I have nothing. Blank. Nadda. Nothing's up my mind. Yet, I felt something tingling, something tickling within me. Something isnt comforting. I looked down, amazed, shouted "Something's up my hind!"It swaggers from left to right as my butt cheeks jiggle from side to side. Sugary, thick brown, milk shake and a sweet baker's chocolate cake. It is the sweet excrement for flies to play, which we need to dispose off and so we have Indah Water to pay. It looks solid enough to be stuck in that hole. That hole in between those two meat chunks that when add up we call an arse.Hard, crude, lumpy, formerly food. It stains, sprays on those baby smooth flesh. Especially at the edges, it presses upon the hips, forming splots of coffee like stains. It smells as fish is stale as the garbage is fresh. It floats around the room even though its odour is heavy, heavier than air. It smells, it stains, it sprays everything a sweet baker's chocolate cake.As the piece of shit wants to drop down as it hung there in mid air, aerated by the smell of methane just passed , I want to know, why, I want to know, what, why the what is where it is now. Up in my ass. Hanging, dingling, bungee-jumping.It must be due to me being due. It seems those prunes does its magic over constipation a liltle to soon. I soon plop my way with that piece that's due to the door with the tiles the sink the mirror and, yes, the bowl on its other side. When I reach there, i opened the door and entered, and the rest is my business alone. Although you all might add, that posting is too.
posted by gohli @ 9:50 PM 0 comments

Shards of light shone, slicing through the sky. Their luminous glow skimmed the contours and colours off things to a blank blinding white. Every sense of shape or shade dissipate with the rising humid air.Reality was rubbed clean. All that were was clear bluster proliferating, shining intensely upon every line of sight.It was, in essense, a most brightly blight.The sun's stinging rays torment every eye that came within their range.Korneas shrunk sooner than eyelids blink. It was hard to see. It was harder to live.It was harsh enough for a cry.As it was too parch and dry. Moisture only came in the form of tears. The physical pain mounts on the (optic) nerves, literally, ever more.I strode upon the open road quickly, hoping speedful steps would lessen the scorching. Yet for every foot it took the burn deftly rubbed itself into me. Futility marked my haste. The wind brought no relief, just the warmth of a boiling furnace unto my face. I was tanned a dark red. Only the white glow of nature's grill prevents me from knowing how much.Soon a parked car was notice. A single parked car in this bare gleaming heat. A rustic poem came unto my feet.The afternoon heat bears upon the streets, to glimmer its bonnet in a beat, in faints of flash did the glitter flytwinkling stars under the summer's skymaking the metal casing a much for play, for that of reflective Light to swayIt was my Iswara. It was my four wheels of freedom.(Witholding the gas mileage)
posted by gohli @ 12:14 AM 0 comments

It is with due knowledge that this blog has grown static over the months, causing irreversible pain, panic and paranoia that even a pacifier wont please to my faithful flock of fans. Rather than ramble (once more!) on about the unsightful (yet existant!) gain of infinite laze, it is best to just let loathing be, as a cure for my manic depression and a cause for my fillial followers'.

Nothing currently apace. None more workloads in spades. Just simple thoughts, simple actions and simple ways dominate. So fundamental are the tasks, tinkerings admist, that no long have I reason to procrastinate. To satisfy natural urges and neccesities such as hunger, thirst and tv, how much less can a man manipulate! As i sat, no, lay, no, slept, on this comfortable couch, or as i might sway, cushion of impeccable comfort, I laughed, sniggered, snort, split, teheed, tittered, 'whizgigged' at your struggles to produce. Whilst you tore and tatter sanity for merit's sake I sip and slipped in the succulent, taste of treats. Admittedly, such a serving is still lacking, for there were no magnificient 'mammaried' maidens without menopause to spoonfeed my luscious lust, for food that is.From 'Marcel' to monkey, though the both are quite the same, and as such are similar to me, being Malaysian means Makan, and Makan, though widely believed, is not a subsidiary of McDonald's. Wantan mee, hei mee, nasi lemak, char koay theow or if not fried, just kuey theow. All over my mind! All on my tastebuds! And all in my gut.In justice this author should emunerate over the other basic urges after gluttony, Baywatch is on that idiot box, and he should not be deprived of teats being flaunt

As it is presumed, and predicted with spareless accuracy,during this few months labour lacks libido whence scrawl and scribble is concerned. In contrast to others, who have been in a constant deliverance, and of the quality of it, this particular has been in blastful, yet admittedly blissful, neglet. It is hopeful, for permissive's sake, and only for such, for this author could find not reason, nor a speck of character, in his dark and colluded soul to write, or, on a personal space, to have a life. As time begets time, till time itself is questioned, the crux of this blog's existence has been wholefully absent. Posting's past has remained posting present. Of consequence is the patron's health, and the vibrancy of it. Analogious is of it with the poisoning implied by the eating of a cow's dung. Or of Subaidah's. Such pain will be emphatised, with a smite of compassion, and to be smitten, by a conscience so heavy,by a majority of society, of which this author does not fall. However, with due justice, this particular blogger has been of recent days reading, about a book with a unique prose, a unique presentation, and a unique headache, hence the quirky yet unsrutably annoying composition and theliberality with the coma in this current post, of a particlar author, of a particular time, and of not contemporary space. Jame Austen. So beg me mercy.

Eyelids set when the night arise, Eyelids set even when the sun alights! As sleep is forgetfulness and respite, slumber appeals amidst assignment's gaze during semester's phase, as it banishes boredom and burden from a campus's day. Never had pillows and a bed, even with a lady on it, been tempting as it was in a dormitory. :p

Earth, and for that matter the entire universe, is neither good nor bad. It is merely a sphere of senseless matter. It doesn't give a shit whether we live or die. It doesn't care that its tectonic plates rub against each other every now and then. It doesn't shed a tear (or for that matter laugh with joy) every time it spews incinerating lava. It doesn't give a rat's arse if its soil is fertile enough or if it rains enough. Its actions are unpremeditated. It is indifferent, apathetic, unthinking, and callous. That is nature, and that is its nature. And so it's left to you and me, in a place of indifference, to make a difference. -jimmy 'the lab rat' http://pinkynthebrain.blogspot.com/