Bee Sting...
The bee sting,in actuality,is sharp and its effect,instanteneous.The pain reveberates through my veins,agonizing messages,with millisecond static inteference as my brain tries to ignore the painful missal...or so I imagine. Assuming I skip down the dismal yellow brick road of my imagination,I'll eventually come to realize that I was actually stung a few days ago,and the static buzzed for nearly two days before my neurons gaily tap danced into my brain to announce in a singsong voice what premonition had already whispered to me...bleh
Ironically,the deliverer of the sting dies shortly after the release of its one and only means of defence.I knew that.You see,this isn't the first time I've been stung..twice,probably thrice before,I've played host to some cute bees barb,and in those few encounters,I've gleaned a sadistic tolerance to them. Nothing feels as good as a jagged striated barb pierce my flesh and linger,its poison seeping into my bloodstream,enough to cause discomfort,insufficient to do considerable damage...just the way I like it.
This time,however,while the sadistic enjoyment still remains,the bee hasn't died yet...which is surprising...could this be a unique bee? I've heard a few tales,but never experienced it first hand. "It" being the matrixlike "bullet time" effect that the bee and its victim find themselves in uncertainty...WTF??? why aren't I dead yet? Imagine a defeated samurai redeeming his honor ,by commiting harakiri and still living ,staring at his spilt entrails and gaping torso...imagine his bewildered opponet,all traces of triumph wiped off his face,facade of honor sunken...I know,I know...improbable bullshit,but thats what I feel like,o.k? And the silence is quite permeable,but I'm scared to be the one to break it...my pleasure in this sort of sadism borders on orgasmic. I suppose I'll just live for the moment and hope it lasts long enough for me to pull my head outta my ass,where its residing at the time of the post.

I discovered that procrastination will indeed be the death of me. How can a person seriously put off depositing money in a bank the person walks by 4 times a day?It's extrememly stupid behaviour.I can't imagine what promts me to think "I'll do it on the way back"..."naw..I'll do it tomorrow...".I then develop that curious queasy feeling of desperation in my stomach,that makes me realize something bad always awaits those who follow the self-destructive path of the procrastinator.
Then,I realize to my utmost horror,that I enjoy the feeling! Yes! I've grown addicted to the aniticipatory feeling of impending doom...This is really bad...

Yesterday was filled with limericks. I had an assignment for Intro to Creative Writing,which was to write TWO limericks. I spent 5 hours writing three limericks.Maybe cos 80% of the time was spent surfing RBJ,or maybe cos I spent an hour arguing with kitty about random stuff...ohh,the length of Louis penis,her FOBishness,and our special mission: "Saving Private Ranjit Singh Gill",which sounds like a bad Indian comedy skit...
Anyway,here are the terrible limericks I came up with,if there indeed anything like a 'terrible' limerick...
I once knew a young girl called Kitty,
Who's IQ seemed rather gritty
I suppose its clinical
But she seems rather cynical
This makes no sense...its a pity!
I know..its crappy...

There was once a pale gweilo in Asia
Who thought he fancied a geisha
So he went to Japan
But messed up the plan
And ended up on a beach in Malaysia
...
While chilling on a beach in Malaysia
Which has the worst bitchs in Asia
I pulled out my willy,
The fobs turned quite silly
They suggested I try Euthanasia
...
I was tired.But suddenly...inspiration!!


A young man I met in Tijuana
Took a really strange liking to Marijuana
He'd decide to turn gay
So sure it'd get him some J
He seemed quite the queer Pollyanna
...
Why is Arnie's accent so funny? I and my roommate went on and one till my sides were aching with laughter...and constipation. My favorite quote an alteration from "End of Days" said in a Arnie Accent "oooo,the devil! I'm sooo scared!! What you gonna do? Make me eat brocolli??"
har har.Hilarious.

Today,I slept for twelve hours straight. 5 hours of non stop drinking in Joe's room,supplemented by philosophical conversations ranging from the right of the female anopheles mosquito to host the AIDS virus to the origin of the Phoenicians,has suprisingly,not taken the expected toll. I actually feel quite refreshed,and took a ride down to the theatre to watch The Butterfly Effect,which was surprisingly good...I lost track of the plot somewhere in the middle,but I'm still impressed.
Dinner at I-hop,and I'm ready to hit the sack...

