it feels like im coming back full circle again... somewhat lost, somwhat caught in the past. been thinking of my ex again though i try to tell myself to let it go. maybe its the drugs, maybe i really am over it. maybe this is the midweek blues; afterall i had a pretty large weekend. thinking and talking in circles... the more i write, the deeper the spiral. maybe it would be better if i never wrote anything down and let myself realise/caught in my thoughts.
i thought i knew what i wanted to do... which i do, in a way, but its becoming to feel too much like a dream. afterall, how concrete is anything; what is my dream gonna do for me for a future, when it comes to the base needs of survival in this pathetic capitalist world. i used to wish i was born in a different century when the world wasnt so... material. now i wonder, how much of it was youthful idealism, and how much of it is my procastination and inability to deal with the "real" world that i live in.
am i depressed? what is depression anymore... the lines are blurred between me and the drugs, where do they end and begin? a vicious cycle. who am i?
we are what we eat.
1.11.02
i just came back from tree of palme:
-
well, tree of palme instantly became one of the best anime i've seen... visually breathtaking, riveting landscapes and flora... even when the plot dragged a bit, my eyes were glued to the screen.
stylistically reminded me of this french comic artist by the name of jean "moebius" giraud, very clean lines, plain colours; very very surreal.
a big headfuck in terms of storyline(s)... so many sub-storylines happening on different levels: dealing with desires, loss, failed dreams, innocence, love and yearning... ironically all interweaved around a non-human puppet as their focal point.
the film developed the protagonist, palme, very nicely at the beginning though some might have found it slow. however, 3/4 into the movie, i thought it became rather "clumsy": when he started displaying somewhat mercural personalities which might have been inferred but no catalyst was readily recognised.
the female character, popo, became the focus, and at times, obsession of palme: she was the one who snapped him out of his initial fugue state, and later on, became his anchorpoint as his mind and body dissolved. i thought she could've been "fleshed out" more. she had her moments... when she rebelled against her mother, asking if she was just her puppet, seconds after palme was kicked aside as an inaminate object.
shatta, one of the supporting cast, is an abandoned street kid, leader of a band (who provided comic relief) dreaming of taking over the flamingo. he was introduced as a mercenery character who saw palme as a source of money. the flim sees him change and slowly make an about-turn, supporting palme in his quest. shatta never belonged wherever he was; in search of his mother and made peace with her in palme.
which brings us to koram, whom shatta searched for, the mother who abandoned him, who, in turn, was abandoned by her father. a restless and i hazard to say, vindictive/vengeful soul. she started the chain of events which saw her attaining and losing her life, for what her brothers and father could not do, to prove her worth. that was then entrusted to palme to finish the task which made him cross paths with shatta. full circle.
the tamas tribe... the portrayed "bad guys" in the film... they themselves innocents, victims of a god who has forgotten and cast them aside for something, better. the influence of moebius is most evident in the way they were drawn, their clothes and technology.
what i've written does not begin to describe how mind blowing tree of palme is, when u sit in darkness fully submerged in an alien, surreal and vaguely familiar dream, rifed with undercurrents of emotional distress and innocent joy.
a very poignant and beautiful journey.
-
well, tree of palme instantly became one of the best anime i've seen... visually breathtaking, riveting landscapes and flora... even when the plot dragged a bit, my eyes were glued to the screen.
stylistically reminded me of this french comic artist by the name of jean "moebius" giraud, very clean lines, plain colours; very very surreal.
a big headfuck in terms of storyline(s)... so many sub-storylines happening on different levels: dealing with desires, loss, failed dreams, innocence, love and yearning... ironically all interweaved around a non-human puppet as their focal point.
the film developed the protagonist, palme, very nicely at the beginning though some might have found it slow. however, 3/4 into the movie, i thought it became rather "clumsy": when he started displaying somewhat mercural personalities which might have been inferred but no catalyst was readily recognised.
the female character, popo, became the focus, and at times, obsession of palme: she was the one who snapped him out of his initial fugue state, and later on, became his anchorpoint as his mind and body dissolved. i thought she could've been "fleshed out" more. she had her moments... when she rebelled against her mother, asking if she was just her puppet, seconds after palme was kicked aside as an inaminate object.
shatta, one of the supporting cast, is an abandoned street kid, leader of a band (who provided comic relief) dreaming of taking over the flamingo. he was introduced as a mercenery character who saw palme as a source of money. the flim sees him change and slowly make an about-turn, supporting palme in his quest. shatta never belonged wherever he was; in search of his mother and made peace with her in palme.
which brings us to koram, whom shatta searched for, the mother who abandoned him, who, in turn, was abandoned by her father. a restless and i hazard to say, vindictive/vengeful soul. she started the chain of events which saw her attaining and losing her life, for what her brothers and father could not do, to prove her worth. that was then entrusted to palme to finish the task which made him cross paths with shatta. full circle.
the tamas tribe... the portrayed "bad guys" in the film... they themselves innocents, victims of a god who has forgotten and cast them aside for something, better. the influence of moebius is most evident in the way they were drawn, their clothes and technology.
what i've written does not begin to describe how mind blowing tree of palme is, when u sit in darkness fully submerged in an alien, surreal and vaguely familiar dream, rifed with undercurrents of emotional distress and innocent joy.
a very poignant and beautiful journey.
