fading_sanity

what will you say when you see my face

What can I say, the man's a genius. I have nothing but utter adoration for him. Oh, how I love the torn and tortured soul. July is creeping by slowly and my days are filled with his wailing, live from L'Olympia, France.

The other day, a kind soul offered his words to me: "One must rest. Even skyscrapers can tumble. Not everyone lives in a Sex & the City world."

On one ordinary day, I told another person that "it was the least I could do as a friend."

Yesterday, I told B what I thought and she said I was "optimistic."

Somehow, the recollection of words and thoughts; if snowballed, would they make a grand yarn made with strings of words? I wonder if it's possible to do it. I'm feeling trippy tonight. I should dig up an old sketchbook.

[music for the soul: what will you say - jeff buckley]

on the rooftop

I accompanied a gf who moved in to a new spanking suite on the highest floor and remembered asking her if they had a rooftop. The scene was idyllic even from the balcony; so imagine the rooftop view. That night itself, I dreamt I was on the rooftop, in my right hand, my cell phone. It was daylight. And you could see the vehicles emitting smoke and the pedestrians rushing to their next destination. I stood there, listening to my phone ring. "Hi, can I speak to...' and I was left on hold. I heard voices in the background and just as the said person was about to speak into the phone, I woke up from my slumber.

I wonder, what does my dream have to say? I haven't receive any messages for a while. Maybe it's time to rekindle?

what I thought about running when I was running for the first time

It was a morning like no other because yours truly awoke at 6am on a Sunday and found herself making a warm oatmeal drink.

By 740am, she was walking on the streets of KL, together with thousands of others who've signed up for the Std Chartered KL Marathon. It was a spectacular view - the streets were closed to public and the buildings' inhabitants were tucked in bed all except for the full marathon runners who were pacing up and down - it was like, a horde of us had taken over the city.

At 8am, the 5km marathon began and I slowly jogged. Making my way through each streets sent an overwhelming experience to me. I could smell the air sans the pollution, observe nooks and cranny at every corner and telling myself, 'how come I've never seen this or that before?' On feet, I felt like I was every part of KL's essence. But I also know I had a race to complete. And the last thing I would want to happen is to pass out before completing the finishing line.

So the girls went ahead and I told them I couldn't run anymore. I will sprint once I'm near the finishing line and slowly, I couldn't see both of them anymore. I was on my own now. The walls have not appeared. The voice hasn't come on yet. One by one, runners ran passed me. Each time I saw a runner with a jersey that says '15km pacesetters 2007', I thought in my head, 'screw you!' But they made me run harder and I used them as my markers. I wasn't giving up on this.

As my legs slowly gave way, I ran towards the finishing line, together with hundreds of others. It was a minor accomplishment for an amateur runner but it was well worth it. The energy was contagious and I was still on a high. I wanted more. So I told the girls, we'll do the 10km marathon the next time.

And I went home and crashed for four hours.

three's a crowd

Ring, ring.

Squiggle, squiggle.

Silence.

Disposable love

On the roads, neon lights are flickering. The streets are abuzzing with these part-time lovers. They are scouring for their part-time partners. Sky-high platforms and glittery cabaret outfits are their uniform. They are putting on a performance.

I see her. She is lifting her arm, gesturing him to stop. But one after the other, they whizzed by. The expression on her face never changes. To her, it's a job. To them, it's a time filler.

Where alcohol is involved, there is such a thing called disposable love. There are no inhibitions, no cards placed on the table. Everything's a blur. All you want is a warm body under a shared sheet. And you leave when it's time to. But can you?

Rewind, play, forward.

[music for the soul: mojo pin - jeff buckley]

flashlights

from the top of my head

I think, most importantly, we should get going.

May we cast a vote and majority wins. Aye, aye.

The Pinkie Pirate doll which was given as a gift looks a tad lonely.

I think my feet is up for some form of exercise this weekend.

The last time I wanted to flick a pepper shaker, muscle man tsked me in public. I shall attempt that feat again.

The room is a war zone. No ordinary human can live here.

It's the third week into July. Hey, I meant June. The head doesn't send proper signals via the nerve receptors properly anymore.

I miss the rush, the chase.

[music for the soul: can't always get what you want - the rolling stones]

the calm before storm

We should learn to stop prophecising. We should learn to stop adding fuel to fire. We should learn to live and let live.

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part uno
part deux
part trois
part quatre
part cinq
part six