the OST
(Monday, September 25, 2006)
finally, i found a way to extract some tunes i heard from movies by searching via wikipedia instead of trying to remember the lyric word by word.
i've never felt more superior.
finally, i'm home.
(Thursday, September 21, 2006)
got myself all swelled up for a fucking walk at the mall tonight so i could get myself something, whatever. be it books, records, porn, sandals, boardshorts, gadgets, whatever. it's like an itch in on wound, you know it's gonna scar permanently, but to scratch it with utmost force seems like the epitome of the whole fucking situation.
the world loves dramatic ending. with a punch.
back to my room, i was all prepared to leave the fucking house, to fucking retreat into an neglectful cosmic, pleanty of room of absent crowd and attention and fuck all, the spur of mood just fucking bouyed away like talibans in afganistan. probably faster, i don't know.
the world adores a supersonic revolution.
so it was complete jack off because i didn't really want to go out anymore but i already changed and bathed coherently for the apparent exile. instead i anchor my butt on the couch doing some reading queen of the damned which i have been doing for almost 4 months, while watching television. the programs wasn't invitationally interesting nor funny. charlie sheen was in a sitcom that was too cliche and a local reality show with G's friend in it was as good as watching well-oiled wrestlers trying to lick their elbow, ridiculously nominal.
the world should fucking try to outlive that reality tv show phase. and CSI too. those fucking geeks.
the shift wasn't prolong and now i'm here, listening to dave mattews which i have not done for eons, rhetorically blogging without a foul or acrimonious issue to compel but still writing for the sake of sordid retrospective humour. yeah, as if things are unceremonial yet again.
the world needs a day off from calamity.
how was your day.
()
notice that i never put a question mark on the title? it's not a question, i asked, but i don't really intend to know the answer.
i attended a photography course yesterday. photography using a fucking phone camera by Nokia. maybe to most of the ignorant people around, it's a fucking 1 day course but i think it was more like a brainwash session. they attached some devices around your eyes so you can't close them, then they show you some really gay porn genital close-up so that it'll give you nightmare, well, it was more or less equivalant. and if you're gay, i'm sorry, i can't cater for everyone that lives.
here's what you get, chunk a bunch of camera freaks into a room and brief them on the history of camera phones, the grandeur of shooting with phones instead of slr and the fun of waxing your nipple. though we know it was all painful and a mile a way from the truth, we endured the baneful hours, just because these nokia bastards were sincerely teaching us on the implementation of photography a fucking phone, AND, there's an AND, they were supposed to ditch out A FREE PHONE. it was the latest model, not that i give a fuck about the phone cause i wanted to sell it off more the monetary purposes.
given all the fucking rantings and the lack of cam-ho' photos in the beginning of the post, i'm sure even a monkey could have guess that i won jackshit. YES, infuckingdeed i won jackshit. curse the nokia marketing team! incidently, that was what we were doing to the phone due their imcompetence.
ultimately, they fed us well. so well that i felt like a japanese wagyu, nice fat and drunk so that i will not retaliate if they ever want to slaughter me, besides, i taste fantastic. being conned there is one thing but the quality of the meal servings are avant garde. i wonder if i could use the word avant garde.
where's my 1979?
(Tuesday, September 12, 2006)
you know, when you listen to corgan's most tangible piece, 1979, over and over again for a few hours straight, you'll wonder whatever the fuck happened to your 79'. did you just missed the 79' or it was so good, you felt jack shit when it happened and it was over before you could actually enjoy the orgasm. well, that's too bad, innit, some people have sex without orgasm. who fucking cares.
the point is, i think most people are talking shit when they fucking preach about tomorrow never come and all that jack but all they fucking do all day is sit and whine about how fucking unfair the world is, because their ass hair is shorter than other's. fuckers keep indicating that if we don't fucking enjoy our life now, you might just fucking go to heaven and it's all about being nice, there's no fucking piece of action there no more. oh gosh, doesn't that give you a significant degree of concern? correct me if i'm wrong, but if you lived gracefully, death's not a boundary, maybe it's the end, but at least it's a good end.
man, i've not blog for so fucking long, i can't even write anymore. sheesh, maybe i should consider going for english classes again.
12.00am
(Sunday, September 10, 2006)
he asked, 'what now?'
and he didn't have the answer for it, for the firs time.
(p/s he should stay in school longer, innit?)
the neighbourhood
(Wednesday, September 06, 2006)
kimak-street.
kimakkimak's house is way too good for everyone else.
Jon's house looks like it's on fire.
!07's (Loi, get it?) house is just over the fucking top. like seriously.
Claire's house is 3d and she did a half ass job painting it.
me's house has got a dog or a tree on it. i don't know. you tell me.
jen's house is not square. sort of round. the roof is round too. apparently she said it's scary. (well, everyneighbourhood has to have one of them haunted ones)
Fafat's house is...nice. wtf.
lynn told me her house is big but it's about the same size as any other houses.
Jess's house is like Jon's but it not on fire.
what is it all about?
back.
(Friday, September 01, 2006)
finally, after 9 fucking long months, the house finally has connection to the fucking internet again. no thanks to telekom malaysia berhad.
however, words do not do justice to the way i feel now. ironically, i've out of words to say.
now, if you excuse me, i need to download 8 month's supply of porn.
Adiós
fuckin' A
()
apparently, i got internet connection at home.
you can lick my fucking ass, telecom.
period.