30.10.02
an addendum: apparently, i shouted in my dream this morning, though i have no recollection of it... my housemate asked me why i was shouting in the morning and i didnt even know. rather disturbing... i dont think i've had such bad dreams in my life that i physically reacted to it in such a manner.
an update: its fucking 0543 now and i cant sleep... im gonna take out the g... again, sigh.
an update: its fucking 0543 now and i cant sleep... im gonna take out the g... again, sigh.
went away to the beach (anglesea) for the weekend... and i have this to say: sobriety is overrated. time passes way too slowly when sober (not in reference to the weekend but sobriety in general). however... i did almost eat nonstop for 24 hours... so i guess that's good... healthy even. and played beach cricket though i had no fucking idea wat was going on... hit the ball, run; that seems to be it. and i caught the blues brothers for the first time, after a heavy dinner of babercued meat... which left me dozing off infront of the tv. we almost broke the "no chems" rule to stay away but decided it aint worth the trouble since it's been a good weekend... so we drank more.
i had wanted to write over the weekend... thinking a getaway in a house overlooking the beach and ocean would be good inspiration, i was inspired... but the words were clumsy and it felt too fake to be writing at a getaway. but just before sleeping... i managed to draw and i was worried i might be losing the skill i just rediscovered... so i suppose something good worked out in the creative department.
it was a good weekend away with friends, just doing nothing and whatever we were comfortable with... i almost felt pressured to be having fun but there was just no energy after the taxing week and the food weighed too heavy in the stomachs.
sober and good.
scarey in a way... that i have to remove myself from the environment i put myself in... to be sober.
reached home on sunday, finished my video edit, and took out the g to relax.
monday: submitted the video, did a 3d presentation, and spent the night at home sober, wanting to chill out a bit b4 i got back into the work... and as i said, sobriety is way overrated... must be the worst time i've had trying to chill out... not having anything to do cept being on the net.
tuesday (today): wasted my day chilling out and moderating the forum, discussing some forum issues, my only constructive thing being a simple html page i put together to submit searches to the engines i frequently use. had dinner, and arranged with friends to have dessert cos i was having a cake craving... so we went and had a pretty good time digging in and feeling sick from all the cakes, and laughing and joking in general... and planning nye. surprisingly, we had a pretty good time doing something normal and sober... i've forgotten wat it feels like to sit around for a coffee and just chatting... it was very relaxing and enjoyable.
finished 2 3d models of comets and im just chilling now... i dont feel particularly sleepy even though i know im on my way to fucking up my sleep pattern again... but well, it's been a pretty good day considering i did fuck all in the day, and then did work at night till 4am... so im feeling quite good about it.
sober and productive, that's a nice change.
why am i writing this? i dont usually chronicle my weekends or days like this... but perhaps this journal is filled with too much pain and angst, perhaps... i need to remind myself that i am afterall, still human and alive... i would hate to look back on almost 2yrs of this journal and see only pain (not that im happy or euphoric right now).
hate to sound cliche but i hope this is a step towards the reconstruction of my self... learning to look beyond the pain and the silent black and white of my world.
i feel like... i am on the brink of something, perhaps i might call it fate, or destiny even (ha!) but as i've said... over the past 6 months, these past 2 months, and the past few weeks... things are becoming clearer and i think this is a step in that direction, no?
again... i find myself falling into an introspective mood as i type... a bad habit of mine... rambling on and on. i get like this sometimes... when i start, i cant stop writing; unfortunately only in relation to my personal self... if i could do this on a professional basis, that would be nice.
who knows... cos i for one sure dont... but perhaps in chronicling these changes, i might know someday.
i had wanted to write over the weekend... thinking a getaway in a house overlooking the beach and ocean would be good inspiration, i was inspired... but the words were clumsy and it felt too fake to be writing at a getaway. but just before sleeping... i managed to draw and i was worried i might be losing the skill i just rediscovered... so i suppose something good worked out in the creative department.
it was a good weekend away with friends, just doing nothing and whatever we were comfortable with... i almost felt pressured to be having fun but there was just no energy after the taxing week and the food weighed too heavy in the stomachs.
sober and good.
scarey in a way... that i have to remove myself from the environment i put myself in... to be sober.
reached home on sunday, finished my video edit, and took out the g to relax.
monday: submitted the video, did a 3d presentation, and spent the night at home sober, wanting to chill out a bit b4 i got back into the work... and as i said, sobriety is way overrated... must be the worst time i've had trying to chill out... not having anything to do cept being on the net.
tuesday (today): wasted my day chilling out and moderating the forum, discussing some forum issues, my only constructive thing being a simple html page i put together to submit searches to the engines i frequently use. had dinner, and arranged with friends to have dessert cos i was having a cake craving... so we went and had a pretty good time digging in and feeling sick from all the cakes, and laughing and joking in general... and planning nye. surprisingly, we had a pretty good time doing something normal and sober... i've forgotten wat it feels like to sit around for a coffee and just chatting... it was very relaxing and enjoyable.
finished 2 3d models of comets and im just chilling now... i dont feel particularly sleepy even though i know im on my way to fucking up my sleep pattern again... but well, it's been a pretty good day considering i did fuck all in the day, and then did work at night till 4am... so im feeling quite good about it.
sober and productive, that's a nice change.
why am i writing this? i dont usually chronicle my weekends or days like this... but perhaps this journal is filled with too much pain and angst, perhaps... i need to remind myself that i am afterall, still human and alive... i would hate to look back on almost 2yrs of this journal and see only pain (not that im happy or euphoric right now).
hate to sound cliche but i hope this is a step towards the reconstruction of my self... learning to look beyond the pain and the silent black and white of my world.
i feel like... i am on the brink of something, perhaps i might call it fate, or destiny even (ha!) but as i've said... over the past 6 months, these past 2 months, and the past few weeks... things are becoming clearer and i think this is a step in that direction, no?
again... i find myself falling into an introspective mood as i type... a bad habit of mine... rambling on and on. i get like this sometimes... when i start, i cant stop writing; unfortunately only in relation to my personal self... if i could do this on a professional basis, that would be nice.
who knows... cos i for one sure dont... but perhaps in chronicling these changes, i might know someday.
