KL

kuala lumpur people dress rather well, don't they?

guess what we found for sale? a mamachari!


my room's developing character.
everything on this shelf is very dear to me.

good night

.........

i got the job.

:)

the past months have been
slow
to say the least

but the past week
damn.
i would have never expected things to unravel so quickly

yes, they offered me a job
and it's not quite architecture!

territorialization

first images, kuala lumpur, 2010.



esok gua ada interview lah. wish me luck.

buns

random.

last post from melbourne

220
110
MEL

it is rare that i talk about my life here

it is 9 am
soon i will leave the place
that has been such a huge part of me growing up
for one, i am rarely the sentimental kind
but these next six hours
will be overwhelmed with intense sensations

i am lying in bed, eyes shut
absorbing the atmosphere that i will miss so much
breathing, listening, perceiving
the grinding sound the trams and trains
the cool dry morning air
the glisten of the morning light diffused on the frosted wall

for the most part of yesterday
i walked alone to the city to pay my final respects
to my favourite latte, from the cafes of the seven seeds
my favourite shop, trimapee, and bought some beautiful clothes
and later the day, my favourite unagi don, at a quiet restaurant
with some close friends



but it's really the people that matters most
as detached as i seem at times
i really appreciate meeting all these wonderful people
thank you for taking a chance to know me
and being so sweet
i have met a lot of good people in my life

to home
la casa

"it will all be alright,
i'll be home tonight,
i'm coming back home."

and now for something superficial

how boring is milan fashion week? some beautiful coats and jackets, yes those are expected, but otherwise really really bland...

burberry's probably the most beautiful. i think.

jil sander's pretty okay, i guess.

prada... what the fuck? interesting crop, but i have no words. the worst color combination. how one manages to look both garish and bland is beyond me.

or maybe i'm just past the phase where these things interest me anymore

go

the past few days
i have been going through all my possessions
(yes, all of them)
to decide what to keep and what not to keep
i discovered all these letters and cards
received around first year
from friends of past
full of promises that never really came through

but i guess that's okay

you just have to learn to let go
that is why i enjoy living minimally as a nomad
who can never really claim to belong anywhere

i never belonged, anyway

in the end i did get rid of a lot of things
including hundreds of photographs
films, and memorabilia

under the rotunda

it turned out to be a beautiful day
under the rotunda

just a group of people who bonded through circumstances
reminiscing

the message

"that sounds ... nice."

"it does. sigh. you're a nice person. mine would have been laced with malice and revenge."

"wouldn't have made any difference if i wrote it that way ... i'm not insured. i'm a risk no one is willing to take."

"they just take you on a ride. 'love is not a victory march. it's a cold and broken hallelujah'."

:)

the 'flaw' is no flaw at all

"short-term memory
includes forgetting as a process;
it merges not with the instant
but instead with the nervous, temporal
...
it can act at a distance,
come and return a long time after,
but always under the conditions of
discontinuity, rupture, and multiplicity ..."

(a thousand plateaus)

let us not confuse techtonic honesty with interior-exterior congruency

the eye and the art and the hue

"you are nothing like my rose", he told them.

"as yet you are nothing at all.
nobody has tamed you,
and you have tamed nobody.
you are as my fox used to be.
he was just a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes,
but i made him my friend,
and now he is unique in this world."

"you are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on.

"one could not die for you.
of course, an ordinary passerby would think
my rose looked just like you.
but in herself she matters more than all of you together,
since it is she that i watered;
since it is she that i placed under a glass dome;
since it is she that i sheltered with a screen;
since it is she whose caterpillars i killed
(except the two or three we saved up to become butterflies).
since it is she that i listened to,
when she complained, or boasted,
or when she was simply being silent.
Since it is she who is my rose."

...

"you can only see things clearly with your heart
what is essential is invisible to the eye"

"it is the time you wasted in your rose
that makes your rose so important."


(the little prince)

forget

people come and go
however ...

for 3 2/3 years
this place has been my only constant

intangible, yes
but perpetual, regardless

it has seen many tragedies, much love
and countless accounts of stupidity

in other words,
this place knows me better than i know of my own self

recently i thought of starting afresh
be anonymous

delete the blog.
because after all, everything will come to an end

the reason i built this place
was to record, to 'remember'

"whatever remains in my memory now. i hope i never forget."
i said 34 months ago

i became the dweller
of my own dreams

i compare love to horizons
its manifestation merely constructed by my eyes

everything here has been about coding signs
and poeticising nostalgia of senses

but right now
i only want to forget







the "power of forgetting" permits one to feel absolved,
to abandon one as to welcome another.
to paraphrase deleuze and guattari

and it ends.

"the era has passed
nothing that belonged to it exists any longer
he remembers those vanished years
as though looking through a dusty window pane
the past is something he could see, but not touch
and everything he sees is blurred and indistinct"

220
110
KUL
VOL
VER

>:d<

trying to be strong
but i can't fight these tears anymore

time has suddenly stop
everything has been taken away

the night is cold
the dawn is death

dawn

this is the post that i wanted to write, but did not:


i longed for the day i was a nihilist
before i fell in love with an ombre
i feel so intensely now it hurts
the only solution is
annihilation

"the night began with promise
and ends with nothing"

dawn breaks

i am looking through a dusty window pane
the horizon now blurry and indistinct



thank you.


i miss you

hunting knife and ants

"I think we complement their excesses by doing nothing. One of the characteristics of the system is that lack gravitates towards greater lack, excess toward greater excess. When Debussy was getting nowhere with an opera, he put is this way: ‘I spent my days pursuing the nothingness-rien-it creates.’ My job is to create that void, that rien."

...

“Sometimes I have this dream,”

” There’s a sharp knife stabbed into my head. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s stuck. I want someone to pull it out, but no one knows it’s there. And then everything starts to disappear. I start to fade too. And only the knife is left. Like the bone of some prehistoric animal.”

...

"Etre rien. Voilà une noble ambition."

the rehearsal

"the era has passed
nothing that belonged to it exists any longer
he remembers those vanished years
as though looking through a dusty window pane
the past is something he could see, but not touch
and everything he sees is blurred and indistinct"

"feelings can creep up just like that
i thought i was in control"

all memories are traces of tears

"before...
when people had secrets they didn't want to share
they'd climb a mountain
they'd find a tree and carve a hole in it
and whisper the secret into the hole
then cover it over with mud
that way
nobody else would ever discover it

i once fell in love with someone
after a while
she wasn't there
i went to ....
i thought she might be waiting for me there
but I couldn't find her
i can't stop wondering if she loved me or not
but I never found out
maybe her answer was like a secret
that no one else would ever know" WKW

alone

all alone

my point of view

i see the romantic in the most desolate

i c (h) in u

moon

one month

psst ;p
i had a great time last night
80s music videos. roman tales. and edgar allan poe. and sex.

you are gold