Category Archives: Gloom is boom

Wank the vote.

It doesn’t matter who you vote for; as long as you do. Having the right to elect your public officials, no matter what post they’re vying for, is a privilege.

With that said, it’s a shame that everything’s in the shits right now. I don’t quite understand how you can be an Independent with Barisan leanings. It’s essentially a political engagement — a quickie that somehow squirms its way into something more. Then again, I suppose a silver lining to this would be the fact that they were weeded out in the end.

The continuous mud-slinging from both sides isn’t doing any good for the people; yet I despise the way in which the newly formed Majority was minted. And I’m quite sure that some Perakians are incredibly uncomfortable with the chain on events. This is hardly a ‘Party For the People’. Nobody wanted them there in the first place.

The ‘People’ in question have been cheated. Are they going to be given the chance to opt for a fair fight?

It’s hard to be impartial. And it’s hard to want to give a chance to a motley crew of blank-shooting wankers.

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Filed under Gloom is boom, Musings

Save him.

Supersonic actuators are slowly building a crescendo in my head.

I was happier then, when my mind was at ease and my balls were firmly connected to my pelvis.

Now, every day seems surreal. Driving to work has become an adventure in itself. The people I know and the people I meet remind me of cardboard cutouts that sprang to life from some strange quarry in the back of my mind.

Then it repeats itself. An incredibly sickening, overplayed mantra that rings true for every one of us: ‘there’s got to be more than this’.

Some people can be incredibly satisfied with what they have. Some people are more than happy to settle for less. Some people know what they want. Some people know what they don’t want.

I don’t want to go thru each day like it doesn’t exist. But I think I’ve come to a point where it doesn’t really make a difference anymore.

I’m so tired.

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Filed under Gloom is boom, Musings, Quarter life crisis, Self destruction, Self-consciousness, Stereotypically cryptic blog posts, The future

Bridesmaids, not brides.

People around me are dropping like swatted flies and getting hitched. It’s making me uncomfortable, to a degree.

I have an unfounded fear that I’ll be a living, breathing male version of Cathy by the time I’m 37.

The idealist in me would probably want to settle down and rock that domestic vibe, but at the same time, if marriage is one long, never-ending perpetual date, why don’t we all just have one long, never-ending perpetual date?

Times have changed enough that the concept of a marriage is now more of a symbol than anything else; an excuse to throw one large, lavish Chinky dinner party full of 8 course meals, cover bands and cliched PowerPoint slides.

(Something that even I’ll fall prey to, eventually.)

There’s no doubt that I might be ruffling a few feathers here (and getting fewer invitations in the years ahead). And I really am happy for those who’ve taken/are taking/are going to take the proverbial plunge.

Maybe I’m just bitter that everyone around me seems to be moving on and making headway into their lives, while all I want to do is get stoked about clearing GTA IV at 100%.

Maybe I’ve lost sight about the point of it all.

Maybe it’s because I’ve possibly permanently lost my own shot at some kind of happiness.

Maybe it’s all of the above and more.

It’s times like these that make me wish that I have a time travelling machine that runs on kerosene.

I’d use it, and save myself from myself.

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Filed under Gloom is boom, The future

Precog hog.

I don’t quite like countdowns; after all, a countdown is a glamorized deadline with an objective of celebrating mediocrity, as opposed to setting a detrimental threshold for something to be accomplished. It’s something that sounds mightily cold, especially from me, but countdowns can just be as perplexing as anything else.

Fortunately enough, we only mostly encounter countdowns commemorating happy occasions.

However, if we were all armed with the knowledge of the future, countdowns could be the most morbid things ever; imagine being able to know the precise moment someone dies, thus throwing a bash in their honour. Or how about preparing a double frosted marble cake to mark that specific moment where your marriage breaks down? You could sit back in your car in helplessness while you slowly bide your time, waiting for that final, final collision that you’ll never be able to wriggle free from…how about a beer?

It’s a good thing that we’re not clairvoyant, then.

Even that bastard Nostradamus couldn’t get everything right.

But if I were to be armed with the information of what would happen next, I don’t really know if preventing it would be the right thing to do; an act of making things right might, in fact, draw you one step closer to the inevitable. Early Edition comparisons aside, and to paraphrase Tyler Durden once again, mayhaps it would be in our best interests to let the chips fall where they may.