25.10.02
i am putting this here as a point of reference to what i just blogged, the actual webpage can be found here
-
i've held back on replying because i know yaya personally and i got him started on this chemical journey.
however... i guess i cant help offering my 0.02c... its not just with drug use (however, more so and more importantly) but with life in general... we need to be able to step outside of the circle/boundary that is our lives, and be able to look IN, and see how we're doing, as objectively as possible.
and because drugs affect our minds/characters on such fundamental levels, it is even more important that we are able to step out and view our drug usage independently and objectively.
now... my own history and experience:
i can honestly say i got into the scene without the help of drugs. i've been listening to electronic music for a couple of years now (singapore is not exactly conducive to drugs, having a zero tolerance policy and random urine spot checks in clubs). so i think i can safely say, when i got into the scene, it was purely for the music. that has always been my priority... even with my history of drug-taking, the drugs i choose to take, i would like to think, expands my mind and enhances the musical experience. drugs like ketamine, nitrous, cocaine, heroin, etc; do not appeal to me at all because from what i can tell (with my limited experiences of them), they dont do anything for me, and my music.
with that belief... i have never needed to take more than 2 pills a night, usually, 1, or 1.5; and i assume the music would take me places once the chemicals open up the doors.
however... this year, with some personal upheavel in my life... i have resorted to consuming drugs for the sake of being fucked/in a daze. i dont even take them to feel good anymore, just to be in a daze in which my mind doesnt have to function (i tend to brood and think too much). i have not had a sober night in more than a month... usually drinking alcohol (started with scotch which got me depressed so i changed to beer) or smoking some dope... telling myself that i just need to take them to relax.
slowly, without me realising, or my refusing to see, it spiralled out of control and it reached the stage where i would push myself as hard as i can go... so i dont have to deal with comedowns, and i can just black out when i hit the bed, because i DO think too much.
fast forward to wotw 2002... despite the good night i had listening and sharing richie hawtin's set with my crew... come the day after, my mood destabilised and i was oscillating between serious/cheerful/despair. i cried for more than 2 hours, totally feeling the futility and despair of my life, my lack of direction... and if not for my friends... i think i would've, might've, cut myself or done something, just to FEEL anything even remotely alive.
im not writing this to gain sympathy... as some of u who know me in person, i am very very personal about my life and i dont open up to people at all.
i am however, writing this in support of what yaya has written, that there can never be a bad time for self-assesment, comparing ur current state of attitude with ur attitude when u first started drug consumption.
too easily, we can convince ourselves of a need or a reason, to overdo drugs, too easily, we can rationalise it.
and when u, or we, overdo it, and it all comes crashing down, i pray to god... we all have our loved ones with us.
that is all.
-
i've held back on replying because i know yaya personally and i got him started on this chemical journey.
however... i guess i cant help offering my 0.02c... its not just with drug use (however, more so and more importantly) but with life in general... we need to be able to step outside of the circle/boundary that is our lives, and be able to look IN, and see how we're doing, as objectively as possible.
and because drugs affect our minds/characters on such fundamental levels, it is even more important that we are able to step out and view our drug usage independently and objectively.
now... my own history and experience:
i can honestly say i got into the scene without the help of drugs. i've been listening to electronic music for a couple of years now (singapore is not exactly conducive to drugs, having a zero tolerance policy and random urine spot checks in clubs). so i think i can safely say, when i got into the scene, it was purely for the music. that has always been my priority... even with my history of drug-taking, the drugs i choose to take, i would like to think, expands my mind and enhances the musical experience. drugs like ketamine, nitrous, cocaine, heroin, etc; do not appeal to me at all because from what i can tell (with my limited experiences of them), they dont do anything for me, and my music.
with that belief... i have never needed to take more than 2 pills a night, usually, 1, or 1.5; and i assume the music would take me places once the chemicals open up the doors.
however... this year, with some personal upheavel in my life... i have resorted to consuming drugs for the sake of being fucked/in a daze. i dont even take them to feel good anymore, just to be in a daze in which my mind doesnt have to function (i tend to brood and think too much). i have not had a sober night in more than a month... usually drinking alcohol (started with scotch which got me depressed so i changed to beer) or smoking some dope... telling myself that i just need to take them to relax.
slowly, without me realising, or my refusing to see, it spiralled out of control and it reached the stage where i would push myself as hard as i can go... so i dont have to deal with comedowns, and i can just black out when i hit the bed, because i DO think too much.
fast forward to wotw 2002... despite the good night i had listening and sharing richie hawtin's set with my crew... come the day after, my mood destabilised and i was oscillating between serious/cheerful/despair. i cried for more than 2 hours, totally feeling the futility and despair of my life, my lack of direction... and if not for my friends... i think i would've, might've, cut myself or done something, just to FEEL anything even remotely alive.
im not writing this to gain sympathy... as some of u who know me in person, i am very very personal about my life and i dont open up to people at all.
i am however, writing this in support of what yaya has written, that there can never be a bad time for self-assesment, comparing ur current state of attitude with ur attitude when u first started drug consumption.
too easily, we can convince ourselves of a need or a reason, to overdo drugs, too easily, we can rationalise it.
