13 Aug 2008

What Happens...

Life is what you wish you had but you don't. It is what you see from a far and yearn for, or in some cases, actually pursue it diligently, if only to have a taste of what you think other out there might be enjoying. Life wheezes pass you like that cab that won't stop when you hail, but will not hesitate to splash muddy waters on you on the pavement. And as you watch it speed away, you realize that you have just been dealt a very bad hand, and lady luck has retired, not for the night, but for the decade. Every morning on my way to work, I'm forced to stare outside the car window for long (long is used loosely as this could stand for 2 – 5 minutes) and sometimes, I do actually pay attention. Sometime last week, I observed, really observed. I become aware of a small pickup truck that I meet with at around the same time every day. It's a very nondescript car, and you are likely to ignore it. What made me notice it were the chickens in the back. The owners have constructed a mesh cage and horizontally divided in into two, thus making a double storied kind of cage. They pack chickens – hybrid broilers / or old layers on their way to the slaughters house – that is my assumption – in these two stories. The chickens sit quietly, almost demurely, as if cognizant of what awaits them.

Is this any different from my journey to work? Do the chickens also look at me and feel that fore boarding sense of worry and pity towards me? Do they look at me with their tiny beady eyes and wonder whether I know what awaits me, what the day that the night worked behind the veil of darkness to so deftly craft hold for me? Douglas Adams almost convinced me that mice do run earth. In one of these traffic snarls, my house mate and I got into a conversation, well more of a speculation about Mice and Cockroaches. I will give them first Caps as this will somehow recognize their yet-to-be-proved dominance. Cockroaches will be the only surviving living things on the planet when we finally fry ourselves up with UV rays and other cosmic rays and their off springs, radioisotopes. And we wondered, is there a scientific research, maybe in the USA, or Russia or even Japan, to make a replica of the cockroaches shell for humans to wear protectively, when we can no longer make higher SPF's? And Mice actually do run the universe; that every little thing we do, no matter how ingenious is orchestrated by Mice. Which is what got me wondering to my housemate in the car, what of the mice that scientists conduct research on? He thought that those were the prisoners or pariahs of the Mice kingdom, and being subjects of us lowly brained beings is their punishment. I thought he had a point. Imagine the lowest animal you can think of on earth, actually, expand your thinking, in the universe. Now imagine you being condemned to be the subject of its meaningless research.

What I fail to understand is why you would allow yourself to be one of the dirtiest animals on earth, especially if you controlled Earth. I mean, look at all the advancement we have thereof. Even in my pea sized brain (I'm looking at my brain from a Mice Point of view); I would surely want to be a greater animal. It's like God choosing to send Jesus as a pig to rescue the human race. I would call that very bad mathematics. Anyway, he had a point, if far fetched at that! We could be controlled by the lowest form of life without our knowledge. Apparently even dolphins had a revelation of what the world was headed into (notice I said what not where), and have been trying to tell us for years. Can't blame me, and other human forms for not listening. Their language is harder than Danish. And take it from me, Danish is not a language, it's a advanced form of galactic medley of confusion (Sorry Hunny, you can kill me later, you know how best)

Happens that religion can explain most things and hence rest our troubled minds as to why we exist. Science can also do that. Big Bang is where the two meets. They fight to differ, and to me, the harder they fight the more similar they get. Like an old married couple. Think about it, if an old married couple to us is along the lines of 10 years to 60years (life expectancy limits the bracket), what about centuries, and still forced to co-habit in the same house (read Earth), deal with the same kids (read Humans) century after century? I'm not a fan of religion. I was born into one. And somewhere along the way I felt like a groupie on some really confused rock band. I got the concept of what religion tried to do, but I saw it fail. Then I wondered why I was in the religion I professed to be in. I got one answer; because I was born into it.

When I really thought about it, I decided to get off the bandwagon and watch from the sidelines. I think this is when I should confess that my not so favourite pastime is thinking, and worrying. About things like; are there homeless children in Alaska, whether the ant that I stepped on accidentally this morning knew that it was going to die today, and if so, it say a proper goodbye to its family, (I worry about that with humans too) whether my pal knew her mother would be dead this time last year, and if so, what would she have done differently, whether I will celebrate my 30th birthday...anyway, that was not the line of thought I was going to follow in this blog.

