Asthma Strikes Back!

11:56 PM

Wheezing sound of trapped mucous at the center, of now tighten airways in my chest, disturbs and awake me from my slumber. Not only the "weeeezz..", every time I hauled air into my mouth, but also, the vibration, the rumbling of the tighten bronchi passageways, as air is forced in and out through that fully-occupied barrier. My chest hurts, screaming and begging for mercy, as I, piercingly, purges air into my now-considerably-tired lungs. My lungs and airways doesn't agree with their master, and tend to retaliate to a series of painful and excruciating coughs, that can be heard miles away.

Not those pills, those bitter-to-kill pills, can even help me now. 4 pills. Useless mercenaries, for the price that I've sacrifice. Even the brain, my brain, set up to join this mutiny. As I very tired and even betrayed by my own body, my own parts, I've tried my very best to stay vigilant. Keep my eyes open to the screen that shines my dark hideout. My eyes are trying to fight it off, the temptation, and keep focusing to the keyboard, while my fingers and heart are still here by my side, backing me up and keep coughing up word by word. Trying to at least complete this memoir to the 4th paragraph.

The A.C has been suspended by its duty and strip down its rank, as it is the one who responsible with this attack. Along with the miniature sized diseased of armies that hides under the carpet, the curtain, and some even prepared to maneuver an aerial assault, by camping on the ceiling fan. The can hide there, but what comes tomorrow, they can hide. Yes! A counter-strike is in motion, and soon, at dawn, the imploder-machines and broom stick and spongy mops shall rise from the depths of storage and come crushing down, sucking and tearing their based camps all over the house, and I promise you, it will be a b-e-a-u-tiful sight! 

But tonight, as I reaches the 4th paragraph, my brain discovers his enemy's weakness. Head-ache. The armies are marching in, with their war-drums, banging at my head's wall. Stomping the grounds of my eyes captivities, putting my eye's operator at gun-point and force them to relief their posts. My left eye twitches when the bullet goes straight to the operator's head. The gnomes that mutually cooperates to move and create motion on my fingers and arms as a team, are now their target. My eye's starts failing me as the glare from the computer screen penetrates the protective layer. Adding and additional pain to the already-roam swirl of madness in between my eye-brows. The head-ache now have completely evolve to the next level, a four-headed creature with spiky body armor and long-venomous fangs on each head, a Migraine.

The brains are now so powerful over his own master, ordered a full scale attack on all departments. I still with my gnome-operated finger and my oh-so-brave heart, prepares our last stand here. The coughs strikes hard on my chest, multiple hits, causing me to spits out the cast away. As the cough keep on bashing our fortress, the creature, the Migraine when loose. As the story told, no one can control a Migraine. She evolves, then she destroys all in its path. Only one can stand on its way. The white, oblong-ed, battle-cruiser with multiple rail-cannon and clocking ability called, Aspirin. But sadly, even the brain begs me to unleashed the Migraines match, its seems I'm out of stock. Me my self and the rest of us here, at our last stand fortress, realizes that the end is coming and no one can stop it. We watch from within the walls, the beast terrorizes the brain, feast on its flesh and sting all the roots of the neuro network with its acidic venom.

My heads getting heavier, and heavier as the darkness approaches. The fog of black smokes comes lurking form the upstairs department, leaving behind the destroyed faculties of my mind. Soon all transportation system will be paralyzed, as the red eyes and shining fangs approaches my neck. And yes, not long I've waited, the pain sets in. Its time for me, use this last energy, to get to bed, and closes my eyes, letting the colossal beast consumes me to the other world, the D-Land. Farewell all......Argh! The pain...Don't stop till you get on your bed!....good....ni..night.......******!*@#*!@$!(@$(!#)%)!#@)%!#_%_!_$ WEOQOQW..........................................................................................................................................

*** [TRANSMISSION LOST] *** 

LAST RECEIVED TRANSMISSION : 13/5/2127, 0050H

With "Different" On The Stereo

6.30 PM

Here it goes....

