one can only empathise,
with another when he ups and says ' 'tis i that i truly despise'.

falling for byzantians

if history has taught us anything, it is that the reason for a decline should not, and usually does not hang on a pivotal balance, centripetal to a singular factor or event. in fact, the argument for polyfactorial influences, and multitudes of contributing factors, not only seems more intuitive, but is a statistically, socioeconomically, argumentative and politically more sound explanation.

any fall from grace, should therefore, never be taken easily; and neither should it be dismissed just as such. truly, we have faded quietly into the night.

oh, sh*t

sometimes, i find that to find the most profound ideas, you have to take yourself down a notch. you know, calm it down a bit, get off that high horse and step down from that elevated moral ground. and one of the best venues for doing so, as you may have known, is the university toilet stalls.

lolwut?

yeah, really, some of the most interesting monologues (and sometimes dialogues) i have found are on the walls of the dunny. there's always some reference to sartre, nietzche, dante, obama, the bible, and who knows what not. this makes serendipitously interesting reading material while taking a dump. goddamn literary arts majors.

this is not to say, though, that all uni water closets are full of intellectually challenging, mind boggling, existential write-ups. there's always some really horribad traps, like someone's making glory-holes, inappropriately explicit website addresses, general profanity, and of course, bitching about some lecturer or another. many lulz ensue.

here's some of my favourite quotes:

"nietzche wrote everything's spawned from the sex-desire or death-desire. clearly he never had a puppy"
"if hell is other people, then there sure was a lot of hellspawn not flushing the toilets"
"man, i wish i could take a sh*t without my mind wandering to who's in the next stall" followed by someone scratching out 'who's in the next stall' and replacing it with 'your mom'
"i think [certain professor] is such a man!" <-- in the men's toilet.

the list goes on...

falling for shooting stars

in a recent post, i bridged the fictional to some subjects very close to heart. suffice to say, that fermina is a self-fulfilling prophecy.

i don't advocate posting clips on my blog much, but once in a while, i think certain songs or clips express things in ways my convoluted and tangled mind can only wish to. that, and this song is so full of epic win. i mean, the lyrics alone are enough to make me cry. and the lead singer has such an awesome voice (/mancrush).

games for the young

growing up, i remember playing a lot of random things. i mean, sure, i'm not so old as to not have had computer games or have played all the canonical 'proper' sports during my childhood, like basketball, softball and football (or soccer to you silly americans. pertaining which, european football actually uses your feet most of the time. and american football... yeah mostly with your hands. what's up with that? nomenclature fail. just a personal beef of mine.)

i'm not going to say kids nowadays are spoiled and are missing out on the opportunity to play all those crazy games we used to play, like 'baling selipar jepun', 'galah panjang' or 'caping / coping' (sp?). every so often, i'll see some kids playing it, during my visits home. but you gotta say, that's not the norm anymore. so following are some ideas to revamp some age-old games to make them more exciting and relevant in this age of quick thrills, violence, sex and ridiculously-short attention spans.

'baling batu bata jepun'. think of it as extreme 'selipar jepun'. the rules are the same, except substitute your flip-flops for bricks. i remember when we were younger, finding optimal flip-flops was really hard. the more financially-abled amongst us would actually go find the best ones at the night-market because it would give their teams that extra edge when trying to rebuild the flip-flop tripod / tetrapod. but now that i think of it, we always had some renovations / houses being built around the neigbourhood, and bricks were never in short supply. they're pretty standard and are ergonomically designed for building sh*t. how much more convenient can it get? the only downside is if you happen to be playing the 'freeze' version, where you have to stop all actions if you get hit with the flip-flops (or brick). shouldn't have to complicate a game where knocking a friend into the next world is a real possibility, by introducing the ambiguity of them actually just playing dead.

