| Singapore Deathfest 2007 |
[July 30, 2007 @ 12:19pm] |
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mood |
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 cheerful |
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| [ |
music |
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Innards Decay - Sickness |
] |
It. Was. Amazing.
Massecration, Vrykolakas, Innards Decay, Arbitrary Element, Nafrat and Cardiac Necropsy fucking rocked it.
The venue was huge, and it still managed to look pretty full. I admit I was afraid that not many people would show up at first due to the change of time and date, but the amount of people who showed up was awesome.
Massecration was disappointed with their set, but I think it's the first-band-jinx that got them. They were actually not all that bad.
Vrykolakas - I stumbled over this band name so many times on stage and even told them to shut the hell up when I was trying to give the crowd a little background on them before the curtains went up. I think they found it funny. I know I did. I know the crowd did. Ana dissed the veteran band. I know. Anyway, Haniff did a good job on guitars even though he was worried he couldn't learn all the songs in time.
INNARDS DECAY WAS... I don't know, I'm lost for words. The way Amal does his vocals, that intensity, that rage, it's so seductive I almost expected the microphone to melt in his hands. The entire band has so much stage presence, they really worked the crowd. Coming all the way here from Kuala Lumpur was really worth it.
Arbitrary Element easily had the best skilled lineup among all the bands that were featured yesterday! The vocalist did remind me a little of our old vocalist Algernon though, which is never a good thing even though it was amusing. Nahar displayed such fluidity on the guitar, he's one of the most talented I've ever seen, and the bassist blew me away on his six-string. Which, by the way, was a beautiful six-string. White. Shiny. Grrrrr. Jem didn't like their cover of "Laid To Rest" though, he said they did it badly.
Nafrat. Where do I start? I've known Asmat for years, I ran into him a month after we opened the Hudsucker Proxy officially on my birthday a year and a half ago, and I found out he was playing in this kickass band. Ever since then, they have only jammed at our studio, even after we stopped doing business and started using it only for ourselves and a select group of friends. And yesterday was the first time I ever saw them play. Those guys really impressed me. Asmat makes playing the drums look way too easy and Haniff was cute, as usual. I adore Nafrat.
Cardiac Necropsy brought the most crowd. Lots of people in the front knew their songs. I sat on the side of the stage for this one. Their showmanship and professionalism shined through the entire performance; it was a riot when they posed for band pictures in between songs. I never quite understood porngrind, but I like them.
All in all, everyone enjoyed themselves. Emile, Fiaz and Kassim were disappointed cuz they were the only ones who seemed to want to mosh but then again, it was a death metal gig, not hardcore.
Pictures soon. I have to shower now.
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| Raine |
[July 20, 2007 @ 1:35pm] |
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mood |
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 giddy |
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music |
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Stolen Babies - Lifeless |
] |
She is an angel.
She gives me just enough comfort, just enough room to spill my frustrations. I alternated between crying and screaming and scratching myself, doing all simultaneously till I couldn't really breathe.
Then she was like a breath of fresh air.
Sanity is underrated.
It hurts now, my chest.
I'm not dedicated and I know nothing, nothing about passion for music. I am a fucking hypocrite. A fucking stupid hypocrite.
I just finished the executive summary for the Global Supply Chain Management seminar report we have to submit by today. I found so many grammatical errors and whatnot, and spent a good twenty minutes on those first. I need to put on my makeup, choose my clothes, feed Smoochie, get out of the house and crash study for my Customer Relationship Management test, which is exactly an hour and twenty-seven minutes from now. I am a trembling wreck but of course, nobody will be able to tell because I don't want them to. I like keeping my feelings under an invisibility cloak. It makes me feel full though empty, powerful, sceptical.
I will not go to our studio today. I will have a normal, quiet evening with Raine. I will be calm. I will not cry. I will not hate myself. I will not be his verbal punching bag. If only he could learn to channel some of the immense harshness and strength that is so natural to him when I am the subject to those two assholes, he'd have no trouble, no trouble at all.
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| Meow |
[July 14, 2007 @ 8:50am] |
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mood |
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 sad |
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| [ |
music |
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Gotan Project - Santa Maria |
] |
Rainie and I had lunch at Burger King before I went jamming. We got pretty dangly thingies for our phones at a dollar each, or something like that.
