Visions of an alternate reality

I just realized just how close I got to leading a different life ten years ago. Keeping in touch with a friend I haven't seen for all that time. A friend, who who inspired and encouraged me as a musician, back when the grass was greener, and the sky was always blue.

We played together, putting our hearts and minds into our music. Talent wasn't something others said we had, but a passion we ourselves fervently believed in. We performed, and they listened. It was all that mattered. He had the vision, and somehow I knew the world was ours to take.

That era is long past. It died a rather premature death, when he packed his bags to go Down Under. It never felt right without him around, the spark of divinity simply disappeared.

I wish he was there to see me when I took the award three years later. By then, it was a different me. It wasn't the dream I imagined it to be, but rather a singular triumph of a human being against overwhelming odds.

Life would have been much simpler, if only he stayed. The girl I loved would be different, the friends I have made would not even have existed, and my Muse, then young and innocent, would have been like what he always said...

"Just another one of ya fans"

THE GREATEST HITS

Three years, it is more than just a story. From the day a friend brought me into this style of cyber expression, I have recorded my visions, musings, prayers and poems all within. I have watched every single fabrication of thought bud and flourish. It has eventually become the metaphysical haven I envisioned it would be, a part of me I can never deny. It made me who I am, and I made it understand the world around me.

I browse through the archives, taking myself back to the mind that painstakingly penned down these entries. I remember those sleepless nights, where ideas yet to be born screamed into the confines of my head. There were days where nothing else mattered, except for a single conviction, and there were times I felt my Muse sitting beside, telling me how beautiful it all was.

The worst form of existence is to be stuck in a fix, a pathetic cycle of emotion and delusion. It makes us all shit. How many times have we told ourselves to move on, only to find out that we were back where we started? Like all the others who chased the wind in fruitless endeavors, I held on to the things I forgot were wrong. Watching the flower wither in my palms, I knew I had asked the wrong questions, and gave the wrong reasons.

I will never understand this gift my Maker gave me, just as much I wonder why human beings continually tarnish His name. Trust me, it is hard to keep the faith. He made me face my demons, and I saw how much fear I had, and how much courage He gave. I almost forgot what it felt like, to be cradled in His arms, watch Him take me beyond everything, and to be His child once again. Frail yet fearless.

I do not how much of it I have left inside. I wonder how long I can go on before it is all taken away. Just as the fog of ignorance clears to reveal the road ahead, I know I have to walk this road, for as long as it takes.

"Waiting for too long...for something I forgot was wrong."-gin blossoms

I heard these words play over and over again, and I finally knew what she meant to me. She is finally fading away, like a flower at the dawn of autmn.

She left and came back, and I mocked at myself for being so foolish. My thoughts were always open to her, even though she never spoke to me.

So it is the last terminal, where I bid her immortality goodbye, and see her as a failed, flawed human being. A stranger that once stepped into the story of my life.

I will never forget her, she has given me more than I could ever dream of, gifts that I will take with me wherever I go.

My wings grow restless, as the Maker draws the final road ahead. It has never been more beautiful, and I thank him for it, everyday.

I look at her face for the last time. It isn't the same anymore, and I finally close the door and pray for the end.

The end of my blind adoration for something that was never there.

My Pan-asian fix, among other things....

Have you ever caught a glimpse of the future, or even a fragment of its many possibilities? Has anyone ever wondered why before you were old enough to like girls your mom could predict what types will suit you? To cut the long story short, it was a burning sunday morning, and I could not have been more fried.

So yes it was GD and me, stuck in the middle of Palawan Beach, officiating the race under the tropical glare of the sun. He's got this fetish for the muscles of the male order, something I would not care to comment more. I was bored, hot and bothered, until she came over with her friends.

It was where the vision all started, I wasn't hallucinating, trust me. GD can corroborate my claims.

If you measure up every component that made up HER face, there was nothing great. Eurasian girls are quite user-friendly. All those that are drop-dead gorgeous are either kept women or high-flying urban models at some point of their lives. The rest aren't really worth a second look because the standards of horny asian bastards get higher every season. She was simple, with a dark complexion and freckled cheeks and a small figure so fit it put grown blokes to shame. Something told me otherwise, but my eyes could not be taken off her. Her friends were babbling nonsense, she got distracted. She looked at me.

She smiled, I smiled back.

Regretfully, I would only know later that it was a sign. Thanks Esther, I have been out of the dating game for too long, thus my hint sensors are defective.

