I almost died over the weekend again. Twice. Within a span of 5mins.
Both instances were clear examples of requiring the driver’s eyes to be on the road at every instance of locomotion. The first occurred when I was fixing up the next disc to insert into the radio. I lifted my head in time to see the car approaching towards me (its all relative, isn’t it?) at an uncomfortable pace. I braked and swerved in the nick of time. The driver horned at me, more out of shock than anything else. I mean, his warning came after the fact. The funny thing was that my heart didn’t pound as it usually does after near-deaths. Rather, I felt quite calm, and carried on my journey. I guess it was because I was in such a nonchalant mood.
5 minutes later, I did it again, this time, I was directing the air-con vents toward me as it was a bloody hot day. Same thing, only this time my little brother shouted at me, and woke me from my preoccupation with not sweating. I braked too harshly (but thank you ABS!). So there, twice. This blog could have not ever seen the light of day and you would have regained 5 mins of your life. Quick, turn away now. Close the browser and move along with your stagnant life.
Still here? Cool.
The reason I call this car a bloodsucker is that it literally sucks so much blood from my wallet. Just this week, my battery died. I called my car dealership for help, and they sent down a sub-conned tow truck. The dude suggested that he change the battery for me then and there, saving time and undercutting the dealership. I said ok, knowing full well the cost of doing so. My warranty may be voided, the battery could suck soon after, and many other factors. But I went along anyway because I wanted to carry on using the car for the evening. The money changed hands and the deed was done. The trip home was a ride of supreme introspection. I ran the scenario over in my head countless of times. I know I made my decision, but was it the right one? I live by the motto of just doing the right thing. But the right thing seems such an abstract notion now. Its all about context I guess.
So the thing is, did the decision of changing the battery then and there, and the convenience of having the car work immediately worth the risk of my warranty being voided? Give me your two cents please? I’ll take both for your thoughts, and not just a penny like most others.
This risk taking also led me to question my current immediate direction in life, that of trading futures contracts as a living. Am I taking way too much risk? Is my tolerance too high for4 my own good? It was a trying evening to say the least.
And thus, I felt the car was such a burden. It didn’t help that I had to renew my road tax this month either, and that my trading account is in a net negative for August. I was out of it for quite a while.
But just the other night, I had a wonderful experience in the car that reminded me that it’s actually quite worth the while for instances like these. No, it wasn’t car sex in the back seat. (my car’s too small for that, or am I too big? Hmm…..) It was pure and simple. It was just a kid in the car ahead of me at the traffic lights. He stared right at me, and started shooting imaginary bullets with his handgun.
I returned fire.
He ducked, and we sparred vehemently to the next traffic light, where I had to turn off. I waved goodbye and he waved back at me, smiling. I laughed. It was pure, unadulterated joy. And it redeems humanity in my psyche. There may just be hope yet.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Friday, August 18, 2006
Bogusity
I’d recently watched a documentary I downloaded off the ether. The title was Forbidden Archeology, narrated by Moses himself. In it, they went in search of fossil findings that went against the grain of the scientific community. Examples are human footprints beside T-rex’s on the same rock strata, and human bones within bedrock millions of years old. Most of these findings were disregarded, and some even had their specimens confiscated, the dig site closed by the governments and professional careers ruined.
The documentary also hinted on the old constructions at Egypt and Peru. How similar these 2 ancient civilizations are, from monolithic structures like the pyramids, which were build with such precise accuracy, in terms of astronomical significance of structural positionings, to civil engineering, wherein spaces within the blocks are so fine that a playing card couldn’t fit between. When the Spanish questioned the indigineous population in South America on the cities hidden within the forests, they replied that they did not build them, and they have been there for thousands of years.
There was a map discovered from the 16th century, that clearly depicted Antartica’s landmass, below the immense sheets of ice found there. The western civilization didn’t find out the precise look of that particular landmass till the mid 60s, when seismic probes were done to map out the area. The map from the past even stated that the knowledge was derived from 20 other sources, and was most probably compiled in the library at Alexandria. What all these facts pointed to was that perhaps there are older civilizations that we have absolutely no idea of, including the angle of Atlantis, which may very well lie beneath the glaciers at the South Pole.
