.: A little taste of obscurity :.

:: Sunday, June 17, 2007 ::

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The thick slices of sea water keep my eyes in submission to its erratic movements. Each deep green slice fights to go higher than the other; collapsing in a froth of white. Its pointless battles rock me back and forth, persuading me to join their spar. But I resist; for fear of the unknown or I'm uneasily moved by things around me, I wouldn't know.

I take a deep whiff of the air that thickens around me, hoping that it would jolt the life back into me. All I register is the level of salt that tickles my nose and smites my cheeks. My face wrinkles up and I hope no one notices my reaction. But the sounds of war crashing against this ferry becomes louder and louder, heightening with the amount of lines forming on my face.

Before anyone sees my expression, I divert my eyes towards this open notebook on my lap. I had earlier wanted to pour my feelings into these white sheets.

1. To write stories I'd reread at a later date and smile to myself.
2. To create stories that would baffle me years later as I try to determine its inspiration.
3. To remember stories that happened before, and how I've changed from it.

Maybe I shouldn't look at life as a marketer. Forget lengthy explanations and logic and expectations. Forget Powerpoint slides, colourful charts and ROI. Just feel, dammit. For once, just feel.

By the time I've decided to end the monologue-debate, the ferry has docked. And the sound of the waves become more and more distant with every step that I take.

Maybe I'll write tomorrow, if something interesting happens.

footnote: I can write like you!

1.
Its 6am and I'm not one bit sleepy. These eyes probably want to sleep, but my mind is not willing. Frustrating, yet I think deep down inside this choice was made long before I decided.

2.
I spent the last two hours on the guitar. Not the nice acoustic one that sounds like God Himself crafted the instrument, but the old hand-me-down folk guitar from my step-brother. (Who incidentally, has passed away from pneumonia) Feels a bit weird playing it now.

3.
I realised that I'm not tone deaf after all. I just don't know how to adjust the chords (Or is it play an octave higher? Or tune the guitar differently? Fuck, I wouldn't know, I'm not Steve Vai) accordingly when my voice doesn't dip like yours.

4.
I'm not sure which I despise more: barre chords or my stumpy fingers. Give good hand jobs, but isn't fucking flexible enough to play Bm.

5.
Radiohead's Fake Plastic Trees, Smashing Pumpkins' Muzzle, Sarah McLachlan's I Will Remember You, Ocean Colour Scene's Robin Hood and Alanis Morisette's Head Over Feet; only because I play and sing them decently. (No little children cried, no dogs rolled over and died)

6.
My fingers are sore, but it feels liberating. Jiwang habis.

Thank you (",)

:: Another pointless rambling at 6:28am ::