And the Escape ends

It was a fine escape to wonderland, but still, it has to end. It could have been a dream, except that when I look at my books, I know it is not. Much as I detest this return, it is a necessary evil that hovers around the masses' lives.

One searches for the meaning to the things that have been done, is doing, and will be done. It is too, a necessary evil that I establish myself as the microcosm where the different aspects must be cultivated before the country flourishes. Meaning must be sought in its own time and domain.

It begins anew.

La Vie continue: Forever Limbo

Whatever it takes, whatever comes, life continues, that slow machinery of gears and cogs grinding haltingly without purpose, without reason, it just runs. Hear the clanking, hear the whistling of complex machinery, over the ages, over the great expanse and the smallest space, without ownership, without control, until one day, one day, it stops and the whole world stops with them.

Life, a derogatory term.

So now it becomes so

So now, has he fallen, that he now walks among the humans in search for love, although the meaning defeats him still, and that he starts to speak in the natural tongue, mais tous les choses sont sale et triste, mais il n'y a rien qui peux le aider.

Greetings

Greet Life each day
With a resounding laugh
That today will be the day
That anything is possible
If you bear no fear
Greeting life each day

Work done is equal to Force x Distance

What is work done actually? People slave and labour over work in order to produce something good and useful, but again, what determines the goodness and utility of their products? To me, everything done by humans are senseless and mortifying. They play games and work as though it was hell, spend and eat to satisfy hungers of every sort, and stress themselves no end to balance up things a little. And the cycle repeats indefinitely. Maybe that's why Providence created humans. Just to see how they fabricate these little games to torture themeselves, just as I would watching the animals engage themselves in meaningless actions, it amuses me to no end.

The Fog Sets In

As my glasses fog and the coat of oil thickens, I thought I was already dead, and the motions merely a repeat of my accustomed activties. Yet I feel sensations of pain in my arms. But it could still be hallucinations, I thought.

It was Black Wednesday, where everything more or less went wrong. It was a big blow to my ritualized activties. I don't understand. That no matter how hard I try, my mire deepens. I detest groupwork. When expectations fall flat and get kicked in the stomach, you wonder where has the effort gone to, and why are you still kicking and alive, when there is no time for anything. And all for naught. I remain misanthropic and probably continue to be so.

The school could have very well fallen flat today.

Today's the day

Today's the day of the ROM. It is a fine day, where the weather is cool and calm, unlike the the turmoils in my mind. Everyone asks, when's my turn, and yet, what could I have said? When I haven't even figured out who I am?

Many things remain undone, my life stuck between the inchoate and terminating stage. He looked so unchanged, and the other looked so different, and I marvel at the passage of time. Am I a beneficiary or a casualty? Or am I simply the bystander?

I remain far from my goals, or rather, mentally mired but physically pushed along places not of my own choosing.The fact remains; Who am I?

I long for the comfort of my words, my books, my mind. Things change, and that is unsettling.

The Stupidest Day

By this time, I think I am stupid. I think that if I can't do what the rest can achieve easily, that's stupidity. Looking at my ex-neighbour who has a mental handicapp, I wonder if I belong to that category without realising it. So many people have been deceived by my innocuous self. Or maybe I'm just lousy in Mathematics. Am I stupid? Am I clever? Who can tell?

The Lesson

It stretches, unconcerned,
Torturing, thickening,
That gossamer mess
Of convolution that
Strangles you, that lays
Waste to your mind, as
You wait, for that 2012 famine,
But leaves you dry, a blabbering
Fool, what you must do
Pourquoi

Marriage

Marriage has been against my postmodern sensibilities, and a fellow postmodern has decided he is going to marry after all, and of course, it affects me. Must I succumb in the end to the fatalistic phenomena? Must I surrender to the normalcy and admit my humanity? At the back of my mind, I had hoped the stasis persists. And this rocks my stability. It comes tumbling back, everything comes tumbling back and I have no defence against it. I don't understand Him at all, but then, I could never underestimate the power of the collective unconscious of which He is the Master, the Mind aspect of the Trinity.

I am not human. I am waiting and ever since 15, I am merely living on borrowed time.

Hope

Carry the hope till the day you die, and continue hoping, and one day, I would not cease to be, for that is the hope I carry, as I continue to wait for Him.

Meal

The Leader spark is reliant on several factors, and no amount of training will create that spark. One must understand the system of processes and the system of human interactions. Then again, there is the HEP - Human-earth-people factor.

Looking around

Every time it's evening again, I look at my life of twenty-nine years and wonder what achievements have I made. I look at my body with its degenerate front, the decadence showing all too obviously in my gut. I hate it. I hate to juggle the finances, the physical, the mental. It's too much.

Alien

For all that I know, it could have been an alien tongue altogether. I may know the language, but I have yet to grasp the intricacies of the Western culture. It is the user, not the language per se that makes up the language. It is the verbal sparring that makes the Western western. And I have no practice at that sort of thing, living here in Singapore. Singapore is a place with aloof service staff, pared down to the merely functional and said for the sake of business, and nothing else. There is no aesthetic.