Sometimes,I'm amazed at the amount of stuff I have hidden away in the dark caverns that make up my memory...While chatting with Julia,I experienced something I seldom feel. It was innocence.
Its been awhile since I totally opened up to someone...well..it wasn't opening up,it was more like confessing...admitting deep feelings that had gripped me ages ago. Finding someone with whom I shared childhood moments with is such an exhilarating experience. Reminiscing,guiding each other, the memories popping out of hiding,glorious and unabashed...Like chocolate surprises in a novelty candy box,I could never truly get enough,and neither could she..on and on we went-unwrapping each other...one revelation leading to another.
Emotions fluctuating...surprise and delight gleefully playing with their seldom seen cousins -anticipation and regret.Strangly, it was the childlike mood swirling around us that captured my attention and my mind was alight with echoes of childish laughter,sweetened by the nostalgic treats proffered to me. I too seldom come across that feeling of omnipotence,that only a child can possess...and experiencing it again,albeit for a short time space was a wonder indeed. But time,didn't matter at that moment...or did it? The tight cocoon of new found familiarity was ultimately disrupted...alas,a tribute to reality...the reality of NEPA. "but it was worth it" . I couldn't have put it better.It was perfect...Thank you =)

Today,I chatted with an old friend online. "Old friend" .Harhar. I remember a song I used to sing in highschool.Actually I sang the song all through kindergarten,primary school and secondary school...
"Make new friends,but keep the old
One is Silver and the other,Gold"
Sometimes,the teachers would sing it.Other times they would say it,enunciation,perfect-making it seem like a great chunk of wisdom,that had helped them through their careers.We were never told why the distinction existed...why Silver and Gold.But now I know the answer.BS. Yes,bullshit. That has to be one of the most idiotic phrases ever concocted.God bless all you teachers that taught me to read and write,but damn...sometimes u guys acted like plain dipshits.Oops,I'm diverging....neway,after chatting with this friend,I came to question the validity of the old skool rhyme,and was delighted to see the BS detector light up as if to say "I never thought this day would come".Why should we classify friends as silver and gold? All my friends are gold to me..if you're not gold,basically,you're not my friend.Simple.No prolonged rant.

As the title goes...fueled by nostalgia...
My mum came down. It was weird,because I wasn't looking forward to seeing her,and when she came,I was glad to see her,but...something had changed. The dark hair with streaks of brown and gray...the deep penetrating eyes...they no longer aroused the familiar feelings of years gone by.My reaction was...neutral.
The mall was bustling with activity,and I felt the surge of excitement that encompasses me whenever I'm in busy places..malls,rush hour,a riot,college or concerts. I think about how things have changed...falling in step behind my mum,out of old habit,when she used to hold my hand and drag me throught the bowels of the local market,Ariaria...walking infront of her at crowded intersections,reminiscient of the way she would push me ahead of her in such situations to keep her ever watchful eye on me. It never fully occured to me,but the has always been a syncronity to our relationship.An ingrained order that governed both of us when together.Despite all the time spent away from each other,the order prevails,undaunted by the threats of time,it continues along its path,modifying,erasing and rewriting to ensure that whatever happens,the balance remains.It has proven its existence time and time again...in my darkest hours,it comes through...like a vengeful wraith ,no material can hold it back.It fears no man,it caresses no woman,it feels nothing...it simply fulfills its purpose.
I imagine its mantra as it speeds through the veils of time and space..."Keep in sync", "Keep in sync"...or perhaps,a little more apt .."Syncronization is the key to Self-realization","Syncronization is the key to Self-realization". Does it perhaps teach a lesson? Is balance indeed the key? Could this be my lucky break?!! or is there no such thing as luck?...then again it hits me "How fine a balance?".Once again I am caught in limbo...a hyper puppy chasing its tail...
"JK!!!" Aiyooo,stop dreaming,lah!!" Not the words from her mouth,but echoes of a rebuking,already fading away to the recesses of my memory from whence it came. We're out of the mall and the cold hits my face,strong cold gusts of wind weathering my acne chisled features...I never fancied Wichita weather.
"Mummy, lets go back to your hotel"...the order swirls around my head entangling itself in my aura,fusing itself into my feelings...the thought nauseates me...but I can't beat it-I won't.Man versus syncronity.Result?Insanity.The wounds of of our old battle lie festering beneath my indifferent demeanor,and trust me...they f**king hurt like hell.