I then remembered the kind of life I always wanted when ALL is said and done- a house in the quiet beaches of Miami, huge waves, dark brown-haired imps running around, and yes a roxy girl for a wife.

Brown hair, brown eyes...and a smile like hers. I will die a happy man.

My mom never once interfered in my love life. She was so quiet at home that if you wanted her to say something, you had to literally ask. But before I had the slightest idea of the birds and the bees, she told me this one thing.

"You should find an eurasian girl. Chinese gals will not know how to appreciate your kind. Well, your father will jump up the wall and your grandparents will condemn you, until your kids arrive. Then they will be the most beautiful children on both sides of the family."

A little kid came up to me, fierce eyes and frown. She wanted to watch the race from where I was, so I had to ask her to move away. I watched her expression, before it all fitted in together. Ladies and gentlemen, the Man above gave me a glimpse of my offspring, if my blood mingled with that of the mixed.

So the day went on, my face was baconised, but my moods were up and coupled with the fact I actually saw more than five people I lost touch with for a long time. Catching up when in heat, how interesting...

Later that night, while sharing my wild, wet and winsome experience with my friend, she asked me.

"So what about her?"

She meant her best friend, the one everyone believes I have a huge crush on. So I told her another thing I saw that day, before the sun came to scorch me.

Just a man and a woman walking down the beach. The woman looked rather mature, late 20s perhaps, average looking but she had a killer bod, the kind the vixens use in porn films. Well her guy was dark, muscular and handsome in the malay-nepalses those dark races kind of way. His arms were around her, there was only one thing wrong.

The top of his head touched the bottom of her chin.

I asked GD the killer question.

"Hey, what would you do if I managed to pull off something like that?"

He, of course knew what I was driving at

"Hah! Given your present circumstances, I will definitely shut up for a month!!" he replied confidently.

Time to wake up, boy. Dream's over

Illusions

Just got back from watching one of the lamest horror movies in the history of cinema. Lots of thoughts pulsating through my mind at the moment, which explains the sudden relapse of isomnia. I am starting to wonder whether this feeling or 'season' is a contagious disease, because my mind seems to be frozen in a stasis of neverending fantasy and false beliefs. A malignant moment I can never get out of.

Seasons, we all have it don't we? It's like the monthly flow of blood for girls, gets them all wired up for the mood of men-hating. I don't mean to insinuate, but human emotions simply defy all rational reasoning. Do what you feel, and feel what you want. It gives me those carnal creeps of animalistic horror, but just dig my heart out will ya? Yeah the slow-beating organ, with all the pornographic filth and selfish delusions. Examine it, perform an autopsy with all the necessary spiritual and psychological references and sieve out the twisted visionary vices. I think you might find an old 1998 photograph of a pretty young girl I will not name for now. Controversy sinks in, and the conscience just doesn't feel like talking anymore.

I have seen how such pictures turn pathogenic. Those times when they really eat the heart out with all the nostalgic maggots and turn the whole world against the victim, or so it seems. My friend has the parasite for a full four years, equivalent to a single office term in the White House. It is the leprosy of love, and he likes it too much to be cured, every minute of every day.

"Hmmz...a good song must have lyrics that touch people at various points of their lives" a pigeon letter written by the jester to the supreme judge 2005AD

Thanks How, for the song and lyrics. It was love at first sight when I heard it at the KTV. Hope you don't mind, but when the time comes it is going to played on my wedding. Cheers

童话歌手:光良 专辑:童话

忘了有多久
再没听到你
对我说你最爱的故事
我想了很久
我开始慌了
是不是我
又做错什么
你哭着对我说
童话里都是骗人的
我不可能是你的王子
也许你不会懂
从你说爱我以后
我的天空星星都亮了
我愿变成童话里
我要变成童话里
我会变成童话里
你爱的那个天使
张开双手
变成翅膀守护你
你要相信
相信我们
会像童话故事里
幸福和快乐是结局

一起写我们的结局

Hair therapy

Men are getting more vain these days. Observe the amount of time and effort they spend on their crowning glories. I sincerely do not comprehend how "Unkempt" is in. With wax, gel and other artificial means of styling, brutes can turn into SNAGS. Without, they look no better than dranged drug addicts.

I've got my guy friends telling me to get a change in hairstyle. They tell me I have to look older, or I should adopt a new style. After much deliberation, I still decided to adopt my trademark clean crop with a rooster crest at the fringe.