"Don't hide baby, let them see your true colors. Don't mind the camera, let them see your black heart tonight. Don't hide, baby, show them just how deep it goes. Don't mind the cameras, let them see your black heart, baby!" - taken from "Different" by Pendulum on "In Silico"

The playlist to charm and sprout a broken mind and soul, In Silico, performed by one of Aussie's sensation that is well reputed as notoriously famous with its drum & bass, fast paced, electronic rock synth and amusing yet unexplainable talent with live performance. Pendulum. One word, describing how the music lingers in my mind, back and forth, side to side on all axises of my sophisticated and spiraling neuro-netwoks in this rigid little brain of mine. The whole playlist just kept on repeating it self as one of the function provided in Winamp, is to repeat the playlist provided. Even so frequently the same song keep popping up, I myself find it hard to touch the playlist as it is so inviting and relentlessly pleasing my restless sense. With deep kicks of the bass drum, the fat bass plucking, weird but brilliant synth experimentation, mad guitar licks and mind-boggling lyrics put through a seriously massive and complicated vocoder and sound effect processing,only the God of Sounds capable in pulling something like it, i maybe wet my self to this fictitious assemble of the future music.

While Rob Swire continues to lead his band of brothers through "9000 Miles" of ear-storm, the sun sets on the horizon of now, mossy roof tiles. Those roof tiles have seen some crazy shits around these neck of the woods. Disputes and angst between neighbors, competing for "who has the biggest and most expensive big-ass front gate", group of underage "rempit" adventures through old and dusty back alley, too young to witness the act these forsaken and damaged youth on a pedophilic sexual experiments, so innocent with a hint of fear and pain, the look on that girl's face while still on her school uniform, ridden by a shameless yet a famous masked rider, concealing his identity when soon, the video hits the net, or maybe worst, just maybe, a homicide or two.Now, the roof tile lingerer stares at my bedroom window, through a thin layer of blue-satin curtains, watching me, as I scribble my syntax accurately, sharing my wisdom, my vision and my thoughts. A first-person's view through my eyes on a third-world capitalization and modernization, consuming the past around me and laying out futures where I sat and paint my own destiny, waiting for a hopefully, happy ending. At least somethings is not damaged or corrupted with this view, the roof tiles ought to smile if the have the lips to do so. Standing ovation even, to this young and humble writer, seeking asylum in his words.

8.34 PM

The end credits of Californication's seasons finale reeks my eyes as it is a good bye from Hank Moody for now. It ended with a beginning to a new adventure where Hank's book "Fucking & Punching" finally been adapted into a movie. Karen & Becca leaving L.A with Ben on a road trip across country. The last scene where Hank leaves the movie set and driving toward a long freeway with the sun, sadly setting down on the horizon, kinda makes my tear gland excretes moist in order to accommodate my sadness thoughts of the show finally coming to an end. Well its not till next year for the new seasons of Califonication to be aired in the U.S. Gonna miss your sick and twisted humors, Hank. Have a safe journey.

Then suddenly the Prayer Call echoes in the distance, pulling me out of my bed. Its dark outside, and the neighbor behind my house already turned on their lights. I think I'm the one living in darkness. I dunno why I hesitated to switch on the lights. Its something about the dark and loneliness, the silence, the asylum that I've been looking for. No other sounds linger in my room other than the processor's fan on my old and retired p.c. She used to one of the boldest in my time back in the days. The days where dual core processors and Direct X 9 was the latest. The days when Quake 4 and Doom III was a hit first person shooter that kept me up and awake all night busting my way out of Mars's moon, Phobos and defending earth from Strogg invasion. Yeah, I've always remembered those days. The days when sea water scent, in every hiss of soft sea breeze, touches my face every time I'd take a peek out side the window, overlooking the red twilight sky while the sun is setting down for the day. Its that tree. The one that have our sacred carvings. Our proof that once a upon a time, our love, have touched those grounds, that beach, that place. Will always have a special place in my recovering heart. No one really knows why exactly one smiles just by looking at a tree.

