FALLANDGOSOUL

What : Peace is a trick
Why : Not yet a trickster
When : 9.03 am

Oh universe,

Something is distracting me and I could even hear it whispering in my head. May I know, if this is reality? If it is, how and when am I going to bloom, if I continue like this? The day I’m doomed? After I planted a tomb in my room? Tell me.
-
At 2 am, I’ve been sitting, lying, tossing, rolling on my Josephine for hours till I could see everything, everywhere turned twisted, grey and cold. When I tried closing my eyes, lights in the eyes turned wild, till it drove my head to the middle of nowhere, to think of a plan, on how to shatter my null-skull without being rescued.
-
My grey-capsule is dripping silence. I could hear it and it freezes my feet.
-
The deeper I go, the more I have a need to leave. Breathe leave, it is. Like a corpse diving to the six feet underground.

Goodnight and Goodbye!

DIA DATANG DARI TELINGA

Apa : Aku rasa
Bila : 5.30 pagi
Dimana : Di sunyi

“Aku bukan lagi sebahagian hidup mu”

Oh, itulah kekata,
Yang sering membuat ku terketar-ketar mengata,
Sehingga jasad ku merajuk, keluar ia menyendiri.

Oh, itulah kekata,
Yang meyejukkan tapak tangan dan kaki,
Sehingga memutihkan warna kulit buah langsat,
Tapi tidak di kepala mahupon di hati.

Oh, itulah kekata yang tidak sekali ku tahu,
Sama ada benar ataupon salah isinya.

Dan itulah kekata,
Kekata terhebat yang menemani jiwa,
Yang sudah berusia lebih tujuh tahun lamanya.

Begitulah hidup ku.

“Oh begitu? Haha!”

Dihirup nafas dalam ketakutan,
Dilepaskan ketakutan tidak terlintas hujung nafas.

“Kalau dah kenal akan ketakutan, jangan lah dikau fikir apa-apa yang menambah keburukkan”

Takut ku bukan sahaja kepada apa-apa yang buruk,
Bahkan kepada apa-apa yang baik,
Yang indah dan yang teristimewa juga.

“Maksud kau, seperti di 6hb Februari, dimana dia datang dari telinga, bersama panah yang gian mendekati, engkau si perempuan yang mengantung hati, ku saksi, kuat kaki kau berlari, kuat kaki kau berlari?”

Ini bukan sebahagian hidup ku!
Ini bukan sebahagian hidup ku!
Ini bukan sebahagian hidup ku!

“Sumpah ku saksi, kuat benar kaki kau berlari!”

Ini bukan sebahagian hidup ku!
Ini bukan sebahagian hidup ku…

“Kalau begitu, sampai mati kau hidup meyendiri”

Mengapa begitu,
Oh Tuhan Experiment ku?

Mengapa hukuman ku,
Sama berat, sama pedih, sama perit,
Seperti mereka membuat dosa nan tinggi?
Sedangkan aku hanya tidak tahu bagaimana sahaja?

“Jikalau aku diberikan satu insan yang berkata dirinya baik, kedua insan yang berkata dirinya jahat dan insan terakhir, berkata, “Aku sumpah tidak tahu…”

Akan kau hukum insan yang terakhir dahulu?

“Benar, Insan itu adalah ENGKAU!“

MANYWORDSONHEADLETSHIDEUNDERTHEBED

Dear gene-chaser,

While I was on my way home, I saw myself walking too fast, as if there’s a need to go home quick. After reaching the front door, suddenly I felt I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Then I remembered, I am the one who reserved the emptiness and not emptiness reserving me. Ok nonsense. I know.

Like I said earlier, I am not playing dumb. The fact is I really don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Really.

Maybe Ben Harper would heal the night, me and u and everyone we know.

Oh, be well lah.