You believe in the religion you believe in because you (your soul, your nature) cannot accept that death is finality. There has to be something more, otherwise, why do we bother living, why not kill ourselves and get over with. Well, I think suicide bombers have got that covered. That is why we go through the motions of life, because we have given ourselves reasons to, because we humans need justifications, reasons and answers in to Why, which when married to How , breeds very naughty children, namely, When, Where, and the twins, What and Who. We then devote our lives to finding answers, fighting about it, and proving the dominant faith and downplaying the rest.

Are the dolphins really that cleaver they might actually have something to say that if we do not heed to, will lead us to dire straits? If we stopped cutting into Mice and just observed them, would we learn something valuable and hence settle the Ultimate Question? I bet if I were to choose an animal, I would pick Ants. Sorry I know they are not animals... for animals I would pick the pig, for its celebrated orgasmic capabilities. But then, I figured that the only thing I have to worry about in this life is living to the ultimate satisfaction in everything I do, as I don't know what awaits me ahead, and if I spent too much time worrying, fighting and arguing about it, I'll lose on the best things.

Busy as I may claim to be enjoying the best of things, I do worry though; I'm still human, no matter how hard I fight it. Do I worry about religion? Yes. Why? Because it was ingrained in me from the day I learnt the difference between the beauty of fire from a far and the beauty of fire on my fingers. And just when I convince myself that I have safely crossed to the other side without the proverbial troll riding and digging deep into my back, it sinks it claws, from whatever end of my body it was hanging on to. But then I have that special innate ability to be stubborn, even unto myself. Don't' forget that other special gift of not being able to concentrate on anything for more than the time my brain will allow. It selective on what it really wants to concentrate on and there is nothing I can do about that, in this case, thankfully!

Making excuses is not my specialty. But I do like listening to them and wondering how best I would have put it, were it left to me. And by gawd, I would have an excuse for everything in the universe, and to me, everything interconnects. By some cosmic power of pulling elements towards the centre of the earth, all things hurtle towards each other, like the Bermuda Triangle, only at a slower pace. Religion, politics, relationships, business, war... all of it. It's all to satisfying so sort of deficient.

A quest by the human race to prove something to each other, to themselves. Unexplainable does not mean inexplicable. Just because something is unexplainable does not mean that paranormal forces must have been involved, only that we haven't found the explanation for it yet. I could start a whole school of thought and argument with true and untrue theories in accordance with that statement, but I'm not that inspired today. Take it as it is, mull over it in your sleep.

Living without knowing what you are here for, what your purpose in life is, where you are headed is frustrating. Which is why we have higher stress levels that any other living organism. That elevated stress level of animals, say a chimp will be to find it's tree cut down, or it's favorite spot occupied by a pride of lions. Why don't you try for a change, just not think about anything? Live today like you don't have another day like this. Actually, you don't. Today is never a continuation of yesterday, and neither will it ever be a prelude to tomorrow. Different entities, like you and your parents or siblings. You are related, but you are not the extension of any of your family, not even your twin. Think of the days septets, their mother being the week they fall in, their father the month. In the end you will have a father that has 4 wives, and each has 7 kids. Now take 11 more families like that and you have a clan called Year. The only relationship they have? Association by marriage, birth, nothing more.

This blog was not about religion, life, etc. It was about nothing really. It was my weird way of trying to prove something. Now as you were busy reading this, you failed to notice that the first words of every paragraph formed a sentence: Life Is What Happens When You Are Busy Making A Living. Get my drift?

Orignally posted on http://blog.myspace.com/darkangelme on Nov, 6th 2007.

Wordless Wednesday #2

Bottle opener gifts I don't want for Christmas



Though you can get me something from here here

Wordless Wednesday #1

I'm inspired





And more inspiration here

Why I'm not sending my son to Boy Scout

Boy Scouts Letter to Mom & Dad --


Dear Mom and Dad,

Our Scoutmaster told us to write to our parents in case you saw
the flood on TV and are worried. We are okay. Only one of our
tents and two sleeping bags got washed away. Luckily, none of us
got drowned because we were all up on the mountain looking for
Adam when it happened.

Oh yes, please call Adam's mother and tell her he is okay. He
can't write because of the cast. I got to ride in one of the
search and rescue jeeps. It was neat. We never would have found
Adam in the dark if it hadn't been for the lightning.

Scoutmaster Keith got mad at Adam for going on a hike alone
without telling anyone. Adam said he did tell him, but it was
during the fire so he probably didn't hear him. Did you know
that if you put gas on a fire, the gas will blow up?

The wet wood didn't burn, but one of the tents did and also some
of our clothes. Jimmie is going to look weird until his hair
grows back.

