I'm On Warm Milk And Laxatives

Tonight the void is especially overwhelming. It feels that the world is too big, so much that it consumes us entirely. It might be the ending of the book. PKD's novels' ending often gnaw at one's mind. Do Android Dreams Of Electric Sheep is an excellent example. This book, which is endearingly titled Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said is no exception.

Sitting there in the dark, I have to blink to remind myself that I'm there. My chest is clinging to the folds of my vessels and spirits like anchor to the bottom of the ocean. Maybe it's my patient. A kindly old gentleman whom endured his gastric pain patiently as not to disturb the busy nursing staff, every word from him was a polite nod and smile as he could speak no further English than 'Yesh'. He was diagnosed with aggressive advanced cancer with poor prognosis today.

Maybe it's just me. Wanting attention again, kicking up a fuss. Like a baby who cries even after he got the candy. But somehow it's not just that. I'm too tired to care about myself tonight. I have to blink to remind myself that I exist. At all.

Maybe all I need is some sleep. I refuse because I don't believe in sleep. Why, she had asked. Because, I replied, I believe we only exist for as long as we are awake.

Life is too fleeting to remain nonexistent.

Thus the irony in existing to be play host to parasitic void. Bittersweet infection.

Next book, Kierkegaard.

When the world ends, all that remains are tapeworms, ticks, sand wasps, guilt and regrets.

Democracy

When the world ends, all that remains is this post.

I don't get it. Why would the world best democratic countries believe in democracy politically, yet not spiritually?

How come we don't get to elect God?

They like to condemn our government for being authoritative. They say we are not totally free, like them.

What's wrong with authoritative government? Parenting is authoritative. Parents take over duties of governing our education, keeping us safe, put food on table, restrict bad company, forbid us to date when we are immature and give us curfews, because they want what's best for our interest. Nobody would dare to say parenting is fascism. Our government has been role model parents since the beginning. They protect us and chide us harshly when we stray, only because they have our best interest at heart.

You can never judge parenting. The bond between every child and parents vary. The dynamic between a country and its leaders vary. Don't judge us, because your democracy is not infallible.

Yours did produced Robespierre and Hitler.

The Animals I Trapped, Has All Become My Pets.

When the world ends, all that remains is the room I never get around to clean.

Recently I started watching the telly again. It's strange, just when I thought local TV has nothing meaningful to offer other than mimicking HongKong and Korea's fanfare waste of large family drama with blood conflicts, deceits and finally poetic justice, redemption to round them up in a 'Ah man, why are we killing each other like this? Ah man, ain't blood thicker than water? Ah aw aw ha ha ha...' Bah. Then came along a small budget educational series called 'By My Side' or 不凡的爱. Think blood is thicker than water again? What about tainted blood?

Though educational and filled with repetitions of debunking Aids' myths, the story is nevertheless well woven. Instead of condemning the diseases and the victims with 'This is what you deserve for fucking around', it plunges well intended and kind characters into spiral torments of the disease's demises, showing that anyone could be susceptible. And he comes haggard, diseased and feared. Kind of makes one wonder if it's better not to know at all.

I have never seen a breakdown of a character and the complete destruction of a life in just a mere second. Usually one have to work into facilitating main characters into his downfall. Probably an episode or two. This only takes a second to the doctor's office.

The disease process of Aids is not that scary, say compared to cancers. It takes five to ten years to kill the immunity system and what with better medications these days to slow it's progress, one could still function in society.

However it is often the society that kills Aids' patients than the illness itself. No matter how advanced we think our civilization has become or how enlightened or progressive we are, the sole topic of Aids immediately turn us back into the Dark Ages. Witch hunting, outcasts, group discrimination, warmongering and fear take precedent to sensibility. We now know that how Aids could have spread, yet we continue to fear. Fear is alright, it pushes us to find solutions to cope and to survive. But irrational fear based on ignorance, selfishness and of most insecurity will kill us all one day. Cue The Crucible, the rise of Hitler, la Grande Peur and McCarthyism.

The affected family was immediately marked when the news leaked. Extreme communalism wiped out whatever logistic resources, friendship, welfare and employment opportunity they owned. The parents warned their children to flee away from their disease-free girl. The disease-free wife has to take up to three jobs to support the family and has to travel out of the vicinity to buy grocery. Short of stoning them, the social stigma weights crushingly onto them.

One mistake and that's it.

It is the ugliest disease because it punishes people for enjoying relations. It punishes people for unfaithfulness. It punishes people for practicing pre-marital sex. It punishes people for drug use. It is no more a medical illness, it's a moral indignation. It is pure judgment.

