all the troubles that you have shown me is worth squat if compared to the things i’ve read in the papers.

stop feeling sorry for yourself and start making things go for you.

berlari terbang meninggalkan segala kesusahan dan harapan orang lain.

pentingkan dirimu sendiri dan saksikan semuanya meniggalkanmu.

semuanya perlu seimbang dan keseimbangan itu hanya ada padamu dan tidak pada orang lain.

berfikirlah untuk sendiri dan berhenti berharap pada orang lain untuk pendapat peribadi sendiri.

biar berpeluh jerih dalam panas terik kalau apa hasilnya yang akan kudapat nanti milikku.

…

this is what would come on the screen whenever the subject sleeps. the brain scans on the patient shows that the activity centres that is active is only the parts for listening and speaking. the parts for memory, sight and emotions is never active, only the parts for the most basic of bodily functions are working as normal.

the only reason someone would know the difference whenever the subject is sleeping or waking is by the difference in the output of the machine.

once the researcher tried leaving the room for a whole day to find out what the output on the screen was, and what he got was his whole day narrated meticulously.

all his activities, even trips to the toilet and the pickings of his nose was documented.

the main researcher thinks he knows what is going to be the focus of the subject’s narration, but he couldn’t be more mistaken he truly doesn’t know. such as now the researcher thinks the focus would be about him thinking that he know what the focus of the subject would be but actually the topic now is about his friend’s wife.

his best friend’s wife is currently participating in a talent tv show where the contestants are locked up in a mansion and trained in show arts

he remembered last night at his friend’s house while he was watching the tv together with his friend. how his friend who was wearing boxer pants and a t-shirt because it was hot. how his friend who watched his wife sing on the tv was excited in the wrong way. how his wife sang a dangdut number with moves that accentuates and shows her playful coyness to the most extreme. how the hip movements and her singing even elicited a grunt from his friend. how she growled when the show’s vj asked if that was how she sang in front of her husband, “oh! she plays rough!” exclaimed the vj, which was when he noticed his friend’s pink penis head peeking next of his friend’s hairy right thigh. it was when he excused himself and laughingly said that he needed to buy some sausages for his family’s barbecue tomorrow, this was actually a lie.

reflexively he pulls the wires from the sub vocal microphone and

of course the song that we sing now must end someday but until then, it will be the most beautiful of all. Garnished with sorrow and joy, pleasure and pain. A hot day ending in rain.

our heartbeats and footsteps are the rhythm and the constant hum of thoughts in our head as the current melody signifies the presence of each other

we complete each other’s song and none is leader of our dance.

we are a singularity of two.

I wrote that inspired by the song ‘A Slow Dance’ by the band Explosions in the Sky from their soundtrack album of the film Friday Night Lights.

Actually I wrote that with the intention of turning it into a short story but honestly I lost interest because it was hard to sustain the melody and theme of the first few sentences to the end.

I might try though one day.

I am certainly sure that if I had finished it then and there when I had the energy and interest, it would certainly look different.

In  short what actually I tried to write was a story of a married couple who through cybernetic means became conscious and aware of each other’s thoughts,  like the real story of the British researcher that inserted a chip into his wife and himself. They did this in order to feel each others’ environment.

The frame of the short story was thus:

• i. realization that everything has it’s end
• ii. flashback on how it came to be
• iia. whose idea it was to do it
• iib. the physical things done to realize it (surgery, therapy…etc)
• iic. the moment it came to be
• iii. how they lived life.
• iv. the reaction of others
• v. their reaction to others
• vi. the future

Everything was to be written in the first person combined, meaning the voice of the narrator telling the story would be actually be the combined voice of the couple.

This was because in my reality of the story, they had lost each of their individual identity and assumed the identity of their combined self.

So, my gift to you is that; I give liberty in using the material i had put down here to do whatever you want with it. do a poem, a story, write a song, make a painting, a movie, an animation, anything . go nuts!

Put me in the credit and and give me a link to your work in the comments. and don’t forget to whatever you did with mine public. M<ake it shareable like i did if you want to, make it not if you don’t want to.

Go Nuts!

There was always a voice around the radius of my conciousness to write more in my native tounge, so today that voice won.

I need a new camera.

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a blog entry where in,
which the blogger posts what he wrote while taking shelter one rainy night at a bus stop.
This thing he wrote, although unfinished , became the central element of this blog post and therefore completes while being incomplete.
And,
the blogger will post a link, here, to the lyrics of the wonderful song by Elbow “Not A Job”. This would compel the reader of this blog to click on it and try to listen to the actual song which is really very good despite lack of attention from the maintream. The irony will then be, the blogger while blooging will try to give a different meaning to the song than what was on the link prior.
Additionally,
irony will arise in the realisation that this description is quite long itself.

I am the person that stands on street conners at night
Alone and silent
Sighing words of poetic consolotion to myself
A bit off center

I am one that says hello and good evening to strangers but hide when I see you
Odd and awkwardly I have no abilities for hissing bitter punchlines, but I know dreams that nobody understands eventhough for my personal one I am not even close to encapsulating it in words. This song have mentions some elements of imagery that I use as reference for emotions that I try to convey in my works.The walk through long grass is what I use for the emotion of peace without effort, The lovers at the station is the image for romanticism in modern times, notice the juxtaposition of human relationship taking place at a place associated with rapid transport. Even if the imagery is what I use, I have never been as good.

I saw an angel cross the street,
Eyes radiant, steps serene.
Managing not to overwhelm,
With skywide wings, made with light.

Grasping at words,
I said “Good Day.”

for T.S.Y.

Today I slept on the train and missed my stop and and continued to go for another three. Then there at Segambut I got off as to ride on the opposite line, making my way back. It was this decision made of early morning folly that lead to her.

Rosebud as lips
Tired even before the day started
Swayed by the shake and rattle
Serenaded by the uneven beats

Rosebud as lips
Hope you rest and start anew
My stop is here-
and so I leave.

Wrote this at the old station, where it is sometimes deserted and lonesome to be in and yet so comfortable and soulful, writing next to a bench here a guy slept, looking at his clothes he is not homeless, yet he doesn’t show that he is shameful to be supine and relaxed. Oh how I envy him…

I didn’t even saw rosebud’s eyes, but i know it was closed, her fingers was blocking her face and no I didn’t take any picture. I want to be the only one…

Heh…