Why I am so Wise

Dear Joy

joylovyormom — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 01:13:39 +0000

You know you’re writing this down because the only time you occasionally allow your thoughts to help you sort out your messy ideas is when you’re in the shower and man, that’s either an accumulation of idea hoarding or a really long shower.

First of all you told yourself that perhaps you wanna pray to that dragon zodiac monster god because it’s 2012, just for a peace of mind about the year ahead for both your dad and yourself. You tell yourself that it’s really just for fun, to allow your belief of atheism to prove that despite praying to this bs you’ll have complete accountability of your fuck ups this year. And there, right there you said a belief of atheism like it’s another religion altogether. That’s the thing, wanting to pray, made you think of perhaps wanting a more spiritual life this year, but not resorting to any deism; to just be in touch with your inner voice that you’ve been allowing the constant noise around you to drown out. And that you’re still an atheist. Case in point: if you think of atheism as a belief and attest to its logic blindly without wholly seeking further comprehension of it, aren’t you exactly the same as a blind Christian who believes everything the priest has been interpreting from the bible instead of actually seeking your own revelation of it, and its utter deceptive preaching of fear and inhumanity?

Spirituality, you think, is simply to block out the noise and allow your consciousness as a being to play a bigger role in your daily behaviour and thoughts when evaluating circumstances that may otherwise delude you or worse, render you indifferent to matters that you have actually once cared about. You then think, maybe I should have written a dairy more often, penned your thoughts so you may see the words you have either allowed to subjugate you and finally confronting them with new thoughts ideas and perspective. Damien has told you that before, and you were too lazy to begin. Allowing these thoughts to fester in your head and actually moulding away, untapped and wasted away. Alvin has told you this as well, that writing your piece and containing your ideas in a visual or typographical form will allow you to own something that you have, well, sort of kind of created, and you know best that your only means of expression at the current state is either writing, or drunken gyrating (it is an expression after all, no biggie). What took you so long?

Ignoring advices is another thing, Joy. You know that you fear being like your mum, or above all that becoming a scummy wretch who is incapable of leading an honest life, one true to yourself. You think everyone is just being a prude and you know best. Well there was a recent discovery made by some scientists that has proven that as much as truth is relative, the world doesn’t fucking revolve around you. However, I read a quote by um Marcus aurilles(?) just yesterday that only an inconsiderate man change there world, more often than not, to suit himself.

Just got onto a cab and struggling to retrieve my thoughts. You wilfully sold your poor dad last night that because of him keeping you up you’ll probably take a cab to work from home. Well, Joy, that’s only 1/4 true cus u took a cab from city hall. You waking up at 715 and texting him that you’re sorry about adult delinquency has proven that perhaps your state of mind is much clearer in the morning and you should stop pretending that you’re so philosophical at night. No. Perhaps so while you’re in the shower but more so, take care of your body mind and soul. The body wants rest, it rests. Don’t let the poor mind take control entirely. If the body wants sex, well, ok that’s perhaps best left for another post. Either way, be strong. I’m signing out.

Love, Joy.

Prodigal Son Will Return

joylovyormom — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 04:49:59 +0000

and i slept better last night

Disjointed

joylovyormom — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 16:38:37 +0000

4am. I witnessed another life spiraling into abyss. I’m there in it, and I will catch you.

Achievement Unlocked

joylovyormom — Sat, 17 Dec 2011 19:42:02 +0000

Getting picked up at the toilet queue

Brother

joylovyormom — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 16:07:05 +0000

He was wearing an old black tee with no graphics on it. Black berms and black slippers. He looks the same as I last saw him, except his new hair which wrapped around his scalp in a thick matte flop.

He appears to be fine. I know he is wiser today. Insecure. Introspective and guarded, cynical. I felt a deep sense of sadness as I looked at him, and I didn’t talk for a long time. Yet it was comforting to see him. Yes, it was comforting to see my little brother. I do miss him. I told myself that I shall see him again very soon.

joylovyormom — Wed, 20 Jul 2011 18:41:22 +0000

“Go away,” he said.
I looked at my feet, thinking,
Maybe I should leave.

