Counterfeit People

Once again its the overly seen cliche of "everyone is fake except for me."


I just noticed how truly unpopular I am. I've always known that not that many people truly care for me, for instance if I died tomorrow most people I knew would just go "Oh, thats sad." And forget about it in a few days or so. And its not like I treat everyone on the planet very nicely anyway.


But seriously, I feel abused. I walked to college today, a 2 hour along the highway. Crazy? Yes indeed ... But that is the way I deal with things, people swallow pills or get drunk while I inflict pain on myself. The wider the split in my knuckles, the more my knees is skinned and twisted, the more my body screams at me to "fucking stop it" the better I feel.


Seeing that I started off the day as sack of moody shit, I decided to take a walk ... not because of the exercise, not because I needed some peace and quiet (who the fuck gets peace and quiet on a highway anyway?) but because I really needed to emotionally calm myself down. You see, people pissing me off is one thing, people pissing me off and me developing a mood swing right after, is another.


During the walk to college I encountered event number one:
A classmate who normally does not call me to ask me whether or not I'm going for class, CALLS me to ask me whether or not I AM GOING FOR CLASS. I thought to myself ...



"Ehhhh O_o ???"


Then came the time when class ended and I made my way to Blitzone where my friend was, on foot under the blazing sun. I'm not complaining, it felt absolutely fantastic, I could feel the dried blood and pust on my left knee melting in sweat that dripped down my crotch and down my pantlegs; at the same time fusing with it ... making life even more irritating and frustrating.


As the cars sped pass me from behind I could almost swear on my soul that it was a message from life itself; a message that went something like "all good things fly past you so fast that by the time you notice its (former) presence you can't even make out the figures on its reasonably large number plate."


It took me about 2 hours of non-stop walking to reach Blitzone.


When I did reach there it led to event number two:
A friend asked me to follow him to the workshop to do some minor work on his tires cause no one else was there to accompany him. I obliged, After that we went for a drink and I was left alone at the table cause' he went off to join his friends at the other table.


Later a third and more private event left me sort of dumbfounded at the realistics of my life. But I feel as if people only bothered to pay attention to me if they had nothing better to pay attention to. Event One took place because the rest of the classmates weren't coming for class, only that friend that called me was. Unloved ... The next is the way the Blitzone friend only loved me because no one else was there to talk to him. Unloved again. *sobs*


I feel like Jin now =) ... So this is what he must have been complaining about, but despite his metrosexual sensitivity he does not degenerate into such a level of insanity that I currently am in ... Also ... its no wonder he doesn't go to anyone to get counselling. I asked others for counselling this time and guess what I got? ...


The first convo twisted, turned, plummeted and downward spiraled into a debate on why or why not we should have sex before marraige. One day I will look back long and hard on that immensely lengthy MSN convo and try to figure our how the fuck it managed to spin out as bad as it did. The second one was so overly optimistic that it became downright irritating. The third one wasn't telling me anything new which I did not already figure out aeons ago.


It just saddens me that people can be so "buddy buddy" when you're useful to them. Whatever happened to being happy doing things that make others happy. But oh well. Greed Is Good. Everyone is so fake, except for me.


Strangely I kinda feel fine now ... so much more loose.
Maybe its this song. Am I the only one that realizes the song is about split personalities and discipline in fighting of temptation? I should probably try to sound remotely happy in the next post.



David Bowie - The Man Who Sold The World

We passed upon a stair;
We spoke of was and when;
Although I wasn't there;
He said I was his friend.

Which came as some surprise;
I spoke into his eyes;
I thought you died alone;
A long, long time ago.

Oh no, not me;
I never lost control;
You're face to face;
With the man who sold the world.

I laughed and shook his hand;
And made my way back home;
I searched for form and land;
For years and years I roamed

I gazed a gazely stare;
At all the millions here;
We must have died along;
A long long time ago.

Who knows? Not me;
We never lost control;
You're face to face;
With the man who sold the world.

Lifelong Friends

What a conincidence ...
It looks like that arrogant mother fucker owes me an apology after all ...
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070314/ap_on_bi_ge/world_markets


Somehow this is life's way of making up for the misgivings of a pathetic loser. And I am content with that, its good enough for someone like me who doesn't have any way to get back at people because of the sad thing called "altruism" that has been fused into my very being.


Anyway, I've had two great friends, we have been together for as long as I can remember. They are called Cigarette and Wall. When I need to relax, I smoke Cigarette. When I need to vent, I beat up Wall.


And these two friends have no doubt been a very prominent part of my life thus far and I'm sure they will always be there for me in the future.