Who : Ben Harper
What :The Drug’s Don’t Work
Where : Live From Mars

All this talk of getting old
It’s getting me down my love
Like a cat in a bag waiting to drown
This time I’m comin’ down
And I know you’re thinking of me
As you lay down on your side

Now the drugs don’t work
They just make you worse
But I know I’ll see your face again
Now the drugs don’t work
They just make you worse
But I know I’ll see your face again

But I know I’m on a losing streak
‘Cause I passed down by old street
And if you wanna show, just let me know
And I’ll sing in your ear again

Now the drugs don’t work
They just make you worse
But I know I’ll see your face again

So baby, Woh- if heaven calls, I’m coming too
Just like you said you leave my life, I’m better off dead

All this talk of getting old
It’s getting me down my love
Like a cat in a bag, waiting to drown
This time I’m comin’ down

The drugs don’t work
They just make you worse
But I know I’ll see your face again

So baby, Woh- if heaven calls, I’m coming too
And like you said, you leave my life, I’m better off dead

But if you wanna show, just let me know
And now I’ll sing in your ear again

Now the drugs don’t work
They just make you worse
But now I know I’ll see your face again
Yeah- I know I’ll see your face again
Yeah- I know I’ll see your face again
Yeah, I know I’ll see your face again
Never coming down, Never coming down
No more, no more, no more, no more, no more, no more
Never coming down, never coming down
No more, no more, no more, no more, no more
Oh- now, Yeah, I know I’ll see your face again

HIGHER-LIAR MOUTH’S ON FIRE

Oh kejam sungguh wahai engkau perempuan!

Dalam diam-diam, begitu buruk sekali kau kerjakan dunia. Dunia dimana bukan sahaja milik mimpi kita bersama, bahkan milik mimpi ibu dan ayah mu juga.

Apa lah erti dunia setelah kekejamam engkau sanjungkan? Dan apa lah erti pameran sujud-menyujud mu itu yang kerap engkau kira dengan jari?

Apa? Lima kali sehari?

Sudahlah tuh perempuan, kurangkan segala pameran tiruan mu itu.

Walau beribuan kali kau berwudhu hingga habis air di perigi, 
Lalu bersujudnya sehingga dahi mencium bumi,
Ditambahkan penyeri komat-kamit mulut tanpa henti,
Konon menyebut sembilan-puluh-sembilan
Nama NYA dalam satu nafas sekali.
Tapi dengan kehadiran hati yang gelap,
Disalut penuh dengan racun dan hasad dengki,
Kain telekong yang dibalut di tubuh mu,
Lambat-laun akan membelit diri. 
Mengikut segala arahan dan turutan para saksi,
Iaitu mata, telinga, mulut, tangan, kaki dan juga hati.

Benar perempuan. Itu lah hidangan ku kepada mu jikalau aku menjadi…

TUHAN EXPERIMENT MU NANTI!

COMATOSE SOUP FOR THE SOUL

Oh people in my head,

U knew that I got all my fabulous plans ready; good food, good lightings, good bed and few good emolicious songs to go along with it. But right after the truth was out, I got all fed-up and dare not to begin. 

Next is demented pulse, thinner dreams, usual people, usual tales, colder feet and tears start rolling underneath my mascara-eye-lashes tip.

Under a blacker shade of darkness, I sit. I tried to imagine being a machine. A tears-hydraulic machine, that is. I tried to stop the sticky tears like pressing the red juicy button I saw on TV but again and again and again, I ended popping the pills.

I then watched myself move to the love-your-happy-ward society, with cartons of imaginary booze, imaginary friends and imaginary cancerstick, where it produces more heavy-fluoxetine-flavoured-tears. Tears that rather stay than to go away.

And it all thanks to my higher-stupid brain, I am now running west, leaving the wrong calling cards that I bought today.

Calling cards that I thought could bring light but it brought comatose to the heart and put my life at stake.

A BIT LIKE RELATIONSHIP

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid Disorder:	Very High
Schizoid Disorder:	High
Schizotypal Disorder:	Very High
Antisocial Disorder:	High
Borderline Disorder:	Very High
Histrionic Disorder:	Very High
Narcissistic Disorder:	High
Avoidant Disorder:	Very High
Dependent Disorder:	Very High
Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder:	High

Oh boy, what a night!

