voices in my head


Sunday, April 23, 2006

Perfection or nothing

If I found a job, a project, an idea or a person I wanted – I’d have to depend on the whole world. Everything has strings leading to everything else. We’re all so tied together. We’re all in a net, the net is waiting and we’re pushed into it by one single desire. You want a thing and it is precious to you. Do you know who is standing there ready to tear it out of your hands? You can’t know, it may be so involved and so far away, but someone is ready, and you’re afraid of them all. And you cringe and you crawl and you beg and you accept them – just so they’ll let you keep it. And look at whom you’ve come to accept.

Our idea of mankind in general – We all have a sort of vague, glowing picture when we say that, something solemn, big and important. But actually, all we know of it is the people we meet in our lifetime. Look at them; do you know any you’d feel big and solemn about? There’s nothing but housewives haggling their pushcarts, drooling brats who write dirty words on the sidewalks, and drunken debutantes. Or their spiritual equivalent. As a matter of fact, one can feel some respect for people when they suffer. They have a certain dignity. But have you ever looked at them when they’re enjoying themselves? That’s when you see the truth. Look at those who spend the money they’ve slaved for – at amusement parks and side shows. Look at those who are rich and have the whole world open to them. Observe what they pick out for enjoyment. Watch them in the smarter speak-easies. That’s your mankind in general. I don’t want to touch it.

Is it an inspiring sight to see a man commit a heroic gesture, and then learn that he goes to vaudeville shows for relaxation? Or see a man who’s painted a magnificent canvas – and learn that he spends his time sleeping with every slut he meets?

The only desire one can permit oneself of is freedom. To ask for nothing, depend on nothing and expect nothing.

Perfection or nothing.

Friday, April 21, 2006


I once had a doll
i named her rosemary
she wasn't your average barbie
with a body larger than any newborn.

She had a pair of big round eyes
which went very well with her big round head
she had eyes so big
i felt constantly watched as i slept at night.

She didn't have much hair
i could see parts of her sculp
fastened with hardened glue
and her hair pleated all the way to her chest

Her face was spotted with zits or freckles
i couldn't figure out
she had neck so thin
her head could hardly hold.

I loved rosemary with all my heart
she was my one and only friend
until she was ripped her apart
and blamed for turning me into a freak.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Quiet man

Quiet and reserved, unlike busy passer-bys on the streets and in the shops. All plastic to him, covered in thick make up, dressed in the latest magazine fashion, speaking in endless buzz words. They are like trees to him, something to look at only from the outside, and perfect as a backdrop. He speaks to himself alot, his mind and voice are his only companions. He arranges and shelves groceries in a supermart by day and stays in his one bedroom unit by night. No one talks to him because they could never understand him. Very quickly, they looked upon him as a mute, as someone who listens, receives orders but never gives any and they were very pleased at that. With severe bout of apathy, people sometimes find him cold and unresponsive. They sometimes wonder what went on in his mind and if he had any emotions at all or if he was just simply tired all the time. Despite being obedient and next to mute, he was often the conversation topic of his colleagues at lunch. "It's better to be wary of him", one would say. "You really don't know what kind of a strange person he really is inside".

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Ride home

It is 7pm. The sky appears dark and overcast. Small, swirling clouds of dark particles in the form of tiny tornado-like clusters of dust devils, swirling above the hot desert ground. Ewan had just left the office. Glancing at his watch and then at the sky above him, he thought to himself, "what a gloomy way to end the night". He walked briskly towards his car, got in, threw his briefcase on the passenger seat and started the engine. In less than a minute after leaving the carpark, rain began to descend in such heavy downpour as Ewan turns his noisey wipers to full mode in a rather weak attempt to drive within his designated lane. It will take him at least an hour and a half, door to door, in such a weather. He turns his radio on and leans back as he continues his journey home.

Driving along the long straight highway that seem to lead to nowhere, Ewan begins to think to himself, allowing his mind to wonder away. "That boy Mike should really get himself an assistant. Or maybe a wife. He's got all his admin thrown all over the place. Talk about having a clean desk policy. And his shirt. He comes to work in that crumpled shirt, looking all shabby. Someone should really tell him to his face. For his own good, really." His mind wonders further as he ponders over his own likes and such. "I like shirts that don't crease. Crease-free or anti-crease they call it. I don't know what fabrics they're made of but i like it when they don't crease after washing them. I don't need to iron them, just hang them dry and they're ready to go."

In what seemed like a split second, coming out from nowhere, an old lady carrying an umbrella in one hand and a walking stick in another, appeared in front of the car. The car didn't stop, neither did it attempt to brake. Crashing into the car at 110km/hr, the woman lets out a cry that no one could hear, her body flying across the car in such an instant, it happened at almost a blink of an eye. Ewan's mind was on his shirt, oblivious to his surroundings as he continues to muse over some of the shirts he had previously purchased and how they creased almost immediately with the touch of water. "I like crease-free shirts." He repeats. "They are easy to handle. I don't spend hours ironing them. I just hang them dry and they're ready to go. I like crease-free shirts."

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

About Me


tinylife's scribbles