From Hell...

I walked into some place, full of colors and dancing people… all the things I hate. Loud noises, and unfamiliar faces. 'Fuck, what am I doing here?' Should have fought harder for my place, where I belong. But the sacrifices you have to make for things you don’t believe in… numerous, and ever persisting.
Then I saw her. There she was standing. She smiled when I walked towards her. "You look just the same" she winked. I didn't reply, I was too disgusted by all of this. Moments of silence pass between us, but it's always been disrupted by…everything.

I'm panicking now, I need my place… I need to hide, somewhere not in this crowd. Then I feel a tap on my shoulder, I look up and there she is again… she must have been calling me for sometime, but I didn't hear her. She leans in, "come with me to the restrooms!" … perfect! She wants to fix up! Now why the hell should I come along? … oh yes, because I need to play the nice friend. Yes, of course.

She walks next to me smiling at everyone, sometimes stopping to say 'hi', and ask how they've been. I just shy away, but still stay close to her. We eventually reach the restrooms. I look around… not a lot of people, the place kinda looks dirty and… my thoughts stop when I look at her, "what's wrong?" I ask concerned, "My feet hurt!!" .. she limps "Those damn shoes are tight!". With the stress I'm feeling, I would have laughed so hard… it's funny watching the others distress!! … but not her, my Mona Lisa. I frown, "let's find you a place to sit.", she's irritated "No! I have to be there! They have to see me standing there!" … what the.. ?! "Hon, you're limping!" as a matter of fact. She looks at me as if I'm crazy, "I. Have. To. Be. There!" … fucking fine, sweetheart!

She limps as we walk out of the restrooms, and the first step she's made out, she's walking gracefully again! …smiling at everyone, stopping to say 'hi', and ask how they've been…! I feel sick. I know she's hurting. 'you sure have a 'straight' face now, Mona Lisa!'

Minutes pass by, I'm drowned in my thoughts again and they all disappear. I don't listen. I don't see. I'm inside my mind. Nothing matters… but…
I look at her place and she's not there anymore. I'm stuck in my place, only my eyes search for her, 'where the hell did she.. ' ..my eyes narrow, I twist my face in disgust, she's dancing with them.. she's has a big smile in her face, and she's dancing.. I know she's hurt, I know she's …. Not with me now. 'for who, Mona Lisa? ..who's worth all this?' fuck it! I walk away, and find a place for myself at the corner, nobody's there… I'm invisible now. Good.

I look at the wedding singer. She's just doing her job. It's not anything special for her, why would she… I see an old woman approaching her. The singer leans in as the old woman whispers something in her ear. I sit and watch. The singer lifts the microphone, and says "Om "…..", wants to invite all of you to her son's wedding on…" my eyebrows lift up, I know that name! Yes, he proposed to me about 6 months ago, and I said 'no', but my mom *still* repeats that I'm a 'dense snob' for 'refusing' him cos he's a good match, cos he's a fucking doctor, cos he is this, and that! … fuck! Now not only did I have a night from hell, but my morning is gonna be ruined cos mom will *still* repeat that I'm a 'dense snob', cos he's a good match, cos he's a fucking doctor, cos he is.....

Lestatian Philosophy!

I started reading Blood Canticle by Anne Rice, who's one of my favorite authors. She's probably most known for Interview with of a Vampire from her Vampire chronicle series. I want to quote her opinion written in the voice of vampyre Lestat, it's not about sucking blood and mutilating corpses! But rather a rare 'humanistic' monologue:

"Our biggest mistake worldwide is our insistence on perceiving every new development as a culmination, or a climax. The great "at last" or "nth degree". A constitutional fatalism continuously adjusts itself to the ever changing present. A pervasive alarmism greets every advance. For two thousand years we have been getting "out of hand".

"This derives of course from our susceptibility to viewing the "now" as the End of Time, an Apocalyptic obsession that has endured since Christ ascended into Heaven"

"We must stop this! We must perceive that we are dawn of a sublime age! Enemies will no longer be conquered, they will be devoured, and transformed."

Hmm.. is that like how it is in Iraq?... that it was not 'conquered' but 'devoured'?

Lestat continues "But here's the point I really want to make: Modernism and Materialism – elements that the Church has feared for so long- are in their practical and philosophical infancy! The sacramental nature is only just being revealed… never mind the infantile blunders! The electronic revolution has transmuted the industrial world beyond all predictive thinking of the twentieth century"

Quiet the "optimistic" look to the future. Personally, I think we can only go down from here.. and I'm not talking technology :/

Early Wake-up Calls

Can't they feel it? When they call you before sunrise, before you whisper that it's going to be another day of turmoil. They say they want your help, that they can't sleep… that's why they woke you. They say things like "I need you and you're the only one who can understand…" sometimes you stop to indulge the 'untimely' flattery. A small curve of lips would do it.. they can feel it in your voice through the phone line . But then.. at some point, they start to cry and Hell breaks loose.