joylovyormom — Wed, 20 Apr 2011 06:50:32 +0000

A typical build up of an epic insult-hurling argument usually starts from casually bringing up one of the smallest unresolved issue which both parties disagree with but had been dismissed and swept under the carpet which then, both parties will try to convince each other and unknowingly tread that path of self righteousness and certainty of his own argument that there comes a point when he eventually slams the table when unable to sway the other party who is ready to acknowledge the opposing viewpoint but has to also have hers acknowledged as it holds truth. This ends badly, with one party calming herself down in the room while rationalising her thoughts and taming the surge of negative emotions with indifference while the other, raving in a mad fit outside the locked door, releasing his torrent of authority and age and experience in apparent disdain for the Y generation, with traces of ageism. As though a young mind of the new generation has to be conformed to the school of 1960. As though ashamed that the genes that flow throw my blood is contaminated with that of the mate he now abhors. As though the very product of this fusion has certain defects rightly so because it’s in its construct. The defect, that is contentiousness and defend for its own moral values.
The defect now has that subconscious, muscle-memory if you may, to every similar situation outside of this supposedly safe setting. It applies itself cautiously and barricaded its words with excess filter so they become harmless and without weight and seriousness to effectively provoke thought, so as not to provoke the individual into building enough defense mechanism to rejecting and hurting it.

the Human Touch and rationalization

joylovyormom — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 20:58:21 +0000

the need for physical connection is like the need for going to the arts for spiritual nourishment; imbued in your skin. with it lies a baggage of consequences for the social scandal that comes with the imagery of this need for ‘human touch’. proliferation of the senses in overdose…at times put other aspect of needs off balance. hence the mechanical auto-defense is the psychological wall to reduce this need for physical connection. the only word i can think of now is the inane rationalization of the consequences that come with this need: waste of time for eg, or over indulgence…moral corruption…(?) ill-disciplined…(interestingly, discipline sounds like a better word for rationalization, but the english vocab only limit you to choosing alternatives for words that otherwise have multiple meanings attached to them, so scraping that and moving on…) this rationalization is against our natural needs. natural instincts. then again the brain controls most of what your body needs, and your brain function and size and capacity is predetermined at the point of conception and development in your mom’s womb so you have no control over that so…irrelevant. over-rationalization is part of the human condition as well, if human condition is used carefully and properly in this instance which it may not be as it’s 445am, but over-rationalization could also be seen as the abnormality to, opposite of, direct conflict with, your natural and simple need for the human touch…let’s meet, catch you soon, stay in touch, need to hold you, i miss your touch, i feel your desire, your skin and my lips, etc…signs of the largest sense-organ of your body being the most in need of (or lack of) the TOUCH. mariah carey once said, touch my body. throw me on the floor, mess(ing?) me around. play with me some more. why does she need all that? see it’s natural to want it but it sounds incredulous and scandalous and nasty when said out loud. that’s why people find the most uncheesey and unused words to identify and express this need above all other human beings, and most human beings do have this need, to not sound, scandalous, sound more classy while expressing your innermost hungry and primal desire. but we’re all bloody animals. so, does rationalizing the none-need of touch (frequent) make you SEEM more in control, more civilized, more, untrue to your self?

same could be said about many things like, need for public nudity etc, which is not socially acceptable. but im not digressing far here. im trying to rationalize the need for frequent human contact, touch, non fucking verbal, animalistic touch. and i could also go on to the topic on, why girls who need more, touch, are skanks and guys who get more touch, the proverbial master key of all fucking locks as opposed to the skanks who are bad locks unlockable by many keys? witty, cute, but hurhurhur and you find yourself laughing from your skin, at yourself, and it stops there, at your skin. it cannot go in. no it doesn’t stop there at your skin, it penetrates it into your soul. and you believe that. strange, how the whole inverse thing affects a human mind. and then your laughter subsides nervously into deep seated misogynistic hate.

Deterritorialization: Non-places

joylovyormom — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 20:30:23 +0000

If a place can be defined as relational, historical, and concerned with identity, then a space which cannot be defined as relational or historical, or concerned with identity will be a non-place. [...] A world where people are born in the clinic and die in hospital, where transit points and temporary abodes are proliferating under luxurious or inhuman conditions (hotel chains and squats, holiday clubs and refugee camps, shantytowns [...]); where a dense network of means of transport which are also inhabited spaces is developing; where the habitue of supermarkets, slot machines and credit cards communicates wordlessly, through gestures, with an abstract, unmediated commerce; a world thus surrendered to solitary individuality, to the fleeting, the temporary and ephemeral, offers the anthropologist (and others) a new object.

Marc Auge 1995:78

joylovyormom — Fri, 15 Apr 2011 20:32:34 +0000

I don’t know why are there so many questions that are building up inside me like bile rising from the gut, and I don’t know which will start spilling out first, or how the mess should cleaned up after. I don’t know why is it that when one senses contradictions she should work herself out to rationalize these instances that at the end, she marches down the graph chart along the vertical axis of passion, grid by grid, as the value of clairvoyance increases by the units. I don’t know why is it that I apply to everyone the basic principle that one will want to know less upon pursuing more and finding that her wants compromise her imaginations. Is this self-damnation at work? This is self-damnation at work.