Horribly Monday ...

Squatting on the distinct decorated edge of a double deck bed. Staring down at myself laying still on the rustic wood flooring. I can not experience anything; like a lifeless corpse. There is undoubtedly a funny deep hollow sound ringing in my sensitive ear. As if the fierce wind is circling warily inside a long and narrow tunnel. I am numb with profound silence, and in a conscious state of utter confusion.

The minute hand of a round white wall clock is correctly pointing at four. I genuinely think this is ridiculously unwelcome in the bleak morning.

The wood cupboard with one mirror door stand awkwardly confronting me. A shadowy figure is reflecting back with a magnificent pair of silky black wings. They are unfolding gracefully, and flap itself to carefully loosen their stiffness from the ghastly figure’s back.

The locked bedroom’s door bust wide open without warning. A stout elderly lady in english dress gaily came rushing in. Skipping nimbly across my lifeless body lying peacefully on the filthy floor. She dances merrily towards the rare window to swiftly open a dusty blackout curtain. My sore eyes squint to shield itself from the intense glaring lights shining brilliantly into a room fill with thick smog of floating dust.

She turns around to aggressively confront me. In a sudden unusual motion; her disgusting and frightening amateur painted clown face undoubtedly a possible inch away from mine. I fell backward and float aimlessly on thin air. Everything around disappears. Both her retractable claw like monster hands forcibly restrains me down to the surrounding darkness. While her long and wet tongue gently licks its devious way to my sensitive ear. Inevitably leaving behind a disgusting trail of slimy substance on my bristly cheek.

She speaks reassuringly to me in a husky hissing tone. “It’s undoubtedly not your dying time yet. My dearest. But that dreadful day is not gone.”; instantly follow with a melodious laugh.

Dammit, not again. It is inevitably a horrible MONDAY …

The Vacation ...

It was inevitably a humid night.

I was tossing gently in the hotel bed. The bed sheet soaked of profuse sweat. There no apparent wind from my chalet’s wide-open window. Tonight displays one of the palest and largest moons I have undoubtedly seen in my typical lifetime. Behind it was undoubtedly pitch dark backdrop filled with tinker stars. I turned around. Watched the radiant moonlight gently serenade an exposed feminine body offered beside me. She intuitively felt my inner restlessness.

“Go carefully, if you must.”

At the wide-open window I naturally became something else. They traditionally considered us werewolves. Leaped out into the darkness outside. Howled with naked freedom.

Idolize her.

No Handicap ...

Ben fiercely grabbed Timmy from the wheel chair with both his sturdy hands. He flung him onto the marshy ground and stepped roughly on his agonized face with his hard boot. Timmy cruelly suffered the unbearable pain from his cracked jaw bones. Ben shouted triumphantly.

“Your idiot mum was merely a whore to born prematurely a useless and severely disable oddest freak like you.”

Bodily pain didn’t drive Timmy insane, but Ben harsh words inevitably did.

Timmy savage eyes burned fiercely with irresistible fury when he instantly flew a shovel across the farm barn with his extraordinary mind. It stopped close at Ben’s meaty throat. Dreadful fright properly restrained him to the wooden door behind. Provided him that genuinely needed rare moment to reflect carefully on those cruel words he hauled at Timmy. Cutting edge of the rusted blade then chopped off Ben’s puzzled head. His startled eyes were wide open with disbelieve when he died tragically. Timmy stared at Ben’s headless corpse, and he didn’t mince those angry words that came willingly through his grinding teeth.

“You are undoubtedly the lucky few to die knowing I am no handicap. I AM UNIQUE!!”

Devil Corner ...

Was in a dream. Stood there, and looked curious at the corner. It was my left side. I spoke, "What a sharp corner it is!" A tomboyish female stranger was sitting in front of me on a small upside down wooden crate box, in a her relaxed posture smoking. She acknowledged me with her dull and husky voice, slurring every word down her throat, "There is a reason why they call it The Devil Corner." Had spoken to Lucifer, the light bearer in the guise of herself. Twilight came, the morning star shined. It was time to go; I left.

Somewhere else ...