Now, how could an advanced civilization exist below 2 miles of ice? Simple, the crust tilted on its axis coupla thousand years back. This they attribute to the carcass of a well preserved mammoth. In its stomach was its last meal of grassland shrubs. Now, how could a mammoth suddenly be killed and frozen over with its lunch intact? THE EARTH TILTED ON ITS AXIS! What was once tropical is now polar, and vice versa. And it occurs when the poles are too heavy with ice, and the earth’s crust is imbalanced. It happens every 40 thousand years. And thus, Atlantis, which was once in the Earth’s oceans, right smack in the middle, and along the equator, is suddenly in the south pole. The civilization is endangered, and its people move to other lands, namely Africa and South America, some to the Fijian islands, some to Greece, and some to England apparently, where they built Stonehenge.
Please find all the loopholes and give me the Truth. Frankly, I hated Charlton Heston since Bowling for Columbine.
The documentary also hinted on the old constructions at Egypt and Peru. How similar these 2 ancient civilizations are, from monolithic structures like the pyramids, which were build with such precise accuracy, in terms of astronomical significance of structural positionings, to civil engineering, wherein spaces within the blocks are so fine that a playing card couldn’t fit between. When the Spanish questioned the indigineous population in South America on the cities hidden within the forests, they replied that they did not build them, and they have been there for thousands of years.
There was a map discovered from the 16th century, that clearly depicted Antartica’s landmass, below the immense sheets of ice found there. The western civilization didn’t find out the precise look of that particular landmass till the mid 60s, when seismic probes were done to map out the area. The map from the past even stated that the knowledge was derived from 20 other sources, and was most probably compiled in the library at Alexandria. What all these facts pointed to was that perhaps there are older civilizations that we have absolutely no idea of, including the angle of Atlantis, which may very well lie beneath the glaciers at the South Pole.
Now, how could an advanced civilization exist below 2 miles of ice? Simple, the crust tilted on its axis coupla thousand years back. This they attribute to the carcass of a well preserved mammoth. In its stomach was its last meal of grassland shrubs. Now, how could a mammoth suddenly be killed and frozen over with its lunch intact? THE EARTH TILTED ON ITS AXIS! What was once tropical is now polar, and vice versa. And it occurs when the poles are too heavy with ice, and the earth’s crust is imbalanced. It happens every 40 thousand years. And thus, Atlantis, which was once in the Earth’s oceans, right smack in the middle, and along the equator, is suddenly in the south pole. The civilization is endangered, and its people move to other lands, namely Africa and South America, some to the Fijian islands, some to Greece, and some to England apparently, where they built Stonehenge.
Please find all the loopholes and give me the Truth. Frankly, I hated Charlton Heston since Bowling for Columbine.
More stories from the Concrete Kampong
Once again, I found myself at a petrol station in the middle of the night. And when I say middle, I mean 4am. There was only 1 pump attendant, and he was slouched over on the curb, sleeping. When I finished pumping, I looked up and he was there, giving me my pump number. I thanked the old guy, and hoped that his standard of living is ok, for to go through this shit every night would be quite a nightmare.
The cashier however was a bight young lad, with a gold ring. He was alert and even tried to sell me more stuff other than petrol. I thanked him and said that I did not need to buy 4 car fresheners to get $8 bucks off my petrol.
Next stop, the atm. I went by some old blocks of flats where my good friend used to stay. The residents have been moved out as the government has decided to redevelop this plot of land. Hence, the entire block had their lights off, even along the corridors and void deck. However, some rooms still had their lights on, which was very disturbing. Yellow lights in the toilets and the like. I don’t know why, but I had goosebumps.
There was a cat lying by the atm. I’m more of a dog person, but I found this particular cat quite beautiful. I believe that was a first. A stray cat at that. As I walked by him, he gave me a dark look, almost as if he was reprimanding me for waking him up in the middle of the night. Bloody buggers sleep all day anyway, so I wanted to kick him.