The End.

The Day I Broke A Spoon

I am very depressed and angry today.
There is just something with March and unhappiness; they seem to come together hand in hand. 5 significant ex girlfriends were born in gloomy March. While 4 of them consider my name to be taboo, the most significant of all left a permanent scar in my heart and soul - she was the first to dump me and the first ever person in the world to manipulate me.


There are just no words to describe how unhappy I am today - or yesterday ... whatever. Perhaps how I feel could be summarized in totality with the word "snappy." I basically ruined my friendship with Yoong today. I called him out today for a late lunch around because I wanted to learn more about stock market trading and investing. He is a decent guy that uses the cliche guy-sentences like "understand or not sohai?" and "you get it or not babi?" and stuff like that.


Before I elaborate on my conversation with him, I will mention the fact that I am not at all, by nature, an excessively cheerful person ... in fact, I'm not even remotely cheerful. I'm the quiet guy that is always there whether or not you want him there; I am that guy smoking his cigarettes while engrossed in his own selfish thoughts amidst the company of the shadows. I fake happiness because it is healthy and because it is clearly better to be happy than to be sad.


Today, as hard as I strived I could not bring myself to fake the happiness that I usually am capable of faking. I guess he didn't notice that much of a difference since I've only known him for about a month and this is our third meeting. He explained some things that I never knew. He taught me that the stock market was actually formed because poor people with good ideas had nowhere to get capital while rich people with a lot of capital did not know how or where to spend it. He also taught me that a broker is basically the book keeper while the remisier is the guy running around making comission. He also taught me how to look at stocks and what I should do to keep a track record of them, and that he made his first 500k by observing the pattern of stocks. It was shortly after that when I got pissed off:


Me: There is a 10 year gap in between stock market crashes. It happened in 87, then 97.
Yoong: So what?
Me: So judging from your experience, don't you think it will fuck up again this year?
Yoong: Brokers have made more money in the past 3 months than in the past 8 years.
Me: Really? But wouldn't you say it won't be safe if you folllow the logic of the 10 year rule?
Yoong: Aiyah you deaf is it? If brokers have made more money in past 3 months than in past 8 years than of course it is safe to get involved now lah sohai.
Me: .... No, I get what you mean ... just got that patte(rn) *gets cut off*
Yoong: I'm not stupid lah okay, I say safe means safe lah idiot. I pro you NOOB.
Me: I just asked for your opinion only lah you chao hai son of a bitch!!!
Yoong: .............................
Me: People ask you for your fucking opinion also you have to be fucking lan si like a fucking bitch is it !?!?!?!? Huh !?!?!?!? IS IT !?!??!!??!?!
Yoong: ............... wei, chill la .... was just jo(king) *gets cut off*
Me: Ooooo, first you lan si like a mother fucker now you say chill is it !?!?!?!?!?
Yoong: ok ok ok ok ok ok ok
Me: *dumps 10 bucks on the table and walks off*


This is probably the last time I could ever go to Restoran Jaipur. But the drinks there taste like horse piss so I don't give a flying fuck at all. But the guilt, it's haunting me right now and I have to admit, this goes far beyond the line where the holes can be filled when one guy invites the other out for a drink the next day pretending that nothing happened. And I just can't bring myself to say I'm sorry, lol. Even if I do, and he forgave me ... I would never forgive myself.


That was just one of many things that were on my mind today while I awaited nightfall. Another thing is the piano version of Bach's Goldberg Variation No.30 which always seems to play in full volume in the back of my head as I envision myself on my knees, solemnly awaiting Death's sweet embrace.


Unfortunately, I can't die yet because its too irresponsible of me. So what do I do?
I go out for dinner. Where, you ask? Where else would I go but the back lanes of Uptown? I sat there and smoked one cigarette after another for about 3 hours before I was rudely interrupted by an emergency call. During my time spent there, I played with my dinner spoon. Being alone just allowed more opportunities to surface, opportunites to lose my temper. What would it look like if I swung my fist all over the walls, pillars and shoplot shutters of the place? More important yet, what the fuck would it sound like?


I was even more disappointed by my choice of dinner venue as it allowed me absolutely no place or space to vent my anger. I was almost beyond the point of rage which I knew I should probably not cross and so, I took it out on my stainless steel dinner spoon. I broke the head off and made a nice V with the shaft. As insignificant as this might sound, it was significant to me as it reminded me of a lesson that goes - everything in life is fucked up and is either broken or twisted into a completely distorted U-turn.


So fuck every single thing and fuck all of you.
Bye.