We're working on a new jazzy song that Annas wrote as a present for me. I kinda worked out the vocal melody already, but not the lyrics. That will come soon enough. I need the music to capture me first, make me feel magical, or even trying to write would be useless.
Speaking of songs, I think Siti's new French song is smashing. Can't wait to hear the completed version.
This little one was very weak, she doesn't have much longer left, I think. Notice her eyes? Almost black, pupils completely dilated, a sombre version of Puss from Shrek. She got me all nostalgic thinking of Phoebe, the kitty we rescued and nursed back to health once. Anyway, there were three more at the alley behind our studio, but I presume they're all dead. I wish I could do something for these poor critters to give them at least a fighting chance at life before they become too weak from not enough food and disease and drop like flies. There are just too many, too many of them.
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| Brush |
[July 09, 2007 @ 12:33am] |
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mood |
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depressed |
] |
Twelve-thirty-three in the morning.
Tears sting my eyes but I won't let them fall, not now, not while I am not sure of being strong enough to tell myself to dry my eyes in a couple of minutes. Hours.
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| More, Tonight |
[June 23, 2007 @ 3:18am] |
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mood |
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pessimistic |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Frou Frou - Let Go |
] |
Just like a star across my sky
Just like an angel off the page
You have appeared to my life
Feel like I'll never be the same
Just like a song in my heart
Just like oil on my hands
Oh, I do love you
I want to cover this song.
Mary got her conch pierced for seventy bucks this afternoon at that store where I can't understand what the people are saying unless I really concentrate, and they played Slipknot. Not that Slipknot is bad... But. Slipknot.
Siti and I sat outside waiting for her, we spoke about Trent and I whined about how badly I miss her. I do. I get mad whenever I think of her now because sometimes she calls and texts and emails madly, and sometimes she doesn't, and it's not fair because when I don't think of her all is fine but when I do, for some reason, I miss her so fucking badly it's not even funny. I miss The Cigarette After. Miss walking home. Miss her voice. Miss her messing up my hair. Miss laughing. Miss her making fun of me. Miss making fun of her. But then again none of this matters. The roads curved and curled her stomach, and they have led to somewhere.
Come back. It's still not even funny.
Next thing, it dawned on me today that I totally suck. Musically. I should probably throw away the whole idea of getting halfway to getting halfway somewhere right now and celebrate the hasty decision with a cigarette. An anger-flavoured menthol light. Sometimes I want it so badly, but the circumstances just don't fit and the anger comes, it seeps up through the soles of my feet from where it hides under the tar in the ground and it eats up my mind. I need to do something and I need to do it fast, or in two years' time thinking of anything "musical" I ever did will just be a plain fucking riot, and that's desperately sad.
So. It felt good chilling out today. Even if everyone has grown up.
Mary and Wati, I missed them so much. Siti, Gwen(Siti's new girlfriend with electrifying blue hair) and Danahinhugelenselessglasses saw the studio for the first time and I was just sad they had to see stripped of its glory. The Hudsucker Proxy. Dilapidated.
( I saw Siti's nipple piercings. Like oh. My God. )
I need to jam again soon. Tuesday, probably.
Songs To Learn:
Corrine Bailey Rae - Like A Star
Jeff Buckley - Forget Her
Nouvelle Vague - Love Will Tear Us Apart
Emiliana Torrini - To Be Free
The Cardigans - Love Fool
Eisley - Telescope Eyes
Portishead - Roads
Bic Runga - Sway
Esthero - I Drive Alone
(Thank you, Danah)
And the two originals need to be completed. They have no names yet.
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| Tar and Whispers |
[June 22, 2007 @ 2:27am] |
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mood |
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sick |
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music |
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The fan. |
] |
Twilight, affectionately known as dusk, or vice-versa, is my favourite time of day. It is when the sky changes colour and the sun proudly rides the sky until it dies. And the stars in Night's velvet negligee come out to play, parading their diamond dresses. It is the draping of thick dark curtains over the world full of little toy people walking around little toy tar streets riding around in little toy carbon-monoxide spewing vehicles, all absorbed in their pathetic little toy problems, in circles and circles they go.