I withdrew 150 bucks. Let’s just say, in the middle of the night, atms run out of 50 dollar bills. I got a wad of 10s. My poor wallet strained under the responsibility.
The news got to me this week. I heard of a new born infant who was abandoned in a locker in a supermarket over in Bishan. It had been dead for 2 weeks. Somehow, this tragedy evoked a sizable amount of anguish within me. I can never understand how something so precious could be discarded in such a fashion. Imagine how the many couples out there who cannot conceive would’ve brought up this wonderful child.
And I’d finally learnt why the Israelis had such a terrible campaign against the Hezbollah. The commander in chief of this entire operation was an air force general, and such a conflict can never be resolved from the air. Perhaps they were just making a point that they too are like the Americans, dependant on air power, and deserving empathy/sympathy. Their ground troops, under an army general, would have gotten the 2 soldiers back in no time. Pity that is the civilians who suffer the most.
And thus, to shield me from the weariness that is reality, I’ve been listening to Power98 in the mornings. They have a new host to go with Maggie, and it was none other than Hossan Leong. Funny bugger, and always bursting into song. I prefer his brand of humour (lower brow) to Joe Augustyn’s, which can get rather derogatory at times.
Could Hossan save my sanity? Stay tuned!
The cashier however was a bight young lad, with a gold ring. He was alert and even tried to sell me more stuff other than petrol. I thanked him and said that I did not need to buy 4 car fresheners to get $8 bucks off my petrol.
Next stop, the atm. I went by some old blocks of flats where my good friend used to stay. The residents have been moved out as the government has decided to redevelop this plot of land. Hence, the entire block had their lights off, even along the corridors and void deck. However, some rooms still had their lights on, which was very disturbing. Yellow lights in the toilets and the like. I don’t know why, but I had goosebumps.
There was a cat lying by the atm. I’m more of a dog person, but I found this particular cat quite beautiful. I believe that was a first. A stray cat at that. As I walked by him, he gave me a dark look, almost as if he was reprimanding me for waking him up in the middle of the night. Bloody buggers sleep all day anyway, so I wanted to kick him.
I withdrew 150 bucks. Let’s just say, in the middle of the night, atms run out of 50 dollar bills. I got a wad of 10s. My poor wallet strained under the responsibility.
The news got to me this week. I heard of a new born infant who was abandoned in a locker in a supermarket over in Bishan. It had been dead for 2 weeks. Somehow, this tragedy evoked a sizable amount of anguish within me. I can never understand how something so precious could be discarded in such a fashion. Imagine how the many couples out there who cannot conceive would’ve brought up this wonderful child.
And I’d finally learnt why the Israelis had such a terrible campaign against the Hezbollah. The commander in chief of this entire operation was an air force general, and such a conflict can never be resolved from the air. Perhaps they were just making a point that they too are like the Americans, dependant on air power, and deserving empathy/sympathy. Their ground troops, under an army general, would have gotten the 2 soldiers back in no time. Pity that is the civilians who suffer the most.
And thus, to shield me from the weariness that is reality, I’ve been listening to Power98 in the mornings. They have a new host to go with Maggie, and it was none other than Hossan Leong. Funny bugger, and always bursting into song. I prefer his brand of humour (lower brow) to Joe Augustyn’s, which can get rather derogatory at times.
Could Hossan save my sanity? Stay tuned!
The Experience
He checks the links in his armor, and the intricacies of his chain mail. His gloves fit snugly, his knuckles capped by iron protrusions. He grips his shield, feeling its weight and balance. No turning back now. The animal mustn’t get loose too soon, else the proverbial shit would hit the fan big time. He pulls the hunting knife out of its sheath, reveling in its metallic tang and incandescent shine. Now, it must taste blood. The blood of monsters. The gates open, and he steps into the light.