Registration over at last!! After being throw around and lost in the bureaucratic jumble that is WSU academic registration...I finally emerged with a decent time table,which include 3 communication classes and one on creative writing...yay!!
I can't wait for this semester to finish....I hate the weather...hate the town...hate the lameass programs on T.V. Speaking of lameass T.V shows,WTF is that show "Dismissed" all about? Its a whole load of bullcrap if you ask me. Two dudes battle furiously and lamely to get a girl to like them. Is this the type of garbage Americans are forced to watch? Whats the target audience? Retards? I love the way MTV takes advantage of cultural stereotypes..or maybe its just the dumbasses participating...
A Chinese American dude says"My friends call me the Asian persuasion.One u go Asian the party's fucking...whatever.Then the African American has his own extremely witty comeback "once you go black,you can't go back"Plus the girl they're going after is white. Again I marvel at MTV...is there a secret dumbass population of their viewers that ENJOY this?
I don't mind The Real World,cos its more of a comedy.Its like the dorm where I live minus the glitzy parties and nice hotel rooms.There's no end to the morons I encounter...theres a system to The Real World ...Hang out,have nice meals at overpriced restaurants and form superficial friendships,then proceed to the club in the night where everyone gets drunk and screws each other.Wake up in the morning all confused and unsure about ur status among your newfound fake friends...proceed to confide in aforementioned fake friend. Fake friend become ur boyfriend/girl friend...repeat till the dumbasses in my dorm get bored with it and want another reality show...all this done with a freaking camera in your face...
To be fair,my knowledge of The Real World and other MTV reality crap comes from 10 second glances while flipping through channels trying to get to adult swim..so I might be wrong.
I hate the Midwest.

I've been struggling with my identity for quite a while...Sometimes I'm disgusted at classifications and the negative effects they ultimately produce thanks to the final concoction :Stereotyping. Did I say stereotyping was the final concoction? I'm sorry, I meant racism.Yes,that should do it...
As a biracial kid growing up in urban *&^%^%& ,I had my share of stereotyping,even though I saw no reason for it,after all I was as black as anyone of them;that didn't stop the kids from making my ethnicity painfully obvious. Nevertheless it was *&^%^%&presumably the country with the largest population of black people in the world,as a result, I grew up as an African,or should I say-a *&^%^%&n.Strong willed,extremely emotional,cunning and with the ability to deal out threats and bluffs like my life depended on it. Maybe its just me, but all the friends I had growing up were able to do the same,in fact,for some it became a necessary skill to possess.I ignored all issues pertaining to my ethnicity and focused all my energy on growing up...and grow I did. Unfortunately, as highschool ended and my future loomed closer,like a huge impending storm on the horizon of my senses, I began to lose my feeling of security...the cockyness of my midteens,the familiarity with my self esteem was fading...maybe it was hormones...or maybe it was the thought of my future. It was proven without question that the latter was absolutely wrong,when my future pounced on me with the ferocity of a rampaging beast...
Like a quiet stroll through a serene jungle path...anticipation of the delights nature has to offer mingled with the obligatory fear of the unknown, overwhelmed my senses...while trying to focus on enjoying the stroll, I put danger behind me and alas,when it pounced on me, I was at its mercy....
Mercy,was indeed shown to me...but it was superficial...there was so much rot underneath it..rot which I still struggle to get rid of,washing myself in the waters of ignorance,pride and shameful grovelling...
My first days in New *&^*%^% were beautiful, it was like meeting a long lost family...ten years I'd waited,and now I was given the opportunity to spend time with them...it was literally the aforementioned jungle stroll...beautiful and serene..almost dreamlike. Infact too dreamlike. for a few months I wallowed around in an oblivious state of unawareness, like a foetus...sweet oblivion...When the beast pounced i was so deep in my dreamstate that its brutal attack went unnoticed for a while...When the full extents of my injury decided to manifest themselves,I was left questioning my very own sanity.
Like a rebirth I noticed eyes...those truthful windows to the soul, telling whole stories on their own...
Distrust,disgust,fear...sometimes even pity . It hit me real hard,the rasicm ...sometimes hurled like rocks at me,in words...sometimes shot at me like futuristic lasers from the eyes of a superior master race.It was not only brutal,this beast but cunning....it would leave me all torn and bleeding,waiting till I gathered strength to run or to fight,then it would pounce again,and again.This beast meant to consume its victims,but not for its sustenance,no. It ate simply to regurgitate a new person...a person who would rather stay at home quivering at imaginary dangers than jump up and head for that refreshing walk in the woods...A person who would forever be indebted to it...to be eaten and expelled at will...A person more often than not,having been ravaged by the beast , would get up feeling accomplished,as if victory depended on how many times one who was beaten down got up....
Maybe it was fate,maybe it was luck,maybe it was even resilience of some sort...But I have a feeling that it was my quest for knowledge that armed me with the machete that I wield now...the
parang that slashes at the beast with equal ferocity...the battle rages on ...unfortunately its a battle that cannot be won alone. Buts it is a strange one. Its like a huge fight club with thousands of little arenas,each containing a man and a beats locked in combat and millions of spectators...cheering on. One wonders how order is preserved...there must be some invisible cruel law that prohibits onlookers from participating in the fight...however,there are some rule breakers..once in a while an overzealous fan jumps from the stands down into the arena,and the odds change,for better or worse,for one man...
I stand in my little arena,overlooked by a motely crowd...a strange gathering of onlookers...their faces portraying the emotions that I somehow feel,fuel the beast,excitement,curiosity,pity,but the most common expression among all these spectators is ignorance...I glance up occasionally the sweat from my brow dripping into my glazed eyes isn't enough to block the truth: these people don't know what the fuck is going on.
The beast snarls,and once again,my life flashes before me...no,not a premonition of death,its the norm in the arena .I'm just glad that I've got a weapon at hand...this round anyway...

