God bless us all.

At the end of every year, when the new year's coming, I can stop but looking back of what the past 365 days have brought. Regretting most than being proud of it. Some asks me to not do that but to focus on what is ahead. Plan for the future, he said.

The problem is I don't plan.

2010 was a year. And so do 2011.

Happy new year. God bless.

Drive, party, drink, eat, pray, love and fuck safely.


To kill a monsterous mocking bird

Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.

I bet any mom would have thrown me if she found out what an ugly monster I'm turning into, now. But she's not.

Being one of the brightest kids, to be honest, I made too little progress of all my siblings. I failed to live up the expectation.

Not even mine.

Lately, I ended up praising others works way too high, freely. Way too often. I tend to get impress of all the single thing I laid my eyes at. I started to understand what Shrek is in Princess Fiona's eyes.

Well, that's a good sign. That's mean, I've endured what once being a bad habit of mine.

Thank God, I am now an arrogant-atheist.


Rules #2 : Denying truth.

I hate it when someone come and complain about how bad their days are. Ok. Admit it. I'm not a good listener. But seriously, when you yourself got your own problems yet to be handled, the last thing you will appreciate is getting struck with another.

Mentally or physically.

So if you ever want to start a fuck-my-boss-is-such-a-bitch conversation, why don't you first start with;

"Hey! How's your day, beautiful?"

And please make sure that he really is deserve that 'beautiful'.


Need and wants.

I want ftsnc to not be just another blog. I want to make something out of it. Something.

I want to have colleagues.

I want to have someone making review of all the available blogshop out there. I want to have one guy spending his evening at Baskin Robbins interviewing that Cik Epal girl. I too want to have someone doing review on the upcoming events for the weekend. I want someone to go out there capturing that cute lookbook.nu users up close.

I want someone to talk shit about the world. Someone who isn't me.

I need a fucking rest.


Rules #1 : For waking up in Sauna.


if you ever wanna get laid again, please, and I mean please, don't you dare either switching off the fan or slowing down it speed, no matter how fucking freezing you are. There's a reason why God blessed guys this broad chest and all the wise-men out there, they didn't invent blankets for nothing.

Unless you first got their permission and it's Mr Ed Cullen that you slept with.



You, God and Me.

It really is interesting to watch some of you people out there bullshitting about something that I don't even know exist. Yeah, being unknown, it was easy for you to say 'aku sekolah agama dulu, aku tau semua bla bla' and all. Ok. That was me. I'm an ex-boarding-religious-school student.

The one who love to curse, yeah!

'I want to correct you sir' or 'I can't stand it when you're messing with my belief' ideology seem so fucking lame, dude. Just go back home, lock yourself in, get naked, stand in front of your door-sized mirror and think about your previous three days.

Maybe you are one hell of a good guy. Fine. Make it ten days then.

Talk about God, here's an old story by an old friend. I make it as-short-as-you-can-possibly-understand. Hopefully.

Peter is the nicest guy on earth, died in an accident, send to heaven and been rewarded with a Ducati Super 1000 while other heaven-ian use only their barefoot to travel. Because he is the nicest guy in the heaven. Nicest. The angels told him that.

One day while he was full-throttling in the kilometers 80 Seventh Heaven Expressway (SHEW) , he got whipped by a Ferrari. Fucking red-blazin-smokin-hot Ferrari.

He angrily question the angels decision to let other heaven-ian ride a Ferrari when he is undoubtedly the nicest guy on earth and in heaven. All without knowing that it was God driving that limited edition Ferrari.

Haha. God me?

Nope? Fucking go and watch Tron Legacy la.


Checked, if you are a fucking Mayan.

Since we only have a year left before 'the end of the world', I really think I should reveal myself. So that in the other world someone would stop by and say 'Hi, you're the super not cool guy right? I'm a fan of you' to me. A girl perhaps.

Believe me, in an isolated world, a fan, a friend or even an asshole is damn welcome.

Wait. Maybe there is some kind of internet connection up there. If so, I should start saving some punchline for my next writing.

Ah, and I'll try to keep the same address. Just fucking Moogle me.


I should bought you a bed at the loser hospital instead of a bottle of lorazepam.