He approaches the animal, his heart pounding in its place. His temples his very own boom-box. The roar from the spectators suddenly breaks into his zone. He pauses, soaking in the atmosphere, relishing his moment in the spotlight. The smells around him full of dust and iron. He stares at his opponent in the eyes, and shouts, “RELEASE HIM!”
The 3-tonned beast, upon feeling the slack in his moorings, jerks forward and breaks the last screws holding him in his place. He instinctively knew that the creature before him has to die. He hasn’t been fed in days, and his bloodlust is strong. He rushes forth, his muscles rippling under his scaly skin. He retracts his spikes to make then stand on ends. He roars, instilling fear in the heart of his prey. If he could, he would have smiled.
The warrior stands his ground, analyzing the creature’s movements and approach. The rumbling mass thundering towards him was fluid and graceful for its size. This, finally, is a worthy opponent. The rage could be felt from across the arena. The crowd bursts into further ecstasy as they anticipate the action that is to occur. All he could focus on was the beast, and the Royal pit. The King, way past his heyday, looks on solemnly on the proceedings, having seen many before. Behind him, the princess looks on in admiration. “Time to put on a good show, I suppose.” The warrior says to himself. He nods and his face plate drops.
The beast reaches his prey with the full force and attempts to gore the pitiful two-legged freak in the torso with his jade tusk. The absence of resistance tells him he missed, and he trashes about immediately, instinct taking over. He sniffs and detects the being to his right, rolling in the sand. A hit. And now the kill.
The warrior moves with the momentum, spins and kicks himself up. A lucky shot, a smart beast, almost. Before the beast turns, he throws his shield to his right, and spins the knife in his hand, holding the blade and pulling back his arm. The beast’s focus follows the shield as it turns, exposing his side. The warrior aims, and fires the knife, hitting the beast squarely in the right eye. The crowd goes wild.
He walks to the beast, and leaps ever so easily onto its back. It lurches and attempts to throw the warrior off. It tries to maneuver its spikes to pierce his victim. In desperation, he too rolls in the dust. The warrior’s lightning quick reflexes prevents him from a crushing death as he leaps off the animal. He was finally feeling challenged. As he was about to land, a spike pierces his left shin, and goes right through the armor. He is stuck, and he is brought up into midair, like a prize for the beast. His invincibility falters as he is disgracefully paraded in the middle of the arena. The crowd boos, and his pride is smashed. He feels the beast beginning another roll……
“End program.”
He opens his eyes, a twisted knot on his forehead.
“I lost again,” he says to himself. He peels off the remote lenses from his cornea, and mentally commands the nanites to remove the skinsuit around him. He feels the particles fall to the ground, reabsorbed into his room-sphere.
He has been trying this scenario for the past week, unsuccessfully. He recalls the package he bought from the Immersion Engine, and the prize at the end. A violent treat, with experiences enough to tingle the most blaise senses. The goal of course was the clincher, a simulated night with the nymphet of a princess, based upon the form of the most celebrated inter-planetary idol this past fortnight.
Tomorrow, I shall purchase the psychic cheats. No way the beast would be able to beat it.
He approaches the animal, his heart pounding in its place. His temples his very own boom-box. The roar from the spectators suddenly breaks into his zone. He pauses, soaking in the atmosphere, relishing his moment in the spotlight. The smells around him full of dust and iron. He stares at his opponent in the eyes, and shouts, “RELEASE HIM!”
The 3-tonned beast, upon feeling the slack in his moorings, jerks forward and breaks the last screws holding him in his place. He instinctively knew that the creature before him has to die. He hasn’t been fed in days, and his bloodlust is strong. He rushes forth, his muscles rippling under his scaly skin. He retracts his spikes to make then stand on ends. He roars, instilling fear in the heart of his prey. If he could, he would have smiled.
The warrior stands his ground, analyzing the creature’s movements and approach. The rumbling mass thundering towards him was fluid and graceful for its size. This, finally, is a worthy opponent. The rage could be felt from across the arena. The crowd bursts into further ecstasy as they anticipate the action that is to occur. All he could focus on was the beast, and the Royal pit. The King, way past his heyday, looks on solemnly on the proceedings, having seen many before. Behind him, the princess looks on in admiration. “Time to put on a good show, I suppose.” The warrior says to himself. He nods and his face plate drops.