Is this a dream or reality? …is it possible that they broke into your nightmare? Fuck! ...No, it's real! She needs you now, and the "good friend" role started a few hours early! Shake off tiredness, drive out everything but her… now concentrate.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart," how many times did you say that already? "It's alright," just calm her down. "It's gonna be okay, " lie… just don't promise, …they might hold you up to that..

An hour passes, "Yeah hon, I'm with you…listening" you rub your eyes, wonder why the fuck the mobile wasn't switched off? …No, don't wander away now! …she expects your advice any minute now… responsibility! …just fucking focus!

Now words of finale, "Just be strong… No! it's alright, you can call anytime…you take it easy, okay?" Stop thanking me… stop saying I'm a such a good friend, I don't want to hear it! Just press the red button, …No, switch off the damn thing!

Now my head is on the pillow, *sigh* … five minutes pass, ….ten, thirty…'Fuck, what's wrong with me?' …I'm so tired…can't sleep…
I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself!

'What is she doing now? … Hope she's not crying again…' A long hour passes, 'I told her she should…' the bed doesn't feel comfortable, turn again… lie on your back … 'I said I'm gonna call her the next day… I mean today!' … check the clock, 'Fuck! The alarm goes off in twenty minutes!' … Don't wanna sleep… Don't wanna go to school.. Don't wanna see anybody, and I am keeping my mobile off! …well, till it's time I call her anyway..!!

Guess when they pour their problems to me, they really pour them.

Hazed

What's worse? Feeling pain, or feeling numb? Feeling that someone betrayed you or someone has forgotten you? I pick the latter choice of the two.

Nothing is worst than being left with nothing. Nothing is worst than being left with 'everything'. Where should we stand? It's hell both ways, but even "hell" has degrees.
Crying in anguish is so much better than crying in void. Seems like the walls have grown fists and now they're choking.

The memories are gone. I tried to remember, but they were blurred, and I stuttered a thousand times trying to bring them to life. 'Yes, you're not my muse anymore, but you're a part of me and I don’t want to lose that.' I think I might have an advice to give on how to be 'insensitive'.

Sound of Satan!

I read this article online about the U.S military using Metallica's "Enter Sandman" as a torture device on one of Sept.11th hijacker, Mohammed al-Qahtani during his interrogation! That's funny… what's funnier is that it says it actually brought him to tears! …I wonder why, was it cos he thought Metallica played badly, or his fanatic ears feared the "immortal punishment" for hearing the sound of Satan?!
Okay now seriously, Al-Qahtani was surely scared to death of being captured, and the music was not soothing for once!, but why pick Metallica?

I played "Enter Sandman" found on 'tallica's "The Black Album", and listened to it like the first time…yeah, Ulrich's drum at the intro could really get on your nerves when you're scared, it's almost like a warning that something is coming so 'get ready'!
The lyrics are powerful, but I doubt the guy, probably lacking knowledge of proper English, was concentrating to what Hetfield was singing!

Personally, I don't think Metallica is scary. Metallica is inspiring, powerful, heavy-but not my pick to scare anyone. To play the "sound of Satan", they should put on something like Dark Funeral or Cannibal Corpse. That could freak out anyone without any pressure of interrogation!

I Felt a Funeral in my Brain...

Silence cuts through my brain, it's happening again. I welcome the familiar feeling…I'm not trying to sound poetic, I'm just writing what goes on in my head :/

I love poetry, it has some sort of 'sanctity' to me, and few people get the chance to love what they study.. I guess I happen to be one of the selected few.

One poetess that seemed to touch me on profound personal level is Emily Dickinson. The way she put loneliness and alienation in her poetry is very deep and accurate.. you could really feel the pain/sarcasm in her poetry, I guess the 'secret' is, she really experienced what it feels like to be lonely, others mostly imagine it. One more thing about Emily is how she 'rejected' society and chose to live alone. She detected the hypocrisy in the social 'pleasantries'…I know how that feels , how it can make you cringe away.

One favorite poem by Emily is number 280 ( She did not title her poems, they were first published after she passed away). This poem is about 'descending' into insanity because of grief.

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading -- treading -- till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through --

And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum --
Kept beating -- beating -- till I thought
My Mind was going numb --

And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space -- began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race
Wrecked, solitary, here --

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down --
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing -- then --

The poem ends with '-then', I think this is really central to emphasis the poem's thesis, that is 'the horrors of insanity' .. it's like her mind stopped or went blank in her turmoil *sigh*

Not Meant For Me

I have two names on blacklist… One I got over (I think) and one is a work in progress. I must admit it gets under my skin.. I hate it like Hell.
I'm always surrounded with people, ones I might call 'friends' at times… what can I say?

• I am the needed, not the needy.
• I am the influence, not the influenced.
• I am the 'abandoner', not the abandoned.
• I am the over-66-centemeters-the- not-green version of Yoda :p

Egotistical much? .. Well it's true! And you can only imagine my loathing when I remember my blacklist, not directed at them, but myself… fuck! How did they get to my head? I know I let them, and it's my fault, but WHEN did they creep in to my head!?
I'm glad to say that my pride is salvaged cos I'm not as pathetic as to think of them all night… not even the best of it really.. I only think of them when I'm lonely. But honestly, their ghosts keep me company.