'caping berapi an-nar'. which is to be pronounced "tʃæp.p'ing". and is to mean roughly 'mini-dodgeball (with the fiery wraths from hell)'. the game, for the uninitiated, is simple enough. it's like dodgeball, except instead of some huge-ass netball, you use an easier-to-find tennis ball. also, there's pretty much no limitation as to how you can dodge / hide from the thrower, and there's no boundaries (the small court for dodgeball is for sissies). you play the game without score (most of the time) and it's just all out slinging that tennis ball at your friends / hated enemies until it's dusk and everyone has to head home. needless to say, if you're the one throwing the ball, and you throw it into someone's face so hard, it knocks their brains back into 2nd grade, then... hillarity ensues. oh, and stay as far away as possible from the victim because if he gets the ball before you do, you're sh*t out of luck. anyway, i remember playing this, and especially the elder amongst us (which is to mean they were bigger or older by a year or two) would figure out that the scrawny ones couldn't throw a tennis ball to save their lives. so, they'd just go closer to the ones who can't throw harder than little-bo-peep, maybe dodge the ball at the last second (or just take the feeble attempt and laugh), pick up the ball and WHAM TO THE FACE. needless to say, the tennis ball, in the hands of the weak, wasn't something to be feared. hence the reason why we should douse it beforehand in oil and set it ablaze. just be sure you play in an area where houses (and kids) are insured against arson / fire damage. or you could just wear fire resistance gear and resist most of the incoming dot component.

'galah panjang dan tajam'. i never really got why it was named 'galah'. isn't that some kind of long stick you use to get fruits down from trees with? or is there some second meaning that i'm unaware of? anyway, getting 'caught' in this game only entails free hugs from a friend... which isn't really that competitive nor is it scary. unless, at that tender, young age, you find out that one of your friends is sexually inclined towards the same gender. in which case, although there is no homophobia in this blog, could lead to some awkward situations.

1: er dude, yeah you caught me, and i'm out. you can stop hugging now.
2: just a little longer. your skin is so soft. and the smell of your hair is divine.
1: mkayyyy.... dude, wtf. are you having an erection?
2: shhhhh. love is a beautiful thing. think of it as happiness in my pants.

i digress. anyway, even though i'm all for the touchy-feely stuff, we need to man it up in this thang. and by that, i mean using katanas, broadswords and various bladed objects. now, i know it's not very feasible to ask kids to purchase such things, so i guess the kitchen knife (or two) will do. maybe a switchblade. anyway, instead of hugging someone to tag him out, you could be extending your arms, holding said sharp objects. and swishing them around. man, i'd like to see you run past that sh*t. add in some random flailing and we can be sure to stab someone's eye out, or better still, go straight for the jugular. and mom taught you never to run with scissors, pft.

methodically devoted to you

i wake up every morning, with the anticipation running through my brain, the hope coursing through my veins, that a singular affect of reaching out and touching angels has been seen by God, himself and that, maybe, he will find pity in his metaphorical heart such that stars and planets are aligned, and miracles are once again borne from thin air, creating an anomaly in reality, to make wishes reality.

but that is not today.

seven years in the making, a shakespearian tragedy, an austen-idyllic romanticism, a byron poem-in-arms, an etcetrian fumble. and remember, self, that you heard it first here.

a wise person once told me that love and affection is not pre-ordained. it is not the substance of destiny, and neither is it the hand of fate. it does not fruit from karma, and does not bear the mark of hard labour and effort. nay, it is simple and self-fulfilling, like an oedipean prophecy, in which the ends ironically (and iconically) enact themselves out. in words truer than most ever spoken, this person told me that love, lust, destiny and everything related are all made or broken in the image of those who would will these things into existence. succinctly, you love that which you want to love, irrespective of being made for each other or contrarywise.

and to this philosophy, you are resultant of an experiment more profound and more beautiful than young's double-slit. if, with every waking day, just as i begin with anticipation, i end with thoughts of forevermore falling deeper and drenching thicker in a presumptive, one-sided love. if, just as desperation gives way to hope as, again, nothing risked is nothing gained. then, i have set up, against multi-variant resistances, a dystopian reality in which i can conduct serial attempts at loving and longing for that which is never meant to be mine, and this is (who is to say?) thine own.

and, to secure each and every dependent response, which we thenceforth define as love, i think it is only appropriate that we secure an independent cue, which we hencewith define as everything, and anything one can cling to that reminds me of you - the scent of your hair, ablaze and alight by the frigid winter air. the sheen of your eyes, reflected in the dreary, dark and desperate wisp of a starry night. the glow of your smile, accentuated by the lonesome and resounding noiselesness in a city's din. the efflorescence of your laughter, playing an octavial symphony, ringing in my ears perpetually after you are gone from sight and lost in the busies of your new life. and most importantly. most determinedly. most surreptitiously. the feel of your skin; the looseness of your hugging arms; the sweet softness of your emotional embrace, everything that is you, splintered and juxtapositioned against the cold, timid, haunting eeriness of reality. only you.