I love waking up on weekend mornings,my room window facing the east...a recepient of the full blast of the weekend sun. For some reason,the sun always seems more pleasant on weekends,especially Sunday. I can hardly remember a Sunday when I didn't appretiate the beauty of the morning sun.
I love taking a bath,my mind invigorated by the icey cold needles of water blasting from the shower...making plans for the day,anaylyzing a strange dream from the night before.Thoughts are always slow and clear for me when thought about beneath the shower...
I love coming downstairs and making breakfast while Grandma potters around in the garden,Grandpa reads his papers in the living room and Tini,the maid cleans up the remnants of my Aunts breakfast...I love eating with a sense security-that I have my day planned out...it might be out with friends,or a project in college..whatever it was,I was glad that I was going to do it...
Driving out of the gates,past Kanna's Curry House,just to smell the breakfast smells...Teh Tarik,Nasi Lemak...smiling as I raced past the plastic chairs and tables encroaching dangerously into the road-a look in my rearview mirror shows that my antic went unnoticed,just normal Malaysians having a meal in plastic chairs 2 feet away from the middle of a busy side road.
I love getting onto the Fedral Highway just before the mid afternoon jam...brain on automatic,gear shift in manual. I love smiling at the malay family in the Kancil next to me,the curiosity of their tudong clad faces causing me to break out into a larger smile,till the image of a young man with a huge afro and multiple piercings sinks into their heads..but its too late to smile back,cos we're off again...
I love getting to college and driving around for 30 minutes looking for parking,while responding to greetings from a million friends lepaking outside the cyber cafes,mamak stalls and stationary shops...love parking 20 minutes away from college and walking in the broiling midday sun past the rush of cubicle office workers rushing to lunch their irritated countenances changing rapidly to that of extreme irritation with a glance at my smiling ridiculous head...
I love finishin the business of the day off at the cybercafe...my trusty wizard laying waste to the scoundrels of Azteroth...roaming barren myterious lands in the quest for higher upgrades and dumbass players from mainland China that use chinese characters for their player names,so that I can lead them into unwitting traps where my teammates massacre them...I love making my appointment for the club with the usual "Voyeur tonite,k?!"..
Love going hitting the club by 11:30, love the multiracial mix of underage expat kids squandering their parents money on broke macha brothers...love hitting the pool table with my boys as we wait for the rest of the gang,knowing that we have our pick of any laydee in the club,if we only got of our lazy asses and tried...
Love getting warmed up with R&B and a lil help from my expensive friend Jack Daniel..or Jim Beam..whoevers in the house...love making eye contact with a foxy lady...luv moving in for the kill...love holding her close to me...our sweat intermingling and all kinds of unhealthy things happening...
I love the feeling of dehydration and the wind as it turns my sweat cold when I step past the bouncer...love watching the changing expressions of my friends when they realize its the last song and they're not getting some tonite...I love sitting in the mamak watching the malay bums make fun of drunk foreigners,glad its not me...watching the single chicks drive away with regret in my eyes...love the fact that I'm still with the same friends I came with to the club...love that we can laugh about the night,hugs kisses and "see u on Monday's"...its the end of another KL weekend...
Love hitting the bed,content..hoping it'll never end..
I love waking up on Mondays,to feel the...

