Life is Short so Make YourNames Wellheard

The time has finally arrived

2005-09-18T20:17:00.000-07:00

And yeah, what a freaking relief to us all newcastle-mad, geordie fans out there in the wide world...our team have finally made it people,..despite all the grudges and the pins and the loud shouts,..last night Blackburn became our first victim with a long list to come. Jenas might have been gone, Ambrose might have fled, and hell, Kluivert's not there anymore, but with Shearer still in tact and Bowyer still at hand, and of course Owen at the spot, there's nothing we can't get a hold on....so watch out dear old Manc Citizens,..you guys are next!

yeah people, this is it!

2005-09-11T21:51:00.000-07:00

damn, it took me quite a while to finally find the song that really represents me as i am; hear and say; Obstacle 1 by interpol....
it just may be that it's the obsession of the mo, but hear and then decide....

introducing my new obsession of the moment

2005-08-27T22:45:00.000-07:00

interpol_04
Originally uploaded by anisa_santoso.

Now, they may not be English, although half of them were born in England, but other than those nu metal stuffs which only fit me during hard times, or Keane's mellow songs which can only reduce to tears, Interpol's music can only represent me; intelligent, classy and dark at the same time...well, i guess one can only truly judge when having experience,..so try and listen, and you'll get my point.

2005-06-21T04:52:00.000-07:00

That one sinful night when we were stuck in a Karaoke Joint and decided to have fun anyway...

2005-06-21T04:47:00.000-07:00

And when it comes to post-modernism,death metal prevails....

is this summer?-the guy next door2

2005-06-14T03:44:00.000-07:00

when we arrived, i sort of thought that this was suppose to be a summerschool, meaning that it would be held during the summer, when the sun is shinning high, and we would all be wearing short sleeves and miniskirts,...i guess i have spoken a little bit too soon. definitely our definition of summer had glided to the opposite direction when we moved northwards from Southern France. Even at the midst of June, the weather is as much as Spain in February,..or worse yet,..Belgium in September.
There's a thing with being a foreign student in Europe, you will have annoyingly unvaried weeks after weeks,..week in week out. Mondays are spent relentless, trying to make it to the end of the day, tuesdays are spent being tired of the last day, wednesdays are spent out of the house and into (what seems to us) real life, which would probably be the town's clubbing area, thursdays are spent regreting why hadnt that particular day decided to rule itself out of the ordinary weekdays,..fridays are spent with the over-excited anxiety of getting to the nearest and hippest clubs (if not cities) that passed by our ruthless brains. Other than any, saturdays, by the way are spent walking in parks, zoos, botanical gardens and other less crowded peacefull places where your hangover marks are insignificant and punctuality matters not while eating ice cream and fries. sundays,however..are spent in a completely different way...sundys are mostly spent with having large brunches and sleeping in our bunks.....last sunday, by the way was not the case for me.
While everybody was off to church or anywhere else, i was forced to stay in and complete my statistics homework. But because the homework turns out to be a brain strain, i decided that i would accomplish better without forcing myself to solve it, so after lunch i decided to rest with my new Dan Brown book. But then again,..the guy next door came in slamming the door like he were meant to play Vinnie Jones' part in Lock Stock and 2 Smoking Barrels. After a second, he began blowing that new Black Eyed Peas song over and over again (of course he timed it with Chemical Brother's Galvanize), but it was as if i was in sound hell! Okay, may be he's a DJ to be playing that song again and again for at least thirty minutes,...but then again,..maybe he's just obsessive about certain songs......nothing that i would want to find out just yet. But the thing is, he played it out so loud that i could have sworn that i could feel the floor beneath me trembled!..and to think that i thought today is a perfect peaceful day to do some Dan Brown reading,.....That particular Sunday by the way,...forget about reading,..i couldnt sleep, i couldnt rest,..it was as if i was actually in the guy next door's room as i can hear each and every lyric that the song bears, every scream, every yelling and every single rising tone!....including when he put on a whole album of Metallica..(like; God!! till when am i suppose to stand all of these people with Death Metal preferrence?)....and yes, unlike before,...we have seen the face of this accused criminal of sound..and that's a whole new story..
After the euphoria of 'the guy next door', me, feli and Jelena, and even Alejandro were wary about each and every move and sound coming from 'that' part of our floor. we have detected a few gestures, like the banging on the door, the television sounds and the playstation game themesongs (exactly, it was that 'oh-o' sound of the little worms in 'Worms' PS1) ,..oh, and of course, the blarring Death Metal. One time at night he walked outside his room, while we we're in the dining room. None of us dared to look out to see his face, ..so i pushed Feli to do so,..and being able to judged him as 6,5 out of 10 before,..i thought she would need to confirm that judgement,..and she did.....saw his leg....period. nothing else, just HIS LEG!! not even both legs, but one! i bet she couldn't even determine which leg it was!
After Alejandro got his computer, though, out of the blue we just see him more often. it started when Alejandro tried to log on to the internet from his new laptop, the guy next door was apparently present somehow, and Alejandro called him to his room to help,...and he did,..he even spoke english and tried hard to help Alex to log in (though it didn't work, thanx to him),..and apparently won his heart at that point to made Alex claim him as a 'very nice' guy.
After this event, he came appearing every night and day (about eleven at night) to the kitchen, getting some beers (i didnt actually notice this, Alejandro did that all for me),..and we finally got face to face. i cant remember exactly when was the first time we met,..but i guess it was when i had the whole four of us in the kitchen (and probably with Ryan too). He was not at all like what i pictured him to be; big, blonde, blue eyed German with heavy accent and a member of a neo-Nazi group. This guy who has been living besides my room is rather small, and beardy, he looks like a crappy version of Brad Delson (no direct similarities, though, as we all know that Brad Delson is way-way more in everything than him). The guy next door i think has either Arab, Turkish or Italian Blood, and by that definition he could not be a member of a neo-Nazi group, of course,..and neither would he be much of a racist. Judging by appearance, he would be what my Exotic-stuffs and things-lover friend Jan call 'buff',...nothing that i would say to anyone but probably Morten Gamst Pedersen of Blackburn Rovers or John Terry of Chelsea. Either way, unlike what would happen in the 'other section' of our floor, we barely experience any social contacts whatsoever other than a casually forced 'Hi', and when he said it we were always with everyone else, and never by ourselves. Jelena, by the way did see him a couple of times one day by herself, and claimed that he had been friendly to say 'Halo' at any given time to her,...not personally being there, i refused to believe that.
The first time we have actually came across each other whilst being with no one was two days ago, and he said 'halo', a sour smileless 'halo'. Even though, just a few days before, an unintended incident involving the shower had occured. one morning i was going to the shower, and as a proper conduct i packed all my shower related products with me; my shampoo, my conditioner, my other conditioner, and my two soaps and scrubs. But, because i had bought most of these things back in Indonesia, with the consideration that i will have to keep up with them for two months, i only have huge packages of them,...and going to the shower i was left with a problem; not wanting to leave anything in the shower i was forced to make two trips, one for storing my shampoo and conditioner, and another for the soap and scrubs...and i did. Just when i returned from the shower after depositing my shampoo and conditioner, the door slammed beside mine,..the guy next door...i thought,....and shortly afterwards, i heard the shower door closed before finally i heard the loud noise of the shower's dropping water flow....omigod...i had just left my shampoo and conditioner in the shower shortly before,..could it be that now it is trapped in the same shower where the guy next door is taking his?...feeling deadly uncomfortable about the whole thing, and awkward to check the showers, i decided to stay in my room untill the shower drop sound stopped, and the door was slam shut beside me....he had finished shower....so i rush to have mine.
when i got to the shower where i had left my things i found my shampoo and conditioner still there,.....dry! and the floor was also,....dry,..in fact, everything in that particular shower was as i stated,...dry!..which means that the guy was not in this shower before...