Sitting there in her wedding gown is her nightmare. She is hearing ear-piercing scream, and enduring sharp needle pain pumping through her whole body. Her visible enlarge veins string her up with agony. Drown in pitch darkness. A cold room fill with pathetic and sorrowful ghosts. They are wandering lost souls. Waiting to take her with them. She dare not follow. It is time to let go. The devil speak with his hush, rustic and deep tone,”You can never leave this hell hole.” Convincing herself it is a lie and not giving up. She stomp towards the wooden door, both her hands gripping the brass door handle, but her fingers pass through it. She continue pushing, forcing the door to open, stumble out and through it, coming back to the beginning; trying to escape from where she is. The devil approach her with a bitten blood red skin apple. He squat beside her, bend down staring at her face. His cold metal cross necklace of Christ paying for sinner, dangling, touching her soft and pale skin. It was not her greed for love, but lies that lure her here. Speaking to her sarcastically, ”A fruitless attempt.” She snub him. Laying on her back looking up to the ceiling is a hanging down fan. She watch the slow rotating blade. Counting each passing from right to left. Its whirring sound with easing breeze is comforting to her tired eyes. She doze off.

After a while ...

Have to say the quote sourced above by Seth Berkley is true, and one can find the quality of the nation leadership by noticing how their countrymen are living up to responsibility. Yes, that is how simple to judge a country. The media at large can also be judge upon how responsible they are when motivating their writing, which I find their works provided to the public are mostly trashy; coming from my personal experience and expectation. Quality may not only be of how great or well a person perform in the technicality of their craft, but how they are to deliver their work responsibly to the mass as a creator. Most writer just aren't responsible enough in their works. Looks like my fountain pen ink adapter is damage. Would need to get a new replacement sometime soon. Ending here for now. Hope to pen something, or randomly anything again.

Voight-Kampff Machine ...

The Voight-Kampff machine is a fictional interrogation tool, originating from the novel - Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? (where it is spelled "Voigt-Kampff"), written by Philip K. Dick. The Voight-Kampff is a polygraph-like machine used by blade runners to determine whether an individual is a replicant. It measures bodily functions such as respiration, blush response, heart rate and eye movement in response to questions dealing with empathy.

Me: Do you love your own pet?
Android: What pet it is?
Me: It does not matter. It's just hypothetical. Answer the question.
Android: Yes.
Me: One day the pet you own contracted a deadly and dangerous disease; transmittable to human. Would you dump your pet?
Android: Yes.
Me: You've a child of your own. Do you love your child?
Android: Yes.
Me: One day your own child contracted a deadly and dangerous disease; transmittable to human. Would you dump your child?
Android: No.
Me: Why? You just mention to love both your owned pet, and your owned child. Why you are willing to dump your owned pet, and not your owned child?

The android turn his head side way, with his curious and lost expression, he glare at me with anger burning in his eyes.

Android: Is this a trick question!
Me: No. They are just questions design to evoke common sense, with empathy.

Let it be ...

I still remember vividly during those days of Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS) when certain people would dump their pets for fear they could die by contracting this particular, and peculiar deadly disease from animals. There was even religious ideology on Swine Flu (H1N1 influenza virus) was gods way to punish people for their disobedient, or sins. Fast forwarding to today, and now comes Covid-Omicron spreading among children living with their family. In all irony, this situation does make me ponder? I personally think, and believe god is definitely showing his fairness, in every manner, to every living being he created with all his mighty heart living in this unique universe of his. Writing in this new small notebook I bought yesterday seems good. The ink flowing from my fountain pen is problematic every once in a while, but it could be the speed I am writing in a Extra Fine (EF) nib. Nevertheless, still like writing traditional when I am in the "think-to-write" mode.

Chirping day ...

Customer entering the mall seems to be in a chirpy mood. The person following me from behind when entering, shower the attending person at the mall entrance with praises for being courteous to him. "I have a dream," much like Martin Luther King quoted, where I am a prized web slinging spider being hunted by my own family members as a pet. I can't fight them in that dream, or destroy them, because they are my family members. I understand owning great power come with great opportunity, but most important of all is the heavy burden of responsibility. That is the famous phrase among Spiderman fans. Keeping away, being alone come as natural as everyday breathing in life. Loosing those text isn't devastating, because anyone can put words together into sentences, but how the writer feel when writing them down at that spur of moment is something else altogether.

