Words, Encoded

Visions

At certain levels, I saw the entry, the exit and the plan.

Sometimes, the market doesn't move according to your plan and moves against your entry, only to stop you out and move back into where you originally planned.

Life's like that too.

And I know, my entire life wouldn't be easy.

I'm a fighter, I have to fight for everything I want.

No rest for the wicked.

Special Days (And Nights)

Happy moments, great conversations, lots of sitting around, eating, drinking and a change of place for more eating and drinking.

I'll stop the world and melt with you
You've seen the difference and it's getting better all the time
There's nothing you and I won't do
I'll stop the world and melt with you
(You should know better?)
Dream of better lives the kind which never hate
(You should see why)
dropped in the state of imaginary grace
(You should know better?)

Counting down the days to a new beginning. Usual burdens at home but taking on life with greater zest, more anger and renewed faith.

I wish happy moments will stay forever.

Till the next trial comes along, I will sit here grinning like an idiot.

Notes from a Holiday

Wrote this while on holiday 2 weeks ago. My first break in 2 years. It was too short and too far in between:

I am in my dark place, seated by a beach of white sandy sand and the constant crashing of waves.

I thought about life and memories. How one becomes another in an instant; a moment passed turns into dusty images stored in the brain, a moment happening in the blink of the eye. Blood, spit and sweat, melded into a walking cesspit, taking but never giving any in return.

What do I want to make out of this life? What am I looking for? Companions? I have a few but none satisfied. Do I give anything back in return but my time and empty words? Never in my childish imaginations did I see myself hurtling towards the unknown at this rate.

A new job, a new beginning, new people in my life. Out with the old, out with history. Soon, I forge my own, not knowing where I'd be next.

I cheat, I lie. My dark place holds sway over me, even in this blinding sunlight.

* * * * *

Always been a bus passenger, looking out the window at lives that are not mine. When you are inside looking out, you lose a sense of self. Crossed the small country roads, oil palms and rubber trees lining both sides. Occasionally, a human structure popped out. Road kill. A brown mongrel, lying by the side. Black flies scuttle when the bus passed; before settling back in their seemingly random dances. An hour and a nap later, the bus pulled into a provincial town. People leading their own lives, unaware of things beyond their backyard or what the television transmitted. A girl looked longingly at the bus, perhaps dreaming of a long-gone lover. I felt that she was looking straight at me. Or at least, I imagined so. Maybe she was just looking at her own reflection. The bus drove past, she did not lose her gaze and soon, she was gone in a cloud of dust.

I looked at the various signboards and advertisements along the way, wondering how MNCs started growing their roots here. Did they hire locals or dispatched some of their mavericks to set up shop in the unknown? Look at how these Japanese motorbikes dominated the roads, they were probably status symbols too.

I wondered about the microsms of civilisation, the probability of a township happening right where it stood. How did the paved roads replace the dirt ones preceding them? How did the first humans decide to start a village here? Underneath the tarmac, what laid beneath? Ashes and bones? Memories and dreams? Where are we heading? Where do we go from here?