with each and every trial (and subsequent error) of making myself love and lose, i feel that the initial feeling is lost, replaced by an anomalous and effervescent feeling that i cannot describe, moulding my innards in its image, a grotesque and disfigured; appalling and repulsive figure that i can only imagine is the image i fail to see in every mirror, in every shadow under the noon sky.

but i cannot resist to think that, maybe. hopefully. possibly. god, i wish it were. true, real and unadulterated.

instead of the obvious, undeniable reality that, by methodical and unforgiving self-loathing, this is nothing but pavlove.

in as many ways, dearest teach

there is an adage,
dedicated to you;
of candles, and burning,
of what's hard, what's true.
xie xie, shi-fu.

there is a feeling,
that every day i feel anew;
writing, counting, seeing, learning,
dedicated to myself, and to you.
terima kasih kepadamu wahai guru.

there is a figure,
that keeps disregard at bay,
that fights when i cannot,
through dark and day.
arigatogozaimasu, sensei.

there is a longing,
that even the discordant pariah;
if he had taught you a single alif,
has worthiness of a messiah.
shukran ya ustaz(ah).

and i cannot express, no matter how long and hard i were to preach;
i say 'thank thee' in as many ways to you, dearest teach.

- dedicated to every teacher i've ever had, and i remember each and every one of you, if not by name, if not by sight, then at the very least at the back of the miniscule window in my mind. thank you evermore.

negative gnostics and atypical acoustics

i am not a pious man. not even a marginally-religious man. but i am, kind of, an existentialist. -ish. maybe. and so, although i may not be on the walk that tightropes the balance between heaven and hell, i do want to feel (or at least deceive myself) that there are some things larger than the immediate consequences of our actions. karma, if you will; or fate, destiny, and all that jazz.

on the other extreme, though, i feel inclined to admit that although once upon a time i was a great believer and advocate of self choice and free will; nowadays things are a-changin'. sometimes i feel that lack of insight and foresight are enough to explain how things have evolved in my mind's eye, but i guess we could also argue that it's deeper than that. some kind of divine revelation on a minor scale, a coming of belief's age. and yes, before i digress further, this extreme is fatalism in all its glory. to what extent, though, is debatable. i have gone through the defeatist age of my life (though recurrence is oft and not as intermitten as i would like it to be), and i still ask myself 'to what extent is determinism the hand that pulls our puppet strings?'

on a whole, i christianity, judaism and islam all quote god as being all-knowing, and has preordained everything. so where does the role of choice come in? in every choice you (think you) make, just how much 'you' was in it? or was it all really god's dominoes just falling as he had wanted when he pushed the first one? i've consulted religious scholars, agnostics and atheists. i've queried websites and texts. i've philosophised in the dying moments before sleep's respite, in the serenity of morning walks to the busport. and nothing really feels right to answer.

to conclude my meager findings, i think i'll just say that sometimes the puppeteer scenario is all that you need to believe in. that the scriptwriters and directors of life have it all written out, down to every dot in the script. but that doesn't make the play for lack of actors (and actresses, of course).

"all share a common destiny—the righteous and the wicked, the good and the bad, the clean and the unclean, those who offer sacrifices and those who do not." - eclesiastes 9:2

for further christianity views, here.

"and no soul can die except by Allah's command - a time has been appointed for each; whoever desires the rewards of this world, We bestow upon him from it; and whoever desires the reward of the hereafter, We bestow upon him from it; and We shall soon reward the thankful." - quran, 3:145

for more islamic views, here, and my usual, here.

p/s: that irritating noise in the background better stop or i'm going to have to rip my ears out.

cheer up, calm down

from my previous post, a good friend, and probably the only person who sits down and reads my crap (thank you, kay!) pointed out that i have been using the phrase 'cheer up, emo kid' more and more frequently.

as a testament and sign of appreciation to kay, i would just like to point out that i have no claim to fame associated with the creation, propagation or use of said phrase. it has been around on teh intrawebz for god-knows how long.