and when u, or we, overdo it, and it all comes crashing down, i pray to god... we all have our loved ones with us.
that is all.
these past four weeks has been a haze... slowly i put myself back together after six months of deconstruction/destruction. when i can look back on the past six months since april, it feels like i have been on prozac (though i've never taken it, but this is the only way i can describe it), living like a zombie, my life in a loop everyday, of motions and breathing. detaching myself from my life has helped cope with last semester but it has not solved anything and in hindsight... only delayed the inevitable. i have continually ingested substances of any kind, legal or not, living in a contant daze because that has ironically become the only surety in my life, a comfort in the haze in which my mind stops functioning and that is the only way i can stop thinking because i need to stop, thinking.
it came crashing down, feeling total despair and crying my eyes out so much i wouldnt have recognised my face, for two hours or so, i cant tell the time. and thankfully, i had friends there to catch me when it did, thank god... they spoke to me and in their voices, a beacon of sorts toward which i could cling to, identify with, because i myself had no more identity except for the despair and loss. total complete dissolution of my self and the only certainty was the utter despair i was living through. how do i put that into words, how do i pin it down, and hope to translate it into pixels on a screen? order, chaos; static. even as i try to order my thoughts now and put them down, i can feel the encroachment of tears and chaos. i shake in the cold and i wonder... how much of it is the cold, and how much of it is the quivvering of my soul bared and naked in the cold.
since then... i have been slowly putting myself back together... it has been hard and rough... a jigsaw with no reference, a model with no instructions. i dont know where im going but i am trying to put myself back together with no reference or instructions.... i feel like i am putting a new me back together. slowly, i am trying to find myself after killing myself and i hope it is not too late.... there has been moments, thanks to the talks with my friends... there has been moments when, i could see, after three years of living in a silent, black and white world, i could once again see where i would like to be headed. moments of clarity and inspiration when i could see myself in my mind, in the future, doing what i can, or want, or would like to.
it seems like this brief period of deconstruction/construction, i am rebuilding a new me with a new purpose and vision and i have to thank my friends here for that. it comes and go, which is not surprising... after three years, six months of lack... the passion and inspiration i am rediscovering is not certain but what is? i try to explain to them what i saw in my mind in that moment of clarity and i am embarrassed for sounding farfetched and cheesy, coming across as a fool for dreaming... and i try to reassure myself, it doesnt matter and... (im crying... why am i crying? i dont understand... things are coming together arent they?) i try to convince myself, that it is a dream i should hold on to and with it, learn to live again because a dream is what i lost these past three years (and a utopia in the past six months) and... are we not the stuff that dreams are made on?
i am writing this down now... after my absence from this place for two weeks... trying to capture it and when i need to, revisit this place for a reminder. and i am trying to capture this down because... i was just hit by a brief spell of depression as i write this, coming unbidden and unwanted... and i am afraid that... perhaps the time for construction is not yet come and i am sliding back into the haze again? no... that would be somewhat melodramatic wouldnt it?
another reason for writing this down... i dont know how long this brief period of hope would last before it gets extinguished... and who knows... after all the deconstruction/distruction i have put my mind through... there might not be much of a mind left to find. i can say, with all honesty and fear... that i might be losing my grip on reality: i had a nightmare today before i woke up... talking to my parents in my dream and telling them these past six months and having the proverbial agrument with them, crying... and i woke up gasping. checking the time, it was 3pm in the afternoon, i had absolutely no idea why it was 3pm cos i had the distinct impression that i had woken up earlier than that. i stumbled out of bed lost and confused and i noticed, my eye mask and earplugs were neatly placed beside my bed: i have no recollection of taking them off and i am certain i put them on this morning before going to bed. i distinctly remember putting on my earplugs first, going to the toilet, coming back into my room, switching off the light and heater, lying down in bed, looking for my eye mask and putting that on, and then, sleep.
but absolutely no recollection of taking them off or maybe, even waking up. today, i doubted my memory and my sanity despite the fact that it all looked as if i was putting myself back together.
i am beginning to entertain the thought that perhaps i should look for help, despite my belief that i would never do so unless i actually tried to kill myself.
it came crashing down, feeling total despair and crying my eyes out so much i wouldnt have recognised my face, for two hours or so, i cant tell the time. and thankfully, i had friends there to catch me when it did, thank god... they spoke to me and in their voices, a beacon of sorts toward which i could cling to, identify with, because i myself had no more identity except for the despair and loss. total complete dissolution of my self and the only certainty was the utter despair i was living through. how do i put that into words, how do i pin it down, and hope to translate it into pixels on a screen? order, chaos; static. even as i try to order my thoughts now and put them down, i can feel the encroachment of tears and chaos. i shake in the cold and i wonder... how much of it is the cold, and how much of it is the quivvering of my soul bared and naked in the cold.
since then... i have been slowly putting myself back together... it has been hard and rough... a jigsaw with no reference, a model with no instructions. i dont know where im going but i am trying to put myself back together with no reference or instructions.... i feel like i am putting a new me back together. slowly, i am trying to find myself after killing myself and i hope it is not too late.... there has been moments, thanks to the talks with my friends... there has been moments when, i could see, after three years of living in a silent, black and white world, i could once again see where i would like to be headed. moments of clarity and inspiration when i could see myself in my mind, in the future, doing what i can, or want, or would like to.
