from the outside

i have a friend, kay. that is his pseudonym. his alias, his moniker, his nickname. like all persons i know mentioned in this blog, including myself, anonimity is kay, and kay is anonymous.

kay has approached me sometime in the past few weeks. he is strong and independent, real and astute. he is many things, but he is not someone fueled by emotions - he is definitely someone who hides behind a facade of smiles and nods. and because of this, i can never tell what kay is feeling, past the sincerity of his answers when i ask him, 'how are you?'

kay has approached me sometime in the past few weeks. he is sobbing relentlessly, but makes no sound. his sobbing is in the tremor of his voice, the tremble of his unsinging words. where there used to be poetry and dance, now lies epithets of solemnity and allusions of death. i wonder to myself, what misfortune has befallen kay, and why is it only now that i see him for who he is?

kay and i watch movies regularly. one of the movies we watched recently is 'youth in revolt', that movie starring michael cera. neither of us is a big fan of his, but this movie is interesting somewhat. it is kind of fresh, though surreal and for pragmatists like us, it is actually funnier than it is anything else.

at the end, kay is contemplative, and i ask him, why so serious? he tells me that all is lost in love and war, and since he is at war with none but himself, he is lost to and in love. though this does not shock me, i am propelled into a series of questions kay is reluctant to answer, only to this he says that i do not understand.

dear kay, there is none who understands less, and none who understands more. to every fall of man and elevation of the idea of him, i am no different than what makes us frail and vulnerable and empathic. upon your request, now i set to write an ode to that which props man up, and to you i wish you never read it. fare you well, and swift recovery, lest it affects and effects you in more ways than you are kay.

best wishes.

corruption

here's something quite interesting i found today: transparency international conducts a yearly 'who's more corrupt' survey. their methodology is not the best, but i guess it's what we have to work with. i don't personally agree with quite a few results but, hey, who am i to say? i didn't do hours of research etc etc. anyway, here's a list and for the more visually inclined, a visual interactive map! (i like the latter one). and for a quick overview, the higher the index number, the better off the country is doing i.e. less corruption. again, don't take it too seriously, i guess, but it's something that definitely got my thoughts rolling (while i should be studying).

son of a female dog google australia

yep, those are my sentiments exactly. except in more profane language. why, you ask? only because when i tried to log into blogger, it kept redirecting me to the login page. over. and over. and over. and over again. it's like a perpetual loop, only the horrible twilight zone kind.

i'm not entirely sure what the problem was, but i tried deleting my cache, and clearing my cookies, and resetting my password etc. apparently there was some notification to verify my e-mail account, too (which i had already done ages ago, but hey, i did it again just in case). and there was a problem logging out of google.com.au because apparently i was signed into too many accounts at once. to my knowledge, i only have one google account, so i'm not entirely sure what's going on there.

basically it was just one big clusterfuck mess. for about 5 hours. did i mention it kept redirecting me to the login page? yeah pretty much that.

so instead of a post, here, you get to enjoy one of my re-visited childhood (awesomeness) favourite movies. man, i always wondered what the hell a quintuplet of black coloured girls were doing in greek higher-up society. singing, too! pow there bows my mind. but i don't really know much about ancient greek demographics and social caste, so maybe it's entirely plausible. that and the fact that they're also stone sculptures etc. nevertheless, awesome song. and the hairstyles! putting prince to shame, you go disney!



(but then hades comes and cockblocks megara's emo / lovey-dovey hissyfit. aw yeah, gotta earn that 'lord of the netherwold, ruler of the undead' title).

meanwhile, in bat country...

i am still searching...
for a cure for this...
depression that grips.

my every being...
it's every wish...
throws me into delirious fits.

but there cannot...
be more than one expression...
which i use as a continual facade...
and to this i search, eternally with mirth, but answers are only for God.

streetside poetry ii

more infectious poetry while i sort out some stuff related to work and health!

dear God today is quite humid,
it's good for bacterium and virus,
oh yeah, baby, take that plasmid,
via my elongated pilus.

(mmm dirty poetry. you know you like that.)

L is for the way you leech off me,
O is for is parasitology,
V is very, very, bad immunology,
E is even more than any virus i abhor...



i hide in academic environment,
it makes me feel so safe from fear,
oh, my, is that an ethical statement?
get me far away from here!

why should singapore give us their money?
besides drinking our milk and honey?
well, once they start getting bouts of dengue,
lol, wait that's actually quite funny.

(i have nothing against singaporeans, really! this is in jest. i kid, i kid. oyy)

and the following is from a lecture on what happens to your shit after you take a dump sanitasation - from its origins in the roman empire to the dark ages to stuff that happens now...

a great empire, vast thy spanned,
from china to turkey to france,
ga ga oh lala,
want your bad romans...


almost the dark ages,
one might say,
'well, that's the story of my life!'
(every frsckn day).

miasma theory,
that of foul airs,
i dream of unicorns and lions,
and ever-late, white hares.

john snow's name is repeated,
about once every hour;
i hate when silly yanks pronounce,
that flour as 'flower'.

john snow's name is repeated,
about once every hour;
i hate when silly brits pronounce,
that flour as 'flaar'.

some things make me really puke,
much more than salmonella,
those things of werewolves and vampires,
of edward and of bella.

cow dung has caused calamities,
of severity unheard;
actually it's bloody diarrhoea,
(bloody's not a swear word).

'til next time, chums.

this is why i'm doing science, and didn't become a streetside poet.

when i sit in lectures, especially ones that are air-conditioned, i have a tendency to inspect the back of my eyelids. they're pretty fascinating. however, i've found that this isn't sound practice for the whole academia / work / research / slacking off thing. and so, i doodle. more often than not, i make up horrible poetry. last week has been an intensive course on epidemiology of infectious and communicable diseases, so here are some gems from my wily wills:

three cyclones are on the run,
three cyclones are so much fun;
three cyclones to make my day,
oh look, they've gone away :(

down the pyramid we all go,
tip the iceberg, back-up flow,
up the hill let us all climb,
all in effort for a dime.

spare parts, spare parts, i can't remember,
oh, God, why is it already september?
that's all from me, 'til tea at two,
the worst is 'horton hears a who'.

then all went downhill when i started integrating some vague things the lecturers were saying into the poems. i guess once you've hit rock bottom, it's time to start digging there's nowhere left to go but up?