Then again, when armed with the knowledge of the future, if we were to make a countdown out of celebrating a morbid moment of banal finality, it wouldn’t be a celebration of mediocrity anymore; it’d be celebrating that one experience in your life that would change it. Permanently.

Here’s to the future. And to tuna.

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Filed under Gloom is boom, Musings, The future

Love is not an aphrodisiac.

I like blaming my long-suffering girlfriend for everything that goes wrong, and right, in my life; it’s as if she’s the center of a large intricate weave of occurrences that somehow become effortlessly networked. Lest you think that I’m a bit crazy, I suppose that I should share the (blasphemous) logic behind my conclusion.

My girlfriend is the physical personification of God on earth. Now, here’s the clincher: she’s not the only one. Barring Jesus, I think that there’s an invasion wave of God’s People on this planet who aren’t irrevocably Christian. Like how the Gentiles became God’s second wave over the Jews, I believe that there’s a new wave of Gentiles who’ve been picked, plucked and dried.

I’m not saying that she’s blameless or guiltless. It’s just that she’s got a rack that’s not too shabby (though I’m never around to paw at it), a fit pair of legs (that I’m never around to bite) and a good head on her shoulders (that comes packaged with a bad case of acne). And she’s also smart, witty, and diligent, to boot. And she cooks. Is that not Heaven on Earth?

Though she has done the odd dirty deed every now and then. And at times, her logic is baffling. She’s a patsy, whereas I am a pansy. She’s incredibly gullible, yet not overly naive to ditzy proportions. And in her, I find an equal in terms of knowing about the things that matter that don’t matter to everyone else who think that they do matter.

Then again, I don’t really care about the augmented product because in my own eyes, she’s rather fetching. Though it’s a pity that she doesn’t really believe that I think so. An apple of one’s eye could be a prune in another’s. No doubt.

Anyway.

Let’s say for instance that God did spawn a new invasion wave; a wave so big that’d delay the Rapture even further…what would that mean? Would the people who now frequent the churches so religiously (pardon the pun) accept that fact that they’re last season’s congregation? Or would they buck up, suck it in and assume their new roles as the stewards of Ye Olde Faith? Would it segregate the denominations even more? Would it bring them together?

Splinters.

However, take solace in this: no matter what denomination you belong to, God’s street team comprises largely of immensely nubile, unthinkably attractive, incredibly intelligent girls who’d whisk you away at a snap of a finger and a toss of long, straight, luscious hair.

As for me, I give three cheers to the invisible church, where there’s nothing to prove. It’s a place that’s truly ours. And ours alone.

I do feel guilty. But I’ll leave the judging to the Big Man Up There.

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Filed under Gloom is boom, Musings

Leverage.

It’s been said to me today: I’m a lousy poker player because I can never hold on to all my chips. There’s nothing like the drama of going all in and making it known to the world…or at least, the perceived tension and drama that goes on in my head while doing so. The thrill of the plunge. The desire to know what the others are holding.

I’m proud to be part of the pack of idiots who have no clear understanding of the game, other than that patience, planning, foresight and a good dose of common sense are vital to winning a good round. But realizing these things doesn’t mean that we have to play with them in mind. Skirting on playing with plain irrationality might not be the smartest thing to do, but it’d be good, as Tyler would say, to let the chips fall where they may.

To thrift off from a song I know, chance is a kind of religion where you’re damned for plain hard luck.

No truer words, no?

Dive deep. And pray you don’t drown.

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Filed under Dreams, Gloom is boom, Musings, Positive thinking for cynics., Stereotypically cryptic blog posts

Leverage.

It’s been said to me today: I’m a lousy poker player because I can never hold on to all my chips. There’s nothing like the drama of going all in and making it known to the world…or at least, the perceived tension and drama that goes on in my head while doing so. The thrill of the plunge. The desire to know what the others are holding.

I’m proud to be part of the pack of idiots who have no clear understanding of the game, other than that patience, planning, foresight and a good dose of common sense are vital to winning a good round. But realizing these things doesn’t mean that we have to play with them in mind. Skirting on playing with plain irrationality might not be the smartest thing to do, but it’d be good, as Tyler would say, to let the chips fall where they may.

To thrift off from a song I know, chance is a kind of religion where you’re damned for plain hard luck.

No truer words, no?

Dive deep. And pray you don’t drown.

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Filed under Dreams, Gloom is boom, Musings, Positive thinking for cynics., Stereotypically cryptic blog posts