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| Wednesday, 13-Feb-2008 07:35 |
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We ought to be stupid, somehow
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It was stupid when you thought that you have found someone that could draw a cute curvy smiley face on you; was someone that nothing less than a complete emotional burden that you have been trying to evade all this while.
Such occurence was so funny, we laughed at ourselves eventually.
I hate you F. For being someone that is totally different from what you used to be.
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| Monday, 11-Feb-2008 07:18 |
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Come back home
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It has been more than a week since you left. Everything goes haywire.
I need your magic touch.
The touch of Midas. The touch that can alter anything.
The touch that stops my tears from dripping.
I miss you
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| Saturday, 2-Feb-2008 11:18 |
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F, Good bye~
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I felt immobilized. Like staring into one hell of the scariest figment of imagination came alive. Or like when your super massive big secrets came to surface of everyone's day-to-day talk. Or when you were about to die. Or else when you have died and you afraid that it would be eternal, you wailed to come back home.
I felt immobilized. Where the solid body shaped figure that used to be the static entity in my eyes slowly dispersed like a bubble being blown hard in the air. It sailed curvaceously like a harmonious sound from the reverberations of the strings of an old guitar that being salvaged from a burning home. The color of the bubble so enchanting it reflected vivaciously by the sun.
Now I am, staring into an empty space which its owner used to stretch a smiley face on me. A cute smiley face of someone I adored so much. A comforting look I've longed to see or at least a comforting look that could steer me away from this mess.
Two weeks of less-than-enough laughters, two weeks of heavenly world, two weeks between you and me.
Now you're gone. I am going to miss your presence, your smell, your sweet talks to me, our
virgin date, our very first kiss.
And your eyes.
Good luck F. That T company needs me too~. Hihi
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| Monday, 28-Jan-2008 07:39 |
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This flight
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There I was, pretending that everything happened was nothing short of sheer normality, vivid and colorful at some parts of the storyline, dimmed in the middle and darkened through the end. There I was, pretending that the chaos and mayhem I had thrown were a mere little bump on the road; hit and run away.
And I was here, gazing deep into the flickered screen in this dark room, gasping for the damped air, drenched in cold sweat, eyes closed and ears turned deaf. Trying to listen I was to the melody we've created together not so long ago where I sat on your lap, humming the tunes we promised to adhere. Apart from the sweet echo, somehow there was nothing more I can remember. We've promised to adhere, but far from being sorry, I opted to persist.
The moment you caressed me using your barehand, stroking the jagged hair of mine, was the black and white printed photo that glued in my box of memory. How I wish I have that red button of time; shalt I push it, everything halts.
I longed to land my finger on that red button.
I want to stop the moment you touched my lips with yours, the moment of intimacy we've created. The magic you've made. The soothing warm breath that touched the back of my neck, the jovial arms that enclosed my torso and that magnificent chain of words you've lullabied.
For it never happened, the imaginary red button of mine, I just wish I could hold you a little bit longer, so this memory will never stop to shine.
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| Tuesday, 15-Jan-2008 11:53 |
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When?
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when was the last time that you were badly went haywire? When was the last time that when
you looked at his name, you would smile without any clear reason? Could you remember when
you saw things, those dimmed items brightened abruptly?
How one describes love? What are the indications or any visual identifications for you to be
classified as being in love?
I need medications. Life seems abnormal right now. The abnormality that I guess, I'd love. The changes in life that I think I will cherish - at least until the very moment all these messy things end. So much puddle of problems I've stepped into and then i suppose one major change to the normality I'm having is nothing short of sheer relief I should have, years ago.
Changes could be timid. Changes bound to be dead cold. Changes seem to turn you to something
else, far from what you used to be before. Adoring someone is a change. Having someone else
wandering in your head is a big change. Having someone else wandering in your head and that
someone is someone you adore, is a major change. Having someone else wandering in your head
and unfortunately you think you are in love with that someone, is a super massive change.
But having someone wandering in your head and you are just there, thinking all over again about that someone without taking any risk to make it verbalise, to make it obvious that you are actually having someone in your head and you are actually thinking about that someone, is a major turndown.
