a leave of absence

my time with the crystal merchant is almost over.

i'm off, to see what winds lie ahead of me.

to dust off my red dye and fill it up with life once more.

and a note to future me:

is facebook your social resume? if so, too bad. dont ever let that be.

one snowy night

i agree, wednesdays are good coffee days. so yes :)

lima, peru (i)

Here it began, and here it all ended. I find myself in a small, kinda grinny looking store, front open to the narrow streets of the back alleys, check. Ceiling fan grinning away overhead, check. Smell of cheap stale cigarettes lingering in the air, roger that. Cheap cracked walls with wooden self made tables and stools, absolutely. Up front kids playing catch with puppies, kicking balls around and making funny faces that seems only the pups understand. Empty stacks of beer bottles on one side and stacks of dried bread on the other.

Leo (last name unknown) insists that here, in what you might call a torn-down place of a cafe, lies the mother of all mothers. Café con leche. Scalded goat milk with bold coffee. Yes. None of that expensive creamer/milk wannabes and no instant coffees. Pure and simple. Coffee with goat milk, and i fell in love.I truly understood why coffee in Peru are drinks of royalty.

Leo was an Australian who immigrated to Calgary and found life with the tar sands. Being in the union and all, life was pretty much set for him. No matter where he went, the union always had his back. He could come back 6 years from now and still get a decent non-minimum-wage kick-ass of a job if he so wishes.

We met at the España few days back. He's here living off the land and touring the whole southern continent. We sat, talked and discussed how our travels have been so far. Exchanging tips and pointers, we found that we had something in common. We both, still to this very day, loved our large double-doubles. owh yeaaa.. so good.

to the future

kids

I also met a cyclist (whose name escapes me) in España. He was sitting at the patio, all smeared up to the bone with dirt, cooking his dinner with his camping gear. In his eyes you'd immediately notice that he's the kinda guy who would look in the mirror and never, ever, felt ashamed of himself.

I was ticked.

I knew this man had stories and i wanted them filling up my brains. I mean, how often do you see a person sitting in the middle of the patio, with an open fire, cooking dinner in a hostel? You tell me? He told me he's been cycling for 4 months now in the south, another 2 to go ending in Colombia. Living life cycling and sleeping on the road was a no brainer for him. He loved it. Being free and what not, he starts as early as the sun rose and stopping whenever tired. Gump much?

the sun

He told me this is his second tour. First was 6 months from Europe to Asia. All the way from Sweden to India (and yes, crossing the war zone), and all the way cycling (except for one stretch in Afghanistan where he had to take a bus because cycling is not prohibited along the desert highway). No biggie.

Good luck my friend. May we cross paths again, and i truly mean it.

espana's front desk

the alarm clock

Lima, a place full of life, a melting pot. Its where you'll find people from all over and beyond. Sitting at the main plaza, an old lady came up. She spoke spanish and i english. But this much i understood: "If you ever come back to Peru, i will be sitting right here waiting for you on that very day", smilingly she said.

the morning after

spanish dances

And of course i eventually did come back, 6 months later, but she wasn't. Nonetheless, i sat on the same spot for the second time and paid my respects to her promise. I felt accomplished and loved.

boom-de-ah-da

The world is awesome.

I am a junkie when it comes to this. And i find this absolutely brilliant!

Definitely makes academia worth it.

I love..

Boom-de-ah-da, boom-de-ah-da.

i met the walrus

Brilliantly animated. There's something kinda gumbo-ass about this.

I leave the thinking to those more qualified, i think.

Peace.

Increasingly, or never our hearts off.



interview done in 1969, by a 14 year old kid named Jerry Levitan who snuck into John Lennon's hotel room in Toronto and convinced him to do an interview.

all nighter

The misty eyes of reminiscence always comes up emotionally. And I completely understand why.

an oasis of sound

- a simple and happy tribute to an amazing perspective to sound. they dance but mostly they pray bout love and war. thank you neil young.

the shell

-vulnerable, that's why i'm beautiful.

requiem for lennon

- you may say i'm a dreamer.

blind

-simply too bright

pasar malam

i love adrenaline

humans are dead

under pressure

angels

no more nukes, no more nukes

weekend

Its one of those days where you know the day before was a lot lot better, and you're begging like a child for a simple second of sweet yesterday.