Can you say "carbon monoxide"?
carbonmonoxide
arbonmonoxide
bonmonoxide
onmonoxide
monoxide
onoxide
noxide
oxide
xide
ide
de
de
ide
xide
oxide
noxide
onoxide
monoxide
onmonoxide
bonmonxide
arbonmonoxide
carbonmonoxide
"What are you thinking?"
"What are roads made of?"
"Tar, I guess."
I think roads are made of anger. Anger and frustration and tactlessness that lie in wait beneath the facade of tar. They come up to seize us through the soles of our stilettoes, sneakers, slippers and pointy-toed shoes. Up, up, up into our heads and out our mouths, straight into the hearts of those we love the most, and then they love us back a little less.
Bloody roads.
I am a little toy person going around and around inside my pitch darkness of my own head, laced with edges of leftover sunlight.
I have a secret. A twilight-coloured secret. A dusk-coloured secret. My very own Duskcoloured Toy Secret.
We played pool today, she with her perpetually beautiful, perfectly French-manicured nails on the dirty carpeted table, and I, and the guy who always matches her expensive watches with his own and the boy-man who occupies too little space in the world for his own good and wears his t-shirts inside out when the designs on them don't tickle his fancy. If one were to use a magnifying glass, I'm pretty sure one's smooth skin would turn goosepimply in half a second at what one would see in the (not so)fine hairs that make up that carpet. But of course, that is only an assumption I could make. I shared my Duskcoloured Secret with her, my dear friend with her Perpetuallybeautiful Perfectlyfrenchmanicured Nails on the dirty carpeted pool table. Nails like that only look nice on me for a little while. My hands itch for the guitar so much that I never resist it for very long.
carbonmonoxide
bonmono-
I miss him, already.
On the way home, I put that song on repeat again. I don't know the meaning of the words, but it is a song where wordmeanings are meaningless, where music and inflections in the tones of voice communicate directly with the Heart. There is no way one could write a song like that, unless they love someone like I love him. Unless they hurt but still feel alive at the sound of a single name in their heads like I do. His love is selfless.
My eyelids feel a magnetic pull downwards. It is 2.18am. I'm so sleepy, I just dropped my phone on the floor and the cover came off. Sleepy. It is time for my soul to either take flight, or follow his into the Room it disappeared into, it did, it did, I saw it go.
Goodbye land of the conscious living, hello Anastasia-shaped hole in the Universe.
I hope my Bright Eyes and Isis and The National and Beirut material is downloaded by tomorrow. The boy-man has spectacular taste in music.
Bjork's Volta is excellent feel-sorry-for-yourself music, but I've played it over and over so many times it just might jump right out of my Mp3 player and strangle me.
CocoRosie's The Adventures is excellent Fever Music, like I told Safraz. Speaking of Safraz, he owes me a revelation of sorts two days from now. The 24th. I haven't forgotten.
NIN's Year Zero is excellent distract-yourself-from-yourself music. Marilyn Manson's Eat Me, Drink Me would be wonderful music to fuck to but I never had the chance. No wait, maybe that would be too literal and who likes straightforwardness today, am I right or am I right? You go in circles on your little toy streets, go in circles with your figures of speech to drive home a single point. Only then is anyone ever satisfied. They revel in their own Twilight-Coloured version of the Truth in the meantime. Stupid little toy people.
Forgive me, I forgot what I was saying,
Oh yeah.
An Anastasia-shaped hole in the universe.
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| Good Morning, Midnight |
[June 20, 2007 @ 1:33pm] |
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mood |
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 blah |
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music |
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Cradle Of Filth - The Rape and Ruin of Angels |
] |
Thank you Anil for getting us that slot. Thank you Raine, Raj, Rusydi & band, Nad, Khairi, Carrie, Mandy, Deej, Su, Beck, Neek, Randall & Jem Tailford for supporting us on Monday. I love you. Thank you papa, for inviting so many people the place was too packed and for spending five hundred bucks though you didn't have to. Thank you mom for being nice to my friends. Thank you godbro Colin & wife for bothering. Thank you godpa and extended family and papa and mom's friends and colleagues for coming. Thank you Uncle John for offering us another gig to play at. Even though 90% of the people here will never read this, I'm grateful to them. And to Naz, jaan, I wished with all my heart you could've been there but I totally understand why you weren't, and I played you 311 over the phone anyway so that's all settled. =) Thank you Jenewenewemy for working so hard and Annas for apologizing when you fucked up. Oh well, it was only a small show anyway.