But over there, it takes ingenuity to keep up with the conversational pinball, that it tests my limits and revamps my conventional ideas of socializing. Banter requires skill, pronunciation requires skill and effort, and I am utterly defeated. Here, the impassive bears out its advantages. I am laconic, born and made. The silence is welcoming.

Nightmare

It was a literal nightmare. Even till now, I am running through the sequences of the ceremony. Did I do anything incorrectly? Did I snatch the certificate? I don't know, something's blanking the memory out. I freaked out. How could I ever let myself into that situation, I cannot figure it out. At the back of my mind, I am doing something stupid, something ridiculous that will make me a total laughingstock. Maybe slip and fall or something. And I am afraid. I am afraid my hair is too long, my moustache showing, my breath too smelly. Everything is horrendous. Save me.

Heresy

I have not counted on doing what came naturally to me: to flare up in the face of discomfort. The heat and the seconds the clock was ticking away was maddening and frustrating, an anathema to what I hold dear, a heresy to my principles. And I forgot the simple act of excusing myself in that fakingly, gallant way I affect to oil the social links. Sickening. So now I face the consequences and bear the stigma I remembered so well. That brings memories I stifled for so long, memories that do not tolerate the light of day, but ever skulking in the shadows of my mind. But now exposed, it is a heresy.

Yet (Excerpt)

If there is anything that can be said of this life,
it is all the more richer than when I was born
because of the memories accrued
from the pains and pleasures of life.
It is the waiting that matters
more that the event I am waiting for.

The Daily Muck

As I muck through each day in tiredness and dread, it seems the day doesn’t end. Decisions and responsibilities call for my action which seems delayed and not forthcoming. I am only glad I got out of this mess, yet every year, the return decays my confidence, and augment my sorrows and incapacitates me further than I ever could. I am a schoolboy once again, deferring and useless at commanding. The rank is just a burden and shames me, a useless piece of insignia that reminds me of what I am actually worth. I surrender since that is my only course.

Meaning of Life (Part 1)

The meaning of life
Is death
As naked bodies lie
Layers upon layers
In disenchanted breaths
The lewd leerings
Of passer-bys
Their soft, silky sighs
Bears no recognition
Of the embraced dead

Overdue

After the outing, I feel like a total idiot, a parasite living off other's humour. It's like, I am a total stranger, and I wonder, is it worth the trouble? When you ask me, why don't I arrange that blind date, I wonder again, whatever for? Whatever for?
I can't love anything. Not even myself.

One has to find the meaning for himself. Things come and go, but I resolutely hold on to my knowledge. I must find the meaning to continue living, if not for myself, then for others. It doesn’t make sense to kill myself over such little objects of fancy and memory, yet I can’t get over it. And I don’t know why.

I must regain myself, I must. I must overcome myself. I must, I must. When my quaser is within my reach, should I release it? Where is the sense of satisfaction when I am on my path? It is seemingly nonsensical.

Shadowmoor

As day passes into night, and the coin has two faces, so does this entity have two sides. Misanthropic yet craving for society, alternating between episodes of joy and depression, this autistic fellow has given way to that syncophant and jester, although at times regressing into hermitude and the state of wonderment as to how anyone can or should relate to other beings, but it has been a success, if not a disaster. No one should know, and yet there is that urge to tell. I was asleep, yet wide awake and insanely clear-headed. It's a catastrophe and a blessing that this blog gets visited and I am horrified and glad; I have come far, yet has remained in that exact spot I was twenty years ago. This is my bi-polar disorder, not some attempt at poetic skulduggery.

It is a struggle to find myself, and often I land up in that tender darkness which seems so eerie and compelling, and mere moments later, that blighted light of cruelty comes on, comfortable yet terrifying. I am that undecided, and in all probability, would never be.

My friend told of one autistic guy, who interpreted the road sign 'Watch for rocks' as literally, exchanging rocks for a watch, and I am inclined to recall, ten, twenty years ago, I would do the same. In fact, till now, I have some difficulty understanding what humans in general want or the reason for doing it. It's just that incomprehensible. Why can't they say it properly? Darkness draws itself as the day tomorrow waits, or rather, waylays me.

Deluge

It's the season of torrential rains, as I struggle to keep afloat, wave after wave of work come crashing down on me. And the flu is just icing. How can I ever clear my load? No exercise, no studying now. Just tuition and marking. The misery of life.

The Blue

Welcome to the Blue. The Blue is a state of mind where you have no qualms, no restrictions or delusions about your existence and your path. Your state of mind controls everything and works only in your interest.

Where the Red and Black is a state of unbridled violent cruelty, the Blue and Black is a state of passive, disinterested cruelty.

The pure Blue is that unafflicted state of maturity and epitome of power and knowledge. Welcome to the Blue.

What a show!

What a show everyone put up. Almost everyone behaves in the conformist way and the outcasts get lambasted. When did color become an issue? Why must everyone be that atavistic? Color is an exemplification of my philosophy, my character, and to change that is the equivalence of depriving me of my self. I shouldn't be giving it up for the sake of petty traditons.

I dislike it, but now, I hate it. No wonder they say a person can really affect your perspective towards an issue.

Yet again

Drudge begins anew
I thought I knew
That life is a bleah
Not being here, not being there