But no.

Always moving, always looking, trying so damn hard to satisfy to the very best of my abilities, my simple curiosity about a world, that only a few years back i've seen nothing off.

When I first set out, everything was new. And looking back, always the same usual monotonous voice creeps into my head saying: 'look how green you were back then man... and of course, the classic, what in God's name were you wearing?!' There's always things that you wish you'd done differently.

But mind you, this aint regret. I mean I still, and always will, love those moments, but if i could just squeeze a little bit more, perhaps my eyes would smile. Because hey, if your eyes are smiling, then you're smiling.

But I know if I could go back and warn little-ol'-mini-me here, he'd be like: 'I know I can't, I know I shouldn't, but I must'.

So I decided, plausible deniability was best. Live and be free my friend.

on a highway to hell

All this while a dip and nap would suffice, because otherwise lets face it, you're missing the point. I'm determined that on these plains I would find whatever it is that I'm looking for. Even if I dont know what that could possibly be.

But that aint the case. I'm in a place of fog and mist, where the very figure of the shadowy monster you might call 'the rat race' resonate through my over eaten imagination.

Its suppose to be a matter of physics. Plain simple. Pick a job, and stick to it. But life does not give you an A or B to circle. There always and forever will be C, D, E ... etc. Dear jebus, give me a rat. A rat so good you'll bleed from your ears if i tell you.

I'm a hardworking man. I deserve to be happy. Live the life in an independent republic of cocktail that takes away the wrinkles and eye sacks, and brings fourth the smiles.

Oh yes.

Oh yes you distant away imaginary illusion you.

recipe for my love

Note to self, 0.0 production. I'm still, weeks later, trying to make any sense of it. I mean, who saw this coming? When I get back, I figured I'll drop some acid, sit down and write up this work thing. Maybe thats what I need to do to see this straight, to impose some direction, some shape on what I saw.

When I started studying, it was always in my head to end up in an office, simply typing shit and singing my la-di-da all day long. But, it turned out pretty well this studying racket. I mean, i wouldn't go as far as recommending to others to do what I do. Im lucky to have ended up here. Its working for me. All those years of pain and paying attention to details allowed me to just relax and enjoy the moment in a spontaneous way. Allowing you to look around and notice so much more of the context of whats happening around you, who's around you, whats on the radio etc. In short, the major components of any experience.

All we are now are just the end result of centuries of trial and error, that we forget the roots of it. It's deeply satisfying to understand why things are the way they are. Pay a little more attention to the details, it'll tell you so much about not just the thing you're seeing, but where you're seeing it.

Hoping on the tram in the morning and hearing the conductor greeting "Good morning Ms. Robinson, looking good today," as you pass along an unfamiliar neighbourhood, where everything around you are alien. Sort of like the kinda things that you read in children's storybooks. Makes you warmer inside then any pancake waffle could ever do. I found paradise in that brief moment of clarity and I smiled the widest smile.

So here I am, in a sleepy middle of nowhere transit point on the way to somewhere else. Me, smoking my smokes... and of course, still singing my la-di-da. It will be hard. To put a cover on this face. But I suppose this is another part of life one has to indulge into. After all, its all about the next life anyway.

Someone should paint me a face like Mona Lisa.

what you see is what you dont always get

I'm awake. I think I'm awake. I can find out for sure if i open my eyes, although I doubt that it would make a difference. The smell of stale cigarette smoke, rattling noise of a cheap discounted fan, empty cans and crumpled up clothes. Yup, I'm awake. Although I can't really decide if yesterday was either summer or failure?