All I want to do right now is pluck the strings of that guitar and sing into that microphone. I want to be playing in that nameless band at the bar again. I want people to close their eyes over their ales and wines and fall into the sweet dreaminess that comes with melancholy serenades. I do not want to be sitting on a fucking train, fucking scenery going past in a blur, a too-slow blur, sandpaper tears corroding the filth (and I need you now somehow, I need you now somehooow). I do not want to hang out again in the cosmopolitan central of this superficial island city, mindlessly breathing in death sticks and sipping on caffeine with no umbrella to shelter me from the saccharine laughter encompassing me from all sides. Give me an umbrella for all that noise. Or a tall glass of warm honey-milk. I guess that would make things a little better.
I am not saying hanging out with my girlfriends and talking for hours about nothing is not fun. I'm saying. I want to do something substantial, that I love, with my life, and I feel that I have the key but at the same time I am useless, because I can't find the right door. And for some reason, I feel that time is running out.
Forget the noise of the living. Oh, give me a blanket for this goddamn noise in my head.
I am suffering in the complete absence of throes in which you grapple, futile, in the half-light for the moment your heart is in your throat with sheer orgasmic delight and you know inside you that you have created a leaf of precious memory for lonely nights and perhaps caused a speck of a ripple in the spectrum of colours that makes up an audience's satisfaction.
I miss the stage already. I miss crazily groping for that moment. The huge bubble of happiness you feel when you know your message has been delivered through your music and you've played a great show. When you know you have touched just one person, and even (perhaps) more than that.
"Like watching a maiden or a siren from the seven seas weaving her aches out. Torn heart bled and carcassing her feeling towards amenity."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Last Friday's gig was the first Raphael ever watched me at.
Not counting the musical, and that hotel family gathering thingie I sang at when I felt fat in the yucky black dress.
I want him to stay my baby brother, my baby boy forever.
Anyway, this is random, but I think I prefer full-cream milk to low-fat milk. Low-fat has that vanilla taste that I totally dig, but full-cream milk is just nicer.
I need to head down to Borders or Kino. Eddy recommended that I read 'House of Leaves' by Mark Z. Danielewski. Even though I have three new others I haven't even opened yet. And speaking of Eddy, here's a shoutout to him. Sup, Eddy? Hahahahahaha. Someone actually reads my journal! =)
I have a small and furry puppy. Do you?
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| Schaele Is Happy |
[June 14, 2007 @ 1:49am] |
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mood |
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 sleepy |
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music |
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Marilyn Manson - Heart Shaped Glasses |
] |
I edited this today while listening to Gary Jules and Jeff Buckley over and over again to familiarize myself, and occasionally treating myself to a little Enduser and NIN.
I was dead bored at home, bad throat and all, Naz said he was coming to Woodlands for fifteen minutes and I went, yipeeee, and then two minutes before I had to leave my house I realised I had no well-thought up excuse for papa, so I just looked at him and said, "I'm going down for fifteen minutes, papa.", which made him ask, what for, and which made me answer point-blank that I was meeting a friend. I am soooooooo proud of myself, because he simply said okay and why not ask him to come up instead? Very un-papa-like behaviour. So Naz came up and got terrorized by Raphael pestering him for card tricks.
Icha came over yesterday. I was sick and sleepy and he bought me Mac's. The only friend that has stuck around through thick and thin, all these years.
And I was working on my music and he fell asleep on the bed with Sugar and they just looked so funny together I HAD to take pictures.
Poor Icha, he hadn't had sleep in over twenty hours I think. I almost couldn't bear to wake him up, but I had to to go jamming. Oh well.
Drank four litres of water today and Naz bought me two bottles of green tea. Throat feels better.
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| Audition at Highlander |
[June 13, 2007 @ 11:37am] |
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mood |
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 stressed |
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music |
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Joy Division - Love Will Tear Us Apart |
] |
We got an audition.
Monday, 8pm, a forty-five minute set at Highlander(opposite Clinic). Be there please. And any song suggestions are welcome.
