For the first time in 6 months. I'm having serious book in blues. the tekong kind.

the myth of uniquity

You know how everyone thinks they are unique then songs and conversations suddenly show that hey. we aren't that different after all? Everyone wants to think they are unique, even me, my feelings my thoughts, then a few words just show that everyone around me, our lives are parallel and sometimes very so? Everyone's special only because we know not about others who are equally 'special' including ourselves.

which is why i say.
move on.
not only me.
all of us.

What would think if I sang out of tune,
Would you stand up and walk out on me.
Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song,
And I'll try not to sing out of key.
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends,
He gets high with a little help from his friends,
Oh I'm gonna try with a little help from my friends.

What do I do when my love is away.
(Does it worry you to be alone)
How do I feel by the end of the day
(Are you sad because you're on your own)
No, I get by with a little help from my friends,
Mmm I get high with a little help from my friends,
Mmm I'm gonna to try with a little help from my friends

Do you need anybody?
I need somebody to love.
Could it be anybody?
I want somebody to love.

Would you believe in a love at first sight?
Yes I'm certain that it happens all the time.
What do you see when you turn out the light?
I can't tell you, but I know it's mine.
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends,
Mmm I get high with a little help from my friends,
Oh I'm gonna try with a little help from my friends

And yes. I get by with a little help from my friends. (and a little beer of course)

there's so much one man can think on his own.
but there's so much more when he has a friend.
thks bud.

yeah.
thks for talking some sense into me.
there are other ppl that counts.
and yeah.
its just not worth it.

there's a blog by my friend once and he locked it away permanently. though i have copies due to my RSS feed. and yeah. i thought he didn't make sense last time. but he do now.

itsfinished.

Why does the sun go on shining
Why does the sea rush to shore
Don't they know it's the end of the world
'Cause you don't love me any more

Why do the birds go on singing
Why do the stars glow above
Don't they know it's the end of the world
It ended when I lost your love

I wake up in the morning and I wonder
Why everything's the same as it was
I can't understand, no, I can't understand
How life goes on the way it does

Why does my heart go on beating
Why do these eyes of mine cry
Don't they know it's the end of the world
It ended when you said goodbye

Why does my heart go on beating
Why do these eyes of mine cry
Don't they know it's the end of the world
It ended when you said goodbye

Final Whistle.

Its time.
I've removed many things.
but yes.
I've had my last stand.
Deleted stuff that i should.
Days are gonna be different from now on.
But yeah.
I'll make them count.
Its time for some air and change.

Tonight i hold delight's vigil.
As delight is now delirium.

Its wondrous how technology makes 'forgetting' so easy.

[update 2215hrs] In real life its not so easy.
If you are here. If anyone is here.
Save me. Please.
Ok. Maybe not you.
You seem to have your new appointments now.
Someone else. Save me.
Who hears my heart scream.
I need some resolve.

full.stop.

at a lost of words here right now.
but yeah.
every chapter must have an conclusion.
I just ain't sure how to end it.
but yes.
it must be.
for it was me who said that last time.
and i always hold true to my words.

you know, about 10 months or more ago i posted this defender's dillemma and the striker's problem or something and yeah. just been thinking bout this. imagine you scored a goal, well, a contested one, and you are jubilant, perhaps too much so. that you got a yellow card for 'over zealous' celebrations. And the manager offers to sub you off. do you go off? yes. i say. for sometimes at the peak of your game, your vision gets cluttered, your confidence too high. that you just have to take a step back, nod your head, and applause the audience. and then, proudly, take a bow.

You know how somethings seem nicer when they're at a distance from you? so desirable, as though it would complete every part of you. and then when you get it, you're pretty fine with it and in fact happy bout it but it just didn't hit that expectation you have and then you kid yourself into believing that it had? and someday you just hit that sudden realisation that you're actually living a mirage?

Being a dreamer means you have to face the nightmares too.

but yeah. thanks my brothers.
for being there for me when yeah.
i need you or not.
Brothers. Eternal.

Dark Knight.

Just watched The Dark Knight with the gang. Ran, Joko, Hoe, Noch, Colin, Me and Batman-spiderman-joker-hunter-punter-chan. and the movie was good. top 2 between it and Iron man. which i thought was pretty awesome too. But i think dark knight edges this one just slightly. or maybe just more than slightly.