After this and that, that and this, I realised that I actually have ten boyfriends altogether. Yes a big fat ten. And the most bestest part is, almost all of them have the same ’surname’. Haha.

Go on brain, go and make mind unsitting-still

HAMUR

Pabila kita sebut tentang rumah, apa yang datang ke minda mungkin akan memberi kita sebuah gambaran akan perasaan kita terhadap tempat kita diami.

Bagi aku, rumah yang pernah menepati permintaan ku yang bersaiz telur ibu lipas hanyalah rumah “dia”. Rumah yang pernah ku duduki sewaktu umurku berangka lima sehingga cecahnya ke angka sepuluh.

Walaupon di waktu itu wajah aku sering kelihatan seperti anak kecil yang sentiasa kehausan susu ibu yang lazat lagi berkerim, dengan adanya “dia” dan mainan sepenuh masa ku iaitu plastercine yang tak pernah pijaukan hati, tidak sekali terlintas di minda ku mahu meminta apa-apa yang lebih dari itu.

Meskipon rumah ”dia” tidak mempunyai perabot-perabot hebat dan perhiasan yang termahal mahupon mainan-mainan yang sering mengejek-ejek kita sewaktu berdepan dengan TV. Sepasang kaki ku melangkah keluar, akan sentiasa mengakhirkan perjalanan sehariannya di rumah dia.

Tidak seperti sekarang.

Kini, walaupon di rumah aku mempunyai hampir semua kemahuan seorang dewasa, aku lebih suka bermain-main, makan, termenung dan makan lagi di luar daripada di rumah.

Lalalallalalalalala, aku nak keluar.

Nanti aku pulang, akan aku sambungkan kembali apa yang kurang. Itupon kalau aku masih lagi boleh bernafas. Haha. Jangan nakal-nakal okeh? Nanti kena sebat.

Nak kena sebat? Kalau nak, cakap. Jangan mintak. Mintak tuh bukan bahasa yang betul. Paham? Tak paham, buat-buat paham seperti mana kau memahami “nak”. Tahu? Hah, tahu kat di pasar.

Apa : Sambungan Hamur
Bila : 3hb Februari 2007
Masa : 2.41 pagi

Kesimpulannya :

Sekiranya aku, kau dan mereka, tinggal bersama-sama sehingga berabad hingga berkurun-kurun tahun lamanya, walau dimakannya bersama sedulang, tidurnya bersama setilam, di bawah bumbung yang sama kuat dan sama tinggi,  rumah aku, kau dan mereka tidak akan layak dipanggil rumah selagi aku, kau dan mereka masih GAGAL memahami hati antara satu sama lain.

Salaam mesra

O SLEEP, WHERE ART THOU?

Dearest globe,

It’s February and I am still here, having so much difficulty sleeping.

Still facing the oh-so-bright monitor, pasting my ears to the speaker, humming gently to Joni Mitchell’s tunes with a tummy that growls so lightly at 0400 hours.

So the menu of the moment are, should I just light a few cigarettes ala Peter Tosh and smoke it away ala Bob Marley and pretend to be immune to hunger? Or should I just tangle myself ala dictator up in my bedsheet and suffocate my braincells ala Bush till my brain fuse blows?

Ok that sound terrible. I know.

If my ex-girlfriend happen to hear this, she would definitely grab me by the neck and staple my lip in public instantly.

She would then continuously say this, over and over again, 

“If u want to have friends, U should NOT share any of your negativity thoughts with anyone. Even if thinking-about-death is meant as your personal happiness, u should always keep that to yourself…”

Oh well, u are gone now. With or without u, death would always stay as my long-term happiness. Forever and ever and ever and ever.

Even if I am underneath the ground, seven levels down, I would always be able to fetch food to my soul, without bending my knees. Unlike u, after marrying the man of your dream, u still look so thin, thinner than before and so soulless than me. Why is that so, darling?

He must be peeling your soul off one by one, every single minute, huh? Haha.

Oh pity u, african-elbow slut.

Maybe some fine day, u should come crawling to my abode. Join me making love with anything soothes the souls with anything that u and me could find in my dying-fridge. Haha.