I was watching the Hantu Kak Limah Balik Rumah with my colleague last Wednesday. I am a big fan of the director actually. From the likes of Rombongan Cik Kiah Ke Sukan Komanwel to Rock and to Zombie Kampung Pisang and now this hilarious comedy-thriller, Mamat Khalid never fail to amaze me.

One thing I love about his movie is how he included social critics in most of his movie. Ok. I really am not good at this movie review thing. Let alone the social critics stuff. To even try to write one is already make me feel like err.. shit?

But, who give a fuck. Right?

Seriously, a guy named Abi Hurairah in a red high cut All Star shoes? Fuck. That's a hell of serbanitas funny, dude.

Now, back to what I supposed to dicks-cuss. If you watch this movie, there was a scene (at the warung) where Pak Jabit openly critics Pak Abu for his lack of leadership quality and yet still want to compete for the post (the way he promote himself and all). I can't stop laughing because that I think is fucking brilliant.

Forget about all those politicianshit. Let's just swing your head around. How many of you guys got a thirty years old homo sapien sitting at the end of the conference table talking about the company performance and questioning a fifty years old finance manager for his stupid ten-millions investment approval? How old is my general manager?

Half a century.

Because a young stud like me didn't have enough experience eh? Lacks of quality? Aha, seniority. How can I skipped that nice part.


Seniority itself is about narcissism and off course, dictatorship. Why? Because you failed to accept the fact that you yourself is a fool. You won't admit that some stud opinion is better than you, that is a fool. You can't accept the critics thrown at you, that is a fool. A young stud talking about world is wasting of time eh, well, that's bullshit.

You wasting your time when you first decided not to use that pretty brain of yours. To at least fucking choose what you want to read.

And yeah, Husin should have been select as the ketua kampung instead. Fuck with the no-SPM rule.

See. I've told you that I'm nowhere good in this movie review stuff. Now, if you'll excuse me, I got some 'praktikal' thingy to do.

Ha-ha-ha. Epic funny.


When I'm Gone.

This is some kind of inheritance game. I got the idea last night while checking some hot chicks on the facebook. Lol.

Ok. Serious please.

It should start this way. I will put my blogger ID and password in an entry entitled 'When I'm gone' which will be automatically published a week after my last update. Lets say if my recent update is today, December 15th 2010, then in the draft box there will be an entry that will be publish automatically in one week time, December 22nd. The one that have my ID and password.

Got it?

So the date of this auto publish update will move onward according to the date of the recent entry. So if I failed to come up with any update in one week time, the entry will automatically published.

What I need you to do?

Here is how we play. The first person to view the ID and password entry is require to log in into my account and change my password to what his favor. Be it kimnamill, pussycat, cesc4, westlife or else. He then will take my place as this ftsnc author. Continue with i'msosupernotcool nick or change it to a new one. As what he favor.

It is also up to him to whether to continue with this game or not. But it would be an honor if he decided to stick with this stupid plan.

Haha. Fuck. There's no way I'm gonna do this.

Or maybe this is a good idea. Anyone?

Footcall : To win is to draw yourself a smile.

I never write under the influence of drugs, alcohol or any shit. I too have neither a fucking schizo nor an insomnia. I write of what I think I want. And that's fucking different with writing of what I want.

Because it's what I think I want.

I think football and love have so many things in common.

Winning a match is not the ultimate satisfaction. It's a kick start. It's more like succeeding in asking a girl of her phone number. Or maybe (if you are in a relationship) getting yourself your very first kiss. A long creepy smile but no, you don't cum for that. Not just yet.

There just so much ahead.

Well, I am an always gooner. The one that got their asses beaten last night. Hard. And I am fucking smiling. Fuck.

Hey. It's a kick start, remember?


Bloggerboy : An idiot is always better than an idiot's idiot.

Thanks to my housemate who decided to waste his four gigabyte external hard disk space for some youtube vid, I got a hand on The Arrivals series. It took me twenty something episodes before I decided to give it a break. Such a waste of time.