it seems like this brief period of deconstruction/construction, i am rebuilding a new me with a new purpose and vision and i have to thank my friends here for that. it comes and go, which is not surprising... after three years, six months of lack... the passion and inspiration i am rediscovering is not certain but what is? i try to explain to them what i saw in my mind in that moment of clarity and i am embarrassed for sounding farfetched and cheesy, coming across as a fool for dreaming... and i try to reassure myself, it doesnt matter and... (im crying... why am i crying? i dont understand... things are coming together arent they?) i try to convince myself, that it is a dream i should hold on to and with it, learn to live again because a dream is what i lost these past three years (and a utopia in the past six months) and... are we not the stuff that dreams are made on?
i am writing this down now... after my absence from this place for two weeks... trying to capture it and when i need to, revisit this place for a reminder. and i am trying to capture this down because... i was just hit by a brief spell of depression as i write this, coming unbidden and unwanted... and i am afraid that... perhaps the time for construction is not yet come and i am sliding back into the haze again? no... that would be somewhat melodramatic wouldnt it?
another reason for writing this down... i dont know how long this brief period of hope would last before it gets extinguished... and who knows... after all the deconstruction/distruction i have put my mind through... there might not be much of a mind left to find. i can say, with all honesty and fear... that i might be losing my grip on reality: i had a nightmare today before i woke up... talking to my parents in my dream and telling them these past six months and having the proverbial agrument with them, crying... and i woke up gasping. checking the time, it was 3pm in the afternoon, i had absolutely no idea why it was 3pm cos i had the distinct impression that i had woken up earlier than that. i stumbled out of bed lost and confused and i noticed, my eye mask and earplugs were neatly placed beside my bed: i have no recollection of taking them off and i am certain i put them on this morning before going to bed. i distinctly remember putting on my earplugs first, going to the toilet, coming back into my room, switching off the light and heater, lying down in bed, looking for my eye mask and putting that on, and then, sleep.
but absolutely no recollection of taking them off or maybe, even waking up. today, i doubted my memory and my sanity despite the fact that it all looked as if i was putting myself back together.
i am beginning to entertain the thought that perhaps i should look for help, despite my belief that i would never do so unless i actually tried to kill myself.
7.10.02
it just occured to me tonight, that my friends in singapore are probably having supper at this time of the night... so i made a cup of teh for myself; joining them at the silent metaphorical table, at the prata store in my mind. a toast then... to friendships and the transience of life, the only surety we have. i am not sad...i am simply having this moment of acceptance and acknowledgement. i miss the act of communion at the supper table; more so than the act of supper itself. i miss the company, the banter, and the comfort of friends. it might not be forever, but for this transient moment, it is eternal.
6.10.02
...and so
the dark
ends
cool blue
sterile
in its horrific
beauty
stark
brittle
crisp
the pale white
playing itself
across my wall
my life
my cold fingers
losing their grip
my mind
spiralling
losing its grip
and yet
i persist, in this daze
i struggle, in this haze
i cry, in this cool
i drown, in oblivion
i die, with every breath
and yet
i
cant
let
go
of the dark
in this light
and so
it begins
breathe
the dark
ends
cool blue
sterile
in its horrific
beauty
stark
brittle
crisp
the pale white
playing itself
across my wall
my life
my cold fingers
losing their grip
my mind
spiralling
losing its grip
and yet
i persist, in this daze
i struggle, in this haze
i cry, in this cool
i drown, in oblivion
i die, with every breath
and yet
i
cant
let
go
of the dark
in this light
and so
it begins
breathe
5.10.02
soft yellow washes
tinged with orange
edged with darkness
burning red
peeking between
bands of darkness
magenta cool
it steals in
softly
quietly
bleached
mono
chromatic
breathe
i let go
engulfing dark
comforting dark
i let go
breathe
i surrender
to this dark
another dark
i surrender
breathe
cant fight
it
no
just trying
to
breathe
easy
no?
tinged with orange
edged with darkness
burning red
peeking between
bands of darkness
magenta cool
it steals in
softly
quietly
bleached
mono
chromatic
breathe
i let go
engulfing dark
comforting dark
i let go
breathe
i surrender
to this dark
another dark
i surrender
breathe
cant fight
it
no
just trying
to
breathe
easy
no?
1.10.02
i cant sleep... after a harrowing day of emotions, feeling so drained and empty now... i cant sleep. i lie in bed with my eyes closed and my mind's a mess, so's my heart. did u know i loved u? did u know how much u were to me? do u know i love u still? and how empty i am every night? i want to talk to u and hear ur voice again, but that is not gonna achieve anything except make it worse. if only i could reach across time and space, to the days of a better world and and find comfort in ur voice and ur arms.
do u know what u've done to me? turned me into? i guess not... i dont even know what i have become, perhaps some soulless machine that tries to remember it was once living and thus pretends to be a mockery of being human. do u even read these pages? i cant talk to u and yet i am having this one-sided dialogue because i am all alone here in the night... and all i can think of is reaching out to u; but that has its pain and price which i dont think i can deal with... so i write on these pages of cold technology, looking for the solace i cant find.
what do u know of a heart's yearning? i am all alone and all i want is to be with u again, but that is obviously too much for u to give. why did u stop loving me? i gave myself and my world to u, and u broke them both. i can never understand that, never.
and so i am, here, now, a broken man grasping for ur love and it seems, i am destined to drown.
i wished i died the day u left. cos it feels like... i died and didnt know it... and i continue to breathe, thinking i was alive.
do u know what u've done to me? turned me into? i guess not... i dont even know what i have become, perhaps some soulless machine that tries to remember it was once living and thus pretends to be a mockery of being human. do u even read these pages? i cant talk to u and yet i am having this one-sided dialogue because i am all alone here in the night... and all i can think of is reaching out to u; but that has its pain and price which i dont think i can deal with... so i write on these pages of cold technology, looking for the solace i cant find.
what do u know of a heart's yearning? i am all alone and all i want is to be with u again, but that is obviously too much for u to give. why did u stop loving me? i gave myself and my world to u, and u broke them both. i can never understand that, never.
and so i am, here, now, a broken man grasping for ur love and it seems, i am destined to drown.
i wished i died the day u left. cos it feels like... i died and didnt know it... and i continue to breathe, thinking i was alive.
