Author: perkaraperkara

i’m thinking of going out for a ride for a bit in a moment’s time. let’s write first. first off, i shouldn’t let stupid things delude me. they are a hindrance. (ha). i think i have been exceedingly calmer that i thought i could be. i deserve a smiley :). ha. i am no longer angry with anyone i think. i wish everyone the best possible happiness. everything is in the best of all possible worlds. after seeing some of my friends (uhuh) getting engaged and then, soon, married, i think i shall naturally go down the same path as well. sooner than i expect, perhaps. triple wedding. ha. i am done preouccupying myself with unimportant (as of now) thoughts. right now i am to fill my head with equations and numbers and formulaes and signals and systems and controls and codes and programming and commands and operators and fractions and words words words.

i shall take a light elective next semester. need to balance out all the math.

listening to florence and the machine’s lungs. wonderful hair. next aspiration, perhaps? rgiht now i am sporting a straight cut. macam dalam n.wood, midori. let us not stand on fringes anymore. clear cut, everything. cut out, cut off, every single thought. ah, if there is a word to describe it… or a sentence or a paragraph that can capture, encapsulate how i feel about this it is..

it is a sort of disappointment at the rather poor choice you’ve made. not anger. there is no use in anger. it is same devices, same techniques. same words. i thought you are better than this. to think you have stooped so low. how typical. have fun mingling boredom with boredom and err err err forever. i have no use for you any longer.

damn, aku patut dengar gotye.

untuk musim periksa dan seterusnya (sampai bukak sekolah)

minggu lalu r tiba tiba menyesakkan hidup saya dengan persoalan persoalan keagamaannya, atau lebih tepat lagi dia telah mempersoalan maisarah sebagai seorang pembaca, yang buat saya malas nak melayan dunia secara tiba tiba. ini telah terus membuatkan maisarah declare yang i am a fraud (separa benar).

banyak betul i am. i am. i am. sibuk nak affirm keujudan kita dalam adjektif adjektif yang pelik pelik belaka supaya diri kita dapat duduk diam bertakhta dalam perkataan perkataan yang kononnya obscure. aha. i am the chaos dispossessed. i move therefore i am. i am mai. i am i.

henri bergson dan metafizikanya. malas nak mengulas, tapi bila dia cakap pasal kant maisarah terus tutup buku dan mengalah. kant? i can’t. sampai bila nak mengelak ye. minta maaf cherry, tapi sedang kamu sibuk berkata kata mengenai bergson dan benang benang serta intuisi nya, serta pensyarah uitm yang obses filem filem iran – hence cherry- , minda saya jauh ke tempat lain. bergson pernah ber-correspond dengan james. (ianya satu benda yang menarik tapi inevitable). i burp out of boredom.

cakap pasal correspondence, saya telah memesan buku (lagi?) surat surat di antara rainer maria rilke dan lou andreas salome sebab saya bosan. lou comel. nanti ada anak nak bagi nama saloma. amboi plath, pessoa tak sudah lagi dah sibuk nak gatal tangan. juga ada furikuri punya koleksi manga yang di-compile dalam satu binding. takpe, hantar pada abang di amerika. mungkin hujung tahun baru boleh baca. nak baca the waves dulu lepas exam ni.

bila nak sentuh buku agama ni mai?

cukup cukup lah tu.

i am always at the edge of fear, fear of having nothing accomplished at all, a mere dabbler of all things, because so many things fascinates and distract me. i want to learn learn learn everything yet i don’t think i have the right mind to do so. i am not right in the head. i have not a single permanent constitution in my head. certainly this calls for an exaggeration but i must be pushed pushed to edge of wakefulness, to exhaust myself entirely, to wake up with a jolt, to look upon the world with amazement and everything, to weep at every godly encounter, to take everything in, to welcome to embrace every thing. yet at the same time i want to shut myself in, to pick slowly one by one all my scavenging, and pore over them endlessly, jot notes make essays and build something that is comprehensible out of all this colossal mess. i am lost in my own labyrinth of thoughts. i cannot make out anything. at each turn i stop and examine the ground the roads the arrangement i make no outward movement myself. i am unreachable. i am the chaos dispossessed.

a poem for the night.

i went outside at midnight
despite the drizzle and the wind
that swept my umbrella into a shame
the porcupine head said it is mighty tonight
so i looked it up above my head
underneath the clouds
cowering from my sight
occasional cars shone
past their headlights
reveal me in my winter jacket
a dead dark figure
ethereal ghostly
i wanted to disappear
never before i have felt
to be one
with the moon
i want to vanish
but gleam faintly
so one might find me
when they look patiently
not by chance or by some insight
nor an impulse but by a desire
to have me revealed.
the pale light does not plead
it gently beams
waiting for the one
to gaze into her
until slowly
but surely
it unfolds its
horrid scars of
majestic beauty.

as far as enigmatic men goes;

….
e.h. (by his premature death)
rilke. (because he is our rilke)
y.e. (but no longer, i suppose)
….

zooey glass, buddy class, seymour, teddy,
stephen daedalus
cranley
roghozin
werther
…..
salinger
….
william james
….
nikola tesla
….
kierkegaard
….
keroac
pessoa
….

that dude from in the mood for love

….there is nothing to figure out.

as far as enigmatic women goes;

Sylvia Plath
Virginia Woolf
Lou Andre Salome

Natasya Fillipovna, The Idiot, Dostoevsky.
Samejima Mamimi, FLCL, Gainax.
Nadja, Nadja, Andre Breton.

that restaurant girl from 2046.
the girl from submarine
that girl from lost in translation

Laura Marling?
Daul Kim?

indeed i have become
the very thing i wished for
now i might laugh
from my own prophecy
rejoice
in my current melancholy
i have been granted
what i wished for
this is the ending
anticipated from the start
so i thank you
from the bottom of my bottomless heart

this is no poetry
i have no use for it anymore
i am to channel my
bitterness elsewhere
to someone else
i can now
write a book
while you flee
to the communion
of blue bloc heads

in twenty five years
you’ll be gold
but you shall have
nothing to your name
a block of age
the decrepit stone
while you tremble
to the voices of tomorrow
in time you will remember
what you have forgotten
i the nothingness that
pervades through every age
i the soul that you
exiled on your way home