w is for what the f?

Wondering not so discreetly, why incredibly stupid people actually are running this so-called advanced capitalist society. I'm not asking for compassionate people, or even nice. I'm merely asking for competent people doing what they are supposed to be doing, so I could be spared 5 hour long meeting with utterly confused people, who hide their incompetence by unstoppable chatters, yapping and yapping as if their mouths suffered from severe case of diarrhea.

People, really, get over yourself!

an inflammable disposition

she bubbled in childish excitement, over things, silly things, they didn't matter
spontaneous actions, words, she didn't think them over, she was just in this light pink mood, as sweet as cotton candy

she didn't mean anything

but something, something other than her was bothering him, eating him up, igniting him
and he burst into flame, so red, so hot, the anger burned quickly, tongue of fire was licking her from down to the top of her head

hear her, she crackles she burns, she burns...

you see, she was built like that, inflammable, combustible

you see, there is no technology to revive the residue of fire

they just turn to ashes, black

my perfect love, murakami style

"I'm looking for selfishness. Perfect selfishness. Like, say I tell you I want to eat strawberry shortcake. And you stop everything you're doing and run out and buy it for me. And you come back out of breath and get down on your knees and hold this strawberry shortcake out to me. And I say I don't want it anymore and throw it out the window. That's what I'm looking for."

Norwegian Wood, Haruki Murakami

ennui

the best way to describe it is like being trapped at home during bad economic condition, watching reruns of shows about self-made problems, erupting from bad judgments, imaginary ailments, anxiety attacks and the likes.

and somehow, fate decides that the TV cannot be switched off.

so the characters are happily floating on screen, cocooned in their ignorance, celebrating daily stupidity until something rather predictable hit them in the face and boom, their worlds explode and they are left decapitated, wailing in pain and disbelief.

what can you expect from a nation suffering from severe inability to connect two things together, to look at matters and draw logical conclusions rather than being sucked in moronic euphoria.

apologize for being desperately gloomy. it's the beginning of the rainy season and with it comes the accompanying depression.

somebody should kill the TV now.

how to not be frozen

ah, shallow people, bitter people, chewing into your soul like termites. a phone call, an email, a message through a friend, the dreaded can you please take care of my life, it's turning your heart cold.

you were raised good. you have values. you take care of things. you manage. little by little. you do what you need to do. give what you need to give. take what you have earned. you live an honest, if not much, life. you get on okay. until they show.

and it's becoming a lot harder not to be frozen. imagery of solitary living. nothing expected of you. nothing, only you and nothingness. and it's becoming a lot harder not to like being frozen.

ah, weepy people. the way they march into life unthinking, then caught unprepared, it's maddening. and then there's you, minding your own little business, you are suddenly exposed to their nakedness. and it's making your blood boils. and the rage brings you shame. you are ashamed. of being mad. of being reluctant to reach out.

ah, the accusation. of being selfish. while to you, selfish is subjecting others to business that clearly is not of their interest. selfish is wandering through life unaware of consequences. selfish is expecting others to pick up the pieces.

but above all else, you know how hatred could bring you to the darkest place. so you grit your teeth. and you order that double drinks. the warmth that goes through your throat eventually reaches your heart and unfreezes it, peels off the icy hatred layer by layer.

and you are grateful that you're a drunk.

lucky to forget

Rewind a few years back, to the days when I used to wake up with a blank, I am lucky to forget.
A prayer to my ear now, a lovely good night kiss, God how lucky I am to forget.
It might still be on the back of your mind, whether I give up on too much, but let me tell you now, it wasn't all that much to give up on because it wasn't much at all. It was birth then the gap then you then it will always be you. And everything else, let me tell you once again, I am so truly lucky to forget.

on turning mid thirties

My belated birthday resolutions:

I have decided to be more childlike
I will not hesitate to laugh
I will love fiercely and passionately
I will smile a lot more and a lot more sincere
I will not be angry as much
I will go to see new places
I will open up myself more
I will try forgive or at least forget
I will party like there's no tomorrow
and last but not least
I will never, ever feel old even when I get to be 100

Thanks hubby dear for the best 3-day birthday bash ever: bali-sunset-kudeta- martini-bacio-champagne-good friends-good laugh-warung melati-rossovivo-doublesix-and the greatest drunken conversation ever!

happy belated birthday to me... bottoms up!