A new day emerges, and with it hundred new distractions bloomed like the malevolent desert flowers. I mean, why not? Life is a stage. Nowadays, there's no such thing as 'real life'. There's only 'themed life'. The kinda life that exist in our heads, a product of the mind trying to cover up for its old buddy, the heart. Against my better judgement, I've allowed myself to be sucked to a trip to a theme park of a mind inside a theme park of a mind. Now isn't that fantastic. I'm talking about punching you in the groin and slap you in the face kinda fantastic.

I've distracted myself too much. And by that, I've discovered my real source of non-stop hardworking, over the top, excruciating will to attempt at the thing we call academia that turns us all into walking zombies. Guilt! Plain and simple guilt. I mean, if I could go all out on things that are unadulterated worldly, why can't i do the same for things that are pure and wholesome? Realizing is step one of the guilt process. And now you'll see me running for the finish line.

Go in peace my little friend. Frolic at will.

But i am sad. Sad to leave behind my university life and travels, to a lustful rat race conformed deeply by society. I know they say that when travelling ends, its a great difficulty to return, if they ever return at all that is. People simply go bamboo over this. In my own travels, i've come across them many times. Take Joe for example who i met in Paracas, Peru. Previously an Alaskan fisherman, he came to Peru, searching for an everlasting joy of freedom to live off the land, fuelled by culture and fed by his everlasting charming smile. Once a frequent traveller, he simply turned bamboo and finally just never went home.

But why? Maybe everyone is looking for that special place that makes them say "oh dude, how can i look at this and go back? How could i possibly continue with life as it was before after seeing all this?" I know what i want when i travel. I wanna be still and take it all in. Listen... Keep listening and say, "it's like a dream, only better. Why? Because when I open my eyes, it's all still here". I want to believe that nothing in this world could ever make this dream any better. Blows the mind away!

But i am remembered that anywhere i go, i'll always say that i'm Malaysian. Always going through life by understanding, labelling and understanding myself. So how could any foreign place keep me from staying away from home? Travelling is and always will be for the everyday ritual.

So i embrace this conformity and live life as it is. There's more to see and much left to do in this big beautiful world of ours. And i dont intend to stop and sulk here over the death of university.

the desert

There's only one thing that i could say, and that is i am spoilt. With so many choices generously unveiling itself to me, its hard to chose just one thing. Over indulging is a line easily crossed. Especially when company is as abundant as the smothering baking desert heat, or as blissful as the blows of the mighty Jequetepeque wind that comes as early as the eyes are fresh from soundless sleeps.

So what should i do when I've had one too many? Or the balance of zen once again goes horribly weird, and that an over sized meltdown is creeping its way around the corner? Well, if you're like me, you'd make a trip to the land of plenty. I need help. Liver failing, lungs filled and the brain... well... the evidence is right before you my friend.

With everyday passed here, the heart becomes more and more silent. No longer it thinks about the past or future. It was content simply to muse over the desert, and to leave all that is bad behind. The kinda bad that makes you feel so dirty, yet so alive. Sort of like forbidden love, clandestine sex if you must. You know you shouldn't do it, but it feels so damn good.

Strangely enough, the mind agrees too. The heart and the mind had become friends, and neither of them betraying the other. Enlightenment perhaps? For a brief moment... well... yes, I think so. Life unfolds unpredictable ways. I'm still here, and forced to consider that I might actually 'be here'. I want to understand, reach into the Soul of the World, and be apart of it. And I know that in it, was my own.

I know, I know. I'm a total slut for enlightenment. What can I say?

the orange box

chalie brown

burro

charlie

the wind

the silent hello

moche ceramic

gandalf

the puzzling cross

huaca colorada

i need more of this

Tears of Royalty

The older i get, the more i travel, the lesser i understand myself.

It seems that the more places i perceive and encounter, the bigger i understand the world to be. The more of it i grasp, the more relatively little i know of it. How many more places i have still to go, how much more there is to learn?

Until finally, enlightenment?

Maybe this is refinement enough, to know that there is no final resting place of the self. No moment of smug clarity. Perhaps astuteness such as it is for now, is realizing how bitty i am, how feeble minded, and how much further i have yet to go.