in bochummmmm

2005-05-27T08:30:00.000-07:00

when i got to the student hall was; was it all there is to it?...is this 'place' all they have to contain and manage my vanity and cockiness? i think not..but then again, i had kept a possitive mind on everything, therefore i need not to go further than that..
i did get a bit worried about the rooms,..and a series of 'what ifs' sort of blazed through my brains,...but in nomore than an hour the what ifs gradually vanished.
my room and feli's next to each other, and 'yeah cool' was the first thought i had when they gave us the room keys,..but then again, when i really got to check the room, it turns out that despite our room numbers being so close to each other's,..there was a big concrete wall dividing our rooms, and my door was actually closer to another room's door; room 408. at first i didnt pay that much attention to any of the previous,..that was of course before i had actually seen the boots set in front of the room. it was one, dirty,..two,..black,..three very similar to those found at the feet of racist german soldier or neo-nazis available at any given time...i mean, let's get realistic here: how many germans would actually wear those kind of shoes,..and better yet; what sort of germans would?
At first i was left with a blinding yet careless thought that it must had just been me afterall, that i was being paranoid,...but then again there was the panicky-dillematic part of me breaking up to the surface...and by the end of the day, this vehemently cruel part of me put the conclusion; i am living next door to a real life sick german freak!..
a day after, i was so haunted to the other day's thought that i could actually be having a manic racist living next door to my room. After all the assumption comes....hypersensitivity. we were having some time out and it was great, met new people went to new places,..but,...i could never seem to meet the 'guy next door'..like ever!..he was almost never out of his room, and therefore never used the kitchen. Eventhough i think he bathe frequently, because one day i heard him banging his door before the shower room was shut brutally. it is almost as if he gets out very late at night when everybody around him was sleeping to catch his prey, and that he cannot have us -normal people- around to see him eat because he feeds on human blood. Of course because nobody seems to have a lot of social neurons, people in my part of the floor never actually socialize that much, no one had actually paid attention to any of 'my neighbour's behaviour,....well that was before they put me right next to his room,......being over-concious and hyper-sensitive after witnessing the pressence of those conspicuous boots, i am suddenly aware of almost each and every single thing this guy had playing in his room. He has a telly in his room, i can tell, because of the random german mumbling and sudden applauses coming out from the little gaps of his door and windows. but when he doesnt put his telly on, his music selection speaks more than i need to know. i was kind of hoping that despite being a potential racist, he might just be cool, and has a good taste in music,..but, i guess hearing Aerosmith playing next door is not exactly the best way to tell, especially when afterwards he played this freaky -and not to mention extremely long- turkish sounding music,....okay, so at least he doesnt do Britney Spears, and that is already a good thing.

to becontinued....