Bottle of strawberry jam, four slices of white bread plastered together and a very long cucumber.

Does it sound so fruitful to u?

Badnuit Globe!

OD

So, overdose on twenty-eight amitriptyline had rewarded me seven days of outpatient hospitalisation leave.

Yahoo u yay-ed? Not for me, yo!

For me it would be a week of fuck-job with refrigerator-junkies, dvds, games and tablets.

I know, I have plenty of choices and I am still capable of leaving my room to run along the corridor in super-pink-panty-and-bra, shouting hello out loud to the hot sun. But due to being so weak, I chose to stay indoors than outdoors for the next seventy-two hours.

Yes my love, breathing in and out slowly of OD is a very stupid thing to do. 

If I have a shotgun in hand right now, someone would have snatch it away from me and shoot my lungs till it scatters into many pieces and turned my white shirt into red.

Whatever the fuck is, I am half-alright now. 

Despite being possessed by Amitriptyline, I am feeling so thankful to everything and everyone that successfully made my heart move.

Though I would be so much happier if amitriptyline kills me, I do feel slight-happy and thankful to HIM that my beautiful brain is intact and still have the capabilities to fold paper-boats and paper-planes, play Age of Empire like a pro, giving me the extra time to find a good-man and drink more water on so-much-water-earth. Yah, YaY!

I also would like to say many thanks to my sister Fzh, Smt, Dr Marcus Tan, John, Steven and the rest who were there in N.U.H for me. Your presence made me forget my plans to torture myself.

With the presence of such passionate people on treating sick-whores with their unlimited kindness, patience and understanding their needs, I bet it would be able to bring back many joy to all the sick-nations on the entire globe.

Here’s a song by Katie Melua to all of u,

I won’t hurt you
I’ll protect you
I won’t let the rain fall down
I’ll always be around

And baby I will understand
If sometimes You just want
To spread your wings and fly
And let your colours shine

And everyday
I wanna be a risk you take
Make a promise that
Will never break for life

You’re my butterfly
And Don’t fly away
Open my hands you read
Praying you’ll come back to me
You’re my butterfly
And don’t fly away
You’re my reality
Always be my gravity
You’re my butterfly
Ooo Yeah
Come on and touch the sky
You’re my butterfly

I won’t forget you
Or neglect you
Won’t let no one take your place
In your eyes I see my face

And baby do you know
That everybody watches
Every time that you take flight
They’re blinded by your light

Every day the feelings
Gonna be the same
I can promise that
will never change for life

You’re my butterfly
And Don’t fly away
Open my hands your free
Crying you’ll come back to me
You’re my butterfly
And don’t fly away
You’re my reality
Always be my gravity
You’re my butterfly

I won’t hurt you
I’ll protect you
Always be around
And everyday
I wanna be a risk you take
Make a promise
I will never break for life

Oh Hold on
Hold on
I’ll be here
OoOoo OoOo ahh hey
Cuz Your my butterfly
Whenever you need me here
Whenever you need me
I’ll be there
I’ll be there

Whenever you need me here
Whenever you need me
I’ll be there
I’ll be there
Don’t fly away
Open my hand you read
Crying you’ll be back to me
Your my butterfly

Don’t fly away
Your my reality

Always be my gravity.

NOT MADE IN HEAVEN TUESDAY

Before I start, pardon me for not updating. Don’t worry, my missing was nothing but an annoying re-turning wheel. Haha.

Today’s evening I only had coffee-white and a box of ciggie-light for dinner. God it tastes nice. For once, my life’s semi-good. Sipping hot milk coffee and smoking at the same time makes my cigarettes taste sweet and acceptable. Ok crap, I know.

