Category: Journal

On the Run

I have often said that my life is like a badly written comic book. Complete with explosions, intrigue, death, excitement and kryptonite, it seems like I’m going from one incredible episode to another. While my life has shown me many of the facets that life has to offer, allowing me to learn from them, some of those facets have slapped me in face like a rough-handed pimp.

Some people call it experience while others call it baggage. Either way, your fucked.

Recently I’ve had the great pleasure of talking to a wonderful woman who not only is wonderful to talk to, but she is very intelligent and incredibly understanding. With her help I realized that in the last 14 years or so, there hasn’t been a time where things were simple and serene. I was always caught up in conflict, intrigue, helping people out, making things happen or just working my arse off for college.

I can remember two moments, both not to long ago, where I didn’t have anything on my mind. Mind you, there was plenty going on in my life that required my attention, but I just didn’t think about them.

The first was when Eva and I had first met, and her parents were on holiday and I used to sleep over. She’d go to work, while I stayed behind, playing Mahjong on her little Apple II while I could hear the birds chirping outside and the sun was shining on my back through the open window.

The second time I can remember was when Eva and I were roaming through Paris and we stumbled across the Eiffel tower. Underneath the Eiffel tower are many lawns of freshly cut grass where people sit and enjoy an afternoon in the sun. Eva and I sat down for a bit and were just lying there, completely content in watching the people.

I’m sure there were more moments where I was carefree, however I can’t remember them.

Now, people say that step one is always recognizing that there’s a problem. Step two is defining the problem. Step three is changing things in order to solve the problem or to make sure that the problem doesn’t occur again. I think I, with the help of my friend, did step 1 and 2. However, I’ve been thinking about step three, and I don’t like what it entails.

I’m beginning to wonder if I want to lead a life where everything is calm and serene. It would be nice to have a few moments in a year where I could simply sit there and worry about nothing. Have someone special close to you, or just go out dancing with friends.

That’s probably what I dislike most; one time, when Eva and I were first dating eachother, I was out with her and Marco in Amsterdam, we were walking down one of the canals at night, it was a summer’s night, we all had a really good time and I got called by a “friend” of my father that was looking for him. Marco knew what was going on, so he immediately took Eva and started walking a bit faster, while I lagged behind to talk.

Christus, I’m ranting…I had a point here somewhere and I think it was that I should find some points of rest here and there. I need a little less explosions, intrigue, death, excitement and kryptonite every once in a while.

Anyway, thank you, Elle.

Lifelessly v3.0

In this grey alley,
white shirt, golden tie, stained red
with my own blue blood,

solely surrounded
by acrid smelling garbage
and bitter concrete,

I feel exhausted,
as my head hangs lifelessly.
I can’t outrun him.

“I’ll get you small one.
My fav’rite prey you’ll become.”

In this neon light,
we will end this endless fight,
Credit-card defense.

A dumpster provides
support and solid comfort.
I rise to my feet.

Cold steel in my hand,
the semi-automatic
somehow comforts me.

My vision wavers.
One last kiss before it fades.
A tall man in black.

“And you want it all.
I will give you something more!”
One last kiss before

it all fades away.
I offer a silent scream,
and see the unseen.

I fall to my knees.
The smell of the garbage fades.
Death will always win.


Okay, this pisses me off; Elle has been so kind as to direct my attention towards a band called The Tea Party and I’m really enjoying their stuff. Here’s the deal though, they’re about as unreliable as, for instance, Radiohead in the sense that their songs don’t always appeal to me. For instance, Juno Reactor always follows through and appeals to my tastes, but sadly The Tea Party doesn’t.


Damn me and my pickiness. Oh well, rant over.

Dispelling the Angst

I noticed that my journal were becoming a bit of an angst and anger fest, so I just wanted to share a little story with you that makes me laugh each time I think back to it.

It’s saturday night, south London [Clapham High Street, to be exact], in a nightclub called the Inferno, a shite 70’s revival club. We were one of the first people in the club as it was still rather early, and we managed to get a booth at the side of the dance area.

These booths were a nice setup. Semi-circular, with high, padded-leather backrests that went up to the ceiling. It had those buttons on them making the padding all bumpy, it was nice and comfy. There was a round table in the middle which had a loose table-top. We had all agreed not to lean on the table’s edge so that the table wouldn’t shift or fall over.

One of the girls that was going with us was Esther, a girlfriend/roommate of Moulsari. She’s a 2 feet high, Korean girl that could hardly do anything wrong in my eyes since was just the prettiest thing. She arrived a little later, and I had [out of boredom] ordered some cocktails and shots at the cocktail bar.

The cocktail bartender was a guy called David that was very happy to see me since I didn’t order one drink but ordered them fuckloads at a time, also I paid with creditcard. This was my initial order;

3 Harvey Wallbangers
4 Long Island Iced Teas
7 Brain Haemorrhages [shots]

This totalled 50 pounds or so, and the guy sent me off hoping I’d come back for more. When Esther had arrived I asked her if she’d want a drink. She told me that she was very asian about her alcohol consumption [i.e. she doesn’t handle her alcohol well *wink*at*Wai*] and I shrugged and put a Long Island Iced Tea in front of her. She didn’t seem to mind and drank it.

When she stood up to walk over to the bathroom, she put her hands on the table and literally launched a Wallbanger, 2 LIITs and 3 or 4 Haemorrhages across the table and into the padded leather backrest behind her. Surprisingly, she was spotless.

A goddess.

Migration Urge

After spending a splendid, though slightly hectic weekend in London, I come home to find a bunch of people at the airport waiting for a bus to bring them to the long-term parking area. As soon as the bus shows up people start flocking towards the doors, all wanting to be the first to get in so they wouldn’t miss out on the money they were giving away for free inside.

Having spent many time during my college years in public transport, constantly being assaulted by the pushy, rude and mostly pathetic behavior of my country-men to start piling onto eachother when trying to get in or out of trains, busses, trams or some such. They act like they are somehow missing out on something.

Example; When a train comes into the station, there are most likely going to be people that will want to come out. What youdon’t do, is surround the exists and start ramming yourself into the train regardless if there are people trying to get out or not. What you do do, is what I always did…stand back…watch the idiots flap about…and go in when everyone’s gone. I could always find a seat. I am always left wondering what it is that they think they will miss out on.

Anyway, coming back from a country where people know how to make a queue and don’t mind waiting for three seconds, I was shocked. As I get into the bus, which is a normal bus where they have removed some of the seats to create room for luggage, I find a bunch of people standing in the spot where the luggage should be stored. Most of them didn’t want to sit down because the drive would only be three or four minutes.

I politely asked for them to make room, and explained the function of that gap in between the seats. Some of them moved and I could put Samantha’s fucking large suitcase down. As I was trying to make my way to the back to find a seat, I saw a guy standing in front of my holding on to a [really] large bag containing, according to him, kites. Next to him there was a man blocking the way. I kindly asked if I could pass and he turns around and says the follwing;

“Well, because I’d like to sit down.” I replied.
“It’s only a two minute drive, you know?” he said with an arrogant look on his face, like I’m the asshole.

How fucking rude is that? For one, why the hell should I provide him with a reason? And second, why doesn’t he just move aside in light of my answer? I can’t believe this country and the rude behavior I stumble across every now and again. It makes me want to scream.

For the so manieth time this month I am contemplating a change of scenery. I hear Australia has some nice weather this time of year.