It's not that I don't believe in it. I think I do. But I prefer to stand over my mom advice; when the thing is beyond your reach, don't you dare to fucking talk. This is also what keeping me away from all the political swing around. I love you mom!

Something you should know about me is when I watch, I didn't just watch, I learn. I googled the Winklevoss brother after watching The Social Network. Same it goes with 'crayfish' in the Rock N Rolla.

I googled.

So for the upcoming Anugerah Juara Lagu Finale, I expect Noh to wear a Macbeth t with the all-seeing-eyes logo printed all over it. Bunkface and Faizal Tahir gonna show up with some orthodox jew hats. Yuna then will come on with a high 'sanggul' and a designer dress that will make her look like a fucking nun.

Who else?

Oh. That AF girl will play the lady in red as what have been done by Alyah in the previous year.

Fuck eh?

Wise guy, they got humbled by the rules.

I'm a man of reputation.

Some call it hypocrisy because I did something that I never used to. Or put it this way; I'm way off from being myself.

I pretend.

Yes. I am coming early for my first week of internship. I'd be as punctual as I possibly can. I act nicely to my new colleagues. No stupid words and no bullshit talks. A week of hell, I would say.

Next week is next. There, another song is playing.


If the guy is stupid enough to call, then the girl is bullshit enough to follow.

So as told by a friend of friend.. Please note that when it come from a friend of friend, then there will be lots of exaggeration and additional fact being included so that the story will sound much better than the first told.

Ok. Where did we stop?

Oh. As you can also see in a movie, there were this scene where while the hero was dying, he picked up his phone and instead of calling for paramedic he opted to call his girlfriend. This sweet-dying-boyfie then talked about how he love the girl so much and told her to take care of herself, be gentle to his cat, do not litter and all. When he is gone, yes.

No. The girl didn't know that the guy was dying.


And later, the girl found out that her boyfie is dead. A drug overdosed. Killed in an accident while escaping himself from a bunch of troopers. A shot in the head.

Knowing that, some sort of love ignited in the girl soul. She learn how lovely her death boyfriend was. And how deep her love was. The girl take care of her self as what she was told. She bath and brushed her teeth every fucking hours. Buy a set of recycle bin and placed it in her room. From blue to orange to brown.

And the best part is she didn't date anyone. Till she fucking died. All by herself.

Ah. Sweet.


The Social Network movie review.

Kidding. No Mark Zuckerberg film review. I'll let others do that.

But hey, have any of you watched God on Trial? Google it.

I think one point missing from the movie is how unfair god is in treating all the geeks and super-nerds out there. They're all good, kindhearted, respect the older but still being left with no taste of real pussy. Singular.

And to add insult to injury, some even got knocked up on their first time.

While there, on the other side was an asshole, slurping all the so-called conventional ladies and yet ended up with no fucking responsible to burden with.

So God will put them in hell eh?

Fine. Let's just skip this part. Heh.


Good guys, when they fuck, they fuck hard.


Look at all the religious-bound families around you and count how many blessing they got.

Pardon me.

Women nowadays are replaceable. You can easily dropped one here and then pick another a few feet ahead. With some lame pick up lines, off course. But guys I think are irreplaceable. I mean just look at how many girls whining over their break -up.

"I still love you"-"Please come back"-"I'm missing every moment of us together shit"

Fine. I'm off the topic.

But my point is - when doing something approved by the law don't you fucking hesitate.


The tribe has spoken.

I'm trimming my blog list to only a few selected number. Which mean, some of you guys who got your blog listed before might not be on the list anymore.

Why? Because I don't think it's necessary for me to list down something that I don't really have time to read (harshly speaking; prefer to read). That really is a hypocrisy considering that, by listing, some might think I read all their stuff while I in fact didn't even bother to click my goddamn mouse to view theirs.

A moral boosting abuse.

So if you guys think that my conduct was interrogating and somehow hurting your feeling, please feel free to unfollow me, delete this blog from your beloved list and flag me up.

Thank you and fuck you.


Sorry. This too isn't sweet as it always be.

I got a friend who was once enjoyable.

But after a few hard time with her ex, he somehow turn into a bored religious-obliged guy. Yeah. Kick me on that. I really mean it.

