With all my heart

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Lord,

grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love.

with all my heart, with all my heart.

Amen.

here comes the sun

a gentle warmth from a cold winter morning sun,

a simple beauty,

simplicity devoid of unnecessary elements,

a reminder of unspoilt times,

where thoughts were faster then tongue,

and life will go its way, but beauty can only be found.

empty page

I am, much to my surprise, am living in a peculiar relief of a bizarro world version of a real conflict. Things, to my limited knowledge of understanding, seemed back to normal, if normal even exits that is. Yet here I am, in the middle of no-man's-land yet again. A rural interlude away from nowhere, proving life ever more unpredictable. All over, the background of flickering drone of monitor sets and soft hums of heavy machinery fills the air . Life goes on, but as always, there's a blue lit reminder that somewhere across, all is not well. 

Its 3 am, and about 12 degrees. Im poaching myself in my own sweat, barely comprehending of the neon signs around or what they mean. The foreign tongue, the lingoes unpredictable pattern, a language i understand not at all.  The sense of time, as much predicted, seems circular rather than linear. 

There's something unsettling about staring at this beautiful wall of black cold winter night. Its ageless unearthly darkness radiates back silently. The endless horizon, the arid landscape or some mystical transference of energy that causes people to resonate at a different level. Endlessly cycling to destruction and rebirth. Just as these walls waited for the rest, it waited for me. Because in essence, i knew that is just an empty page, waiting to be written. 

Suave amigo, suave.

i got me a hat today

and it was a hard one

it shall keep me safe

and ugly too

but it's ok

as long as its sharpied on its inside

the sax

here,

in the busy mist of the city,

i hear a lone saxophone cry to the godfather song,

i searched in vain,

through the alleys streets and crowded people,

to the places of buskers and beggars,

but could not find,

then,

i knew what it meant,

alas tears cluttered my eyes,

Toronto is finally saying goodbye.

yonge-dundas from my window

i finally noticed

no awkward pauses.

yes yes.

its the time of year

good good good

it's snowing outside

Why live? Why now? Why?

Because I've always wanted to be here. This is kinda like the last unexplored frontier of my life where the word mysterious is practically created for this place. And of course, there's that amazing secret connection that people are always unaware off. Real people, real lives.

For some, its an empty place. To me, its a place of fog and mist. The me in the past wouldn't had understand this any better than me present. But do I? If you take the common reference point of hugs and kisses and pop culture stuff, then what's left? Nothing to do with hearts, mushy texts and sickening roundabouts. All you ever need is in their eyes.

" people talking without speaking,

people hearing without listening,

people writing songs that voices never share"

There's something kinda gumbo-ass about this, like a come-to-mamma moment, a holymother... ok, you get the picture... One of the things that I do know about this is the fact that it always sounds, to me anyway, like its something that would probably suck. But it does not suck my friends, oh no.

the most beautiful

a vast emptiness

But what is it really that I want? A giant vast land that streches out seemingly out forever.

So, I've got my giaaant cuppa coffee, and now the day may commence.

my mind

There is a place at the centre of the world, a rare and quiet corner in the middle of this noisy and chaotic world of mine with shady squares of what seems like a micro-second of an entire day. And the only way to get there is to stop.

Let me tell you my friends, in this minuscule, delicate, yet deadly place. This is where everyday, something magic happens. This place, as you are about to find out, has a scale of its own. Years could be spent on this place, if not a lifetime. Digging and scavenging in all effort trying to gather all the bits and pieces of all the string of thoughts that deposited like the tiny lumps of hair steadily collecting dirt of the corner floor. But still, I'd doubt I'll be able to make sense of any of it.

But no, this world is full of jealously guarded trade secrets, where real people, live real lives.

a theme for the new year

It seems 2011 began with a bad start. Maybe we need a little more of this:

ps: will continue writing asap.

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.