10.17 PM

While busying my self with pleasing my lady with words via instant messaging, my head wonders: do i always this good at writing? Or its only me that felt the greatness in my own vocabulary presentation? One's always tend to self-praised. But for me, that is just pure-pathetic. So I intended to write for public, for my friends, my lady or family. Keeping up my thoughts very publicly available but maintaining my writing style so people would recognize. So as by this moment, I'm planning to write something big. Its too early to call it a novel, and to dark and ominous to call it a short story. Just like the last time i started a joy write called "15" in my past entries. As the description may seems, joy writing, is what it has been. The 4 chapter of damaged youth, suspense and cliffhangers is where i started to see that i can write something. But then, the short story was deleted from my page cause of the irrelevant and way-too-complicated plot, too hairy endings and finding it difficult to continue after each chapter end with a cliffhanger. Its all about lack of planning, and the idea changes every time I start typing a new chapter.

So that's the end of "15". To who ever find it amusing to read those, I'd promise you, I'll re-write it back in a more constructed way. Now is the time for me to start on a new project, and yes, from the start of this entry, I've been picking my own brains and go through some ideas for a new story. And at this last paragraph, i finally compiled my ideas and sketches and ready to hit the papers. This new project of mine shall not be on any page of this blog, not till I'm done actually. Off to the papers!

Welcome Back

-Dreams are meant to be dreams, the only thing that possibly can come true, is a lie-

"As for the time being, everyone noticed that their beloved and adored clown been missing out in action late because he had to attend some minor issues of his own. The curtain and stage it self are longing for his personal touch of twisted and sick humor,spontaneous jokes about life and sex and death and all. The sweet clicking noise of the soundless keyboard, where he jolts all his wits and instantaneous impulses of his neurotic sense,without filtering for any kind of censorship, goes straight to his horny fingers, running down the crowd, like a blind old-man stroking him self in the dark to a blind female singer that he fantasized while he watches the death of poetry in literature nowadays. Well, it ain't blood and tears no more these days. As the dark cloud been marching off, the rabbit done died. The place once house a great deal of great memories, now fill with sick stenches of the dead and rotting bodies of sick lies and deceits that the man once thought a legend hides it all. The vultures will soon pick-up on this reeking smell of degenerate foul, and soon the skies will be dark again, not clouds this time. Instead ,wings of feathered being, hunger for a taste of decompose corpse, lying around the battlefield.

The skeletons are out from the closet and dressing up to hit the streets. But who am i to stop them, as these kind of secrets have a funny way of showing themselves out to world and making their self at home, getting comfortable and all. The owner shall be prepared for these kind of events. A liar must be prepared to take all the coming consequences for the sins he commits. Grip your fist firmly, grind your teeth on each other nicely, because, this is not the end. Its only the beginning of a long journey up ahead. And please be reminded to fasten your seat-belt, keep your tray table secured and your seat to an upright position. We'll be landing on the land of promises very shortly."

I've abandoned my blog for a long time for numerous reasons, and obviously I've ran out of ideas to write. What does one's should write when it comes to a dead end in his mind? I've been pissing smokes out of my word-factory lately. All the brilliant and wicked ideas bout fictional writing have been taken away from me instantly. Maybe its the burden my mind can't bear, a check my ass cant cash. Hell,i wrote it anyway,the damn check. Now the debts are on me. Thank G-O-D for the reasoning he gave me,the courage,the will,to broke out of my own prison,my own forsaken blockade that hold me,confines me behind a horrid lie,a deceitful life,a gateway and invitation to hell itself. Devil smiles cunningly as he devour me into the inferno.

Even it is so pleasing at the time, to live a life of false hope, fragile hearts and fucked up situations, but I'll tell you, some nights, even when you are not lonely, in my world at that times, the most loneliest night you'll ever experienced. There's a point in that life of mine, where it all stops to be pleasing and nice. All the laughter seems fake, all the jokes seems like someones making fun of someone's someone dead mother, all the fame and glory, gives you a funny feeling in your stomach, makes you wanna throw out any bodily fluids via your mouth's opening. Then the dream-catcher, stare right into your eyes, start to optically paralyzing you, blurring out the edges of your vision, one by one,  the life-like lie, the imagination, the people who you adored and adored you, taken away, eaten, chewed out of their flesh and bones by these horrifying creature from the dark. You'll felt a chilling breeze blowing through the curtains of your bedroom window. Not too cold at first, but as the night embarks, the freeze sets in, defying your own body temperature, lonely in the blistering cold of loneliness.