Emotions that come with it all are the biggest challenge yet. Perhaps the concept of body mind duality is at its most distinct when it comes to emotions. The mind with all its logic, and the heart with its fragility, battling it out for supremacy. What is this all for you might ask?

Simple.

To the victor, granted the title of what we call 'reality'.

Perhaps i being the ungrateful being that i am, blurred my exit to it all once again. Or perhaps tears of a friend might show me the way, but maybe by then it already is too late.

So hold out a hand for prayer to the drop of salty water, in which we call the knowledge of the world. May you never touch the ground ever again.

Salute.

the other half

she'll be comin round the mountain when she comes

she'll be comin round the mountain

she'll be comin round the mountain

she'll be comin round the mountain when she comes

And for the record, making life-altering decisions during holidays are NOT COOL (yes, you know who you are. not cool at all). Low blow.

I believe the mind works in periodicity, and as phase diagrams. And everything, EVERYTHING is good when equilibrium is found. we sometimes need help from the 'outside' to find it. Or, just shut up and listen.

So... Repetez s'il vous plait:
Relajar.

half a heart

i will miss this little cute green garbage bin.

bus stations, airports... those are never good places to be at. especially after a wonderful travel.

c'est la vie. c'est la vie.

dreams last for so long...

i dont know what yours is, but mine was the ipod gig. my favorite.
yes, je me souviens.

goodbye little green bin.

the fruit

forbidden fruits, oh so good...

... and i can hear my soul screaming.

i need my salty water for summer.

Do-wah-doo

An evening of little Italy, coffee with 2 packs of sugar, supercute and kate nash. And let me tell you, supercute are literally super freakin cute! Check them out if you have the time. They’re trying to make it to the big guns.

And i learned that Italy looks like a boot. Poor geography skills on my part.

I was quick to realize how staying in one place for too long is not good for the mind. Everything seemed so blend, mellow, dull and confined. A quick show and tell by my buddy Tijana here snapped me back to life in travel boots. Toronto wasnt my home last night. It was my travel destination (for a good 5 hours). A life where every street is new, every people you meet are different from the one yesterday. A life where yesteryear doesnt exist. That is the heaven I wish to go to.

So, my first dash of live British music, and I loved it:

kiss that grrl

behind the curtains

bam ba dum ba dum ba dum

For the record, Mansion Song is a super angry song. Major stunner for Nash.

flowers and simplicity

seagulls

against the Brain

Ps:/ having someone to talk to and keeping me sane about you-know-who will surely be missed. thanks buddy... and I still owe you a cold one!

Pss:/ I have no idea why the pictures are non-'clickable' for the whole view. pissed.

Enlighten

Have my years of journey left me any smarter, or any wiser? Is enlightenment even possible? Or did I walked past it like a missed exit amongst many streets that seemed all too common for the naked mind.

“don’t tell me what a man says, don’t tell me what a man knows, tell me where he’s travelled”

-unknown prophet-

What about me? Until recently a schoolchild of the modern world, what the hell am I doing here? In a word, please don’t laugh... enlighten.

I am hungry. Hungry for knowledge of myself and knowledge of other worlds.

Over the years of my life, my only regret is not being able to enshrine those wonderful things that these eyes have witnessed, the sounds these ears have heard and the stray thoughts that this mind have strayed to. I fancy being able to look back and remember exact details of how experience unveils itself to me.

I am a sucker for pictures. To me, pictures are the essence of my journey. Be it losing my baggage, or penniless on the streets, or worrying which airport/bus station to crash in for the night, or even losing my passport would not be as devastatingly catastrophic as losing my camera... But, I know, that the best pictures are the ones that you just point your finger and say ‘click’.

So really, the best thing is for me to not lose my mind.

And so, this is the reason for my writings.

A book which I put my entire faith on starts with the words ‘read in the name of your Lord’, and so I start by writing on what someday I would be able to read back upon.