We will be home on Saturday if Scoutmaster Keith gets the bus
fixed. It wasn't his fault about the wreck. The brakes worked
okay when we left. Scoutmaster Keith said that with a bus that
old you have to expect something to break down; that's probably
why he can't get insurance.

We think it's a neat bus. He doesn't care if we get it dirty and
if it's hot, sometimes he lets us ride on the fenders. It gets
pretty hot with 45 people in a bus made for 24. He let us take
turns riding in the trailer until the highway patrol man stopped
and talked to us.

Scoutmaster Keith is a neat guy. Don't worry, he is a good
driver. In fact, he is teaching Jessie how to drive on the
mountain roads where there isn't any cops. All we ever see up
there are logging trucks.

This morning all of the guys were diving off the rocks and
swimming out to the rapids. Scoutmaster Keith wouldn't let me
because I can't swim, and Adam was afraid he would sink because
of his cast, it's concrete because we didn't have any plaster,
so he let us take the canoe out. It was great. You can still see
some of the trees under the water from the flood.

Scoutmaster Keith isn't crabby like some scoutmasters. He didn't
even get mad about the life jackets. He has to spend a lot of
time working on the bus so we are trying not to cause him any
trouble.

Guess what? We have all passed our first aid merit badges. When
Andrew dived into the lake and cut his arm, we got to see how a
tourniquet works.

Steven and I threw up, but Scoutmaster Keith said it probably
was just food poisoning from the leftover chicken. He said they
got sick that way with food they ate in prison. I'm so glad he
got out and became our scoutmaster. He said he sure figured out
how to get things done better while he was doing his time. By
the way, what is a pedal-file?

I have to go now. We are going to town to mail our letters and
buy some more beer and ammo. Don't worry about anything. We are
fine and tonight it's my turn to sleep in the Scoutmaster's tent.

Love,

Matthew

Scoutmaster Keith spends his nights here

8 Aug 2008

What I Want

Such a thing as you is heat that sends my wanting, and me with barely a taste, but to imagine a touch of the divine warmth. One word, less a talk of attraction and it's prevailing want is flown in me. The thought of being wrapped in you quickens me…pulls all my attentions to that end. To the illusions of you pressed and pushing, a flooding of two, too close, and trying for more…the heat pours and pulses, pushes quickens.


You say burnt out? Only, perhaps, momentarily in the afterglow of you laid out…and…with patient touch…felt, freely…tasted…teased, and then…the headfirst tip into that fires slow burn. Intertwined the delights dance with anticipations flicker. Then…worked for…pushed and pounded at, realized by the fanning breath of feeling expectation realized…explodes into now. Hearts opened, the desires wet realization soothing the flames want-full heat, for…perhaps…a moment. Before the pull of that friction starts to turn with the promise of that cleansing and consuming flame.


I want you to leave me breathless. And not even be aware that I had been holding my breath. Then in my mind’s eye I will see it, I will see you but I dare not and will will myself to not see... us. And my heartbeat will quicken, so much so that I will fear that others will hear it, start to notice that my chest is rising and falling, not ever-so-gently, but with movements that could only come from excitement deep within places untold.


I will feel a spark ignite, falter, unsure at first, holding back… yet I will feel its warmth, willing to be let out, wishing to explore, wanting, needing. Then fell the warmth develop to a bigger ember, deep within my stomach and spreading...fast. Wonder whether I should fight it, or let it stretch, let it become a wildfire, that would be unstoppable, that would consume everything on its way that would leave me quenched, fulfilled and satiated. But the strength to fight it is what will elude me, or maybe I just won't want to.


All I will want is to keep this need to feel, to have, to know. I will dare not look at the aftermath, dare not think what comes next. I will want to bask in that heat that you speak of…the heat that I feel, the heat that burns the deepest parts of me, the heats that leaves me wanting, craving, writhing in want to be filled, to be possessed, deep, over and over again, and then left dizzy and spinning. I will want not know where it ends and where it begins, where chocolate meets vanilla and only want to know of when all is visible is one; one that moves in unison, giving, taking, receiving, filling, pleasing, pleasuring immensely, incomprehensibly.

5 Aug 2008

Why So Serious?

I have no relationship with him. I have never met, and now, never will. I would not have called myself a fan. And if you had asked me some of the people I would have loved to meet in my lifetime, he probably would not have been one of them.

But

Yesterday, I cried for him. From the minute he came on screen, my eyes welled with tears. My heart skipped a beat, failed to go back to the usual tempo, smashed wildly against my ribs. No one seemed to feel what i was feeling then. Even my movie date observed that my reaction was very visible upon seeing him.

