The Cowboy And The Great Alien Invasion

There is not a single day I don't miss my secondary school friends.

I'm such a fag.

Awake In My Arms You Cry Unharmed

Once I learnt that dreams were merely succubus in nature, they cockteased you with possibilities of the other life you wished you had or with the ones you had and lost.

Only the dark materials of the underworld match such villainous seductions.

I hate to dream. It's waking up from robbery of existences. The best kinds.

If God had exiled from the Silver City, then He must have come to the dreamworld. The familiar touch of snatching away paradises as soon as they were given to you was uncanny.

The bully and the kid with lollipop. Mother of all bullies.

I couldn't remember most of them dreams. Just dull heartaches of not knowing what killed me. Some of which I could remember were the worst of all them dreams. They became the ones which haunted me from then on.

There was this one few years ago, Joyce was sitting beside me on a double decker bus. The temperature was sub zero, the windows misting and the imagery's all bruised. She pulled out a large blanket and covered us. You could never picture how heart wrenching it was when I woke up to find myself alone. Alone in the sunshine.

I hate to dream because I am powerless to live it. I loathe to be the passenger, the pillion. I started to figure out how not to dream again. How do you fight dream? They conquered me again and again, usually three to four times a month.

I dreamt that I was on a roller coaster adventure with Alfred and Ah Boon.

I dreamt that I was holding a wondrous conversation with Marcus.

The worst of all, the motherfucker of all bullies: I dreamt that I was in a park with Joyce, she turned around and asked me coldly, 'It's been so many years, how come you have never come and find me?'

I woke up in million pieces and in the back of my head I screamed to get back. So bad, I want to squeeze myself back into dreaming! I want to go back into the park, take her hands and stay with her there forever. I flopped myself back in the bed, away from sunshine, my head deep in covers, my eyes shut real tight. Let me go back. But it doesn't work that way. I'm just a passenger, in your one way trip, in your candy car of 'what ifs'.

I hate to dream. So bad that once I discovered that them dreams usually come at the REM cycle of sleep, I set alarm clocks to wake me up in intervals between a single night, so I could not lapse into REM dreams.

If I look tired to you and eyes shot, kindly pardon me, I had been up fighting myself.

Hyouryu Kyoushitsu

If I could have a wish.




Just one.




I wish that time is no longer linear.

Prayers

shit piss fuck cunt

Damn My Education I Can't Find The Words To Say With All The Things Caught In My Mind

I looked at us: We walked around with loss expressions as if we had lost something.

What have we lost?

I fear, is the ability to remember what we have lose.

Carry On Wayward Son

10-years old girl playing on keyboard.She's just fabulous.

豪門夜宴 (The Banquet)

I wanna watch this show again!!!! Got Beyond! Got HK all stars!

What Do You Wanna Be In Your Next Life?

It's too late to choose in this lifetime now.

My only hope is reincarnation.

For the next one, I want to be a pot smoking hippie.

I'll fly like paper, get high like planes.

M.I.A. - PAPER PLANES

All I Wanna Do Is Shoot You And Take Your Money

I have not post anything for quite a while and wasn't intend to do so all the way until December. But my low tolerance for crappy movies had to draw me out to the opening. The Happening had asked for it. Then I was depressed. Work becomes a slaughterhouse, we are all motherfucking butchers. I started drinking. For like three hours at the bar. Alone, right smack in the afternoon. Only poor souls drink during the day. All I want to do is to write. I'm narrating every detail in soft womb of my head. It was afternoon, the sun was out there on the window. It's amazing how bartender of an empty bar had so much to do, cleaned the sun off the window, cleaned the water off the glasses, rinsed pieces of metal for the thousandth time. God. Repetitions. Shouldn't bar tending supposed to be interesting? You bet it's way better than wiping asses, emptying urine, stuffing suppository up the butt, getting HIV through needle pricks and still go home with a lousy paycheck. I don't mind nursing actually. I have come to like it. I like the human contact. I like to be needed. I like to help. I like the conversations. I like the rush. I like old folks.

I just don't like to kill.

But now I'm sober. I can't write any more. Not at least until December. I wish I could have weed instead of medical oil and Vicks noserub. I am not a very patient man. I wish I could just write all day. I was going through my old discs the other day and found a backup of my really ancient stories. Some dated far back to year 2003!

People should really work for a year in their life and that's it. Get the experience of busting their asses for minimal wages and retire. Yes. I like coming home tired and lost, take a hot shower, have a warm meal and jump into the bed with your loved one. You will sleep like a baby. It helps you to appreciate life more. But I don't want to do it everyday for sixty years until I'm too old to pee straight or get an erection. All I want to do is to write and take your money.

Pray come December. There are some many shit I want to do. To write an hour everyday for the rest of my pissin' life. To watch all my favorite movies again and again. To learn how to ride a motorbike. Get married. Sleep without fear. Get a tan. Read every book. That's all I wanted. I don't need fancy life, don't need cocktail parties, I don't need new friends, I don't need your appreciation, I don't need your rejection or approval, I don't need a car, I don't need to win, I don't need a new heart, I don't need more desires, I don't need to excel.

I just need to grow up.

And take your money.

The Pineapple Express

Judd Apatow comedies rock!

Shyamalan Owes Me Fourteen Bucks

My god, Night you owe me fourteen bucks. In this world where you could rip/stream/download movies for free, I chose to pay to watch your latest offering in the theater because I've believe in you, always. So much that I have to watch it the day it rolled out in the silver screen, honoring our patronatus relationship.

After the movie when there was a stunning black screen and your name came up, I actually spit in the cinema.

Yes, I'm furious. In this dumpster of a world where BS like Scary Movies can have a reception up to a quadrilogy, and the same public disease goes on to draw cretins into the likes of America Pies and monkey testicles and baby urine parodies all in all into a fist of neurotoxins detaching mankind's nervous systems with their ordinated higher intelligence, devolving them into the same generation of monkey testicles and baby urine, you have all the nerve to join them. You have purpose, a role in the levitation of cinematic greatness and our appreciation for intellect. You were supposed to be the beacon like the likes of your character - David Dunn, Lucius Hunt, Cleveland Heep or Graham Hess. To inspire and to challenge us. But you went ahead to grow a pussy.

What the fuck is HAPPENING to you?

The cast is all wrong. Wahlberg despite his years in Hollywood learnt nothing about acting at all. Deschanel is plain painful to watch. I can't believe you get all these mumbling douchbags to suceed Giamatti, Phoneix, Gibson, Osment, Willis and Jackson. The only one good actor Leguizamo you have him kill barely twenty minutes into the film.

Where are all your Chehkov's guns, your third act twists, your deus ex machina? And where the fuck are you anyway? Just because critics booed you for taking too much screen time in Lady In The Water, you hid like a pussy?

When first I heard about the plot about neurotoxins and how the movie was rated R for its horror, I applauded. There were so much room for imagination, chaos and horror. People nowhere to run. Death! Despair! Destruction! It turns out to be an appalling lifeless ripoff of The Mist.

Bro, you owe me fourteen bucks. And more of it, you owe me an artistic responsibility and my faith in modern film making.

Go back to Guantanamo. You lazy son of a bitch.

512 Teacher

512 Father

512 Mother