For the movie had a good plot and had all the action stuff. But it also sets me thinking. For it had alot of what i have been thinking off all the time. of the goodness of mankind and the use of weapons. Imagine it in simpler terms, you do not control the life of an entire ship. but just 2 of you. both of you have a rifle in your hand, and yes. whoever shoots the other first lives. or you two will just get killed by artillery anyway. will you fire? my answer, as it always have been, is still a solid no. I mean, its one thing to live, but its a totally different thing to live a murderer. You don't live anymore, what you do is like snow, you just stay frozen till the sun thaws you, and then you die a life that was dead long ago. And yes. I will never take the life of another man, even if that means he have to take mine. For i am not a hero, i am not that unselfish as to spare the person living with guilt the rest of his life, i will rather him take the guilt. And yes. As shown by DK, everyone is such a coward, which is why we need Batmans in this world to carry this guilt we would not carry.

and yeah. impressed kinda by the joker. By the fact that he plans nothing about the step ahead, but everything 2 steps later. kinda my style of doing things. which is why i may be living as sad a life as him. and after all, i maybe but a maniac.

quite disappointed that two-face didn't get a bigger role in the movies though. one cool man who was also quite symbolic of people. other than that, a near perfect movie. bravo. clapped at the end of the show.

miss the bite of handphone radiation at my ear.

The barbarian

Well. I was asked to write a story not very long ago by someone, and yeah. in the midst of my emo-ing, kinda got a stroke of inspiration while on the mrt in the morning. so yeah. gonna try to write it down now.

THE BARBARIAN

There once lived a barbarian, somewhere not very far from anywhere, since the world was once a small place. This barbarian wielded an axe, and wore nothing but the leather from his kills. He wasn't the strongest, or fastest, or anywhere near highly regarded as heroes of those days. But he had an aura of stoicalness around him, with his many scars and crusted blood and dirt. Along with a confidence in him to enter towns with his head held high and a beast hauled on his back. But he, was a nobody and none, but himself knew his name.

The barbarian did not like his life, but neither did he hated it. He did however seeked greater excitement and fulfillment. Thus he went on many a quest, but none, yielded anything special, perhaps a boar's head or two would the best he could get. This was, to him, hard to take, for he was dreaming of dragons and damsels in distress, and all he got was the small fry. But one day, while walking down a forest, he found a sword. Not any sword, a magical one. Floating in mid-air without the help of anything but itself. Its sheath was leather, for the sword despised any metal other than itself. But no ordinary leather, it was the hide of the dragon goldfang,who was said to have a breath so fiery, it burned all of his teeth and had goblins made golden fangs for it. The hilt though, was one piece with the sword, and had cryptic carvings of a long lost language on it. The metal itself was bronze in colour, but much stronger and sharper than bronze. It reflected light, not too much but to such a degree such that the sword appeared luminescent, and maybe it is. The blade is straight and not too long and seem to be able to change slightly to fit its owner. The sword exuberated majesty and grandeur, unlike the chilling cold of most swords of its kind. Though uneducated at the recognition of weapons, the barbarian was able to recognize its raw power and grandeur from his experience in the killing field. He thus walked towards the weapon, cautious at how a weapon like this could be lying around in a forest that is neither dark nor mysterious nor magical.

After examining the sword and his surroundings at length and convinced that it was not a trap, the barbarian picked the sword up. But as he touched the sheath, the sword began talking to him, psychically or physically he could not tell. But the sword told him his story, and how it had brought power to all those who owned it before, sharing the barbarians dreams of achieving something big. The barbarian was impressed, and of course seeked to impress the sword, telling it of its many missions, but the sword was unmoved and indifferent. The barbarian then touched the hilt, wanting to pull the sword out, but he was immidietely stung by the heat from the hilt. For the sword said, he would not let a common barbarian rust its blade with the blood of boars, for it was jaer, dragonforged, king of blades and blade of kings. "be somebody" it said, "show me your potential, and i'll be yours to wield."

The barbarian, at this point, was already in love with the blade, and swore to wield not another weapon but it, discarding his old axe, he picked up the magic sword and continued his journey, his mind dreaming of great adventures to come.