2005-04-01T06:47:00.000-08:00

It's a place to unwind afte a day of shopping in Knightbridge,..up ahead you can see the Grandeur of Albert Memorial,..these parks and these trees can only do as much as represent what i remember as 1 of the most tranquile place i've known in the surface of the earth...do wish with all my might to come back there.....it's funny, but i really do feel like i belong there,..somehow,..but not like some ppl,..for me it's just London, not any other foreign city i've lived in,...plainly London..

2005-04-01T06:35:00.000-08:00

guess who will be cruel enuff nexx..

When the end is near then you remember what hit you

2005-04-01T06:14:00.000-08:00

"And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"
(The Second Coming, W. B. Yeats)

Sometimes you need an hour, sometimes a day, a week, or even a whole year to know somebody. Some may say it’s true, some may not. But to really know somebody inside out for us it took almost three years.
In the past somewhat 32 months, the way I think about people has changed almost completely, as people around me change, turning from right to left or back to front, from up to down, under to above, bottom line; completely different.
Who I thought was going to give stole from me, who I thought was going to steal gave, who I thought was my best friend turns out to be the world’s lousiest bitch, and who I thought was the laziest person alive became a best friend, who I thought was the only person I could talk to lied, what I thought was right turned wrong, what I thought would help me ate me alive.
It is funny how three years and a whole bunch of paperworks can contribute so much to the outcomes of your lifeline. It gives you so much, it tells, it uncovers, it reveals, it teaches, and you learn a lot.
It is unbelievable but true; what we are experiencing may not be the beginning or the end, as our journey in this level is, but it sure gives you a different perspective of the way things work, gives you the grit and the will to survive, the selectiveness needed before compromising further and risking what might just be the biggest moment of our lives.

2005-03-29T07:46:00.000-08:00

hail 4 kasabian, dont you juz wonder what this symbolizes?..hmmm...

New revived...something from Leicester

2005-03-24T07:21:00.000-08:00

it's here, it's back,..something that sounds like a little bit of Stone Roses, a sprinkle of Primal Scream, a touch of What's the Story Morning Glory (Oasis), a handful of Shaun Ryder, and splashes of the Verve or even drops of The Shining........if you hadn't been there some years ago where Happy Mondays ruled and Joy Division became the next best thing out of Manchester,...Kasabian would be the only chance for you to taste that similar feeling,....although they may not come from Manchester nor they members of the Madchester phenomenon, but i guess they were toddlers that time, and listening to Ian Curtis and Shaun Ryder through their College student neighbour's window.....either way,..it is a true blessing that Kasabian is here...now,..at this time,..what better thing to do but listen and attain the meaning

2005-03-08T07:36:00.000-08:00

artwork-newly completed

2005-03-05T20:55:00.000-08:00

my version of an American Invasion in MotoGP....watch out every Rossi fan, this guy is on the loose

a time for a new beggining?

2005-03-05T20:41:00.000-08:00

first race of the 2005 formula one series is over, and guess who got out the reace before reaching the end? Michael Schumacher! Fisichela held the trophy, and Alonzo came out third. some may find this difficult to face, especially those with red as a favourite colour. But steady yet, after all, we have only been seeing "The" German guy won each and every time he steps into action, and it's bloody well time for him to step out of the throne,....we're getting a little bit bored of him....it's a time of reform,...time of change,.....time for any other team rather than Ferrari rule the table,...and must i say,..beware, Valentino Rossi,..you might be next,..meanwhile, my vote stands with Nicky Hayden

2005-03-04T08:39:00.000-08:00

it is beyond these concrete walls do our faith in eleven men breached the limits of beliefs and consience, for in ninety minutes all forty thousand of us are one in aim, and one at heart...