Now let me recall what I did from morn till torn. *smile*

At 6.45 am, I woke up from bed with risk.
At 7.00 am, I took my shower with risk.
At 7.15 am, I coloured my face with risk.
At 8.00 am, I left home, smoking, with risk.
At 8.05 am, I walked to the bus-stop with risk.
At 8.15 am, I reached Boon Lay Interchange with risk.
At 8.25 am, I met Smt at the bus queue with risk.
At 8.26 am, Smt ran with risk to get my Green Tea in a can.
At 8.30 am, bus came and I tapped my ezlink with risk.
At 8.32 am, I sat on the bus with risk and Smt.
At 8.40 am, I looked and envied sky with risk.
At 8.45 am, Lou Read sang in my head with risk.
At 8.57 am, bus zoomed on AYE with risk.
At 9.15 am, bus met jam at Pandan Loop.
At 9.25 am, bus happily wheeled on Pasir Panjang Rd.
At 9.30 am, Smt, myself and risk were late for work.
At 9.35 am, I pressed on lift’s button with risk.
At 9.40 am, we activated out bionic nostrils in office.
At 9.41 am, still smelling for dangerous activities.
At 10.00 am, I chose to ignore ciggies.
At 10.45 am, I chose to be with risk and ciggies.
At 10.45 am to 3.30 pm, body bend, teary eyes, with cigarettes still in hand.
At 3.30 pm, I left risk and work uncried.
At 3.35 pm, I chased a yellow-bodied taxi.
At 3.45 pm, I met sorrowful four-eyed-Yzry.
At 3.51 pm, Dr David’s clinic echoed in head.
At 4.11 pm, I smelled Dr’s room full of copper.
At 4.15 pm, Dr plastered mercury manometer strap onto my left arm.
At 4.16 pm, Dr said my BP is low.
At 4.17 pm, I want a sphygmomanometer on my 2008 birthday.
At 4.20 pm, I locked my thoughts and hands underneath my lap.
At 4.21 pm, Dr David failed to break my thought’s code.
At 4.21 pm, I grinned together my teeth, so close, so quietly and so professionally.
At 4.26 pm, I lied professionaly and didn’t cry despite being triggered.
At 4.33 pm, Dr David suggested Xanax and Amitriptyline.
At 4.35 pm, my throat tastes like copper.
At 4.37 pm, my shoulder started to bent down. SO DOWN.
At 4.42 pm, Dr David gave four days to rest solitudely
At 4.45 pm, I saluted.
At 4.45 pm, I felt disconnected and left with drugs in my hand.
At 4.54 pm, Yzry walked me home.
At 4.54 pm, I called blue sky to rain.
At 4.56 pm, I felt water coming and clouds moved exactly right on our heads.
At 4.57 pm, sky wept lightly. Tada!
At 4.59 pm, my eyes looked everything in half.
At 5.12 pm, Yzry accompanied me to the lift.
At 5.12 pm, I felt disconnected still. Haha.
At 5.15 pm, I HA-HA my way to the room.
At 5.15 pm, I threw purse, handphone and keys out of my sight.
At 5.20 pm, I called Chacha.
At 5.21 pm , I asked for more cigarettes from her.
At 5.22 pm, Chacha sighed. I sighed too.
At 5.28 pm, Chacha invited me to join her and friends.
At 5.28 pm, I said that I prefered the room and pills more.
At 5.29 pm, Chacha said she’s on her way home.
At 5.30 pm, I said ok and hang up the phone and be numbdumbfuck.
At 5.35 pm, I called Yzry and said many thanks.
At 5.36 pm, I hang up the phone and be a numbdumbfuck for the second time.
At 5.51 pm, I called Smt.
At 5.55 pm, I downed three so-called-happy-pills.
At 5.58 pm, Smt said he almost reaching home.
At 6.02 pm, I hang up the phone and be numbdumbfuck for the third time.
At 6.03 pm,  I SWORE there’s metallic stuck on my throat.
At 6.03 pm, I felt torn and a semi-goner.

Now I am here feeling all perplex with coffee white, ciggies-light still and listening to Pat Benater’s ”Love is a Battlefield” with love and no peace but piles of bittersaltysweet memories scattering all over the place.

Ok time to tumble down to never-ever-happy land of dream.

And oh, for those who hate me secretly after reading this, please oh please be clever, will u?

If u dumbasses are proclaimed as smart people, I don’t think u would ever come here and spend your sparkling-diamond-shaped time reading every of my sick and demented writtings right from the start and hating me at the same time. 