The band playing there tonight was a duo, an acoustic guitarist, and a violinist. A freaking violinist, for chrissake. Both female. Harmonized vocals.
Do you think three guitars could beat that?
Jeremy, Syaz and I are planning to use three guitars - Two electric and one classical, and sometimes Jem will do the bass or the samples with a laptop for effects over the general sound, whichever he feels suits the song more. Jem is so versatile. =) I like that.
So we came up with a list of about eighty songs. EIGHTY.
And we took about twelve of those out to play for the audition on Monday. So we have six days, to learn twelve songs. Not just learn, but to blend with each other, synchronize and fall in love with the songs, which may be a tad hard because the three of us come from pretty different music backgrounds. And people should never cover a song they arn't in love with because it sure as hell wouldn't communicate to, let alone touch, an audience. That's what I think, anyway.
Yesterday we had our first session at Jem's place. We managed to more or less get the hang of two songs... And here's my Jonah Disaster.
I LOST MY VOICE .
I LOST MY FUCKING VOICE. Halfway through the session, I wasn't even able to sing over the music even when we turned the guitars down really low. This morning, I woke up and it was completely gone. We have five more days. I have lost my voice and my throat hurts so much. This is something, an opportunity I have been waiting for my whole life. To get paid properly for doing something you love, even though doing it for free or peanuts at the most fulfills you. Who wouldn't want that?
The girls are at the beach now and I'm supposed to be with them, but I don't want to aggravate my throat more by doing that. Besides, I fell asleep around three in the morning and was out cold till eleven, when they'd met at nine-thirty.
Perhaps Naz and I will have Ayam Penyet at that Indonesian place tonight. But fried chicken with a ton of chilli would probably fuck my throat up even more. Arghhh.
I have to go look for food now.
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| Note |
[May 28, 2007 @ 12:24pm] |
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mood |
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numb |
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Sorry, babe.
It's not that I'd rather trust someone 5000 miles away than you.
It's just that
1. The facts are too obvious
2. The way I discovered it was too random and coincidental
3. Robby and I may be good friends, but we've only known each other for a short period of time.
4. I can think of no cause or reason for him to resort to such malice, and go to the efforts of searching for the work of someone he barely knows all over the Internet in order to drive a wedge between that person and another who barely even talks to her anymore. Who even he barely even talks to anymore.
5. I just have been betrayed one too many times by people I thought were close, trustworthy, and all that crap. We talked about this. I thought you understood. I guess perhaps it was too long ago, or maybe I just never meant that much to you.
It really doesn't matter. It's all over now. I'm gonna try to forget that this happened. The least you could do, though, is admit it and apologize, no one else has to know who did it... I didn't write any names. I don't see the need to cause trouble or embarrassment for you. Whatever it is, thanks for everything and the best of luck to you for the rest of your life.
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| Thief |
[May 27, 2007 @ 3:14pm] |
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mood |
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 angry |
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I TOTALLY CANNOT BELIEVE SHE DID THAT.
I only found out by chance, and boy, am I glad I did.
Robby and I were exchanging writing over MSN, he sent me parts of the book he's writing, and I sent him pieces of my poetry and songs. I was pretty shocked when I sent him the lyrics to "Spaceship Sonnet", and he went, "I'VE HEARD THAT SONG BEFORE!", before I'd even told him which pieces of the work I was sending him were songs and which weren't. So naturally, I replied that that would have been impossible, because my band never did a proper recording of that song and there's no way our rough version would have reached where he lives in the States at all. Plus, I'd never heard of another song by that name. So he sent me the song he was referring to, and it was titled wrongly, "Spaceship Sonnets", but it was MY song written by ME and MY band and played and recorded by MY band, A Butterfly Caught.
So there you go. Robby told me she'd sent him the song back when they were still close, and told him that it was her poem that "this band" liked, and converted into a song. I got so furious!!! Spaceship means the world to me, it held so much meaning for me when I wrote it the first time. It was the first real gift I ever gave Jeremy. And she took all the credit for it and said the lyrics were hers. Hello woman, have you not heard of artistic integrity? I write all my own lyrics and guitar chords, unless I'm doing a project with someone. Even then, I never plagiarize.
Then it got worse.
Robby sent me a word document that she'd sent him, of poetry that apparently she'd written.