It's recently when he decided to turn against an invitation of going back home with his boyhood-school-university-class mate. A girl. Not easy on the eyes, he said. As it is not nice for a girl and a guy to be alone in a car of a three hours ride.


This is not a fucking naughty america video that you will both ended up sucking each other's genital.



Like a perfectionist looking for an imperfection.

I always do or talk about something that I never try. Usually with the purpose of showing everyone the funny side of me.

Let's say when me and my friends spend our night at the mamak talking rapidly about our days and all. Me, I don't smoke. Never in my life. (Don't get fool by the color of my lips. There were born that way.) So when I asks for a cigar and one of them coolly passed it to me, others (who realized) will start laughing.

And I laugh too.

Lame. I know. But I thought we were supposed to laugh at others mistake.

I've seen this girl-in-guy's clothes with chick hold on to the lining of 'her' pocket.

When you hate something, the proper thing to do is to avoid from becoming one of them. So if you are a lesbian that hate guys so much, why don't you stop trying to look like them?

You don't see any Jews dress as Nazis, right?



Sit down, smell the coffee and be a good worker.

I've been in the industry for quite a time. Most as a part-timer. And through all these period (as a part-timer), I arrogantly consider myself a good employer. Don't you dare asking me why.


I woke up this morning with a pretty bad feeling.

Do ask me why now. Good.

Because I spent my time waking up in the middle of the night more often than having an outrageous dream with Maria Ozawa. Fuck. As my alarm buzzing out and with that pretty bad feeling, I got up from bed, do a one till eight count act and off to bath.

Now I really am trying hard to keep the goddamn reputation with less than half eyes open.

Arrogantly, still.


So my bos remember my name when I don't remember his.

I'm broadcasting live and secret from my new intern-office. My colleagues were busy talking about some Korean shit while the HR guy is nowhere to be found. Since all the social network site has been blocked in here, do expect me to write more often.

Oi! I said expect, not hope.


Why dildoing when you have me?

The real reason of asking somebody to act good is to make the world a better place to live. Yes you can run a riot, organised a strike or boycotting to make sure your voice is being heard. So that the related parties can react to that matters.

Then you go back home, going through your freezer looking for the evil of evils, tossed the cap and drink.

I was talking to Fred, the other day.

"Dude, I think my ultimate dream is becoming a vegan." I sipped my hot nescafe on the two seater couch.

"Really?" looking unimpress as he focused more on the 8 o'clock news.

"Yeah. Since I was sixteen or something. I'm fucking done with all those animal killing." I continued.

It was the late Casey's protesting against KFC video that reignite the spirit. Watching the chicken walk with one leg broken is a job-well-done in bringing out my humanity side.

"Cool. Why don't you start now? By giving your mom a call. You're going for your intern tomorrow right?" Fred continued. Eyes on the tubes.

"Fuck off."

Fred, the inner me. Pretty much fucked up and ignorance as he always be.


Want-away atheist : Withdrawn.

If everybody runs around making their own rules, how can you find what's true? Because without rules, we will have nothing to rely on. Benchmarks.

So I guess freedom is really is about building your own god. Build one and then we'll talk.


Don't tell if it kills me.

The whole weekend was terrible.

It was my sister's and my brother's wedding. No, the wedding wasn't terrible but the feeling was. My sister keep crying to the likes of happy that she finally found her man and saddened of departing from our beloved mother. Hell, she gonna need to cross country the next time she wanna blow mom a kiss.

On the last day together both my younger sisters were crying their heart out. The same it goes with my mom. But not me. I'm a well-treat grown up guy. I'll save my tears when the days come.

I smile as I reach out for my brother's fake Ray-Ban glasses.



I wish I was real.

I got one post about how great god was and how beauty karma is that I don't dare publish.

It was nothing secretive but when it comes to god thingy, I prefer to exclude myself of it. Why? Because I don't dare talking. One side or another. I think when you've got yourself stuck in a dark cave, the best solution is to go and look for a light rather than waiting for a rescue team to lift your ass up.

Karma is a bitch. A bitch that everybody enjoy to watch. The one which we love to see.

And now, few hours after finishing my turkey breast sandwiches, I really wish I was a vegan.