2005-03-04T08:35:00.000-08:00

all time newcastle hero

What is So wrong with Newcastle United

2005-03-04T07:52:00.000-08:00

To ask one, what is so wrong with the club that had briliantly smashed Leeds United at the peak of their perfomance back in 2001, or better yet, hampered Man. United with an amazing score of 5-0 back in the days of Gary Speed? If the club should be one like Man United, then three years afterwards, they wouldn’t have that much of a problem dealing with bottom clubs like West Bromwich Albion, but the facts tell otherwise. The “new deal” inside Newcastle United had succesfully forced the club to a blunt end; 14th place, might not be the worst, but certainly far away from the best, especially regarding that last year NUFC came 4th! Then, what happened during the last 10 or 12 months to our dearest Tyneside Club that could only be charged as responsible in pulling our Club even lower to the underground?
First, NUFC brought Lee Bowyer. So maybe he isn’t the bad seed of the Magpies, nor has he not been one of the best, but frankly, every club that he has been into as a player had gone from Big Names to Relegated Names. One to mention is Charlton Athletic. Okay, so he made it big back then, and made a mark as the most expensive teenager in 1995, but after he joined the club for several season, the club went downhill faster than the Rolling Stone. Then, after Charlton, it was Leeds United. Now, he definitely made it big here, and even got the European Champions League Top Scorer. But look at what becomes of Leeds two seasons after,..they got relegated, something that mno one would ever thought even had the chance of happening, I mean, they have Alan Smith, and Danny Mills,..After this club, Lee moved on to West Ham, and after spending a short spell in this London Club, he scored a goal, gathered some cards, and shortly before the season ends, the Club is sure to be relegated. Can it be that he is a walking-living jinx to English Football? Anyhow, I still think that it would not give much of a change to Newcastle United’s cursed path.
The first line of evil which is responsible in driving the road even more downhill to The Magpies is definitely defence. In this particular department, we are sure to see the one of the lousiest defence in the land of the Premier league. The only thing hanging them to the mediocre part of the table is their ability to score amazingly brilliant and crucial goals before the half time whistle blows, of course what happened after it shares absolutely no correlation with the first forty-five minutes. Known as the team who conceded most of its goals in the second half, Newcastle United should already tell this by peeping through the edges of their eyes; their defence sucks like hell. How come the 11th richest club can suck so bad in defence? Comparing the Magpies to the other inhabitant of the richest club list is a depressingly hefty to do, especially if you’re a Toon. From my point of view, what lacks in Newcastle United is not specifically a defender, but truly is a Great Defender Figure, preferably Colossal like ones. Manchester United, of course, one of the richest, have Rio Ferdinand, one with the attitude and loud mouth of a Great Defender Figure, as well as the paycheck as one. Liverpool, another good example, even has an ex-Captain Defender Figure in the very much Colossal form of Sami Hyypia. Chelsea most obviously is Skippered by a Great Defender Figure in John Terry, who is by all means a leading figure. To think about it, even at the greater days of Wimbledon, another Defender Figure is famously known as a personification of the Feisty Caesar; Vinnie Jones. Pulling back our analysis to Newcastle United, what made the Magpies forcibly ended up Great Defender-less? If one should try and analyze this phenomenon, then, we can only start at the blunt beginning question of why. First of all, there is the fact that Newcastle United under the previous manager do have a defender, a great one, in deed to have even been chosen to participate in the National team; Jonathan Woodgate. United have unpredictably lost calculation and abruptly sold Jonathan Woodgate to Real Madrid. Now, Woody is a dedicated lad who knows where to put his legs and head at the needed time. His only mistake was, that time in 2001 when he put his legs a kick through the torso of a Pakistani born lad at a Leeds nightclub. Despite the zillion hours of social work, he is a pretty good defender. Even more than that, the young defender might even be a half decade away from his greatness, and a level in being a Great Defender Figure.
Since we don’t have Woody anymore, and we are still stuck with Lee Bowyer, and whatever we have this moment, then maybe this club should might as well deal with it with whatever they have. Maybe this is how the Magpies should deal the large and grandeur world of football. Perhaps the Magpies should be the first Football club without a Great Defender Figure. Perhaps even it can have the first Great Striker Figure in the form of Alan Shearer.
Either way, what we, Magpies fan an only hope for, in whatever formation whatever line up the club hangs its life on, is the best result,...and may the best team wins.

2005-02-19T06:43:00.000-08:00

this place i call home

2005-02-19T06:41:00.000-08:00

stinger's away

this day this thought this moment in life

2005-02-19T06:04:00.000-08:00

What you think about expands . . .
What you focus on WITH PASSION manifests . . .
Any emotional charge you have attached to your thoughts packs a powerful result - in YOUR life . . .
If a focus of your thoughts and feelings is backed by NEGATIVE energy like anger, resentment, jealously, hate, and the like, you will ATTRACT those results in YOUR OWN life ...
Hear that again: If every time you think of your ex-wife/girlfriend/husband/boyfriend fills you with NEGATIVE feelings (as listed above) , UNFORTUNATELY for YOU, THAT is EXACTLY what YOU will get in YOUR life.
Hmmmm. . . .
The ONLY way out of this mess is to FORGIVE . . . .
What? You can't forgive? What he/she did was THAT BAD?
That bad? Well, do YOU want to live YOUR LIFE like THAT BAD the rest of your life???
You will, unless you forgive.
The only EFFECTIVE way to forgive, is to FORGET . . .!And the only way to forget, is to BE HERE NOW
i must warn you that theae are the words of a positivist, and some phrases to think abou when things get hard and experiences get ugly....

if time flies and spirits recovered

2005-02-13T19:01:00.000-08:00

why must a person be made with memories? and further more, why can't we just be who we are without sticking oursleves into them, because as we all know, memories are made to be good and at the same time bad. if ever you get stuck between your own feelings and the feelings corrupted with memories, would you ever want to choose?
today i have learnt that even the longest long forgotten memories are worthy of a second thought, and a third,...and before you know it, it wil glued itself to your thoughts each step of the way,..
but is it wrong to release yourself and actually feel like the memories carry your strength away, while in the other hand you have all the future, waiting to be reached and achieved.

