Almost.

There’s this movie. My favourite and yet unless someone mentions it, or it’s played on TV or something happens to bring it to the front of my mind, it’ll stay at the very back. Movies like Fight Club and Forrest Gump are memorable. But this movie, for some reason, is constantly at the back of my mind. This movie is called Almost Famous. The age old fairytale of Love, Drugs and Rock & Roll. I’ve been meaning to get myself the DVD for some time now. The original DVD mind you. It’ll be a first for me probably. And someday, I’ll find a girl who’ll lie in my arms as we laze in front of the TV watching this movie and she’ll laugh at the absurdity and smile at the hidden purity of Penny Lane and chuckle at the hopelessness of William’s romance; Never realizing that that’s us, watching a version of us, if we were living that life. We’ll have the Love. And well, who knows… it isn’t hard to get the Drugs and Rock and Roll. Cheers and Selamat Hari Raya. What an inappropriate end to such a post but fuck off, live righteously and peace.

To all, with love.

To any who hopes for my love:

If I must change myself for the one I love, then I want to start by loving me. & when I’ve become a better person, I’ll love someone else too.

To those who have known it:

I’ll never stop loving you. You were a big part of my life, when my life was partly yours. Stop thinking though that that means I’m not over you. I love you because you’re a big reason for who I am today. The good and bad of us makes up the me I know now. I love you because I don’t hate me.

To those I’ll secretly feel it for:

I think I could I could love you but love is funny that way; I don’t think it exists until the word is uttered between us. Love isn’t just a feeling one person has. It’s a connection between two parties. Love is like Schroedinger’s Cat; Once it is out, it might be unrequited; it might be returned; it might be complicated. But unsaid, it is all of those and none at all. So yes, I could love you. But for now, love isn’t real.

To those whom I share it with:

Please. Just say it back to me.

Don’t listen to anything I tell you to do or don’t do.

The voice in my head is telling me to not to listen to him. Catch 22. If I don’t listen to him, means I should. If I do listen to him, he’s telling me not to. Mindfuck of the purest sense. Goodnight. Come meet me in my dreams. Unless you’re perfect or if you even come close to it. I don’t want to wake up in disappointment.

This is the me I already am, but still wish I could be.

I’m a sucker for beautiful eyes. The same goes for lips and hair and smile. Then when I get to know someone, I fall for her wit and humour or her creativity or well articulated intellect. Its one or two of these things that makes me feel enamored. But then you came along and all these things go together in perfect harmony like a symphony in one person and I’m blown away. What do I do in this situation? I’m like a deer caught in headlights. I stand in awe waiting for this bright shine to just run me down. But then you slowed down and stopped in front of me. You smiled and said hello. This is not the prelude to happily ever after. This is me in unexplored territories having a smoke with you, not knowing what to do.

Of long walks and lovely talks.

There’s a familiarity about long walks for me. Memories with lovers and close friends. Of good times and bad ends. It started way back to 6-7 years ago. Walks of hilarious conversations and now of reminiscent old conversations that hold a special place in my heart. It’s like each step would bring you back. Because concrete feels the same everywhere you go and the silence of the night is so conducive as a medium for time travel. The walk from the night before wasn’t exactly long but the company was long overdue and missed. Lil’ rumors to accompany the lil’ buzz. Each step, a smile. Each smile, lasts a mile. I love my friends. The ones that stick with me to and through the bad ends.

But maybe love will ruin it all.

I think somehow, one way or another, we’ve come to put beauty and person in 2 separate categories that when they come together, we can’t make sense of it. Or maybe it’s just me. Whatever the case, for me, the rare occurrence of meeting someone so delightfully interesting and beautiful has left me dumbfounded. I’m lost. I’m scared. I’m so terrifyingly excited. and I’m not even in love yet.

Because I’m moved.

I want to remember tears,
the way they are birthed at the corner of my eyes,
flow down my cheeks and fall to a splashing death.

I want to remember heartache,
the way we split the hairline cracks into deep valleys with our lies,
our silliness and our misguided wrath.

I want to remember healing
the way we fear it would never come, but it does in our cries.
the tears will fill that crevice with sorrow’s wealth.

From Jakarta, with more love.

The past few posts were written (old’ school style of pen and notepad) in or on route to Jakarta. I’ve had prouder works but I’ve never felt so inspired. But rushed I was to pen down what I should in the moments I could. I love it there. Not for the shopping or the girls or the music or the food. I love the courtesy and the atmosphere. The mysterious cleanliness of the sidewalk and the hidden trash on rooftops. I love the unseen like a blind man loves colours. Right now, it’s still the idea of Jakarta I’m in love with. 2 days was not enough. I shall go back when I can and get to really know it. And like a blind man learning what colours really are, I’m sure to be amazed.

In new lands do we learn how to land. Be humble or you’ll crumble.

Beauty is not the clear glass and shiny steel. It is in the rust and the dirt. It is in the people who live graciously in these conditions. It is in the faded prime colours of soft thin t-shirts.

I was thrown into the stratosphere, and fell into love.

As we pass through the clouds I imagine the nose of the plane piercing through the soft clusters of cotton with grandeur; like a man of importance swings open gigantic doors into or out of a crowded room. “I AM ABOVE YOU”, we silently shout to the world.

And above it, the air of pride and power descents instantaneously into a sense of peace and tranquility. The rough terrain of dirt and concrete disappears under the soft mountains of clouds glazed in white. For a while, you imagine that this is the world you left behind. That beauty is waiting for you when you land. You feel as though that white cotton cushion will catch you if you fell.

This is of course, completely untrue. A false and naive idealistic notion brought on by my own romantic view of the world. But for a second, I indulge in such a dream and imagine what it is to be a child and believe truly in the fairytale.