Walking after you.

The few things I remember of the time when I started this lame blog are coming back from a tiring work late in the morning, lying face first to the fourteen-inches laptop and writing something that my English teacher wouldn't be proud of.

A year ago.

Oh. It's just a goddamn blog. Who give a fuck, right?


They (peevishly) extracted rude from the word prudence.

When I didn't put any single nuffs in my blog, it doesn't mean I prefer to write for free. I just don't know how to use it.



The bad things and good things.

I prefer to live my life within my own range. I set it. Music for example; mine is from the breathy Norah Jones to the hoarse of Oli Sykes at most. Anything in between is considerable. And I do hummed some of Bieber's track.

Not working.


Make not believe.

Blaming someone for something he didn't do and defend someone for something he'd already done, is for me quite a similar thing. The word used to phrase it might be different but the basic stood underneath is the same.

Please go and please get the whole pictures.

Tell you what. If you're doing a business, put your emotion aside. Just to make sure you don't get hurt in the process.


Everybody wants to change the world but no one want to die.

These last ten days is hell (as if I ever entered one). I just gone through the busiest day of my life.

Sitting for final exam is sick. I have no idea why they created it in the first place. You got tied up to your seat for three hours finishing something that you barely known. Especially when you are a C-rated student. Me likely.

Go to toilet? Jot your fucking name down. Want anything? Raise your fucking hands up.

Fuck. I should go and do what wise men do, now. Rhymed some old song and make money out of it. I mean it.


Running late for the presidential post 1.5.

I sense a different everytime, now, when my friend mentioning about his father in any of his story. No. Not like he never mentioned him before. He did but not with the add on.


Condolences, dude.

Oh and if I happen to put some (pictures) in the future, I'll make sure that it'll be as equitably as black and white.


You just don't know what I made of : None.

I got one unfinished post stored in my draft. Entitled 'You just don't know what I made of.' and created about a month ago. I spend an hour thinking what was it actually about. Unfortunately, nothing comes out.

You know, in life, there's a time when you felt like the whole universe were against you. When everything you do seem like a crime to others. A single scratch on the door could create such noise that every eyes will stare you to death. Fuck.

I never condemned others who've made mistake during their previous day. Because I was too afraid of being one. Someday.

Yeah. I might not a-selfish-backstabber-type-of-friend today, but in three years time, when my boss decided that it is more appropriated to kick my closest friend out of the team so that the team can perform even better; engineered a better future for my family, I can't promised you I won't. Sorry.

Or I might now enjoying my time of being the sweet and cute nerdy guy in class, waiting for some random girl called and informing me that I have just knocked her up.

Dope. Who knows.

Forget about preparing those umbrella shit. What you need then is you and yourself. Because after all, it's your own fucking world.


Running for the presidential post.

Err.. err.. Hi. It's been a while, nope?

As I recalled, this blog never featured any picture from the day it start except for the banner, the butterfly-guy profile picture and the followers. It was on purpose actually.

The banner, which if you noticed changed quite a time with the exception of those five magic words. The profile picture is staying, making sure that you always bear in mind of the guy behind this hot-damn blog.

And last but not least, the follower picture which I think have nothing to do with you but everything to do with me.

Thanks, to you.


Sabbatical 1.0 : Mediocre.

Like a warrior who didn't adore his strength that much, there was a point when I felt white flag is the best option available. Like the old time when I failed to put myself into any university. When all my friends text-ing me, telling me how wonderful life in college are.

Like today, when I have no fucking note to spend and only some words left to pray.

Go sabbatical as AJ Nismihan says.


Writer's Etiquettes : Right word blasphemy.

I don't hate people.

No. The truth is, when you can't find yourself the right word, lies happened. So the way you dig yourself down. You should/must know that you're not gonna last long.

Still. I don't hate people.


Because beer leads to more beer.

If I was on a backpacking, looking for a motel to spend my night in, I will never go for the twin-bed room. No matter how cheap or how comfortable the room is. Why? Because sleeping in a room of two makes me feel alone.

Like, totally alone.

Oh. And I won't go to the window, looking for what's coming. Because I know, nobody ever sees one.