Bla bla bla, that is so BODOH thing to do, ok!

Bonne nuit!

PAIN IS PRETTY, PAIN IS FOREVER

I am currently feeling so feverish, not calm, not happy and not friendly. So to those who wants to hurt me or been dying to hurt me, please hurry, help yourself.

Don’t worry, there won’t be any consequences cause I am way too weak to harm or hammer u idiots back and that is one happy-happy-news for all of u. Yes, no matter how much pain and hell, I promise never to say, shout, not even declaring war.

That’s right,  I am nothing but a pain-craver today. Yay.

I promise to endure and stay numb quietly, envying your beautiful strength upon me till my own version of melodic deaths scream in head.

I need sleep now, not light but deep, to get all paralyzed in my dreams.

Bonne nuit

Who: Cocorosie
Album: La Maison De Mon Rêve
When: 2004
Title: Terrible Angels

If every angel’s terrible
Then why do you welcome them
If every angel’s terrible
Then why do you welcome them
If every angel’s terrible
Then why do you welcome them
You provide the birdbath
I provide the skin
And bathing in the moonlight
I’m to tremble like a kitten
If blue eyed babes
Raised as hitler’s little brides and sons
They got angelic tendencies
Like some boys tend to act like queens
Oh if every angel’s terrible
Then why do you watch her sleep
You love to hear her sing
And wear purple eyes like rings
Well the flowers have no scent
And the child’s been miscarried
Oh every angel’s terrible
Said freud and rilke all the same
Rimbaud never paid them no mind
But jimmi morrison had his elevators
His elevators
He had his elevator angels
If every angel’s terrible
Why do you hide inside her
Like a child in a skirt
The supermarket’s loud and bright
And boy don’t she feel warm tonight
Boy don’t she feel warm tonight
Boy don’t she feel warm tonight
If every angel’s terrible…

BUMPED, SCRAPED, DRAGGED AND CRACKED

At around two in the cold noon, I received an sms from Abah, saying that, “Abg Adi’s mom, passed away today’s morn.” 

Sincerest virtual condolences to u on the loss of your wonderful mum.

After phoning Abah and Abang Adi, instantly I felt an extra pang at heart.

Though it was nice of Abah not to forget informing me but right down in my heart, how I wished not to know anything about the death. Yeah, how I wished never to know.

Deaths reminds me of my past journeys. Journeys that made me wanted to live life halfway. Journeys that made me point my middle baby-finger high up at the plump-clouds sky for many many years.

I know, past shouldn’t be remembered painfully but learnt happily. Especially the ones that made me run away from people that soiled my heavy heart. Till it made me sit under a tree, befriended with a tree named Deraman instead of playing with kids that wore same size shoes as me.

I know, my oh-so-pathetic life tickles many bones.

Laugh as much as u want, u idiots. Cause I don’t care to give a shit about it.

I would rather go back there again, live all my afternoons by sitting under Deraman, breathing happy-air and admiring each other till sky turned dark-red than meeting some-local-people who live just to be oven-baked under the scorching sun and to be served on a plate, with a pasted plastic smile at dinnertime.

Ok I am getting way too emotional again. Let’s talk about tomatoes and cheese, shall we?

At around 3 pm, I called Smt, asking if he’s coming with a bottle of burn-fat cream and some foods or not. Since he is at home and still does not see how important it is to come early, I straight away banned him from coming here, into my upside-down abode.

Why? It is really pointless to be with anyone today. It won’t bring any smile but only extra pain on today’s menu.

I then left my room, ignored everything that moves, went straight to the childlike-asthmatic-and-almost-dying-refrigerator and took out two cold tomatoes, hard-cheese and get a spoon from the drawer.

It took me almost two minutes to dice the tomatoes and eight minutes to scrape the cheese off with a spoon.

Next minute, I am here typing here with split-cheese and diced tomatoes on a plate. Hope to eat them soon, like eating a hot home-made pizza on Saturday cold noon.

Bon appetito.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR SPINSTER!

