The Green Book

I've realized my mistake now. That is, of not having a journal for one whole year. It poisons you. This...excess of technology. There's only so much you can write and reveal to the online world.

And so, it's time to get back in touch with what's within.

It's healthier.

Besides, you can't sketch stuff in blogs. Haha.

Donnie Darko

"They Made Me Do It."

The most TRIPPY film I've EVER seen in my life. Period. One of those films that leaves your mind whirling that you could almost swear that you can hear your wits whirring in your head like an engine.

I got round to watching it because I found out that Donnie Darko is a fatalist. I didn't know there's a word for it, acceptance of fate. But then maybe I'm more for Determinism. I don't think I'm quite so passive. I sure as heck overreact a lot though. Ah well, fatalists are fatalists. *shrug* Didn't expect that particular hissy fit episode of mine to be quite so serendipitous.

I don't even know what genre this film is and am not going to try to categorize it either. Hah. Though I suppose it is fantastically surreal. Yeah, yeah, I'm tired of my own peacock terms too but I don't know how else to express how SUPER Donnie Darko is.

Film's about Everything. Like literally. But that's just me. And that's what the film's about, I think. No one answer to any question, ever. Everyone's entitled to their own interpretation of the film, which for once, is fine by me! I usually hate inconclusive nonsense. Heck, Donnie Darko is probably the epitome of inconclusive nonsense.

While you're watching it, you might wanna read this too, The Destructors by Graham Greene. It's in the film.

And THIS. After watching the movie, this is a MUST:

Click here!

Even if you haven't, you can just try it out for kicks. It's pretty cool.

And yeah yeah, Adam Lambert sang this song on Idol. It's the ending song for the film, Donnie Darko.

P.S: Jake Gyllenhaal, I've got my eyes on you *smiles Donnie Darko's smile*

One of You

I've had enough of running,

I've had enough just standing,

So I took a step,

And there I was; Falling.

Judge me not by my countenance,

Credentials or even by my words,

Because I'm one of you,

Men & Women of clay.

With dreams of my own,

And those of my Home,

I tread these paths you've trodden,

And try not make it a burden.

Try as I may,

To keep my head above the waters,

And my legs moving forward,

Alas, I'm never a free bird.

I plead to you my guilty conscience,

For the things that I did,

Or did not do,

Because I too, am one of you.

Lifters

Back in college *sigh*

Thanks mama for settling me in nicely and Happy Father's Day papa :)

Ah, well. I needed some lifters (naw, I ain't got narcotics on me), but I've these though:

YESSSSSS! David finally sang some new songs! These haven't been released as singles or in an album yet. It's about to be released though, his new album :)

Parachutes & Airplanes

Not A Very Good Liar

Your Heart, My Part

More than anything I like just talking,

And catch glimpses of your eyes,

As if dissecting a puzzle,

Or one smart arse riddle.

There shouldn't be any shame in it,

In befriending unworthy me,

Open your chest and sing like larks,

I know your tune better than he.

Never mind this pretentious facade,

It's just a play, It's just a stage,

Prattle all you want dearest,

I know you at your coldest.

Maybe there's no magic at all,

In this mystifying dance of wits,

For all I know I'm blinded,

Enchanted, even bewildered.

There's no mistaking though,

Your brilliance and eloquence,

A brand so reserved and rare,

Unguarded, but never bare.

May our nights last longer,

And our days go on forever,

Bury me not in your heart,

In your mind, keep my Part.

Ever So Inclined

Should I ever feel so inclined to drown or hide, I've books. Should I ever feel so inclined to forgive and forget, I've music. But Time is cruel, as always. Reality is twisted by it. Or is it the other way around? Doesn't matter.

Same old, same old. Am about to get shipped off back to college this Sunday.

The only comfort is that I didn't receive that letter for Parent-Lecturer's Day which is next Monday. There's still tomorrow, Saturday and Sunday. Three days for that letter to arrive, if it should be so inclined to arrive. Hopefully not, because that would be a rather excessively despicable trick to play at the expense of my shredded self-confidence (or what's left of it anyway) in my academic capabilities.

I'd like to be an under-achiever among THE achievers at least. Grant me that and I'd be at peace with myself for a few moments. Grant me that at least and I shall have a renewed sense of achievement and will go the extra length for the remaining 4 months of college.

Academic insecurities aside...

I watched Red Dragon (2002) just now. Dr. Hannibal Lectre is one creepy psycho. 'Disturbing', is an understatement. I could almost smell the Fear (the protagonist's played by dearest Edward Norton) and unfortunately, my own. Scared witless. No shit.

P.S: Right this second, I kinda despise college. Hurry up November. I want out.

A Scornful Affair

Bring me a poet,

I’d scoff at him.

Bring me a writer,

I’d spit at her.

Bring me a musician,

I’d yawn at him,

Bring me a painter,

I’d laugh at her.

“Why do you scorn them so?

Are they not beautiful?”

Because they are passionate fools,

Who treat beauty as tools.

Because I too am a poet,

Painter, musician, writer;

As desolate as the ancient ruins,

Though never as majestic.

Because I’ve burned like them,

Wasting our feeble and fleeting lives;

Thus we spurn each other,

This fatal affair with our Muses.

__________________________________________________

Note:

By all means I'm no poet, musician, painter or writer. I'm just a pathetic excuse of a 'wannabe' of all these. Hah.

Resurrection

Their new badge. It's on Fab's drums now.