3/4 of it was my work.
The first part consisted of the lyrics of a song I'd written for the old acoustic side project Trent and I started, The Cigarette After. It was called "Three Words". After she left, I'd taken the chorus of that particular song, and worked it into a new song, "Infinity", because I especially loved that part, and I felt it fit.
The second part was from a song I wrote, based entirely on plucking, it was the first ever of my compositions that I played for Mel and Kenny when they visited our studio, the first time Mel came back to Singapore on vacation after it was constructed. It's called "Seraphine".
The third part consisted of the lyrics to "Spaceship Sonnet". A song that she watched my band jam and perform countless times. And there were actually grammar mistakes in the version she sent Robby. Grammar mistakes!!!
The fourth part was from the first half of a poem I wrote, titled "Sugar, Sex & Surrealism", known in jest and by short form by my band at that point as "The Emo Song".
The last part of the word document completely did not fit with the rest because it was not part of my work, but basically it was made up of emo-pop lyrics, the same kind that make up her photo captions, if I'm not mistaken.
It's no wonder she didn't want Robby and I to add each other back when they were still best friends.
I'm really pissed off, having someone steal your art and lap up the critique or praise or credit for it as if it came from their own souls feels terrible. Like being raped, in a polite, demure, suave manner. I remember sending her those poems, and giving her the link to my DeviantArt account. She said she liked my poetry.
And yet, at the same time, I pity this girl.
I don't think we can be friends anymore. We were good friends at one point, I'd thought she was delightful, we shared secrets and watched DVDs in my room and went shopping a little and chilled out together. I was there for her when she fought with her boyfriend or was having a hard time at home. I missed her when we stopped spending so much time together because of our individual commitments. I stood up for her when I heard not-so-nice things being said about her.
I'm just glad that's over.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Three Words
Won't you linger just a little while
So my heart can live in your eyes
Bind you, stitch your lips to mine
And never again will I cry
Touch me, just don't stop
I'd be happy right now if I died
*(Chorus)
Innuendos, in between each line
The only direction that I want to find
Is being lost in you
If I etched your name into my skin
Three words, or an acronym
Ensnare me so I can let you win
Too much, too much, too much and I sink
Touch me, just don't stop
I'd be happy right now if I died
*(Chorus)
Innuendos, in between each line
The only direction that I want to find
Is being lost in you
Infinity
Infinity I've been aching for you,
Pining beneath our grey skies
You promised me you'd show me those scars
I think you don't remember
But you told me once before
That you'd saved my fondness
A cranny in your heart
This city is so bitter when all I hear
Are superficial epiphanies,
Smell the flowers that don't grow here
And now too many days have passed,
I wonder if you recall
How it felt to drown in me
(Pre Chorus)
I grieved as you died, died, and died again
*(Chorus)
Innuendos in between each line
The only direction I want to find
Is being lost in you
Lost in you
The spell that you cast over me with kisses in the twilight
Say my name just once more, and you'll never forget
My heart beats faster for your soul I've known lifetimes before
Come closer please, you soothe me so
(Pre Chorus)
I grieved as you died, died and died again
*(Chorus)
Innuendos in between each line
The only direction I want to find
Is being lost in you,
Lost in you
Seraphine
Quell the tempest of this raging heart
You comfort my soul in the spaces of the morning
Calm the billows, let me draw you in
You are my naked, my naked streak of lightning
Not one word I need to hear from your lips,
You soothe me like bright lights on empty roads
And these visions of reckless abandon...
A contemplative dire lunacy I'll stitch in before you go
Of nocturnal trysts, one secret mirrored silver moonrise
And we'll have conversations among sweet ruins
Descend now, upon the edge of my forbidden universe
Let your candlelit radiance reduce me to nothing.
Just let the dancing reeds awaken, adore, perish,
I'll swear by an oath, not to steal your silence.
Resurrect me now soulmate, I crave for phantom rain.
For your sting, your ravaged love songs of violence
Only to breathe you in, breathe you in.
Only to breathe you in.