Hello October.

I just figured out the best time to chat with friends is during a heavy rain in a very late Monday night. Outside and with neither football fans nor mamaks around.

Few days back, I bumped into this tweets by some friend wondering what will their life be when both their parent gone/death. I smiled. Seventeen years of watching a single mother struggled hard to raise her six children came to view.

This morning, I talk of something that I rarely share to others. Something that even my housemates won't even care to ask about. Or maybe I am too secretive to tell them about.

My late father.

Believe me, dude. You wouldn't want that day to come.


The pursuit of happiness.

Sometimes, I just let my mind wandered around my living room, thinking of what will I write next. Homosexual is something I never against. Hypocrisy is a certain in one's life. And how good people left with mess done by other.

As I kicked a pillow away, I cuddled another.

"Oh god."

No. I don't dare talk about god. Because I really am not a good believer.


Masked Warrior : Because shit happens when we least expect it.

Instead of going to class, I spend my supposedly-not-a-free-time watching two of the world greatest person document-stories. How Che Guevara freed Cuba from the Batista regime and the making of Mr. Adolf in Hitler: The Rise of Evil. Eight hours of bloodshed revolutionaries.

With an add on, off course.

So what have I learned from a capitalist minded people nature is their eagerness to make us feel guilty when we failed to follow what they ask us to. Guilty for not accepting the rules set by them.


And when my beloved lecturer threatened to send my name to the HEP, I drew a minimalist smile with 'Sorry, I won't cut class again' writing all over it.

That's when I decided to call myself a masked warrior.


Relationship : That's a job we talking about.

Since both my brother and my sister were getting married this coming October and November, I was left fighting with the likes of "kau bile pulak?" and "so, when is your turn?" questions. Similarly different, nope?

And my answer is darn simple;

"Aku belum puas enjoy."

See. That was my and your fucking problem.

Mine is taking relationship as one hell of enjoying-life-limitation-program. Because I do (stupidly) believed when I start a relationship, I will and at any how should committed my life to it. Saying 'morning' on what obviously an afternoon and 'I miss you' just ten minutes back from our goddamn lovebird dinner.

Yours is too busy watching other's butt.

Now if you'll excuse me, I got some text-ing to do. Oh fuck.


Gear up. It's a book writing season.

I just finished reading a malay independent journal/book, written by some musician whom I think doing quite well in blaming girls for all the love-pain he suffered. Ok. Kidding. He travels and talks about the life a lot. Beauty at some points.

Reading his, I was thinking of doing mine.

A small triple-five-size-book, covered some of the destination I've been for the last ten years. From the future-less-life in Kampung Sungai Ramal to a week-of-stuck-and-lost-hope in Johor Bahru to the high-and-low-class-night as a Pavilion's part timer, I bet I got lots to share.

Hell, I'm a goddamn seasonal. I just hate to admit it.


Football stuff. Girls wouldn't want to read this eh?

In Pat Rice we trust and Rafael Van Der Who?

It is 2 a.m on a dull Wednesday morning and I was the only one awake of all my housemates. I text a few friends asking them for a taste of League Cup match but none of them reply.

So no mamak for today. Just a free and a-bit-late live broadcast brought to me by this gambling site called bet365.com. I once used this software known as Sopcast. A free p2p online television channel. Still not a good one but fair enough for me to write off my teh tarik and roti telur cost.

Watching football here, at home was never the same feeling as watching football at the mamak stalls. The passions and the thrills weren't here. So was the screaming thingy. And of course, no hot chicks.

Yeah. Watching a football match is a bit like watching some hot chicks passing by with their don't deserved boyfriends. You tend to love the beautiful one. Sexy is a plus. And in watching the beautiful one, you would always want to be on the winning side. The beautiful-hot-sexy chick's side. The win, if they do happen, undeniably came with thriller, lots of excessive words and sometimes dramas.

Ask the Kopites, they learnt that last weekend. Oh. I mean here the drama, not the 'beautiful' game. And no they didn't win that.