2004-12-18T20:17:00.000-08:00

chaz

2004-12-07T06:42:00.000-08:00

Bam the loud speaking freak

why must Bam Margera be awarded the Noble prize?

2004-12-05T22:24:00.000-08:00

to ask one why must a person with such "intelligence" and "maturity" should be awarded with an award of such quality? a person like Bam is someone more intruiguing than he might first be seen. Truly, there is more than it seems.
we should award him for the timeless remembrance of our childhood, when our minds and feelings are beyond mature,and on the verge of being mental. who else in the whole wide world would remind us that it is okay to be 25 and still has a latent urge to pinch the fats off your father and mother and destroy the insides of your newly bought manor, or in one time put skateboarding ramps between the realms of your living room and your kitchen.
Then again, we should consider the second factor, which is; how can we even manage to stand and see an idiotic american with professional skateboarder as an occupation over and over again every single week and still yell out "Viva La Bam?". For actually indoctrinating our minds, my opinion tells that Bam deserves a Noble Prize.besides, without him around to brag their logos and be seen chatting with their frontmen, those freaky-over gothic Scandinavian bands would be regarded as nothing more than a socialists musical get-together. For acknowledging the need that these people have for artistic existence of some weird-dark kind, Bam deserves a Noble Prize. For revealing the most idiotic-stupid-brainless things that people can do to make an appearance on MTV, Bam deserves a Noble Prize, and come on, admit it,he can make even the grumpiest bit of you laugh.......
face it, he's a dream....i mean, you want to live his life,.....earning money by doing things that are just either stupid or ridiculous, basically the things he likes....having wonderful parents,..a Dad who blows up at nothing, and a Mum who understands that skateboarding is a sport,....having cool people like birdman and Johnny Knoxville as buds,....for living the modern vision of our most lazy and ridiculous dreams, Bam deserves a Prize,..okay, maybe not the Noble,...but something

2004-12-02T07:30:00.000-08:00

and there is the best and the very least

dedicated to another year

2004-12-02T07:19:00.000-08:00

What does one more year do to you?

So, it’s another year for you, an added amount to your age, another birthday party, another birthday cake, and of course, another series of “happy birthday”s from your closest friends, but to think about it, is that all there is to it?

In that one year you had shook the hands of a lot of different people, people you never thought you would meet before. In that way you had learnt how to interact with them, speak in languages you don’t even knew existed, knew other meanings to words and ideas you had never known before. In that way, you had met me.

In that one year, you had been places you have never thought you would be before. Share feelings with people of different races, different cultures and different frame of mind, and then smile at them, all the while knowing that they still connect with your ways of thinking in some weird cosmic ways. In that way, in the pass one year you had realised just how equal we really are all.

In that one year you had written songs, driven miles, played guitars, read books,……and won video games wager with your friends….
In that one year you had gained weight and then lost some, before gaining them back again.
In that one year you had realised that you liked The Killers, that there is actually a band called the Darkness, felt that Hip Hop wasn’t so bad after all, and that Dance music is something you can finally relate to (at least to some extent)
In that one year you had shown people that even the ones who don’t give a fuck still have some needs to change their hairdos…………in that way you had gone from full hair to near-bold to a Jewfro.
In that one year you had apprehended more things than before, see through things than what most people would never had normally seen, and at the same time experienced differently distinct feelings a person could possibly have felt.
In that one year you have loved, hated and despised. You had adored and been adored, been ridiculous and funny and hilarious to the point where you feel like you finally found where you belonged.
In that one year you had missed and been missed. You had said goodbyes and hellos and thankyous to people you like and don’t like to say them to. You had learnt to deal with the loss and the pain of the first, the joy and anxiety of the second, and the blissfulness of the last.
In the pass one year you had and been touched with people and things that is at present proved to be quite influential into determining your feelings and thoughts. You have been all of that in 365 days,………confiding and relieving, trying and giving,……all the while, you had been a better person in the end……..