Spaceship Sonnet
Dry your eyes now,
I'm on your side now
Don't be afraid of the shadows
That stole your light
I will wind them
Around my little finger
And kiss you
Gently, urgently
Kiss you goodnight
You can smile now
There's only warmth now
In the space that
Your demons,
They used to dance
I'll light a fire,
Keep watch in the quiet
Sing to you softly,
Sing that I love you, I love you
Just once
*(Chorus)
I worship the arms
That I bury myself in
I worship the voice
That torments and calms
I worship the heart
That he gave me, so broken
I worship the boy,
And there can be only one
Dry your eyes now
I'm by your side now
In our spaceship
That only
Admits two
This is a crazy
Beautiful solace
Nothing can take me away
Away from you
*(Chorus)
I worship the arms
That I bury myself in
I worship the voice
That torments and calms
I worship the heart
That he gave me, so broken
I worship the boy
And there can be only one
[Bridge] (Humming)
(Repeat Chorus)
Sugar, Sex & Surrealism
Empty spaces eradicate
The words you say
Permeate our daily charades
Of smog and grey
Dreams of loveless black melodies
Fill these nights
Swollen angel, repressed desire
Taunts your sorry plight
Like a bleeding magnet
Whirling fast
Spinning on a pivot
While shooting spears
There is an attraction near fatal
That is all-consuming
That is
Laced.
With astringent of darkened grace.
That is devoid
Of everything,
Everything else,
But desolation.
Only writhing desolation.
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| I Just Wanted To Say Goodnight |
[May 15, 2007 @ 2:03am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
cold |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Atari Teenage Riot - Sex |
] |
Under the skin, we're all wrecked, it's not the same, nothing feels that way again. You don't find comfort, my tears find only mockery. This is not a gift, not a gift, it is a curse, but I'll think about what you said, you always made me believe. Believe in. Believe you. Believe in you. Delving, I keep delving into you. Here lies a treasure trove, a million different battles encased in jewels, made indifferent by gold. Which will you choose to rage against, sweet lover? I cannot win, there is no point. Change will not be fostered. Your words, perhaps they were never enough and yet your hands, your smile, your teeth, your lips, they make me want to weep. Let the misery consume, let the tongues of flames lick and seduce, we will always be possessed. Always, enough. I am materialistic. You are enough. One last chapter, and another plane awaits us. I told you I didn't like it. I lied.
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| "OK" doesn't mean "Bye". |
[May 13, 2007 @ 1:05am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
sad |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Javeda Zindagi |
] |
Have you heard a song so beautiful you don't want it to ever end? To make it never ending and to make it a soundtrack for your own life. You don't need anything much - just love and the track playing endlessly...
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| Pure |
[May 01, 2007 @ 1:29am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
calm |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Emiliana Torrini - Gollum's Song |
] |
Thank God that's over.
There is a vow that brings deliverance
When the guilt makes it hard to breathe
A soft light that fades the bitterness
When she's not there to bring you peace
Weight keeps you awake for centuries
You long for that familiar face
All its contours embedded in your mind
The memory of that sacred place
You gave her your vow spelling forever,
Perhaps your most beautiful mistake
Without you her world would stop turning
Prison is anywhere outside your embrace
Futile words, stolen sunsets converge
To caress your heart when it hurts
Let a million others be forsaken
For the sake of this one love.
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| Oliver |
[April 08, 2007 @ 5:29pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 contemplative |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
DJ Spirral - Vortex |
] |
He called me twice today, and begged me to come over. Everything's perfect now, he says. Everything we ever wanted, dreamed about, talked about together. The apartment, the bike, the cars, the money, they are such a far cry from the black-and-green 150CC SP and the rented room in Jurong West, now mere leaves of memory from our shared history. He created everything he said he would, worked hard and achieved it all in two years. I was supposed to have graduated last month along with the rest of my batch. But things still wouldn't have fallen in place. I have too much here now, so much that seems so big compared to a single diamond ring and declarations of undying love, and Germany is too far away. I'm sure the hurt will fade with time, though every April will be a vale of tears for me. Every April will mark another year that has passed since the first time I kissed a boy and he made my knees go weak. Since I fell in love with green eyes with inflections of bewitching hazel, with the first hands that ever brushed the hair out of my own eyes. Every April will remind me how my heart fluttered when that boy called me "baby" for the first time and I didn't find it cliché. The first time we talked, and he described his parents' house on a mountain in Spain with the breathtaking view of the mountains of Africa in vivid contrast with the sunset summer sky.
