Silence

In the storm I seek
That quiet spot of oblivion
Whose sigh of momentary relief
Belies the ominous eye that bequeaths
The sound of silence

The winds of time
Engulf the ocean of serenity
I am caught
A tiny sailor on boiling seas

But within my cabin
The doors are shut
Music drowns the howling winds
My safe harbour lies within

But the knocks are insistent
Finally I relent
Tearing down the walls
I allow Chaos to come in
She smiles beatifically

I open myself to her and she overwhelms me
Leading me to the very edges of the universe itself
Where Logic and Reason are destroyed

But even in that place between Space and Time
To my wonder I still do find
The sounds of silence that I once thought lost
Now come to be eternally mine

Flashback

I remember watching Spiderman 2 on CD back in Malaysia, and the last scene keeps recurring in my mind.

Peter and MJ kiss, then suddenly they hear sirens in the distance. MJ looks at Peter, and says simply, "Go get 'em, tiger."


And in the subtitles below: "Pergilah tangkap kriminal, harimau."


I couldn't stop laughing. Still can't. Some things truly get lost in translation.

Thou shalt embrace thy emo side

Heh. Emo-ness is overrated, but so is masculinity. What's a guy to do these days?

Flying free

He took a deep breath. Then he started to sing. He seemed to be composing the music, too. His voice was clear, melodious, and sweet. The music presented a contrast to the words he composed. His hands were clasped together. His expression was serious. He looked like a little choir boy. The words, though, were not choir-boy words.

"Oh, I hate-hate-hate," he sang. "I hate the walls and the doors that lock and the people who shove you in. I hate the tears and the angry words and I'll kill them all with my little hatchet and hammer their bones and spit on them." He reached down in the sand, picked up a toy soldier, pounded on it with the rubber hatchet, spit on it. "I spit on your face. I spit in your eye. I gouge your head down deep in the sand," he sang. "And the birds do fly from the east to the west and it is a bird that I want to be. Then I'll fly away over the walls, out the door, away, away, away from all my enemies. I'll fly and fly around the world and I'll come back to the sand, to the playroom, to my friend. I'll dig in the sand. I'll bury in the sand. I'll throw the sand. I'll play in the sand. I'll count all the grains of the sand and I'll be a baby again."

He sucked on the nursing bottle again. He grinned at me. "How did you like my song?" he asked.

"That was quite a song," I replied.

"Yes", he said. "Quite a song." He got out of the sandbox, walked over to me, looked at my watch. "Ten more minutes," he said, and held up ten fingers.

"Yes, ten more minutes," I replied.

"You think it'll be ten more minutes and then it'll be time to go home," he said.

"That's right. That's what I think," I replied. "What do you think?"

"Aha!" he exclaimed. "You want to know? Well, I think, soon it'll be time to go. I'll get out the rest of the fighting men. These two are with guns. And this airplane. Like a bird. Airplane, fly. Oh, airplane, full of sand. Fly around. Fly around. Fly up to the sky!" He ran around the playroom, holding the airplane aloft, moving with grace and rhythm. "Oh, airplane, tell me! How high can you fly? Can you fly up to the blue, blue sky? Can you fly beyond the sky? To the clouds and the winds that hold fast the rain up there so high? Can you fly? Tell me, lovely airplane, can you fly? Oh, airplane..."


-Excerpt from Dibs: In Search of Self by Virginia M. Axline, the story of a very special five-year-old little boy.



"Oh, tell me! How high can you fly? Can you fly up to the blue, blue sky? Can you fly beyond the sky? To the clouds and the winds that hold fast the rain up there so high? Can you fly? Tell me, can you fly?"

Beautiful words from someone so young.

Mind and Body

Enter Psyche and Soma.

Psyche: I never see thy face but when I think upon hell-fire.

Soma: How now, wool-sack, what mutter you?

Psyche: Thou art a very ragged wart.

Soma: You scullion! You rampallion! You fustilarion! I'll tickle your catastrophe!

Psyche: Pernicious bloodsucker of sleeping men! Viperous worm that gnaws at bowels!

Soma: Thou damned tripe-visaged rascal! Leave me be!

Exit Soma.

Psyche: *rolls eyes* (Muttering softly) I could brain him with his lady's fan.

Exeunt.



*Credit for the Shakespearean quotes go to May. =)


"I was the kid next door's imaginary friend." -Emo Philips

Whisper

Shh... Listen. Listen quietly. Strain your ears in the silence.

The night is still. The darkness absolute. There is nothing to hear, yet hear you must.

Can you hear it? The beating of two hearts in the darkness? Separated by time and space eternal, but beating as one.

Can you hear the silent chuckles? The non-existent laughs? The quiet smiles?

There is nothing to hear, yet hear I do.

I hear the storm in the wind. I hear music without sound. I hear laughter without voices. I hear it all and I hear nothing. And suddenly the universe seems so small.

The silence is loud.

When reason is lost

There are few things more scary than a group of people driven beyond reason.

The Salem Witch Hunt is one excellent example. I read it in passing as part of my Psychology course, and the story chilled me to the bone.

How can people be so evil?

On one psychological level I can almost understand it, but on another I am completely at loss for words.

How can people be so evil?

Humanity is such a fragile thing.

Bludd-duh!

NOT FUNNAEEYY!!! XD

Fun with pictures

Got these in a chain email (thanks Elaine), but they're still great.

















And for pure "Awwww..." value:


Pretty self-explanatory, I'd say.

Knowest not I

To know is to know that you know not. The more you know, the more you know you don't know. Wisdom is not knowledge, wisdom is knowledge of knowledge not.

So many different ways to say the same thing. In a fit of moronic stupendousness I'm reduced to fragmented expressions of sentences.

Know not now. Must know more. Know not more. More not known. Know now cannot. Try know more now cannot. Is hard.

Limit. Limit laws. Known limits. No limits. Sky's the limit. Limited. Conscious cognitive dissonance. Respondent conditioning says. I do. Learn learn more more. Limit.

Regurgitation mess. Sit too long. Aching gluteus maximus. Music, music. Tunes in my head. Schumann! Du meine Seele, du mein Herz.

Wherefore art thou, motivation? Concentration concentrated. Law of competitive exclusion. Concentration loses and goes extinct. All the things you said, all the things you said, running through my head, running through my head.

Fried pancakes wasabe mushy-mushy!

'Scuse me. Regurgitation mess.