But there i was, with her, down by the lake. Somewhat awe me, and yet disgust me at the same time: the pink fungal growth on every spike of rubbish, or whats left sticking out of yet to be an attraction to fresh-student at the learning institution just up a head. Whatever that pink thing was, the question lingering in my mind, why does it infest the lake? Why? What catalyzes the infestation? Is it some kind of a toxic waste someones irresponsible to the nature dumped into the lake? Is it contagious? Does the spores infect human being and start turning us into mindless-pink-diseased freak? Suddenly, the siren comes singing, snapping me out of my unanswered inferences and hypothetically justice.

The science of fungal reproduction, manifestation and spore transfer theory were crushed by an unjustified justice blaspheme. The league continues, as me, once a scientifically observer of life around me, fights to just the unjust, with a law-educated person, like herself, that have all the facts,acts and judicial presidency on every single thoughts i have. Easily encountered, I'm out numbered by the very own law and justice we live on nowadays. The loop holes, secret passages leading to hidden doors that are fabricated by the very own corrupted souls in facilitating the corrupted kind with only one purpose: to pilot around the twists and hair-pin turns around these rocky, unstable and rough canyon we called life safely without a scratch. Believe me, these canyons are not made for those fainthearted. As the mathematical theory proves that the shortest distance from point A to point B in a straight line, but hell, if one willing to climb up and down these canyon. With the torturing wind, hailstorm, plus, we never know what kind of creatures lurking in the dark at its foggy abyss, waiting and wanting some poor soul to come tumbling down. Well that's the real story behind the curtains of reality. Even in real life, it doesn't always what it seems.

Then there it is a again! The siren, calling me back to reality. I dozed into dreamland to often, I've almost forgot what a beautiful being in front of me, giggling and smiling. He who dearly to descend me this being from up above, have a humorous way to make me feel hope, feel numb to the pain, smile in every tear, laugh in every page of condemn and critics, living my life like i should. Maybe its her witty jokes, her independent view on life as we all know it, or maybe her vague appearance: the smile that flares up into a small,mini-sized laughter every time i make a stupid face expression. Accompanied along side with her almost-red-head passion, a petite star in my lonely heart that shine to darkest days of my life. Even in this case, bitter and sweet does not come together as a word, as the moments of bitterness with her is rapidly sustained by the moment of sweetness comes short after. Whatever destined for me up ahead, as long as there is her, there's always me, and with me and her, there is us, against the world, against this cruel, cruel world.

A very successful day, I suggested to my self earlier on my way home. I've manage to hold on to the end of the meet without any premeditated arguments, without any slight hint of anger or sadness in her breath as i kissed goodbye. Comforting. Her final battle's tomorrow. She'll need all the energy and wisdom she can get her hands on. And I, as a joyous and yet humble companion, did just that. Giving her the right mind set to conquer the final hill on her journey this season: peace. Then, peace shall I provide her. Luck doesn't pleases me these days, so, may all your efforts be with you during your last purge.

For me, here I am. Lying lazily on my bed. With the a.c up and chilling up the room up to 20 degrees. Frostbites ain't getting to me with my comforter's up and covering me. The X42 here on my lap, digesting all that i have to give,spit and shout on this lovely 4:37 a.m. The gift earned with misleading details and falsified documents, this X42. Most utterly resembles a bastard child, but despite what it is, thankful is all that i ever praised. The keyboard has been kind to me since the past couples of hours, gently sinks in every single keystroke of my somewhat disturbed heart. Nowadays, even i cant determined what am i disturbed by, and it better remains that way for I'm not a thrill-seeker, seeking for a naked truth. I guess I'm riding this one out, gently, softly, with the beautiful being keeps me noted on the subject "not to get too excited with life". Taking it slow, day by day.

Good Morning and Good Day

Word Of The Day : Emolument
Its a noun with the meaning of "Payment for an office or employment; compensation". Its helds in the Middle English vocabulary and borrowed from Latin syntax : EMOLEMENTUM, that explains gain[pendapatan], which was originally meant for a miller's fee for grinding grain back in the days of grain grinding(Sigh! Gaji rupenye~ =.=)