We love you, BBB,…among those people who miss you, we are the ones at the very front……

claretspill whilst leaving london

2004-11-24T22:02:00.000-08:00

a story of a mishap in london, October 24 2003,
As I left London, I died. The emotional pressure of having each and every inch of memory you have connected to this place was the crime suspect, and I was then murdered, brutally. I was numb, cold as a stiff, insides breaking up to pieces, while my eyes felt swollen tenfold their size. My whole life flashes in fragments at one particularly agonizing second, and then afterwards nothing. All the faces and places I have known all my life, and then afterwards; nothing. That would probably explain what I feel to have inside of me now, which was; nothing. In these few short months in my history, life suddenly stopped being so philosophical and started to look painful as hell. Mine, even got to the worse point where I could only wished I hadn’t been able to feel, as they were the only reason I was on this unforgiving route of sorrow. My life has ended its joyful routine as I lost what had always become the reason to live for. First, it was Sam, and then, it was almost my career, after, it was my health, then my unborn baby, to make things worse, my friends slipped away during this period, and then it was Bow. Now, I am losing my London, and losing each and every soul I have in the realms of my chest in the process.
I had been hiding in a hotel in Soho for three days before today, and I was forced to follow the specifically heart-breaking route to the airport. And still, I cant believe that I am doing this thing that I was doing; leaving London.
The sky was filled with bright fading blue colour on the topside, with flashes of purplish sombre red-violet sunset setting the time to night bellow them. I couldn’t help myself to overflow my chest with a hefty feeling of pride and joy, and a sense of loss when I came across the beautiful view of the London eye standing up in front of those picturesque colour combinations. Suddenly I felt so lost. In a matter of hours I would be eligible in being the guilty party of my feeling so. I felt like there was so many things I could have done, and yet I didn’t, and in the same time, I was left with the heavy choice of not being able to do those things, thus, forcing me to separate from this heaven on earth I had always had the pleasure of calling home. London is my life, and what my thoughts are asking me; how good would my life then be without it?.
Flashes of memories floods the realms of my brains like painful cancer. We pass the Victoria embankment, and the Victoria crossing to Charing Cross Station. My heartbeat stops, and a guilty steam from inside my chest is evolving itself upwards. I want to tear away this pain so much, but I don’t want Smithy, the person who is driving his Range Rover for me right now to see me doing so. I remember the times when the guys and I were young, and we used to fool around with our giddy thoughts and actions along these cold pavements, throwing unintelligent comments about mostly anything, like the world was ours for keep. If it wasn’t the way the Prime Minister reacted on marijuana legalization laws, or how a football pundit discriminate a footballer just because he has collected more red cards than anyone else in the premiership, then it’s the welfare of the nearest most posh club in London which we would probably blank if we were out of crazy things to do. Then, when we got older, we used to share our problems and solution-potential as we walked along these streets with packs of chips, cans of beers, bags of sweets or cones of chocolate gelatos, and a handful of swagger. We had it all, the whole wide London was ours, and along with it came the world. I remembered feeling like I belonged here, more than anywhere else in the world I had ever been. The lights of the brightest club in London were even less bright than the ones hanging above our lives. Even the London eye couldn’t bear to stand the forces, and forced to come second as places of interest. Everything was larger than life itself here, and it shall remain that way. And as for the city of London itself, she shall stay as the eternal framing of the history of us, in the past, the present and hopefully the future. My life here has seen it all. I had watched my old friends grow old. My best friends changed from simple next-door boys with mischievous behaviours and cocky accents to noticeably talented football stars, my then-unknown pals of the third kind to celebrities of public knowledge, my fall to a rise, and my rise to the fall, my then-simple life to a complicated maze in which I myself had found to be victimised by. In the end, nothing had really changed, or so I learnt. For me, every single thing that reminded me of this place and how we were could only make me hurt even more.
The view coming from the west side of Victoria embankment facing the London eye and the aquarium at sundown was just magnificent. But St. Paul’s hospital was horrifying for me. Though architecturally speaking, the building is set up at the most strategic places and still giving that majestic feel to it, a sense of guilt and dread emptiness ran through me every time the sight of the building appears. I lost my baby there, and I still couldn’t quite forget how that felt just yet. To think about it, nobody would. But for me, that was the turning point of anything bad that happened afterwards. I recalled everybody’s faces, the doctors, the nurses, my parents, my brother, and Bow. It is that part of trying to forget which hurts the most. I figured I would have felt better if only they weren’t there and I was to face it alone. Though a part of me says otherwise. I never felt so lost before, but that time I did, as if the lifeline device that is mechanically running my heart had just been pulled out of my system. Little did I know, living the days after the event was even more death defying. I don’t think I had ever felt more suicidal in the past two weeks than my whole scrutinizing teenage years. So, there was where my parents and brother stepped in. There where the essence of my current problem, the one which got me into leaving this place.
I know that it has already been cold these few days, but the pressure that I kept to stop my eyes from tearing made my face felt really hot. Inside, I was shattered to pieces. A ring sets into silence, a number appears on my mobile; a foreign number, might be of Spain, which could only mean one thing; my parents.
- Yes?- I answer.
A familiar voice of my mum’s passes through my ears. + Dear, are you okay? Are you boarding yet?
- No, not yet mum,..- I answer, rather raised-tone, turning to the person who is currently driving the car, Smithy. – Am just heading to the Airport,.
+Oh,.- Mum sighs. Noticing how much she knows just at what point I would describe my fascination of this city, she is probably half-wondering whether I would change my mind about my leaving London. +What time will you be here, then?