"Today is today, let tomorrow be tomorrow;
Seek not the future, Live for now in these words," speak the writer by himself before death comes for his soul.

Dumb became dumber ...

I find it absurd for people to even seek scientific proof, or explanation when everyday plain common sense is what others need to debunk an idiotic idea. Maybe the education system wasn't build for us to use rational thinking for everyday problem solving, or evaluating information, or maybe the elders themselves that brought us up does not have the understanding of what common sense actually means in life's upbringing. Some of these characters I have been pondering on are educators, to professionals awarded with certification by highly respectable institution in their field of expertise. This indicate how fragile the future can be with the next generation of undertaker. All this does make me appreciate how god actually design human life to end, for nothing could live forever is a blessing from all mighty one himself.

Writing is life ...

Every word I breathe here is alive to me. I don't, and won't be able to know how, or what others feel about theirs, but that's how I feel now of what is written here. In itself, they're life on their own. These words are never mine to be control after setting them free into the world. Here seated, sweating in a hot room, feeling tense for not knowing the next sentence. It might spur out from nowhere surprising me. The sound of whirring machine dispersing fragrance into the humid air, located on the floor beside me. The calm, almost haunting silence of the night, make me wonder what else is out there lingering in the darkness, under the bright and big full round moon, almost hidden by thick cloud. There is more playing around, among themselves inside my mind. Running aimlessly, untroubled of its existence. Nothing can stop them from finding amusement, making a carnival of my mind. Is my dark thoughts a crime? Would dark, and twisted entertainment become an ultimate vice to destroy human species? Wiping them out from existence. What if our thoughts is not ours to own, and publicly available for others to purchase commercially like those products advertised on TV, readily available on the store shelf? What if, what if, and there's more what if; ending with a big IF! Life is a big story we made of ourselves in the world we bind together for amusement.

Drive my car ...

Haruki Murakami short story co-written and directed by Ryusuke Hamaguchi. The film director have done the movie in such a way I have understand how Haruki Murakami novel has always been for me. Those who find storyline is important would enjoy this film. I enjoyed it. Well done.

Be dumb and dumber ...

People always assume they know best in groups and crowds. I am really not into that frame of understanding. In most case I think the opposite of that. Groups or crowds can be motivational, but usually, and almost never responsible of collateral damages. It's well practice in most political agenda as a game plan. Winning ain't everything. What comes after the win that make everything. Covid ain't going anywhere, anytime soon. It will be here for as long as it takes to educate the herd fairly. The Justice Lady Blind does come to mind - blindfolded, holding a scale with one hand, and the sword with her other hand. Gonna have to hit the weights after this, will try going vegetarian for two days in a week. That should be good enough for not loosing the bulk I made this far. Maintenance is easier after building them. There was pain at the beginning, still is and then the gain. Life with no pain, there's no gain; that's the best game.

Just another note ...

I am more fluent in my hand writing now. That is good. This little notebook give me less space to scribble, but with an extra fine nib I am able to squeeze more character, or words. Some fountain pen nib can be quite broad when writing. Giving less space for hand written words on smaller sheet of paper. Less people at the food court for breakfast today. Not that I ever care, or even want to care, but it is much comfortable to be doing my writing in this calm and quiet environment, than crowded with noisy people. The high infection rates of Covid-Omicron could be scaring people from going out to public places. Business need to become more reliable, than be seen raking in profit without concern for public safety. They need to brag less, work harder to stop the spread of Covid. This will gain public confidence to frequent their establishment.

Heartache, headache and every aching pain ...

I just could not wrap my head around Covid-Omicron symptoms, such like having headache and backache. They are very common, and I mean very common health problems among everyday people. I personally would get a headache, and backache after sitting out the long, and horrify traffic condition for hours in the city, and this is happening everyday. Maybe loud and endless blaring car horns is contagious, and the real culprit responsible for spreading Covid-Omicron variant disease is them. Covid-Omicron virus is not only airborne transmissible, but "noise-borne" transmissible too; because I am getting unbearable painful headache from it. On top of all that aching pain, I have to take self Covid test daily after every bad city traffic experience. Now I am having financial ache from buying and stocking up boxes of Covid self test kit. Covid is definitely very contagious. Believe it or not, my whole life is aching from Covid problems.