in a short-stop attempt at diverting the subject, here is a webcomic i frequent, which goes under the name cheer up, emo kid.

some people, including kay, have asked me 'what actually is emo?' o r 'what is an emo?'. this is an interesting question, and i am tempted to link wikipedia, like i always do. however, i don't think the definition of emo as a genre of music fully encompasses the extent of the use (and meaning) of the word. there's so much more social implications and associations with and of the word. cultural niches and sub-niches. emotions and -thymias (though normally associated with dysthymia). there's a whole plethora of thing i don't think i'm eligible of elaborating upon.

i think a good place to start for those truly interested is that emo stems from the word 'emotion' and take it from there. maybe some research will help elevate the social stigma and stereotypes surrounding the word (and prevent fotm emo-ers). so long as you don't end up /wrists at some point.

besides, real emos don't go around parading horrible haircuts, tear-drenched mascara, half-hearted wrist lacerations or playing stereotyped songs on their guitars in public. no, real emos, i don't think, display their broken and bleeding hearts on their sleeves, for the public to view (and subsequently criticize and laugh at). a real emo relishes in it and of him/herself, during moments alone, and when s/he exits his/her solitudary sanctum, s/he wears the biggest (fake?) smile and has the cheeriest attitude. just saying. because real emos have cheered up.

p/s: i should have manbearracist read this because i'm sure emos are on his must-offend list.

great questions of the universe IV

it has come to my attention that recently, my posts have become dreary and a tad too serious. i reckon, this just cannot do; and is totally in contradiction with my self-proclaimed (in)ability to never age. thus, we shall re-visit a long-lost passion, a guilty pleasure, and a sin of the mind... great questions of the universe.

now, i know most of us have no idea what i'm talking about. even i don't, really, as the great questions are more of a diffuse and abstract collection of thoughts and tenets than substantial questions themselves. but, just like a silly highschool crush, like an undying devotion to god, like a sally in front and towards of an unknown enemy; it is not important or even relevant to understand who (what) you face, but it is more pertinent to realise that some things, you just must do (like your mom, OH).

anyway, let us consider the notion (as opposed to question) for today - MCQs and how they are spawned from fire and brimstone. for those who may have forgotten what the acronym stands for, multiple choice questions are either the bane or the salvation of students everywhere. just like how the army version of the penultimate noun, MCQs hand out free stuff, at the cost of them being second-hand. let's elaborate.

first, i don't really get an MCQ test design. especially tests which fully and exclusively employ MCQs as the entirety of an assessment (and this is quite popular still in the states). generaly the questions are set up such that you've got 4 choices, two of which are ridiculously out there, such that only someone particularly retarded or keen on taking a repeat would even consider them. so, for the average person, you can say after eliminating the two dummy answers, it's a 50-50 either way. not bad odds, and you don't need a gambler to tell you that. although gamblers would bet on any odds anyway. which reminds me how awesome the statisticians (also swindlers) who design gambling endeavours are - it's like the extreme realisation of making money through maths. and conning idiots. except blackjack i guess. in which case the house wins, still, else there wouldn't be blackjack tables in vegas. i digress.

but anyway, with a passing score requirement of 50%, one could theoretically pass exams just by learning how to eliminate the decoy answers (which is not a particularly hard task, or so i would hope for university students or more). this is increasingly true when some lecturers somehow deemed that a(n insanely) large number of questions would better test students' knowledge base and understanding of the subject. i mean, this makes sense, right, to have a better statistical power through larger sample size? true, but when the n value is so high (like an MCQ i saw with 250 questions. i mean really. 2 hundred and fifty what the hell), you're just making more allowance for central limit theorem enthusiasts (i.e. students getting out that lucky d4). should totally get some 20-choice MCQs in there so d&d nerds can whip out that d20. obviously the questions would have an innate chance to roll a saving throw, too.