April. It is the month of spring, and the month of my birthday. Ironically, it will always be the month of my heart's curse.
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| Monster |
[March 31, 2007 @ 12:07pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
aggravated |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
3 11 - Love Song |
] |
She's going crazy. I think she needs sedatives, pills, valium or a dose of weed to calm her the fuck down. She woke me up at two and four this morning to yell in my face and hit me. Like a recurring nightmare, she haunts my nights and disrupts my sleep.
She put my rabbit outside, like what the fuck was the purpose of that?
She called the tyrant in Indonesia to complain about loneliness and the things it does to her, the things it makes her do to me, and the things that makes me do. Only when she stated the cause, she omitted the first two parts from that reasoning.
My arm still hurts. The lights hurt my eyes. My hair is in tangles, my nails unpolished, my cigarette's burning up because I lit it then left it next to me and forgot to smoke it in my disarray.
Left behind, always left behind. But I will always love you.
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| Sacred |
[February 18, 2007 @ 6:15pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Nerina Pallot - Sophia |
] |
It's hard to listen to a hardened, beaten heart that's taken more than it ever should have had to. And sometimes, the hurt is too deep, deep, deep, that I feel I am about to drown. Dark clouds gather for a little while, rivers meet and stars collide in their attempt to hide our estranged breath as my arms reach for your sweet embrace. Yes, your sweet embrace that is sweetened further by the rain that falls around us in a shroud of gray crystal. It's never rained like it has tonight before. And I am still alive. The light shimmers on your skin now, it's so beautiful that poignancy sweeps any subconscious resolve away and moves me to tears I unsuccessfully try to hide. The wind plays with wisps of your hair, the wind is dying, and I am safe, because you are the only one who will ever make me feel safe like this. Don't ask me how I know that. The guilt is less a fear of right or wrong than a fear of getting caught in the whirlwind of deceitful emotion that takes us on rollercoaster rides without the slightest hint of mercy. It's strange. I wonder if you would cry if I went away.
The trees frame the sky from where we sit and, and, and I could stay here forever.
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| Hiding Place |
[January 29, 2007 @ 3:17pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 hungry |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Frou Frou |
] |
And I'm holding on to the music
But you are all that I need
Your life is entwined with this breath
In your absence, my heart bleeds
Too much is all I have to offer
Don't leave me like the rest of them
Just to feel your light once more
I'd wait until forever ends
The only way reality makes sense
Is for you to be the only dream
You are the only divine melody
You are the only song I'll ever sing
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| Nadia |
[January 26, 2007 @ 3:43pm] |
Palawan Beach, after I got done with my shoot. =)
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| You Make Me Fearless |
[January 20, 2007 @ 1:27pm] |
We walked and walked and ended up by the river, barefoot, and there was rain, but it was merely a passing angry cloud, only a visitor in the blue-orange sky of sunset and sharks.
There was deja-vu, too, a door, and something he said about a monster behind it.
We saw a hawk circling above us, and it simply vanished into, I don't know, a tree, I guess. He insisted that it went home to its nest, and its waiting wife. I told him there was no fucking nest in any fucking tree close enough for it to just vanish like that. I craned and craned my neck and waited for it to come back, but it didn't.
I made this little observation that it was odd that there were no cats, considering our location. He said it was because there was no food in the area. A little bit later, out of nowhere, a cat ran right past us chasing a little mouse into the bushes. There was squealing. Then the squealing stopped. I never knew mice could emit such loud noises.
My feet ached from dance and stilettos. He put cream and plasters on my blisters and wounds and kissed them, and lifted me easily with one arm around the waist over drains and ditches we passed in the darkening evening. And insisted on carrying my heavy straw bag laden with clothes and makeup and books because, he said, it matched the brown of his long-sleeved striped shirt.
I had a beautiful time. A wonderful time. We hardly get to hang out. And then I limped home, essence of shared cigarettes and nostalgia trailing behind me, and his voice in my mind.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
I chase your breath
Through scapes of dreams you keep hidden
Trees sway in the wind
The coincidences, they will keep coming
You say the name I long to hear
A thousand times, and a thousand over
Albino tigers and ragdolls with blue eyes
Lay in wait for the seal of fate's kiss
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