Aids kills is an understatement. It ruin, destroy, butcher, devastate and torture it's victims. Aids is a simple illness. It does two things. It deplete Helper T cells collapsing the immunity system and it is contagious. How could such simplicity be allowed to be blow up to magnitude?

I want to say it's the work of God. But I find it hard to explain why He would hurt his own children so. Maybe we had never been perceived so in the very first place.

Throw Down Your Umbilical Noose So I Can Climb Right Back

When the world ends, all that remains is your suicide note.

Sometimes we have talked about your death. I guess, you had to die. Fundamentally, you were always the Ouroboros. The extent you have devoured yourself forces you to choke on yourself, in spit, gunfire, overdoses and die repeating 'I love you, I love you.'

On a brighter note, at least you don't have to live to see High School Musical.

Bro, I tell you, it's real bad. The day that High School Musical 3 came out, rockers with balls and integrity became gods as they just went ahead and off themselves. And what remained are the rest of us pussies. I lived my life, closing my eyes and hasten my footsteps each time I crossed cinemas, record stores, reflecting ponds and young people.

Everyone are ready to dance. They snap their fingers and they are ready, always. Where were the few good men when such abomination was allowed to rise?

If only I was gutsy.


 

Take Me To The Place I Love, Take Me All The Way

When the world ends, all that remains are the words you wrote in my Mandarin textbook.

It's been two months since I last blog. I return to find out I have not change. Nothing change. Pee Wees still whining about the love they don't deserve. Little Ikes continue to rave about teenage angst, brittle tangerines of their ceramic lives. And I. I came back unchanged. Unevolved. I secretly beginning to conclude that we are all afraid of change. Fretting about switching a brand new career and start over. Worrying about marriages and having kids. Vacillating in leaving your abusive partner once and for all. Never turning back.

The reason why we are afraid of change is that we fear that even after change, everything still remains the same. A great leap forward into yesterday.

His dirty blond hair swirled a cloudy dance as he pulled back and forth from the mic. 'Dive! Dive! Dive! Dive in me!' His throat croaked to the thousands of Pee Wees and Little Ikes. His jugular arteries pulsating so hard to the twin beats of the snare and power chords that his fingers felt waves of needles and numbness. Waves of electronic orgasms. He strummed hard at his torn left-handed fender and pushed on the chorus which sounded deafeningly like 'Die! Die! Die! Die with me!'

We're all afraid that we will forever be the same.

Zephyr, Liberty and All Their Aviator Fiends.

When the world ends, all that ever remains is the silence you gave when I asked for your forgiveness.

I used to sleep under the dinning table. I used to sleep under the study table. I used to sleep in closet. I was desperate then, I would do anything to sleep. Nowadays I would do anything not to sleep.

Sleeping is for the dead.

Love Will Kill Us All

When the world ends, all that ever remains is the faint scent of your hair conditioner.

If ever, if only I am able to articulate my mind finally, open my mind to the world, everything will pale.

But here I am, the perfect cage to hold in the sun of my mind.

The perfect idiot.

I have some time, I thought right square this seven pm. The record store's a stone throw away. I should just pop in and see how the world has changed in my absence. It has. The Cure, Kaiser Chief and Keane each released an album.

The perfect hermit.

I have this story on Cosmic R. Set in motion of now and years unborn of five hundreds years. It will be rich in history, karmic revolutions, physics, human triumphs, freakish characters, human decline and sentinel planets. A love story. It will always be a love story. There is nothing greater than a love story. Everything should be about a love story. A love story that I could never have. In Cosmic R, love though indestructible, will never be found.

What's the season of love if you can't love anyway?

I woke up at four in the morning and set my world to snooze. Woke up five minutes later and set it to snooze again. And again and again. Five O five. Five ten. Five fifteen. Again and again until the sun came up on six thirty five. How amazing is the tiny button called snooze? It gives you assurance of your liberty before you wake up to a world that will snatch it right away. Right away, Sire.

Terra in Cosmic R doesn't have two things; sun and liberty. Multiverses multiplied and vibrated like deranged molecules, characters are shitty two dimensional, they are ceramic dolls, motifs' a moot, stories overlaps and refuses to seam. Truth, beauty and meaningful murders will be lost in my abyss. I can only resort to angst writing and rhyme fuck with fuck. 

I listened to The Cure's

The perfect boy.

I sat in front of the computer hours later. My bedhead's to aside, my right hand possessed a will of it's own. It subscribed to a religion, the religion believed that with enough scratching of the head, eventually the scalp rots and gives way to the wisdom within. My right hand is devout and zealous. Sniff and scratch em'.

If only I could articulate my mind.

The perfect If.
 
 

陳奕迅 "不要說話"

Madagascar Penguins in a Christmas Caper