The beast reaches his prey with the full force and attempts to gore the pitiful two-legged freak in the torso with his jade tusk. The absence of resistance tells him he missed, and he trashes about immediately, instinct taking over. He sniffs and detects the being to his right, rolling in the sand. A hit. And now the kill.
The warrior moves with the momentum, spins and kicks himself up. A lucky shot, a smart beast, almost. Before the beast turns, he throws his shield to his right, and spins the knife in his hand, holding the blade and pulling back his arm. The beast’s focus follows the shield as it turns, exposing his side. The warrior aims, and fires the knife, hitting the beast squarely in the right eye. The crowd goes wild.
He walks to the beast, and leaps ever so easily onto its back. It lurches and attempts to throw the warrior off. It tries to maneuver its spikes to pierce his victim. In desperation, he too rolls in the dust. The warrior’s lightning quick reflexes prevents him from a crushing death as he leaps off the animal. He was finally feeling challenged. As he was about to land, a spike pierces his left shin, and goes right through the armor. He is stuck, and he is brought up into midair, like a prize for the beast. His invincibility falters as he is disgracefully paraded in the middle of the arena. The crowd boos, and his pride is smashed. He feels the beast beginning another roll……
“End program.”
He opens his eyes, a twisted knot on his forehead.
“I lost again,” he says to himself. He peels off the remote lenses from his cornea, and mentally commands the nanites to remove the skinsuit around him. He feels the particles fall to the ground, reabsorbed into his room-sphere.
He has been trying this scenario for the past week, unsuccessfully. He recalls the package he bought from the Immersion Engine, and the prize at the end. A violent treat, with experiences enough to tingle the most blaise senses. The goal of course was the clincher, a simulated night with the nymphet of a princess, based upon the form of the most celebrated inter-planetary idol this past fortnight.
Tomorrow, I shall purchase the psychic cheats. No way the beast would be able to beat it.
Friday, August 11, 2006
So long, and thanks for the memories
So we are losing our National Stadium soon, the iconic gray megalith of unbreakable stone and grime. I will miss the old, run down place. For a place that I had spent very minimal time in, it sure holds many sweet memories for me. Primarily from the many sports days held there over my upper primary and secondary school days, breaking rules and chatting up my NPCC friends who were manning the stairs, not letting any pass and escape the dreary proceedings under the hot sun. the 20 x 100m dash highlight; the screaming from teachers on our misconduct; the many tussles occurring at the fringes of spectator divisions between the different schools. Much as we’d like to forget, our schools always demanded and received a certain strain of loyalty from us. Me, I was always checking out the chicks from the other schools. Fresh , new blood. Hmmm…..
Hah, I’m actually listening to music from the 80’s while I type this out. Ahhh, electronica and heavy synthetic bass.
*Danger Zone – Kenny Loggins*
I never attended a national day celebration there. The closest thing to a national communal thingy was some soccer matches. I remember attending a Lions vs Pahang match, the ever deadly vendetta between provided for an electric atmosphere; and also when Newcastle came to visit, with Shearer stretching by the side, when they had just signed him on. We were so psyched up for him to hit the pitch, but he never did.
So the stadium is to go. In its place would be a sports complex. Out with the old, in with new, that’s the way cities move. An ever constantly changing organism; a sum of its constituents; a soul in flux. Love it. Change can’t come quick enough for me. I get bored easily.
So I went to fill my car with more global warming chemicals late at night on National Day. As I stopped at a junction, I turned to the left and saw this car parking, and a young fellow stepped out of it. He was wearing green coveralls adorned with many patches in the designs of our military insignias. And he was holding a Styrofoam box, walking with a clearly tired gait. He must’ve just performed for the entire nation, high up in the sky, after training for it for months prior, living with precise timings and synchronicity with his squadron. I saluted him in my heart, and remembered how I used to long to be in his shoes. Life would’ve been so different. I would’ve been so different. I’d actually be cool, and with a set goal in mind. Heck, I would’ve run for presidency at the end of that road. Hah!