Back to the supposedly discuss game. Mr. Wenger was on the stand, banned for his rage against the official on last weekend draw. Yeah. That was another drama. Without le' professor next to his young side, the match started pretty well for the Arsenal. It took only sixteen minute when Lansbury opened the scoring before the game went pretty un-beautiful.

Spurs then took only three minutes in the second half to come back into the game, thanks to an offside goal by Robbie Keane which I'm sure gonna be well handled by Mr. Rice during the post match conference. So the game goes pretty balance with both teams created their chances only to be spurred by their forward lines.

The match went into an extra time with Arsenal, as always, controlled most of the possession. Nasri, at last put his side in front from the spot kick before regretting himself for not taking it on the weekend when he added another in the space of five minutes. Also resulted from a spot kick. Arshavin completed the win with a nice strike late in the first half of extra time.

So the match ended 4-1 with Mr. Rice look calm in his boss seat.

And there's no way better to end the feverish night than hearing the fans singing "There's only one team in London" out loud. Err... Ok. North London. Fine.

So Mr. Van Der Vaart, which team is BIGGER and better now, huh?


Lesson of the day : Breaking up!

"I don't get jealous when I see my 'EX' with someone else coz (because) my grandma always told me to give my old toys to the less Fortunate!!!"

Adeep Nahar hit my bluey Monday morning. Hard.

Harsh but fuck! I like this.


Four letters word. Or less : Go grab yours!

One of my former lecturer always remind my class not to complain when people decided to pick anything based on cronies-ism. Or favoritism.

I imagined myself with a bag of money to give away. Again? As to make sure I won't facing any financial difficulties in the future, I kept some for myself. As enough as I don't have to move my ass, the next time I wanna go shopping in Dubai. Being a responsible child and a generous brother, I gave some to my beloved mom and a portion each to all my siblings.

Well, that's the family-first spirit peoples talk about. Right there.

I gave another portion to all my cousin, uncle, aunt, grandma and those who has a good relationship with either me or my family. Blooded or not. The rest which I'm pretty sure with such a small amount left, I would let the others to grab. With a considerate efforts, yes.

Oh. You might have yours too if you do try. Fuck eh?


Where can I stab myself in the ears?

It was back in July when I have to accompany my mom to a small ex-army meeting. My late father was an ex-army before he decided to take off and joined the community-project inspired by our second prime minister, which now I think proved to be a success. Since my sister won't give up her sewing routine, I have no option but to sacrify my world cup game.

Mak Andak, my mom was one hell of a talkative lady. Especially when my family members do the driving. Worried that the driver fall asleep, she says.

There in the car was another ex army, Pak Usop. He used to be an ambulance driver at our so-called-clinic before appeal to live here, in the same community as us. He even got an already furnished house on a one acre land for a minimum hundred and fifty ringgit. Per month. Lucky he is.

So the drive was a bit thunderous I could say. Much of the talking, rounding back to the head of the ex-army association, Hussin. Pak Usop seems to enjoy himself disputing the wealthiness of this Hussin guy. All because he's formerly just an unknown chef in the army who turns out to be one of the influential guy in our community. Just.

"Tak payah la Mak Andak, saya kenal sangat Hussin tu. Kalau betul usaha dia, takde nak dapat rumah macam banglo tu. Hussin tu kalau tidak menipu, memang tak sah. Kita same melayu ni Mak Andak, kita boleh pikir la benda benda macam tu."

So that's how Malay suppose to think, huh? Well done then, comrade.

Or maybe he's right since the meeting was nothing but another political instrument with the theme of "See Mr. YB, we weren't just talking, we do our work" well placed on it oversized banner. Yeah. The YB was there and so were the other ex-army. And the food. But the meeting, wasn't.

They, at least right about the food thingy. Nasi beriyani gam and satay kambing. No, I don't give that a fuckin chance.



Take a vacation. And wish a wish.

I typed this entry using both my lousy phone and a free illegal internet connection. So expect no justifying neither a clean long entry.

One thing that bother me about being in the community is that they always treat me on where I came from. Not of what I am. There, they tend to forget the basic of human being. An A for an A.

Let's just think, if I am a bad guy, that's purely because I choose to be bad. Not because of my friend, my race or my skin color. Or even some desperate situation which forcedly put me in the action I had myself in. Vice-versa.