hmmm. i guess i'd write more, but the crux of the argument is pretty clear. for all those people who relied on lady luck to get you through MCQs (and even more so those who outperformed others who actually studied) - i hate you so much. don't get me wrong, having MCQs with the working basis that students actually attempt to answer the questions based on what they have learned is a beautiful (albeit utopian and idealistic) concept. but (and i can show you the tissue math i've done for this on the bus), for those who actually study for the exams (incidentally, i don't really think i can put myself in this group either :/ ) there's always going to be that upper limit score to which you can strive to attain, after which the rest is going to be guesswork anyway. or bargaining with the devil. which makes it even more sour to see those who wiled their hours away in the pub score better (at the exams and with the women) because their upper limit was so low, they, quite literally, lucked out.

i like how this post started out as a well structured idea and turned into a full-blown rant. kinda. ish. so dunces rejoice. occult-conspirators celebrate. schemers and strategists (for lack of a better term) hurrah. and for the horses of student life, enter your MCQ finals with the tenet:

abandon all hope, ye who enter here (this is supposed to relate somehow to the fire and brimstone reference from earlier).

demanding r.e.s.p.e.c.t.

one of my favourite songs ever is 'it's only me (the wizard of magicand)' by barenaked ladies, and in this song, amongst the many lyrics that give life to meaning (and in some cases meanings to life) is the following excerpt:

"(they) say you'll never love another,
'til you love yourself, well brother,
i'm in love with everyone i see".

in a world where apathy and fatalism is becoming a subliminal trend, where we seek ourselves and find nothing but, i think it is an important message to live and re-live. though the selfishness of it all contradicts with the basic ideology which i preach, wherein the greater good is of greatest import, sometimes you just have to look out for number one.

and this sentiment applies especially well when it comes to handing out love - you really can't give what you don't have, and to have lots of love there's no place better to start than that closest to home. if you've ever seen those people from 'free hugs' sometime back, you should know what i mean.
i guess, this explains why those who are so loathsome, so dark and disgraced cannot love and be loved. yeap, i'm talking to you - cheer up, emo kid.

we're all the same

children are hypocrites. they talk about all the wonderful things they would do when they grow up, uninhibited by adults' rules and bedtime curfews. but, when they're actually old enough to do anything, they just fall into another stereotypical, cyclical life.
grown-ups are hypocrites. they talk about all the idealisms, the innocence, the naiveties of life. but, when they're actually in a position to actually do something about life, they run amok with corruption, defiling their own creeds evermore.

men are hypocrites. they'll talk about how all they want in a woman is someone who would be merciful enough to entertain their silly whims. but, all they want is for her to put out.
women are hypocrites. they'll talk about how all they ever really wanted is a man who would listen, and stand up for them, and be considerate and passionate. but, if he doesn't look like a model / isn't filthy rich / isn't in a position of power, they wouldn't show him the light of day.

humans are hypocrites. they'll talk about how enlightened we are as a species, how blissful it is to have awareness and insight; to have intellect and wisdom. but, given the chance to eat one another, it's a disgrace to all canines to use the term 'dog-eat-dog world'.
animals are hypocrites. they'll pretend to be mindless and void of 'higher thought processes', to be governed by the spirit of the wild and feral laws of the unspoken. but, they act in a manner more befitting of intelligent creatures, though this is subject to debate (hopefully between animals, themselves).

readers are hypocrites. they'll cherish your every word and hang on your every letter; worshiping each and every idea; relishing the nuances and pedanticisms of your literative (lack of) skills (hyperbolic elements here). but given you are down, they'll criticise every punctuation to the dot, they'll mind your s's, haunt your h's; dot your i's and cross your t's!
writers are hypocrites. they'll promise you the world, dazzle you with nonsensical words and confuse you with unnecessary portmanteaus; they'll obfuscate the most basic of ideas and convolute the simplest of arguments. but they'll never. ever. ever. practice what they preach.

to live

i want to live in a world where you can wake up in the morning knowing that you are safe. safe from war, from poverty, from famine, from disease, from social attrocities, from hatred, from animosity, from self-loathing, from pestilence and plague.

i want to live in a world where you have time to take off, from your daily chores, from your daily life, from your daily routine, form your daily slog. to 'watch the grass grow' (thank you for the enlightenment, my dear friend, king-of-four). where you have a moment's respite from the dullness that is the sharp-blade of reality, to smell the proverbial roses, and drink from the cup of life, what water is serenity and wine is providence.

i want to live in a world where nobody can answer, 'where is your god now?'. ever.

i want to live in a world where everyone can answer, 'where is your god now?'. without a moment's hesitation.