After a long hiatus of 4 years, FINALLY our debauched rock gods are BACK. Been waiting for there to be enough decent quality vids on YT.

Let the vids do the talking. I'm absolutely, utterly, at a loss of words (adjectives particularly) to describe this...this...gosh dangit. Just WATCH!

Date: 13th June 2010

Venue: Isle Of Wright, U.K

The Modern Age

Reptilia

(You can actually SEE Fab's face at 1:36!)

Take It Or Leave It

(And Nick broke one of his precious strings...)

New York City Cops

P.S:

The Strokes' comeback actually happened on 10th June 2010 at Dingwalls, London, U.K. They played a secret gig under the name of 'Venison' with a setlist of 14 songs and 4 encores. The 500 tickets for the secret gig sold out in 10 secs yo! Haha.

All members of Coldplay (From a girl who spend the concert next to Chris Martin: "He's a sweetheart. He hugged me and completely lost it during Someday and Last Nite), Drew McConnell of Babyshambles, Binki Shapiro, Carl Barat, and Zane Lowe are among the more well known people who attended the secret gig :)

Vids of the secret gig of Venison (a.k.a The Strokes).

Pounce not on Hate

Indifference

That glorious wanting you feel,

When you’ve found a beloved to worship,

To complete your ethereal emptiness,

Serenading the dusk of your loneliness,

That thing you call Love.

What is it then the opposite of Love?

Deftly, swiftly, Hate is pounced upon,

But really what of Hate without affection,

For Hate is sparked by non-other than it,

That thing you call Love.

I seek to shed light upon the sleuth,

How it has been slinking amongst the shadows,

Falling in the grace of Light: Revelling,

Its superiority in staying eternally hidden,

Cold and indifferent.

To Love is to feel,

To Hate is to feel,

Infernos in a kiln that is the heart.

What then, is to not feel?

Indifferent.

_____________________________________________________

Note: Hate is a vicious cycle. It is. But to be indifferent? To be eternally ignorant? Of no awareness? Is there really bliss in that? Perhaps.

Divine Romance

The one and only Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi (Balkhi) or simply, Rumi. The poet, the Mystic Sufi master.

I'm just starting to get to know him and I adore him already. Bought The Essential Rumi translated by Coleman Barks yesterday. Been reading, no, savouring Rumi's poems.

I thought Walt Whitman was awesome, that is before I found out that Rumi's a poet haha. What really got me wanting to read his stuff is because I wanted to read more of his poems on LOVE. Yeap.

Here, have a taste: This World Which Is Made Of Our Love For Emptiness

Not just love of any kind, love for God. Divine romance. Fana.

I thirst for more.

A very unreasonable take on being 'reasonable'.

I've figured out what really triggered my lame 'Holden attack'. Y'know, the general 'the world is rotten' disposition.

It's the attack on the Freedom Flotilla and that particular discussion with that particular person, who is no longer an acquaintance of mine.

Really now. I shan't worry my silly little head and try to 'reason' with a person who sees only 'reason', when in fact all that, that person is, is 'blind'.

Because I care.

Thus I try.

And when I fail?

It hurts me.

Thus the mini Holden episode. I try my best to not be pretentious but I'm beginning to feel I may have mistaken 'vulnerability' or, say, 'eagerness' with it.

I'm also beginning to feel that it is not good to be too 'reasonable' because in pursuit of 'objectivity', a degree of 'detachment' which ultimately leads to one becoming 'ineffectual'.

WHICH, ironically, renders the said 'reasonable' person into becoming absolutely, utterly, 'UNreasonable'. Because when you forfeit humanity (which constitutes of feelings of empathy), then all that's left of you is...nothing. A shell.

A Holden attack

It's terrible. I'm having a Holden attack. It's been going on since last Saturday. I've a feeling this has something to do with that particular visit to a friend of mine.

Somehow, just about everything seems pretentious to me. Am not being egotistical about it either. I feel that I'm the most pretentious of all.

I keep obsessing about it. Mulling it over and over, thinking things like 'Do you really mean that?' whenever I say or even, think of anything. I kept thinking how pretentious expletives are. How pretentious italics are. How pretentious the word 'pretentious' itself is. How pretentious a million other things, are.

As I write this, I'm actually pretty sickened by how pretentious this whole post is.

It's like parallel lines. How it goes on and on forever. How in reality, parallel lines don't even exist!

Everything is 'phony'.

For writing this, I'm the biggest phony of all.

Incriminated

Incriminated

Little passing moments they have had,

In silence, grief, or regret,

Were as profound as their happier ones,

All meaningful, almost mournful.

The monsoon brought forth torrents,

Flooding not only lands but also hearts,

The musky scent of rain a release,

From their own lacerated liaison.

Side by side they sat and admired,

The pretty bubbles in the puddles,

Bursting like distant sparkling stars,

So close yet so far.

Should they ever join hands to reconcile,

I’d shed tears to water the crops,

Hence the seeds of love shall thrive,

Perhaps till never after, alive.

_________________________________________________

Note:

When it rains, have you ever observed the puddles?

If it rains not too hard nor too lightly, there'll be bubbles in these puddles and these infinite little bubbles bursts almost instantly. At a distance, they appear to be sparkling. Just like the stars in the sky. I've a pet name for them haha.

I call them fallen stars.

Clearly, I'm a recluse whom walks with her shadow when it rains to have time to observe such beauties. But they're so very pretty. Next time it rains, mind the puddles with the bursting bubbles. They're quite a sight.