- I am not sure, the ticket’s inside my other bag, and it’s rather hard to reach it at the moment, - which of course was a total lie, as I was staring at the plane ticket’s envelope right now. I just don’t feel like telling her, and I don’t exactly know why. I guess I don’t want her to think that I am as excited as she is of my coming to their house in Spain. – Maybe about ten,..- which was also a mere suggestion, as I truly cant remember the exact time of my arrival, though pretty certain that it would not be after ten. I thought I could have stay in the airport for a while and wait for them, so I can spare time to take some air and think of everything when I finally get there.
+Ten,.. of course,.we’ll just check with the company to make sure,..- mum suggests. Yes, of course, I forget that she can do that, and that she usually does that, checking on things, and now that she has reason to do so, there is absolutely no stopping.
-Right,..- hopeless of not being able to have the expected free time I needed, I sigh.
+ Are you alright?- mum then asks, with her comfortably set tone.
- yeah, of course, I am fine, why not?- I turn to Smithy again with a weird look, signalling how awkward my mother’s question had transformed into. Smithy just scratches a light grin.
+ Who are you with? Are you taking the cab to the Airport?- again, that sorts of questions that are only worthy to be asked to a ten year-old.
- Mum,…..i’m fine! I’m with Smithy now, he’s driving me to the airport, and stop worrying for me, will you?
+ Lucky you still have other friends,…that Lee boy is just no good for you, we had seen it coming from the-..
-Alright mum, I get the point, I’ll see you later, okay?,
Understanding the need to not further the conversation anymore, mum sighed uncomfortably. +Alright, as you wish,..love you,.
- Love you too,..- and I push the red phone symbol on my mobile, and end the conversation.
*Mum’s worried?..- Smithy grins calmly.
-Yeah,…she ought to,..- I turn my head back to the window of the Rover, outlooking the majestic view of London. Every inch of its part seem to want to stab me to death with every view I take inside, forcing me to bite my lips harder and pray to not cry my head off of the idea. Though, inside I cant stand it, I just cant stand the thought of leaving this place and witnessing every single part of the process, pretending to act casual and not being able to actually feel myself of whatever I need to feel. I died, I know I did. I had left my soul here, and my body is leaving. I am now officially haunting this place, as London always haunted me before, time and time when I leave for short stays somewhere else. After all, it has only been the air that I breathe, the water I need, the swagger and the fall, the sight of my loved ones, the blood running through my veins, the heartbeat pumping in my chest, and without them I died.
*She’ll be okay, right?- Smithy shoots back.
I just nod. Not finding the exact amount of strength I need to answer his question in an appropriate manner.
*Do you want to go along Knightsbridge?- Smithy asks with a calm close lipped smile. I know what he is trying to do that time. He is offering a check, on whether I was ready to pass my old streets again, my apartment, my grocer, my favourite restaurants, my preferred pubs, my frequently-visited shops, the Royal Albert Hall, the Knightsbridge station, Hyde Park, Kensington, everything that has been a close part of my life in this city, or basically everything that had created my life. Thus, when I destroyed my life here, these are the only things I couldn’t bear to even hear about. If there is telling for sure the state I am in now, then one should easily tell that I am such a hopeless mess.
Though, in front of Smithy I must remain calm and strong, despite the fact that the brown eyed Yorkshire blonde might not even need the slightest effort to see just at what level of devastation I had implanted myself in. – Okay,..- and an okay feels like nothing, just a simple word consists of few letters I happen to know how to say. I try hard enough to not think of the consequences of my saying this word, and it just might work.
We swerve down the sides of Victoria and pass Westminster, before going along the embankment way and finding the streets heading to New Bond Street. I was feeling numb than ever. Numbed of the enormous blow I had been holding inside my chest, numbed of the cold between my fingers, numbed of all the thoughts heavying my brains, numbed of all the memories invested in these streets.
We pass Knightsbridge, and I can sense Smithy’s checking eyes on me, despite the fact that I wasn’t even looking at him. Smithy has just cut his hair short, with tiny Mohawk-like bump on the centre. I may not have said this before, but he looks nice with his ever blonde-dyed hair. He used to have brunette locks, but they just never quite shine between the crowds, and being ordinary is just what me and my friends deny on being. Smithy rolls the sleeves of his dark blue sweater over the heat inside the car, perhaps. I know he didn’t want to roll down the window for some air, due to his status in London. His cheeks degenerate its colours from totally pale to slightly pink. That’s the thing with Smithy. He had the palest skin, and when he still got his dark hair, he looked as if someone had just jugged a huge pile of ice water on top of him. Thus, my Dad, and all his knowledge of health, judged him of having at least one disfunctional kidney, which of course was blatantly unnecessary, as we know he doesn’t. Looking at Smithy now, I guess he had grown out of that, both the hair, the judgement and the skin. He looks nicer now, darker skin and blonde hair. Whilst on the pitch his tempo, action and temper remain all the way the same, really one character to boot if I should be the coach to his club, though. For me, and the rest of us who adore the beautiful game; he is simply God-like.
I turn back to the window separating me and the outside world. Everything turns to a blur to my sight. Hyde Park, the apartments, the streets and the glorified shopping spots seem to weep for my departure as much as I was. I know too well that this turn in this street leads to places in my memories, that road gives way to states of comfort in times of my past, this point goes to the way to the spice shop, that way goes to my regular grocer, basically the only place in London where I can find some nice Belgian spiced cheeses, and this corner there leads to the tastiest gelato shop ever in London, whereas that one will get me to the guys’ frequently-visited pub. Every single corner has its own stories, each stop at the pavement, each traffic light, everything. If I should somehow write a story about my life, this place would be where the story sets in, and evidently where it would start.