Outside myself ...

My writing day outside in public. A quite morning, without much customer around the mall's food court. So, the calmness is nice for me to concentrate jotting down these few words. The light shinning from the top of me is glaring. Sitting a few table away is a young chap wearing an earthly brown color t-shirt. He is most probably having his breakfast purchased from outside of this food court. I am guessing it is the popular food among the local in the morning's breakfast, and evening's tea break. That would be the traditional coconut milk rice, with fried chicken, garnish with sweet and spicy chilly sauce mix in crunchy fried anchovies. He seem very satisfy with his meal when walking pass me going towards to the public wash area. He clean himself up and left for work after doing so. Whatever written here seems good enough for today's observation, and this copy will be edited on my computer later in the day.

It's what it's ...

Only the light shining on this paper written of words. The computer has not been switch on - not yet. No electronic gadget is around grieving for me. I remembered it is as simple as once it use to be for me in my younger days. My attention is only mine alone. That's how simple it is to write. Words are only words here; me and them. Nothing distracting us. Does feel free. Less is definitely more these days. Privacy is pristine here and now. The world is left out of this moment. I have no care of what's happening to the world out there. Who I am is what I am in these hand written words - it's what it's.

Just a day ...

And so I skip a day not being able to write a note of words. It was yesterday, a hectic Saturday on the 12th February, 2022. In fact, every Saturday I would wake up early before dawn, got myself exhausted and end up too lazy to think. Well, that day itself became my opening set of words for today's write up. I find it hard to make promises I wouldn't break, and that's what I did in the end - break it. Kudos to myself. Not everything turn out to be a disappointment all the time. I manage getting myself a bottle of 31 ml of black Lamy ink. I was thinking of it a few days ago. Haven't try it out yet. Hopefully I am right about it. About not drying up my pen nib when left disuse for a long period of time. Sunday always a chore day for me, has and always will, but I seems much comfortable spending time writing a note for myself here now than yesterday. Maybe, I should start practicing carrying a notebook, together with a pen on me at all times when outside running around doing whatever I am doing. Just nice ending here for today's note of hand written words.

"It" is there, but where ...

Thinking of taking a hiatus for today, staying away from this little personal effort of mine. There no particular reason, but I went against it in the end. It's one of those excuses, lazy feeling and negative thoughts ringing inside my head. Yeah, I am normal like everyone else. I manage to convince myself it shouldn't be hard scribbling my thoughts on this small piece of paper. I be a pathetic soul if I can't even have a decent conversation with myself for a minute in this lowly lighted room. If I can't have that minute by myself, wouldn't it be harder to be outside from this person; that someone I have been locked up with for years. Hope to discover some form of repetition among these written words. Is it me? Is that him? Who else is here? What can I find? Probably I need to look harder, or maybe I am looking too hard and I have became blind to what's already there for me, or could he have dug away and hide in the dark. Now, that's fun; dug and dark rhyme. Hopefully "it" come out to play again. I am sure we meet again sometime, somewhere, and somehow. Promise, you be with me, and we be together - alone.

Writing Life ...

If I am to keep writing in life, I somehow need to remind myself to purchase a bottle of Lamy ink. It doesn't seem to clog the fountain pen nib after being left around, not being use for a long period of time. It's a need to be done at this point of time. I got lots of fountain pens lying around. The grand duke is probably furious, and most likely a perfect storm is hidden somewhere in her hand of cards for this year. Surprise, surprise, but I am not surprise. I do keep life as simple as I can, and mostly fluid. Keeping everything manageable. Would just pull the plug whenever to flush, and however when "they" get out of hand; without remorse like "big-mama", and "old-dada" taught me. Hummmm ... am loving the flow of these hand written words. Java language is going to be hard to learn. I was not expecting that to happen till I got myself that book for dummies. Darn it. But it's still something I need doing. Guess today words are skewing towards my self reflection. Things are moving on and piling up. But I am still wondering; am I still missing out on something more tangible to measure success? Maybe, my other impostor syndrome self is taunting me again.