Then I turned to my right and saw this bicycle go by. A guy was riding hard to move the bike up a gentle slope. The funny thing was that just behind him was a frame, and there was a lady in a white dress seated every so straightly, facing away from me. I could see her long black tresses which almost didn’t seem to move. I was bemused. Here was a classic image right out of a hongkong horror flick. I laughed, and secretly wished she didn’t turn around to show me her 15cm long tongue or empty eye sockets. Brrrr…..
I caught Lady in the Water the other day. I so do love M.Night Shymalan’s work. This time round, he didn’t have a cameo. He had an fucking starring role, which tanked. But I liked the show overall. While I profess to not fully appreciate the underlying allegory (failed literature in sec sch), I think he was talking about the war that the USA is engaged in. The war in the middle east, not the war on mutant grass escaping golf courses and invading the wilds (I’m serious, its true! The latter war, that is). What did you see in the film? I would like to know.
I also caught Sophie Scholl, nominated for Best foreign language film at the Oscars. The narrative dealt with the anti-nazi movement in Germany during WW2. It was heavy, but not fresh. It reminded me of the state of affairs today, and the differences from thence. For me, nothing beats Band of Brothers when it comes to movies or serials on WW2. Yeah, I am shallow. Toldja!
Speaking of shallow, I’d been exploring the youTubeverse lately, along with its bastard cousins Filecabi, google video, iFilm, Metacafe and DailyMotion etc.. Of course, all in my never-ending pursuit for quality porn, which was what the net was built for anyway. Use it like how its meant to be used. You don’t see me using a spanner to remove a screw.
I chanced upon the usual dreadgery of the net, from low quality fan-flicks to the pranks, the cheap skanks and the voyeur-catering performers. Once in awhile, I’d come across something that has a local feel, like this and I’d get curious, like WTF is this all about? Go take look. What do you make of it?
I read somewhere previously that youTube heralds the end of all things wonderful like TV and movies, and everything will be released on the net. While it is the most excellent method of distribution, it may not be the ideal avenue to fully appreciate most materials. Besides the fact that it’d take forever to download everything in high def and other technical issues, I do not have my youtubes projected onto IMAX screens, with dolby digital surround sound, popcorn dispensers just outside the door. Heck, I can’t even make my bedroom dark at night! And let’s not forget the quintessential noisy idiots sitting behind me with one too many opinions and a fucking mobile phone that has to ring in the middle of the most dramatic pauses,l this inspite of the fucking stupid ads (especially the Disney ones)that they screen prior to the show to tell every fuckwat to switch their fucking slave driving phones the FUCK OFF!
Hah, I’m actually listening to music from the 80’s while I type this out. Ahhh, electronica and heavy synthetic bass.
*Danger Zone – Kenny Loggins*
I never attended a national day celebration there. The closest thing to a national communal thingy was some soccer matches. I remember attending a Lions vs Pahang match, the ever deadly vendetta between provided for an electric atmosphere; and also when Newcastle came to visit, with Shearer stretching by the side, when they had just signed him on. We were so psyched up for him to hit the pitch, but he never did.
So the stadium is to go. In its place would be a sports complex. Out with the old, in with new, that’s the way cities move. An ever constantly changing organism; a sum of its constituents; a soul in flux. Love it. Change can’t come quick enough for me. I get bored easily.
So I went to fill my car with more global warming chemicals late at night on National Day. As I stopped at a junction, I turned to the left and saw this car parking, and a young fellow stepped out of it. He was wearing green coveralls adorned with many patches in the designs of our military insignias. And he was holding a Styrofoam box, walking with a clearly tired gait. He must’ve just performed for the entire nation, high up in the sky, after training for it for months prior, living with precise timings and synchronicity with his squadron. I saluted him in my heart, and remembered how I used to long to be in his shoes. Life would’ve been so different. I would’ve been so different. I’d actually be cool, and with a set goal in mind. Heck, I would’ve run for presidency at the end of that road. Hah!