i want to live in a world where it is okay for the chicken to come before the egg, and vice versa. where deities hold hands with gods of the pantheon hold hands with monotheistic gods hold hands with agnostic ones hold hands with you and me.

i want to live in a world when there is no original sin, when there is no burden of life, when there is an eternal propagation of humanity as a people, but not as a persons.

i want to live in a world where living is just a waste of death, and sleeping is just a waste of breath, and waking is a dream for the sleeping, and walking is an ennui of the lying (just as much as truthfulness is).

i don't think i want to live at all.

sons of liberty

i don' believe the weatherman much. coo-ee, sez many a-thang you canna b'lieve, say. b'then, you gatta b'lieve in somethin' or 'nother, even if 'tis unpredictable as the weatherman. and if he predicta' somethin' a-likes-a an intergalactic storm? if he predicta' somethin' as cuh-ray-zee as-a aliens a-comin' ta kill us all? well, ta tha' sometimes ya just gotta hope tha' the blizzard is just-a big as we hope it can be. coo-ee. 'tis been a long time a-comin, though. an' like my pa used-a say:

it's about time.

nothing's biting today

there's a saying: give a man a fish and he eats for a day; teach a man to fish and he eats for a lifetime. that's all good and well, but sometimes the fish are just too smart to fall for the worm. that being said, some fishermen (and not-so-fisher-men) are pretty adept and can find ways to fool the fish. you know, all those shiny lures, and wiggling thingamabobs, and casting techniques, and all that jazz - i was never one for fishing so i'm not particularly in the knowhow.

but for the rest of us, i guess we just have to hope that the fish are either just that stupid (but, really, who wants to eat stupid fish), or that the fish are just considerate and sympathetic enough to spare a bite.

what dreams may june, july and august

i don't often sleep between 2 and 8 p.m. it's usually when i'm out and about, not that it's my most productive time of the day, but i'm sure everyone has something or another to do during these hours. anyway, i broke that rule today (it's been a reeeeealllly long week, so cut me some slack). and the result was this... ridiculously insane dream, the likes of which i have not had in quite a while.

it's one of those dreams where i actually half-opened my eyes and was in the limbo place between awareness and a light sleep. where i can realise, with some insight that i am, indeed, sleeping, yet not fully aware where am. one of those dreams where, when you awaken, everything melts into place - in this case, each window pane falls steadily into frame, each glaring eye from the darkness shimmers into delicate rays of light that tease at my eyes, each thud, each clang, each snikkety-snak, dins and hums and melts, into a continuous and superfluous racket of traffic in the background. and all this comes, with a dawning of sense, of realisation, that everything is, in fact, a-o.k.

i digress. in fact, at this point, it is pertinent to note that i digressed so far when writing this entry, that two days have spanned - unimportant yet real dangers of computers and internet connections have made it such that i think it suffices to be nondescript and non-descriptive, but just outline the fact that though time has passed, the contents of my dreams sometimes do venture back to the days when things were simple, and life was good.

maybe the summer of youth has really given way to an uncertain autumn, and we should brace ourselves for the cold, harsh winter ahead.

dearest alice; through the unlooking glass

as some may well know, i am a big fan of alice in wonderland, and generally of lewis carroll's work, as examplified by this post. true to this (or untrue, considering how long i've postponed this), i finally rewarded myself today by watching the recent film, alice in wonderland. now, one may question the devotion to the title with such procrastination, and i have recently seen the stereotypical 'i was into it before it was cool' arguments far too many times to even go there, here. so let us forgo all this nonsense, and talk about the movie, at least as much as how i have enjoyed it.

for starters, i was always hoping for a dark and twisted dystopian alice, much like the american mc gee's game i had played before. seeing the trailers, however, had prepared me for no such thing, and i am happy to say, an elated and technicoloured alice suits me just fine.

the introduction, left me hanging for the longest time, and i can go as far as to say that i thoroughly did not enjoy the director's choice of making alice a young adult, and much less the introduction of an aloof-but-disturbed persona. the stereotyping of british 17th century culture, as epitomed by what's-his-face-potential-groom for alice was just sad and overplayed, and the other characters during the introduction were underdeveloped and unnecessary. suffice to say, i think the whole thing should have been omitted, but, i guess, it does give leeway for those interesting in lending some sort of background to alice, as well as letting the director cast a more mature alice in the role.