25.9.02
i've been neglecting this place... there's nothing much going on in my life... i've cut away everything and i'm just standing at the edge of the whirlpool that is my life, as it see it being flushed away. i have become somewhat of a spectator in my own self, just seeing my life through my eyes and not really reacting anymore... i watch as i fall behind in my class, i watch as i take the public transport... i watch the computer... i watch... my life go by. i cant really type right now... so this will have to suffice as an update.
28.8.02
[another day... another day... just breathe... another day... just believe... another day... just breathe... im used to it by now -telepopmusik]
i am sure, one day, i will look back at this period of my life, who knows, we might both look back together, over a cup of coffee (a cafe latte without froth for you), shoulders hunched over a table too low, aroma wafting into our nose like the breeze i remember in ur hair.
and because, it would be one day in the future, when i would be older, and wiser, no? i can look back at myself, sitting cross legged, hunched, teary, typing this out on a keyboard stained by my fingers. listening to her singing to me, to breathe... to believe.
when i live again... and can bear to revisit this chapter...
perhaps, i can look back with you, amused, and have a laugh at life, youth and how, losing you was the end of my world.
but it was
i am sure, one day, i will look back at this period of my life, who knows, we might both look back together, over a cup of coffee (a cafe latte without froth for you), shoulders hunched over a table too low, aroma wafting into our nose like the breeze i remember in ur hair.
and because, it would be one day in the future, when i would be older, and wiser, no? i can look back at myself, sitting cross legged, hunched, teary, typing this out on a keyboard stained by my fingers. listening to her singing to me, to breathe... to believe.
when i live again... and can bear to revisit this chapter...
perhaps, i can look back with you, amused, and have a laugh at life, youth and how, losing you was the end of my world.
but it was
19.8.02
its a strange thing... i've experienced many times, but it just dawned on me, clicked together last night. i have many masks in my social life, the faces i put on in different social situations... not because i am a hyprocrite, but that's just how adaptive i am to people around me, i feed off vibes and return them, and its not necessarily a good thing when one is so emotionally sensitive. it used to bother me that i do not seem to have a consistent character, besides my most fundamental beliefs and principles... my self-expression/interaction changes with a snap of a finger to fit the context of a current company.
so i grew up with it, and just not think about it; i'm just better at dealing with different people, life goes on easily enough.
last night, as i danced to the music, i finally found a center for myself, where its stable and i dont have to think about myself or anything. it was just purely the music and i, holding a conversation. it felt right, no faces, no mannerisms and self-deception, i cant explain what a revelation it was (no i wasnt tripping). the me who move and re-orientate with every transient lapping wave of my psyche... i finally found a center. i found me, which doesnt need to adapt, oblige, answer to.
just two of us, the music and i, having an exhillirating converation and at times, not even one, but just a silent nod of acknowledgement, acceptance, respect and a small smile on my face. it was a silent victory... i was certainly not about to run all over the place shouting like the mad man i might have looked like, or did. i was satisfied, having found something new about the music that rules my life, contented, that i discovered something about, rather, found myself.
i dont know how long this will last, or if it will even cascade down into my life... but as my body was talking to the music, i found an equilibrium and peace.
although it still doesnt compare to being in love (oh how i miss the joys of drawing a deep lungful of air, wanting to burst out laughing becos life was beautiful and i was where i am... yes i miss that very much); i still miss her, and i think of her every moment, as i am doing right now, wishing with every breath and yet, exhaling; i havent had this peace and surety within for a long time.
all my self-doubts, my lack of faith in my fellow beings (having someone shred away my belief and understanding can do that), my cynicism; for the few hours last night, i lost them all.
i didnt need people, i didnt need anything, i didnt need to open up and be vulnerable, i didnt need to build anything... the music was there, always been, the music and i. we had an understanding, unspoken.
my one constant companion who has never let me down, in the right hands.
i am very grateful, for that few hours.
to all of u who love the music, thank you for sharing my life.
i lost myself tonight
in the depths of
basslines, claps, hi-hats, synths
my many facades
my many mannerism
i lost
them
all
my gins
my grimaces
lost
them
all
ego pared away
the ghost in the shell
the soul in the machine
that i was
lost
it
all
to the music
just guiding my mind into a deeper abyss
dissolute
dissolved
i feel a beat
i am there
punctuating it
feet, arms, elbows and hands
no more self
just body parts
my mind
a clean slate
to be written on
i lost myself tonight
the music becoming
my reality
my totality
threw it all away
i found myself in the music
the one true me
that doesnt smile and speak of nothing
i found the center of my being
and it was grounded in beats
i lost and found
me
so i grew up with it, and just not think about it; i'm just better at dealing with different people, life goes on easily enough.
last night, as i danced to the music, i finally found a center for myself, where its stable and i dont have to think about myself or anything. it was just purely the music and i, holding a conversation. it felt right, no faces, no mannerisms and self-deception, i cant explain what a revelation it was (no i wasnt tripping). the me who move and re-orientate with every transient lapping wave of my psyche... i finally found a center. i found me, which doesnt need to adapt, oblige, answer to.
