it is hard to sleep when you think a lot. i just realized that. i'm just angry with myself,being exploited and had bared everything when i know it might be humiliating later on. but i digress thethought. perish. far away. i took the chances. burnt to pulp. but white water washed away theashes. flower petals started to make way for lonely fat honey bee. yeah, thit is me.
i was restless last night, making no less then 5 phones calls to Kl. fadh was annoyed, at some point with me. i'm just guessing. later on, after her eye had already adjusted to the reality in hand, she shared her ears with me. my voice started to sound firm. but unsure. nothing else matter these days.she listen carefully and promised me to asked her mother later on about me. okay, i said. we hung up and i'd promised to call her in the morning.
i had a weird dream. something involving siti nurhaliza, music, happiness and color all around. it wasn't supposed to be this way. i know my subconcious are trying to play down this love thing. i'd dream what i want to dream. between sweet dreams, bad and sad thoughts creeped through and i recited the word of God to kept me calm throught out the night.
later that day, i'd called fadh and her rather cherful voice yell the words of happiness. it might be a joke these days if someone told you that he just broke of with his girlfriend because he didn't answer the 'salam' when her mother picked up the phone. but if it happened to you, it might not sound too funny . isn't it? she said everything was okay. she laught, small and confident. sound of people and other assorted noises confirmed it wasn't a dream. dream do come true.
bad thoughts, perished, to far away places. will it came back, i can't denied it. but this time i was sure everything might turned alright. as sure as i am that was damon albarn's voice singing on the radio just a moment ago. beth gibbon's voice might be the very appropriate sound track right now. sweet as honey. tripping on everything yet not once stumbled on every obsticle in front of her. i'd assured myself that makcik mazidah really is as sweet as the name had suggested. the one i used to know long time ago might not be too much different as this one. how many mazidah did i knew? only two, and both have been here and there in my long and dwinding life. two, is one to many.
she was nice and i was happy. it was the longest week for me . too long that it is really exhausting just to think about it. some people might be blind to see the reality, some are ignorant, some just don't even give a damn. i might be ignorant but i do give a damn where my life is going to be.....() time, numbers and age. faith, fate, timing. everything else just reasons for another to fail.
love lost, found, lost and found.
art and reality, where the thin black line often look visible as it intended to be. i got the will to write again after a long hiatus and so called sabatical leave. i was heartbroken when my computer crashed a couples of months ago. i was trying to install thye CD-r when it happen. nearly all my hard work for years were flushed down the drain. lucky i had a hard copy of my story 'saving graces' but nearlt 30% of the story was lost. for ever. i thought i coudn't write anymore. it feel so hard and to start over again is not as easy as it sound. ironically, my CD-r went kaput 2 days ago. i went ahead that night to write half page worth of my so called social observation and emotional outpore. everything was written in one smooth motion, like nothing had ever happen. no hiccups, and my hands works like a well oiled machine. i have thought of continuing my story that was intendedly to be only a short story. soon, the characters develope it own complications and from here came the sub-plots and new characters. i kept it open and don't want to tied it down with any uncertainties. it was a classic malay dilema, complete with jealousy, glutony, besuty and occasional musical moments. i want it to be old school, dramatic, long shoot, black and white film affair. less physical action and more of internal termoil. everything is slow as i was influenced by gabriel garcia marquez's ine hundred years of solitude when i first started to write. i was hooked by it fluid style and details observation, even if something may sound obscure and downright nonsense. the presetation was important. of course , the novel wasn't called one of the most important novel of the last century for nothing.
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