In half an hour’s time, I would be turning twentyeighth years old spinster, with a throbbing four-days-old-pain in the head. Haha.

Yeah, twentyeight years of laughter, tears, sounds, colours, breakdowns and memories.

There’s more to tackle, I know. But I’m glad, despite all the bruises that currently decorate my heart, I am physically strong and still looking good.

Ok. Good isn’t the right word to describe. Still looking half-good, I mean.

Oh! Tomorrow, I’m going to bring Prawn Fried Rice and Bubur Merah to AHU. I hope my collegues would chuck them into their tummy instead of chucking them into the bin.

Yeah, celebrating in PSA, my not-so-happening workplace, again.

Anyway, speaking of AHU, my hands, feets and bones are feeling cold right now. I hope my body won’t get too obsessed with flu tomorrow. Or else, I would definitely need a bestest fulltime-darling to feel better.

Oh well, even if I got myself sick, I would still prefer to reach out for my one and only thickest blanket to cover me good. Cause blankets are brilliant and they are forever better than men.

And yeah, that’s not it. My blanket’s loyal and have a nice sweet scent too. Sweet like candy. Unlike men.

Anyway, I don’t feel it’s wrong to say that almost all men have BO.

Their body-odour are so unpleasantly amazing till it can kill me straight away! On the spot. 

Worst if it’s underground. Hahaha!

I know, my perceptions of men have NOT changed at all. I am standing perfectly at 2006 still, maybe.

Whatever it is, I can’t deny. I do need a man. U know, it’s like how a farmer need a good donkey. Like that. Okay enough.

I need to go now.

I need to sit down quietly by the already-switched-on-handphone and be focus before clock strikes twelve.

Bonne Nuit Universe!

GULE GULE

What : Heartburn
When : Happy New Year
Why : Hell I don’t know
Time : 5.24 am

Finally I’ve thrown all my 2006’s calendars, love notes, love letters and all the junks I stuffed in my safe chest. 

Yes, I used to have a habit of keeping anything that a guy contributed to me, during my every first dates. And this includes mrt cards, restaurant receipts, soft drink bottles and also packets of already-used tissue papers too. Haha.

Though cleaning can be encouraging tiresome to many muscles and a tad depressive for the head, but hey I had fun.

I even smiled at the rubbish, one by one, while throwing them down the chute. I felt as though these rubbish are not just rubbish, but human.

Humans who were never good for my heart and lifeline. Haha.

After my drinking-in-front-of-the-monitor session is over, I would like to sit by my window with my zombified head, smoking sexily and wait for the sun to stare and stalk my super-shy shadow as long as it wishes and leave whenever it pleases.

Oklah people, it is time for me to flirt with the bottles and let the music in my head turn my world around. 

May all of u fucking stop the war and have a fucking good year!

Bye 2006!

Ps : Jens Lekman is coming to Singapore. I can’t wait. I hate to wait.

MAY HE PUNISH U IN A CARING WAY

What : White trash executes Saddam
Why : Oil is richer than water
When : 30th December 2006

Yesternight I planned to roam around somewhere to do some brain-and-soul-washing with my sister but I ended up cancelling every plans, stayed in my room, window shutted, watched BBC and CNN till late evening.

Yeah Saddam is gone and terrorist have won. Iraq is forever terrorist’s battleground. Mecca is next. Future kids become our future-sufferers.

If I happen to have kids someday, I will ban my brain from telling history of Saddam to them.

Why? Because I am not a good story teller.

Even if I’m good, I would surely end up looking like a good death-penalty-supporter instead of a good mother. Sigh.

Ok enough. Let’s talk about my new year plan instead. Whee.

2007, I want to get a driving licence, a man and his neck
2007, I want to make more money by selling off my AB+ blood
2007, I want to frighten, topple and execute Bush in my dream
2007, I want nicotine to change me into a healthy person
2007, I want to improve the way how I hold my cancer-sticks
2007, I want to improve my talking, huffing and puffing skills

Last but never the least, I want nicotine to be more popular than oil. Not just popular. But be very popular.

Ok bye!