just two of us, the music and i, having an exhillirating converation and at times, not even one, but just a silent nod of acknowledgement, acceptance, respect and a small smile on my face. it was a silent victory... i was certainly not about to run all over the place shouting like the mad man i might have looked like, or did. i was satisfied, having found something new about the music that rules my life, contented, that i discovered something about, rather, found myself.
i dont know how long this will last, or if it will even cascade down into my life... but as my body was talking to the music, i found an equilibrium and peace.
although it still doesnt compare to being in love (oh how i miss the joys of drawing a deep lungful of air, wanting to burst out laughing becos life was beautiful and i was where i am... yes i miss that very much); i still miss her, and i think of her every moment, as i am doing right now, wishing with every breath and yet, exhaling; i havent had this peace and surety within for a long time.
all my self-doubts, my lack of faith in my fellow beings (having someone shred away my belief and understanding can do that), my cynicism; for the few hours last night, i lost them all.
i didnt need people, i didnt need anything, i didnt need to open up and be vulnerable, i didnt need to build anything... the music was there, always been, the music and i. we had an understanding, unspoken.
my one constant companion who has never let me down, in the right hands.
i am very grateful, for that few hours.
to all of u who love the music, thank you for sharing my life.
i lost myself tonight
in the depths of
basslines, claps, hi-hats, synths
my many facades
my many mannerism
i lost
them
all
my gins
my grimaces
lost
them
all
ego pared away
the ghost in the shell
the soul in the machine
that i was
lost
it
all
to the music
just guiding my mind into a deeper abyss
dissolute
dissolved
i feel a beat
i am there
punctuating it
feet, arms, elbows and hands
no more self
just body parts
my mind
a clean slate
to be written on
i lost myself tonight
the music becoming
my reality
my totality
threw it all away
i found myself in the music
the one true me
that doesnt smile and speak of nothing
i found the center of my being
and it was grounded in beats
i lost and found
me
i caught up with a friend last night. we were both rolling off our tits and as is with such circumstances, we were talking a lotta shit but outta all the crap we spewed, he claimed we were best friends. now i never subscribed to this best friend business and i was kinda surprised and duly skeptical, so i asked him why. and he said, its cos we dont have to see each other, but when we do, we can just cut to the chase, no bullshit, and carry on from whenever we left off, or as the current situation dictates. which is true, it was like that with us and i value him for saying that.
i havent been comforted like this for a while, having someone have faith in me and in a friendship and i think, in hindsight now, i am very touched by it.
he wont know, and i wont mention it cos its just not the kinda mushy thing guys say to each other when we're sober, but thank you, besides the music, his company, our very messy conversation, was all i took home with at the end of the night.
thanks for a good night dude.
i havent been comforted like this for a while, having someone have faith in me and in a friendship and i think, in hindsight now, i am very touched by it.
he wont know, and i wont mention it cos its just not the kinda mushy thing guys say to each other when we're sober, but thank you, besides the music, his company, our very messy conversation, was all i took home with at the end of the night.
thanks for a good night dude.
18.8.02
it was a dark and stormy night, as how these nights go. no, it wasnt stormy, that was just theatrics.
kaesey taylor graced the decks in singapore for the second time, bringing with him his own brand of stormy darkness.
having had a disappointing night from anthony pappa (another fellow melbournian), expectations were high for mr taylor and in my books, he surpassed it. touching down in singapore at 9pm, playing at milkbar and then catching his next flight out of town; given the circumstances, he delivered a blinding set of technical exquisity.
respects.
kasey started off his set much deeper than i was used to hearing him play, reminding me very much of a melbourne institution, sunny/sunny side up... the deep dark dirty sound of australia. fortunately, rather than getting too deep and hypnotic for the average punter (people are known to have described the sound as "monotonous" and "boring"), kasey built up the set with more driving basslines. ah... the basslines, deep, riding, galloping, driving... they all blend together like a beautiful cocktail, flavours sliding, swirling, complementing each other... an apt analogy i should think. the sounds, the basslines, the beats, flowing into each other like liquid. synths and vocals floating on top with a deft touch of detail the way a painter puts highlights into a painting.
as these deep progressive sets go, vocals were not used overtly. but when they come in, soaring so incongruently with the basslines and sharp beats, we were all caught off guard. just when i thought i had leaped off a cliff into an abyss of audio decadency, my body floats along with the vocals, my mind bouyant in wonder (unknown - sanctuary). and then, a few tracks later, plunge further with a hypnotic monologue of the evil stephane k + pqm - insane poem.
back into the dark kasey brought us, sprinkled with echoes and "techy" synths. creating an ambient hollow expanse of space, occupied by sounds that cut acrossed my perception like knives, and the subtlest of melodies courtesy of debo + porter - deported; a track i've been waiting to hear played out.
medway + sean cusick - fiscal ep [graffiti] takes the set to the three quarter mark, a deep, growling bassline with an old skool, uplifting (if u can imagine "deep, growling" together with "uplifting") melody in itself. one of my recent favourite tracks, i was somewhat surprised that kasey played it, but thankful... it brought to the set, a certain optimism, that ultimately, its all good.
and then... finally, taking the journey home, cosmos - take me with you... a journey within the track itself. that moment of clarity, when i heard kasey mixing that last track, syncing so perfectly, blew me away. it was so smooth, just sliding into place like it so wholly belonged in the previous track, had me grinning and looking to friends if they caught it. there is nothing like hearing a good mix/transition, catching it, and marvelling at how it all fits together.