A visit to the barber is really one of live's simplest pleasures. In an explicit sense, it just makes me feel so naked and clean. Watching the black turfs of hair fall from my forehead, I abadon a thousands woes and sorrows. The running of the blade on the curves of my scalp simply titillate the endings of my moribund nerves. At the end of the cut, all that remains of my senses is the cutting of the wind against the open pores of my exposed cranium.

It is a virtual orgasm. You girls should go and try it.

Intermission v1.3

There are places in life you will never dream of, or things that seemed to be forgotten. But when it finally arrives at your doorstep, it simply blows your mind away. It is hard to describe the myriad of feelings that race through my mind in a split microsecond, or the questions that you ask that will never be answered.

I am a card idiot, I see no difference between spades and clubs, but it served as a tranquilizer to calm the nerves. The cards worked like magic, and I lost count of how much I won.

An invitation to the Forbidden City, that's what they joked about. A reclusive place, but beautiful in the simple sense of the word. When the others are around, I allow them to take the lead, to prove themselves in front of the strangers. I just keep silent and observe, and it yields the most interesting returns. I shall tell the story another day, when all the pearls of my thoughts are finally strung together.

I've been given the task of writing a new edition of the Book of History. Honestly, I'm rather reluctant to go back to it again, because I hope they remain the same. Sadly, that isn't going to be the case. Is Change a curse? Let us all hope it becomes the cure.

My gratitude goes out to the people who refrained from causing direct embarassment yesterday. Thanks, I really mean it.

Au Revoir

My best Friend

He drove all of us back last night, despite suffering from a cancerous phobia of roads. He was never a brave person, nor someone who was willing to risk embarassment, and I guess such weaknesses have been translated over time into qualities such as tact and shrewdness. An asset honed to perfection by the ancient chinese diplomats before the Communist Revolution.

Looking back on my life, it is inevitably hard to deny that part of it belongs to him, or a product of his influence. I taught him much about right and wrong, on the significance of conscience. He in turn taught me glamour, the gift of a glib tongue, and a gourmet's eye for glorious food. I remember how often he put aside his interests for the sake of his friends, and the sacrifices he made to keep us all together, and I realised how I have taken all the little things in life for granted. The longer you know someone, the less good things you can say about the person, but my inclusion into a gang that prefered talking before thinking meant only the worst possible outcomes in the shortest possible time. Tensions and misgivings were ubiquitous, but he was always there for us, eager to resolve any issues we had with one another.

He always wanted to know what others thought of him. Negative opinions were like an outbreak of pimples on his oily skin. He would always be driven to a frenzy, and when he calmed down, all he felt inside was a cold empty silence. He asked me what it meant, and how he could get over it, but the things I told him were simply too unattainable, so visibly distant from reality. He entertained foolish notions of being a superstar, but if you asked him what he really wanted, or what the good life meant to him, it was no different from the folks next door. Get a job, pay all the bills, and enjoy the pleasures of urban life.

Destiny means different things to all of us. Some have vain ambitions, others have simple satisfactions. Perhaps he knew what would become of me in the future, but my life has been an adventure, a quasi-fairy tale to those hard skeptics who deny that fortune favours the bold. I have done so much, gone futher than anyone else around around me, simply because he told me I would do so.

I wonder how God sends people into our lives, to change us into the people we were meant to be, or simply to re-direct our focus in life. He is just one of the few blessings I will carry along with me, as the blank pages continue to unravel in my own existence, awaiting Divine authorship. The people around me are gradually fading away, and my Muse is only an illusion of a generation drifting deeper into memory. There will be a new life, a new slate and a new reality, and those that I loved and cherished will be gone forever.

No matter where I am, I hope that I wil be able to visit that life again, to walk back on the trail of my own footprints, and hopefully I will still be able to see him, smiling at me again, like the 14 year-old boy who gave me shelter when I was homeless eight years ago, always welcoming me, no matter how much life changes.

Pieces of You

Broken china scattered on the floor
whispers borne on fallen leaves
a name inscribed on the sand
memories the eyes can never see

Two were born, only one remains
forgotten ghosts barren of reality
seducing the naked senses
into an abysmal insanity

A touch of a solitary hand
shatters a mirror into glass
holding fragments of a life he wrote
fortunes that never came to past

Facing you behind the veil
my tears have turned to scars
surroundered by dark visions
that bid me forget who you are

Superhero confessions

The day I knew I could capture memories, I felt its presence within me. I never really knew what it meant, or how it came to be, but it flowed with the tides of my emotions, and flew beyond the horizons of my soul. I saw things of the past and future, a myriad of possibilities unfolded continuously whenever I closed my eyes, and like a serpent trapped, it struggled to free itself from my own mental bondage, taking me back to the paper, time after time.