Then I turned to my right and saw this bicycle go by. A guy was riding hard to move the bike up a gentle slope. The funny thing was that just behind him was a frame, and there was a lady in a white dress seated every so straightly, facing away from me. I could see her long black tresses which almost didn’t seem to move. I was bemused. Here was a classic image right out of a hongkong horror flick. I laughed, and secretly wished she didn’t turn around to show me her 15cm long tongue or empty eye sockets. Brrrr…..
I caught Lady in the Water the other day. I so do love M.Night Shymalan’s work. This time round, he didn’t have a cameo. He had an fucking starring role, which tanked. But I liked the show overall. While I profess to not fully appreciate the underlying allegory (failed literature in sec sch), I think he was talking about the war that the USA is engaged in. The war in the middle east, not the war on mutant grass escaping golf courses and invading the wilds (I’m serious, its true! The latter war, that is). What did you see in the film? I would like to know.
I also caught Sophie Scholl, nominated for Best foreign language film at the Oscars. The narrative dealt with the anti-nazi movement in Germany during WW2. It was heavy, but not fresh. It reminded me of the state of affairs today, and the differences from thence. For me, nothing beats Band of Brothers when it comes to movies or serials on WW2. Yeah, I am shallow. Toldja!
Speaking of shallow, I’d been exploring the youTubeverse lately, along with its bastard cousins Filecabi, google video, iFilm, Metacafe and DailyMotion etc.. Of course, all in my never-ending pursuit for quality porn, which was what the net was built for anyway. Use it like how its meant to be used. You don’t see me using a spanner to remove a screw.
I chanced upon the usual dreadgery of the net, from low quality fan-flicks to the pranks, the cheap skanks and the voyeur-catering performers. Once in awhile, I’d come across something that has a local feel, like this and I’d get curious, like WTF is this all about? Go take look. What do you make of it?
I read somewhere previously that youTube heralds the end of all things wonderful like TV and movies, and everything will be released on the net. While it is the most excellent method of distribution, it may not be the ideal avenue to fully appreciate most materials. Besides the fact that it’d take forever to download everything in high def and other technical issues, I do not have my youtubes projected onto IMAX screens, with dolby digital surround sound, popcorn dispensers just outside the door. Heck, I can’t even make my bedroom dark at night! And let’s not forget the quintessential noisy idiots sitting behind me with one too many opinions and a fucking mobile phone that has to ring in the middle of the most dramatic pauses,l this inspite of the fucking stupid ads (especially the Disney ones)that they screen prior to the show to tell every fuckwat to switch their fucking slave driving phones the FUCK OFF!
Friday, August 04, 2006
Inner Universe
*Somewhere Only We Know – Keane*
Being in your own world has its perks. You lose track of time and become a ghost within a shell, really embracing the standalone complex that technology like the net has afforded us and cocooning from all social contact. Much like leprosy, but only in reverse.
Are humans really social creatures? If we are, why do we deal out so much grief unto one another? Is this the epitome of socializing? Whatever happened to empathy? Whatever happened to our larger brains, our developed state of higher consciousness?
Apparently I didn’t get the job that I had wanted. Lost out to a nerd. Guess I was too expensive for them. I hope he fares well, and that the company goes on to greater success without me. Wish they had told me that I didn’t get it though. I didn’t get the news from the horse’s mouth. Does it speak of a lousy human resource department, or just plain bochup on the hirer’s part?
Anyway, after yet another rejection added to the overly long list in my life. Back to trading. I had to re-adjust, re-focus and re-finance. The mental battle was almost insurmountable. My father gave me a pep talk too, about not wasting my life away, and to get a job. It was a very tough conversation, being judged before the final bell, and having no support from the sides. However, I held on to my balls, and decided to give trading another shot before throwing in the blood-soaked towel. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. February, suddenly it doesn’t seem that far off now.