And

I cried some more. The recurring image I have of him is masses of blond curly hair, disarming smile and forever pools of chocolate eyes. His work is brilliant, picking roles that portray fights and struggles against the public to rise beyond.

Then

I thought about his last performance. The sheer brilliance and execution of talent unmatched and unrivalled. The ability to become another human being, step out of yourself to embrace and become a spirit so dark the night folds away in fear of it.

Yet

Be able to epitomise that in a way that surpasses people's understanding, and still be able to see you as the person that you are- shy, beautiful of soul and of face, talented and still so unpretentious.

I cried some more, when the credits rolled. The theatre hushed and i could feel my thoughts mingle with the rest of the audience. He's gone and that is what he left us with - an epically brilliant performance never to be duplicated or even equalled.

Today

I went and added my signature to the petition to nominate Heath for an Oscar- because it would be just wrong if he didn't!


and a tribute to him:

How can I then return in happy plight,
That am debarre'd the benefit of rest?
When day's oppression is not eas'd by night,
But day by night and night by day oppress'd,
And each, though enemies to either's reign,
Do in consent shake hands to torture me,
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee.
I tell the day, to please him thou art bright,
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven:
So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night,
When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st the even.
But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,
And night doth nightly make grief's length seem stronger.



Today even here does not make me smile.

4 Aug 2008

I'm coming out of the closet...

no, not that one you pervert. The other one.


Yes, the one without the sign on. You see, I will never open the other one for
other people's sake. Because of the stuff that will come tumbling out, some of which might hit you and give you a concussion the size of Texas, look like this >




We hardly come out of clean closets, otherwise, they'd be no reason to come out. It would not be as fun if we had to come out of such

Thinking about it, i do think I'm NOT coming of that closet. Why? because it's the only place I feel safe. Because just looking at it makes my insides calm. I love order. So much so that it does affect my relationships. Which is the very opposite of my personality, as I thrive on spontaneity. I'm obsessive compulsive. I like my clothes folded in a certain way, I like my shoes arranged in a certain order and i like my movies and books arranged in a certain order. I have colour codes for my bras (and even a men's guide to bras that has been the single post that generates all my blog traffic!).




Chicago, Illinois arrived on "Even Angels Fall....: Men's Guide to Bra sizes"

Bedford, Bedfordshire arrived from images.google.co.uk on "Even Angels Fall....: Men's Guide to Bra sizes"

Irving, Texas arrived on "Even Angels Fall...."

Stockholm, Stockholms Lan left "Even Angels Fall....: Men's Guide to Bra sizes" via bp3.blogger.com

Stockholm, Stockholms Lan arrived on "Even Angels Fall....: Men's Guide to Bra sizes"

Conway, Arkansas arrived on "Even Angels Fall...."

Düsseldorf, Nordrhein-Westfalen arrived on "Even Angels Fall....: Men's Guide to Bra sizes"


and that is based on a slow day!

I went to Banes and Nobles in Santa Monica to buy a few movies. I was in the Series section and for the love of me, I could not find Kyle XY. It looked as if the arranging was done alphabetically from the top shelves, but as i moved towards the middle, the order seemed to have been lost. I think the shop attendants had figured that they could fool you up to about the letter 'F' then throw in all the DVDs haphazardly. I could not stand it. Could not stand see Family Guy right next to House MD and Six Feet Under besides Friends. So i started arranging them. One by one, I put the DVD's in their right places. I did not think it was strange until one of the shop attendants came over and tapped me on the shoulder.

Can I help you, he said.
Yeah, I'm looking for Kyle XY . I said.
For a minute there i thought you were arranging the DVDs. He chuckled
I was. I told him, as a matter of factly.

He looked at me very strangely. I told him i could not stand the DVDs being that disorderly. He thought it was the funniest thing he's ever heard and shared it with the shop manager. After a few jokes, i did actually get Kyle XY and he threw in the TV show, Dexter for free!

DVP, however does not share the sentiments. Not when I kick him out of bed so to re-make it as I cannot sleep in a bed where the sheets are not straight enough. The first time it happened, he thought I was kidding. Before, he would make the bed and I would re-make it. It irritated him, but he learnt to live with the fact that I cannot stand a badly made bed. Now he does not even bother, which drives me mad The same way I cannot stand the fact that OCD is spelt that way. I want. My mind refuses to let O come before C and D. and CDO would do fine for me. Like the way this does just fine for me.