moving on, to wonderland. yes, i am happy with this. the initial easter eggs of having rocking-horse flies, and dragon-flies zipping around the scene was a minor plus. all the character design was up to expectations, though i had hoped it would exceed the cliches in my head; that being said, i do like how the deck-of-card footmen were played out, as well as the caterpillar being much more to my liking than in other renditions (they gave him a name, though! oh dear, i think it was absolom). the bandersnatch was meh, though, and nothing like what i had in mind. but that's just me. cheshire cat was. whoah. thank you for blowing my mind.

anyway, there's loads more stuff to nitpick character-wise, like the bird that snatches tweedledee and -dum (i thought a big black crow was more associative, instead of a jub-jub) and oh dear, alice herself (how could i have forgotten?); well, let's save these things for another day and age. onward with the critique of other aspects of the film!

i like how the plot is not stereotypical and, unlike how i had expected, was totally divergant from the book! thank god. in some way, it has served to preserve the innocence of the novel, while still making the movie contemporary and relevant. extra points to the scriptwriter (although the dialogue is somewhat bland and totally not carroll-ian, especially when it comes to alice. i guess she's grown out of her old habits :( ).

the design of wonderland and related scenes was satisfactory - as you may have heard me critique (and critic) avatar for its excessive use of cgi, i find it refreshing that a movie of this magnitude actually toned it down such that it was impressive but did not detract from the other movie elements. in many scenes, the cgi was sub-par, though and it might have done the film some justice to smoothen out these wrinkles but, in all honesty, that was fine. cinematography was on the ball, too, no shaky-camera (effects) or awkward angles. sometimes you just lose yourself thinking you're really a 3rd person observer, and sometimes you feel like you're in the midst of the action. well choreographed as a whole, but this isn't something particularly hard with all the generated imagery. still, props to whomever is responsible.

it comes with all good critiques (though this is not one) that one scrutinises the stars of the film. johnny depp (though i am already a big fan, this could be biased) does his role very, very well. nothing less than expected, and the mad hatter is indeed how i would picture him given the circumstances (none of that disney cartoon fancy-pants-ary here, thank you). helena carter (who apparently played bellatrix in the harry potter series. lolwut) is ideal for her role, whom i must confess, reminds me of the character she plays in fight club. crispin glover, whom i only remember from the horrendous film, beowulf (not to be linked here, thank you very much), plays the introduced character of stayne, knave of hearts (totally had to imdb that one), and though his portrayal is apt, i think the character in itself thoroughly lacks depth and exposure such that much of his agenda in the film is left wanting. but, so do other characters, and i guess this will be the bane of many movies adapted from other sources, especially those which try to reach out to the fan-base by trying to fit in every character they can (notable examples, lotr, x-men).

what else. oh, yeah. epic fight scene. well, i guess it was okay. everyone's a fan of these and the jabberwocky is pretty much text-book so no complaints there. except that he's supposed to be in looking glass, not wonderland. but the director's not been consistent since the beginning, anyway, so who gives a toss (i realise at the ending credits, now, that tim burton credits both alice and looking glass as the bases of his story, so alls well that ends well!). oh, and followed up by epic dance scene (lolwut) which was... interesting.

i promised to not to on about the characters but, it just struck me, i don't really like the white queen :/ i mean, anne hathaway is hot sauce and everything but really. ugh. nevermind.

and to the ending. well. i am sorely disappointed, just as i was when it all came tumbling down. alice coming back to the real world is how a high wears off, is how a horrible reminder that escapism cannot last, is how dreams are only fleeting even in their worst moments. kudos on having some feminism / female emancipation lesson at the very end. but really, was this all necessary? just like with the introduction, i think this should be left severed from the story, and just as the red queen would aptly put, off with its head.

all in all, a good watch. wouldn't make my top ten movies of all time, even given that i'm a fan and whatnot. but that's just me.

t'was about 4 o'clock in the afternoon, and the slimy and lithe badger-corkscrew-lizards;
did rotate and make holes in the area around the sundial:
all miserable and flimsy were the mop-birds;
and the lost, green pigs were whistling a peculiar sound.