On the topic of throwing in the towel, a dear friend of mine just did, and decided to pick up his set of ball and chain. He is the same age as me, and has been saving up for his big day. He is plunging headlong into the abyss, to be forever locked in holy matrimony. I’m wishing him all the best, and that we should all be this lucky, to be certain at this age, irregardless of the million other factors that our fractured psyches seem to enjoy bringing to the fore.
My grandma celebrated her 83rd birthday the other week. That’s one heckuva long time to be on this planet. I cannot imagine the multitude of stories roaming about in her head, a treasure trove of secrets and deceits, chapters on the triumphs of the human condition, and volumes of miscellaneous experiences. If only I could record all that data for posterity. Interviewing her and collating all that into a book would only be bringing her realities through the unfocused filter of my myopic pen. Such is the tragedy of our fables. Each generation fucks them up with their own salts and peppers. Seasonings of falsehoods, they are.
I’ve yet to catch a single movie since Supes. I shall resign myself to my trusty WWW to scratch my movie-watching itch. Pirates, Fast and Furious, Thank you for smoking, and shitloads more. It’s the summer man, DAMN! Brain fodder.
*Save me – Remy Zero*
Been watching quite a few Tv serials though. Entourage, Lucky Louie, Kyle XY, Jericho, Top Gear, Fast Inc, Blood+ and Eureka. Good stuff all. The Truth, I prefer TV land to movies. Watch as the power in Hollywood transfers back to the small screen.
Being in your own world has its perks. You lose track of time and become a ghost within a shell, really embracing the standalone complex that technology like the net has afforded us and cocooning from all social contact. Much like leprosy, but only in reverse.
Are humans really social creatures? If we are, why do we deal out so much grief unto one another? Is this the epitome of socializing? Whatever happened to empathy? Whatever happened to our larger brains, our developed state of higher consciousness?
Apparently I didn’t get the job that I had wanted. Lost out to a nerd. Guess I was too expensive for them. I hope he fares well, and that the company goes on to greater success without me. Wish they had told me that I didn’t get it though. I didn’t get the news from the horse’s mouth. Does it speak of a lousy human resource department, or just plain bochup on the hirer’s part?
Anyway, after yet another rejection added to the overly long list in my life. Back to trading. I had to re-adjust, re-focus and re-finance. The mental battle was almost insurmountable. My father gave me a pep talk too, about not wasting my life away, and to get a job. It was a very tough conversation, being judged before the final bell, and having no support from the sides. However, I held on to my balls, and decided to give trading another shot before throwing in the blood-soaked towel. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. February, suddenly it doesn’t seem that far off now.
On the topic of throwing in the towel, a dear friend of mine just did, and decided to pick up his set of ball and chain. He is the same age as me, and has been saving up for his big day. He is plunging headlong into the abyss, to be forever locked in holy matrimony. I’m wishing him all the best, and that we should all be this lucky, to be certain at this age, irregardless of the million other factors that our fractured psyches seem to enjoy bringing to the fore.
My grandma celebrated her 83rd birthday the other week. That’s one heckuva long time to be on this planet. I cannot imagine the multitude of stories roaming about in her head, a treasure trove of secrets and deceits, chapters on the triumphs of the human condition, and volumes of miscellaneous experiences. If only I could record all that data for posterity. Interviewing her and collating all that into a book would only be bringing her realities through the unfocused filter of my myopic pen. Such is the tragedy of our fables. Each generation fucks them up with their own salts and peppers. Seasonings of falsehoods, they are.
I’ve yet to catch a single movie since Supes. I shall resign myself to my trusty WWW to scratch my movie-watching itch. Pirates, Fast and Furious, Thank you for smoking, and shitloads more. It’s the summer man, DAMN! Brain fodder.
*Save me – Remy Zero*
Been watching quite a few Tv serials though. Entourage, Lucky Louie, Kyle XY, Jericho, Top Gear, Fast Inc, Blood+ and Eureka. Good stuff all. The Truth, I prefer TV land to movies. Watch as the power in Hollywood transfers back to the small screen.
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