mane pulak si chipsmore ni...

aren't we getting a tad too old to be playing hide and seek, my friend? sometimes i wish i have a search engine of my own or a tagging device of some sort so that bila aku ketok botol kat bawah tingkap kau macam sudin and you don't reply i won't be spending a sleepless night in the hills plagued by guilt and nightmares of the paranoid adroid variety like i did semalam.

maybe i'm overreacting. maybe we've come too far for me not to care.

as much as i know it's gonna irritate me i'm wishing hard for the "sorry gua concussed" sms that's got your name all over it.

i hope it's all good on your coast.

the re-education of Yayat pt.2

in every scene, in every episode, in every spoken word and silent gesture the character must always have and be aware of her stake.

what's a stake?
- something that the character treasures and holds dear
- something that's happening that makes the character vulnerable to the possibility of failure

it is only when she has a stake that she finds and defines her space and it is only then that we can have cohesion or tension and friction between characters.

it is only when sparks fly that fireworks can be created.

did i get that right boss?

postnote to un: i really didn't mean to flatulate in your room upon arrival. i guess it's true what they say, old habits DO die hard, especially old BAD habits. heh.

the re-education of Yayat.

yesterday i learnt that three things makes a character

1) how they want other people to see them
2) what they truly are
3) how other people actually see them

now isn't that something to think about...

MissInginAction.

here's the thing about a lil something something. if you want it, you can always get it. in whichever way or form and all its varied permutations.

i was on my deathbed, halfway between my pillow and the toilet door when i had the funniest call from lil scholar about his saturday night shenanigans with chubaka and yusof haslam. and for the life of me i would never imagine. but for what it's worth i take my hat off to lil scholar. i know whatever fun you had is prolly a poor substitute for the kinda fun you REALLY wanna have but hey, you know what they say. if you can't be with the one you love then love the one you're with eh? HAHAHA.

till wednesday, j. and the madness shall stop.

sick to the stomach

a lot of people i know hate being sick.

they hate that their whole body feels like it's on fire and as if there are a million needles poking their backs from inside out and that they're going to the toilet and peeing from their arse every five minutes and puking food they didn't eat and just generally suffering and wishing they were dead.

i actually think it's quite healthy. it's my body's way of taking a break from from the torture and abuse and neglect i put it through, a purging of sorts.

the bad thing is, it's friday and i'm in bed and alone while everyone else is out painting the town in all the colours of the rainbow and every shade in between.

boo...

a lil more conversation a lil less action

it was a welcome respite from the constant posturing and posing and making sure that your hair is always in place and that your best angle is always ready for the random roaming lens.

it was an evening absent of the intrusive 'click click' of the trigger happy.

it was a night where nothing was documented and uploaded for posterity and so the mental pictures we took will have to do.

it was more than i could ask for. it was what i was missing.

it was fun to play grown up and buy rounds and split bills with people who can afford it and go somewhere quiet for drinks and conversation; good conversation that doesn't involve slamming or judging, and not fidget every 5 sec or so trying to find ways to fill the silence and pay for cover and groove to music with lyrics and just have a ball of a time and be comfortable and not have to wake up the next morning and worry that your shenanigans have been broadcasted to the world.

it was a relief.

it was a reminder
that i have and i am a grown up.

now if only i can remember...

angelism

HIS voice in dual sound

layered loaded
litany littered with lessons and lashings.

four flights of fancy
plummet into heaven

the aircon going
drip
drip
drip