having caught anthony pappa and kasey taylor on consecutive nights... it dawned on me, on the dancefloor of milkbar. that is what the dj is at the decks for, putting pieces of music together, so well, so smooth, basslines all keyed... the sole purpose of a dj, to provide a continous journey of sound, uninterrupted by poor technical ability. kasey taylor was a far cry from anthony pappa, whose every track transition made me cringe at the intruding beats and basslines.
dancing becomes effortless under the guidance of a master who knows groove like his own heartbeat.
kasey taylor, will, and is, going places with his masterfuly crafted sets, his unique sound of deep and drive, building a set with such effortless progression that it keeps punters moving without realising.
it was a very optimistic sign for the singapore scene, that we are not solely reliant on the big players to bring in djs of a high-calibre and professionalism, and most importantly, good, quality progressive house. it did not matter what the punters came for, if they even knew who kasey taylor was...
they came
they danced
they paid homage.
[kasey taylor @ milkbar, a review]
kaesey taylor graced the decks in singapore for the second time, bringing with him his own brand of stormy darkness.
having had a disappointing night from anthony pappa (another fellow melbournian), expectations were high for mr taylor and in my books, he surpassed it. touching down in singapore at 9pm, playing at milkbar and then catching his next flight out of town; given the circumstances, he delivered a blinding set of technical exquisity.
respects.
kasey started off his set much deeper than i was used to hearing him play, reminding me very much of a melbourne institution, sunny/sunny side up... the deep dark dirty sound of australia. fortunately, rather than getting too deep and hypnotic for the average punter (people are known to have described the sound as "monotonous" and "boring"), kasey built up the set with more driving basslines. ah... the basslines, deep, riding, galloping, driving... they all blend together like a beautiful cocktail, flavours sliding, swirling, complementing each other... an apt analogy i should think. the sounds, the basslines, the beats, flowing into each other like liquid. synths and vocals floating on top with a deft touch of detail the way a painter puts highlights into a painting.
as these deep progressive sets go, vocals were not used overtly. but when they come in, soaring so incongruently with the basslines and sharp beats, we were all caught off guard. just when i thought i had leaped off a cliff into an abyss of audio decadency, my body floats along with the vocals, my mind bouyant in wonder (unknown - sanctuary). and then, a few tracks later, plunge further with a hypnotic monologue of the evil stephane k + pqm - insane poem.
back into the dark kasey brought us, sprinkled with echoes and "techy" synths. creating an ambient hollow expanse of space, occupied by sounds that cut acrossed my perception like knives, and the subtlest of melodies courtesy of debo + porter - deported; a track i've been waiting to hear played out.
medway + sean cusick - fiscal ep [graffiti] takes the set to the three quarter mark, a deep, growling bassline with an old skool, uplifting (if u can imagine "deep, growling" together with "uplifting") melody in itself. one of my recent favourite tracks, i was somewhat surprised that kasey played it, but thankful... it brought to the set, a certain optimism, that ultimately, its all good.
and then... finally, taking the journey home, cosmos - take me with you... a journey within the track itself. that moment of clarity, when i heard kasey mixing that last track, syncing so perfectly, blew me away. it was so smooth, just sliding into place like it so wholly belonged in the previous track, had me grinning and looking to friends if they caught it. there is nothing like hearing a good mix/transition, catching it, and marvelling at how it all fits together.
having caught anthony pappa and kasey taylor on consecutive nights... it dawned on me, on the dancefloor of milkbar. that is what the dj is at the decks for, putting pieces of music together, so well, so smooth, basslines all keyed... the sole purpose of a dj, to provide a continous journey of sound, uninterrupted by poor technical ability. kasey taylor was a far cry from anthony pappa, whose every track transition made me cringe at the intruding beats and basslines.
dancing becomes effortless under the guidance of a master who knows groove like his own heartbeat.
kasey taylor, will, and is, going places with his masterfuly crafted sets, his unique sound of deep and drive, building a set with such effortless progression that it keeps punters moving without realising.
it was a very optimistic sign for the singapore scene, that we are not solely reliant on the big players to bring in djs of a high-calibre and professionalism, and most importantly, good, quality progressive house. it did not matter what the punters came for, if they even knew who kasey taylor was...
they came
they danced
they paid homage.
[kasey taylor @ milkbar, a review]
i lost myself tonight, in the depths of basslines, claps, hi-hats, synths... i lost, and found myself tonight. my many facades, mannerism... i lost them all. my gins, my grimaces...lost them all. ego pared away, there was only the ghost in the shell, the soul in the machine that i became. lost it all to the music; just guiding my mind into a deeper abyss. dissolute, dissolved, i feel a beat, i am there, punctuating it feet, arms, elbows and hands... no more self, just body parts, my mind a clean slate to be written on. i lost myself tonight, the music becoming my reality, my totality. threw it all away, and i found myself in the music, the one true me that doesnt smile and speak of nothing... i found the center of my being and it was grounded in beats.
10.8.02
"-You are mortal: it is the mortal way. You attend the funeral, you bid the dead farewell.
You grieve. Then you continue with your life.
And at times the fact of her absence will hit you like a blow to the chest, and you will weep. But this will happen less and less as time goes on.
She is dead.
You are alive.
So live."
Dream to his son Orpheus, in Brief Lives
You grieve. Then you continue with your life.
And at times the fact of her absence will hit you like a blow to the chest, and you will weep. But this will happen less and less as time goes on.
She is dead.
You are alive.
So live."
Dream to his son Orpheus, in Brief Lives
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