I never meant for it to harm anyone, especially my family and friends. It never had any sense of right and wrong. It reeked of a cold perverse justice whenever I spoke to it, and it took over every significant thought of existence. I turned careful observations into objects of hatred and dissent, and when others felt its power they ran away from it, because it was evil to them, until I met her.

I wonder if angels do live amongst us, if they were here today and gone tomorrow. I never spoke to her, and she will never know I really am. I could never be the one to give her what she wanted. Everytime I saw her, it kept silent, and my dreams were only of her. It listened to her, or the silence she invoked whenever she was near me. My creations became immortal, beautiful and without flaw, and I loved all of them. I wanted to tell her, to let her who I really was, but she could barely recognize me.

I wonder how she is now. It would break my heart to know she is wasting her life away, but it is too late to make amends. A friend asked me if I would get over it, but how do you throw away something that was never yours? How do you stop of dreaming of things you have no control of?

If you were to take a trip down to the museum of ancient relics, you will discover a small papyrus scroll kept in a glass box. The name on the plaque reads "Empress story" and it was written by the royal jester when he was summoned to the Maiden's chamber, the final residence of the Empress before her fateful abdication. She instructed him to write it down, for it was told to her by her mother, passed down through generations in the family. It was her gift to the empire, a true story some say, while others claim it a legend. But aren't stories a reflection of the truth?

(Translated from the ancient Chinese text)

Gifts and curses

Long time ago, there lived a young king, who fell in love with a fair maiden. She was tall and graceful in form, and he longed for her to be his wife. Thus he sought the counself of the wise sage, with the hope of receiving divine blessings.

"Nay,my lord," replied the sage, " for she is born of the fox. Love you for a while she will, but when her heart wanders so will her body, and she will return to you no more."

The king, on hearing the grim omen, was furious and he had the sage beheaded. He ordered his officials to bring the maiden into the palace, and she returned in kind to his proposal. She became his queen, and he was happy.

It was during those days that the kingdom flourished, and the king took more lands under his domain. He became the ruler of a hundred nations, and he gave beautiful cities and villas for his subjects. For her he made a palace, high up in the mountains of snow, where the peach blossoms always shower their petals and the white lotus dance to music of the wind. He called it the Jade kingdom, for it was a beautiful place for as long as she dwelt there.

Years passed and the king was at war, and he no longer went to the Jade kingdom, and the maiden's heart grew lonely and cold. She sobbed softly in the cold winter nights, and even the songs of the beautiful nightingale, the beautiful princess of lore, could not lift her spirits. The curse had been planted, and her heart wandered deep into the forest, crying out for love. It was there her soul met a young grey wolf, a creature of her kind, handsome and strong.

"Come with me," said he, " and you can run wild and free"

Thus she gave up her human form, and became a fox again, but she thought of the king, and remembered his love. She made a statue of herself and placed it on the her bed, in return for his kindness to her. So she left the beautiful palace, never once looking back.

Days passed and the king finally returned to his kingdoom in victory. He desired to see his beloved, for she was in his thoughts day and night. But alas, when he went to her chamber, he only saw her statue sitting on the bed. He asked his servants where she had gone, and not one of them could give him an answer. He sent emisssaries to the four corners of the empire, but still they brought no tidings of her whereabouts. When all was lost he remembered, the words the wise sage said to him, and he wept bitterly before the statue all his days.

The king neither ate nor slept, for throughout his rule on the land he stared at the graven image of the maiden, whose eyes never closed, whose face never stopped smiling. Only she welcomed him and listened to him, but she could not reply to his pleas, for she was made of stone, without life nor soul.

One night, as he knelt in front of her, it seemed for a while that the breath of life was upon the statue. And she got up and comforted him in his sorrow. The king begged her to stay, but it was her spirit that returned, and on the rising of the sun she will have to leave.

"Do not grief my Lord, for I must go now. Find yourself another wife and live long in the land Heaven has given you. Judge wisely, and your people will be happy." she told him., and her spirit departed from the statue, never to return again.

The king had become weak, shirveled and insane. He abandoned his throne, and his empire and all that he built withered,away like the dry leaves that fall during the cold autmmn. No one knows where he went, some say he was taken in by benevolent monks, others claim he became a vagabond, wandering the desolate streets till the day he died.

But that all of the people would say....is just the beginning of another story.