bad case of ex-factor

2004-11-24T09:21:00.000-08:00

what is it with exes that we just can't seem to get rid of from that tiny corners of our minds? come on, don't lie, even the oldest most forgetable ones are not really as forgetable as they seem.
even when you consider yourself settled, matured and far beyond conscious that those stupid things you did when you were fourteen are-finally!-something you can admit of doing they would come crawling the from behind your skulls and into your unconscious-or in some cases- conscious mind. i mean, what the hell went wrong there? was it something that we forgot to do when we said our final words? did we forget to say something that they were expecting us to say on that fateful day when we stated 'goodbye'? was it "sorry"? i am sure i've said that, then was it "i loved you"? wouldnt i be lying if i'd said that? then,..what was so wrong about what i did to make them continously haunting the edges of my brains like an over-determined undead? did we-in that short time in being together-ever connected in some ways that our minds somehow find the ability to relate with each other's brainwaves?
i guess exes are like a bad case of blisters that you get from your new shoes. instead of pretending tehy weren't there by covering them with band-aids, we should just accept the fact that even time isn't enough to heal this sort of wounds, it will still leave a distinguishable mark, no matter what you do. so the best that you can do is to reconcile to the fact that it is there, and you just have to accept the fact that despite the fact that some exes are rather forgotten than forgiven you just cannot deny the other unrecognizable fact that they had also been a part of your life's history, the ones who would also think of you when you're gone, the ones who would still remember your birthdays even when they pretend they forget, the ones who would sometime go silent in the thought of your whereabouts.....but then, like those blisters, if you still haven't figure out how to get into those shoes without giving you blisters, then trash it, girl, and get yourself new ones...if the new ones do the same to your feet, then it should be said that the two of you dont match, and you should re-embark your soul to the long yet winding search for the new blister-free shoes

2004-11-21T10:28:00.000-08:00

one saturday nyt sumwer

2004-11-21T10:27:00.000-08:00

back in the days

to monday, what a bummer

2004-11-21T08:14:00.000-08:00

what is so hateable about sunday? the night, and the morning after!From the album Original Pirate Material
Turn left up the street
Nothing but grey concrete and dead beats
Grab something to eat
Maccy D's or KFC
Only one choice in the city
Done voice in my pity now lets get to the nitty gritty
Tune reminds me of my first e
Like unique still sixteen and feelin horny
Point to the sky feel free
A sea of people all equal smiles in front and behind me
Swim in the deep blue sea cornfields sway lazily
All smiles all easy where you from, what you on and what's your story
Mesmerizing tones risin pianos this is my zone so stop clonin
Pick paper scissors or stone
Coz me and you are same i known you all my life i don't know your name
The names European Bob sorted anyway
Gonna have dance now see you later please to meet you
Likewise a pleasureWe were just standin there mindin our own
And it went on and on
We all smile we all sing
The weak become heroes then the stairs align
We all sing we all sing all sing
We were just standin there mindin our own
And it went on and on
We all smile we all sing
The weak become heroes then the stairs align
The night slowly fades and goes slow motion
All the commotion becomes floatin emotions
Same piano loops overArms wave eyes roll back and jaws fall open
I see in soft focus
Chattin to this bloke in the toilets
Dizzy new heights blinded by the lights
These people are for life its all back to his place at the end of the night
They could settle wars with this
If only they will imagine the worlds leaders on pills then imagine the mornin after
Wars causing disaster don't talk to me i don't know yaBut this aint tommorow and for now i still love ya
Hours fly over sail round diamonds and pearls never seen so many fit girls
Discover new worlds look at my watch can't focusLast two hours i lost every move fills me with lust
All of life's problems i just shake off
Mad little events happen things map out and a few blue maddens alight the toilets
Big beefy bouncers out to reveal us geezers on e's and first timers kids on whizzdarlins onCharlie
All come together for this party
All races many faces from places you never heard of
Where you from what's your name and what you want
Sing to the words flex to the fat one
The tribal drums the sun's risin we all smile we all sing