The barbarian listened and talked to the sword, asking for advice, as he seeked improving himself. He first learnt the art of fencing, for he 'had been swinging the blade around with less skill than an ape', and he excelled in it, due to his sheer will to wield his sword. He picked up reading, for it 'was the pastime of kings and champions', and he found he liked it, and read more and more. He brought armour, though he had not an idea of what should he buy, for 'no king rides around in a leapord skin garb'. The barbarian did not find any of this a chore, instead, he was happy that he finally got a chance to change and improve himself. As he picked up these skills and changes, the quests he got changed, he was no longer hunting boars and killing snakes, but he was now slaying abdominations and hunting dragons and slowly, but steadily, he earned himself reknown. He was now The gentleman knight to many, as his armour was polished till shine everytime he entered a civilization. And along with his reknown and respect, the sword finally allowed it to hold its hilt.

The barbarian, or the knight, was ecstatic. For the sword is now much more than a weapon for him. Through the many conversations they had, the sword was now his friend, and perhaps more. And he was sure the sword felt the same for him. He is still the gentleman knight with others at the tavern or guild houses, but with his sword alone, he is no longer a barbarian, and neither a knight. For he now could not wield the sword like he wanted. For he was afraid to damage it, to just scratch it even a little. And for awhile it was fine, for so great was the skill of the barbarian now, he could slay a dragon with any common sword. But the sword was unhappy, unhappy that the barbarian was being so soft for it. But for awhile, it was fine.

Then one day, the barbarian was summoned by no less than the king himself, to fight barlder, the rebel lord, who was undeafeated in combat for a thousand straight duels, and have not even suffered any wound. The barbarian was confident, and thus he went, Jaer hanging at the back of his chariot, himself wielding a silver blade gifted by the elves.

For 3 days and 3 nights barlder and the barbarian fought. barlder was skilled, but no way near the finely honed ones of the barbarian, but despite landing many a hit on barlder, the barbarian found it impossible to penetrate barlder's skin. on the 3rd night. A truce was called. The barbarian was now out of ideas and strength, for how could he beat a being that could not be harmed by his sword. He was down, really down. for he knew that he was fighting a losing battle. Sad, he consulted Jaer, hoping for comfort. But as he reached for its hilt, Jaer burnt him again. The barbarian was sad, confused and angry, for he thought that the sword has abandoned him. Saddened, he asked the sword why.

The sword flew out of its sheath and proceeded to shread his armour, breaking his shield and leaving him but a ragged man. The barbarian was overwhelmed, totally destroyed weaker than he was before the whole episode.

"Do you know why i burnt and broke you. For you are nothing, even less than the barbarian when you first found me. You are now soft, weak and unable to do anything but to polish my blade now, your stoicity and confidence and grandeur all gone when you're with me. How could i let you wield me properly like this. I could have hid myself when we first met, but i liked the person i saw inside you. The one you show everyone else outside now but me. A sword should not be kept hanging, polished and neat, especially a sword my calibre, a sword like me is meant to be wielded, a companion rather than a prize. Show me the gentleman knight you are, and i'll be yours to wield."

"I would want to now, but my hands are scarred by you, and without my hands, how could i wield you? and barlder is impenetrable by blades, how could i fight on?"

"You wield me not with your hands, not by touching me, but by your mind, your thoughts. And barlder is impenetrable, but for sky-iron forged by dragonfire above a iceberg and under the light of the aurora, the very method that bourne me. Now, wield me."

And using his mental strength, The barbarian picked up the sword, and marched back into combat. Barlder sneered.

"do you not know that i could not be cut by any metal. I wear my umbillical cord around my stomach now for they could not cut it when i was born. You are fighting but a lost battle, surrender and i'll make your death fast."

To which the barbarian replied, "I have the sword Jaer, dragonforged, sword of kings and king of swords, and soon, barlder slayer. But I would tell you now, I am not totally proficient at wielding it, and many a time, i would want to hold it in my hands just to polish it and not do anything. But yes, i'll show her, and the world, that yes. I am a champion, a knight, though i'm not totally one yet, but yes. I'm gonna try my best. Sometimes it isnt enough, i know, and sometimes i'm just not good enough yet. But yes, the wheels are in motion, i'm not changing, merely rediscovering, things that i may have lost in my over and wrong way of adoration for her. And yes, as i say this, though the blade has no ears, i believe she can hear me. For yes, i loved her, just the wrong way. Now. Face your death Balder, and remember the name woern, barlderslayer."

There was but a flash, as barlder slumped to the floor, hands full of blood, his blood, that he from the day he was born, saw for the first time.

---end---

dun wanna appear clingy or whatsoever, but yeah.