I am taking my time right now just to show that someone that I am taking care of what that
someone is doing, just to exhibit my sincerity towards this invisible bond I try to make.
One question arises; when will that someone understand?
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| Saturday, 10-Nov-2007 05:25 |
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As told by him
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Have you ever seen a roll of film with monochromatic pictures being set chronologically to form a video?
Apparently, a picture has gone from the strip of mine.
I am lost.
Get me a new one and I shall record a new marvellous video so that I know I've done something great in my life.
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| Wednesday, 26-Sep-2007 15:03 |
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When You're Sleeping
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There were many of us. The tall, the less developed frame, the over magnified, the sort of figures we used to see and recognized. The moving entities that have accompanied us for one sixth of the time span of our life. The minutes of sweet-filled talks, the hours of hand squeezing, the weeks of inundated emotions interlocked, the months of the repetitions of what we used to have every single week, the years of glory and beauty. The time that flew by so fast we were so ignorant we didn’t realize it has gone unnoticed.
How hard we tried to cherish the remaining time of the 24 given hours, we collapsed eventually. On the bed precisely. The exact minute of all good moments stopped to grow and left us with the dreams we invented ourselves.
But that was temporary. The joy of talking and hand squeezing will ensue in a split second right when we opened our eyes. We cried, we yelled, we laughed, we shut our mouth up. We were there. Standing firm and nailed to the ground. We were alive, at least.
And right now we are sleeping yet again. So calming and serene we wish nothing could veer this simply amazing treat. We were so preoccupied with life; we forgot that taking a good rest was all what we needed all this while. We exhausted and we wish this long night dream never end, or at least someone please gush this tiring feeling away. We had enough so to say.
I wish you guys never sleep. I wish you guys were strong enough to never fell asleep. I wish you guys open your eyes back again.
Because, I wish you all know that it is hard being alone.
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| Tuesday, 11-Sep-2007 05:45 |
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Azlan, yet again
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Azlan is not around. Doing business across the globe. Good luck!
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| Wednesday, 5-Sep-2007 13:10 |
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Azlan
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I love photography. It is like composing songs which the melody is so eclectic it could be any tunes the shooter wants. It could be jazzy and mellow at times, but the way you hear the tunes, it could be indie instead. How diverse it is, you just can imagine. How big the impact it will deliver, depends on the instruments you can hear inside the song.
But somehow, the photo alone doesn’t depict anything. It needs something to reinforce, to make the picture looks more eclectic than it supposed to be. It requires words and sentences and phrases so it doesn’t look static and dead like gazing Empire State Building frozen up in a monochromatic picture, it just there and left unspoken. What is the significance of the photo, no one could tell.
Like this picture of Azlan, he left me clueless for hours. I was just there on my chair thinking of what I should tell about this well-built young man, how should I describe him, how should I illustrate without sounding so affectionate was so hard. It was like pretending to be deliriously clever but somehow you couldn’t because your head was empty you talked crap.
We had a little moment to be reminisced. In fact, if I die or he does, one of us will not even notice the lost. We didn’t even have time to dig each other’s business but as little time we had spent together, as how sad the memories of us didn’t even coexist with my existence, I knew him well. From the surface, if not deep inside. How on earth would you know someone’s heart when you yourself can’t even tell who you really are?
It doesn’t make sense, does it?
What does make sense? He is brilliant and also one of my models in my petite tiny modeling agency. Does he make the cut to be a model, yes I would say from certain angles. From certain hair cuts and from some facial expressions. Yes I know a model should be versatile, but of course he could be versatile if we, as photographers know how to make him looks versatile. Now can I say that photographers are just like conductors with long wood stick in a giant orchestra?
This entry is dedicated to him. Happy 23rd birthday. May your life will be filled with lustrous joy and happiness, and safe from any harm that might encounter. My prayer is strolling by your side.
Regards,
Mohamad Saifol bin Aaisa
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| Sunday, 29-Jul-2007 09:25 |
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This Boy
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This picture needs no caption. Make it yourself. You'll find it better.
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