aarghhh...I'm having waay too many weirdass dreams!! Shit,la...I was woken up twice this morning, only to hit the pillow and continue my sexcapades with some mysterious laydee...basically, I meet up with a childhood friend who turns out to be a playa.A hotass chick struts in and we commence to hit on her like there's no tomorrow,totally discarding the trusted "3 second rule",we were up in her face in milliseconds,initiating deep romantic conversation supplemented by extremely heavy petting...
we end up doing her thankfully....but it took waay to long...two phone calls 3 trips to the bathroom,a short break for a bologna sandwich and my friend was still hitting on her when I resumed the dream...someone need to investigate the official time/GMT of dream worlds,cos seriously...this shit is getting on my nerves...to add insult to injury, I have only PARTIAL control of my dreams..like,I can touch anyone anywhere,but the words that come out aren't mine..as if theres a script to it..damn...
I wonder what tonite will bring me...

bleh...my computer broke down,for the millionth time this semester,yesterday leaving me confused and paranoid as to WTF I was going to do with my life at that point.Thankfully, this bout of confusion and paranoia lasted only a few seconds the moment realization of my bleak outlook of life began to seep through the pores of my recently hungover mind...
I had a dream this morning...but I forgot what it was about...the phone rang several times,and I picked it up...and I was still able to continue the dream..it was vaguely erotic,but then again,most of my midafternoon dreams are of that nature...always a wet tribute to my single status...romantic tyrsts fueled by my forlorn state of singlehood...
I decided to make bak kuh teh today!!it tasted horrible...the pork was so-so,but the soup...it was farking aweful...my cooking experiments of late seem to go awry..but why won't they,when you open a a can of cream of mushroom only to find a curly black hair resting right on top of the freshly opened soup.Now,WTF is up with that? Why me!!
Read a few chapters of Rohinton Mistry's "A Fine Balance"...a fine book,with a thought provoking plot...unfortunately the story is such a damned tragedy,I turn each page and it only gets worse and worse...one of those reads that just manages to subdue me...
Uni offices reopen on Monday...its about time,my muscles are beginning to athropie...oh ,the joy of shredding new muscle tissue at the gym, in the quest for the elsuive "maximum potential"...
In my opinion,there is no such thing as maximum potential...we just grow and grow in everything we do till even our bodies and minds are unable to comprehend the growth...but here I go babbling nonsense ,again...

Glazed eyes,heaving chests....the sweat snaked down my face,somehow managing to bypass my dreadlocks,and having done so,stung my eyes into a semblance of sanity.
At that very instant I was flung back into reality...the disco lights...the screaming,prespirating masses heaving against me like the death throes of the chickens I used to slaughter for special events,years ago...
I caught a wiff of the cheap perfume permeating my senses,and realized that I wasn't alone...clinging to me was another...I looked at her...Indian...probably South Indian, and possibly thrilled to have a dance partner in a dancehall,that was unbelievably cruel to females without one...
"15 seconds to New Year!!!!" My brand new diesel shoes never expected a breaking-in of this caliber...my foot movements were as erratic as the contraction of my spaced out retinas..."3,2,1.." bullet time...champange shoved in my face by little miss india...bubbly and alien in a system temporarily under siege by the legions of E&J brandy,but nevertheless,incredibly sweet....
Blurs of faces materializing infront of me handshakes and uneccesary and unfelt hugs...a plethora of orchestrated hugs,followed up by the obligatory kiss-to-the-cheek-a gesture that I hold dear.But the present assault on it,went unnoticed by this staggering hero.
Different dance floors...Graham's catered for all characters...after the booty shaking and boob squeezing demanded from the R&B floor,it was on to the "typical white folks" arena,as I like to call it,with a bottle of champange that Bryan had managed to "acquire" from an unobservant waitress...
So that was exactly how I left...bubbly and gaseous,breath undescribably pungent...
The night of the 31st was a long one,and little did I know that my adventures were far from over...fights between sri Lankans and bengalis...a run in with possibly the hottest girl in the club...
Nevertheless, as my head hit my saliva-encrusted pillow,headache lulling me to a slow painful oblivion,I was glad that the whole year of 2003 had perfectly manifested itself in one night out. 'Tis a strange world we dwell in indeed"
Happy New Year