Karma; aside from being a bitch, is what I consider a friend I rather not have a handshake with. God didn't list that pair of Q for nothing.

Because after all, I'm just a happy-sadistic young lad. Not cool. And open to interpretation.

Selamat Hari Raya. Maaf Zahir dan Batin.


Letters to Shakespeare : Jumping rooftops?

Fear is one of the reason how we, human surrender our life to the community.

Fear of living jobless sometimes in the future, you keep on study something that you hate and sacrifice the greatest talent that once you own. Fear of living alone in the next twelve months is what motivates you to go and pick a random chicks whom at the very moment you think you will spend your whole life with.

One thing I fear of becoming one's friend is I can't, or even if I can, it is hard for me to tell them that they just made a stupid decisions.

Born in a flock doesn't mean you can't go out living like a wolf. Unless you don't mind eating fresh green grass for your whole life, waiting for the butcher to cut you up into pieces. Put a fang, wear a mask or even straighten your tail and held your head high up while walking into the jungle .

No. It's not hypocrisy. It's me telling you how fuck your life can be when you choose to live it other's way.


Because they were living a different flag. I guess.

Watching a live malay talk show on a sleepless Sunday morning while waiting for my friend modelling a modern baju melayu, really tickles my insanity out. I can't do nothing but laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

Sharifah Shahira, the host, is a funny mom. And sometimes a stupid actress too. But this unknown-interviewed girl is just too much in both ways.

Hell she is stupid. Malaysian is stupid, generally. Klang Valley-an are (edited). Stupid enough to come out with really an immature-not-knowing-anything statement.

She was asked about the baby dumping thingy. How she feels and what can be done in tackling this issues? And her answer is if a wife is more human and responsible, this dumping thingy won't be happened. Yeah. You heard me right. Wifey. An effing wife.

That don't answer how much she know but how much she don't know. Poor her.

Oh. It's Merdeka night. Save your curses for another eight month or so. So you can throw it when baby dumping issues was again being a hit. Unless they decided it's a fasting month and gangbang is a not, you're at loss then. Heh.

And when you saw a stupid guy speaking on national television that there were twelve stripes on the Jalur Gemilang, don't put your middle finger up yet. He might be born under the different flag. The one with no moon and more stars drawn.

Salam kemerdekaan. God bless Malaysia. And America too.


These days, I have nothing.

It's been a while since I last reading. Blogging thingy wasn't really do well in winning my heart lately. Same it goes with books. Books. I buy one book at the start of the semester. A text book. Didn't do very much to my excitement, I let it rust in my green book rack.

Books for me is a holy thing that everyone should have. Owned. Mind it a text book or not. Learn or not learn. Good or not good. Books bring the perceptions on what their writer thinks of. Maths. Musics. Arts. Comedy. The world. Honest and modest.

I am a writer. I, myself write from everything. On everything. Yeah. Writing is easy.

From the first time I start writing, I feel like the world has taking itself away from me. Or maybe it was me taking myself away from the world. Naive. But it worth the sacrifice. Sometimes, spending my time with this few white pages is much better than the world.

What I have here is my emotion and this silly mind. Here, I am the king. King of my delicate minds. This body and souls is just the medium between me and the world. A world which is hard to explains. Yet, hard to understand.

Always mistakenly understood.

I am a writer. A writer of my own world. A reader of my own word. I love writing the same way that I hate reading.

Continue and I'm so fucked up. Beautifully.


They were born with less weight up and more weight down.

Let's say you got ten million dollars to give away to three different person.

One is whom you know will always be alongside you, through your ups and downs. Another one is whom you will consider a lil bit unusual, sometimes but still can be counting in handling something which you couldn't. Tolerate.

And the last one is a total known who can't understand even when you tell that A is for an apple and F is showing both of your middle finger.

A butt hurt, I called.


Dude. Your kite was flying too high. It almost hit the sun. Bring it down a little.

Shit was really a nice way to kick off this post. Yeah. I really hate it when I had to do something for nothing. Last night, I've been forced to stay up to 4 am just to cover every single thing I've learn for today managerial economic test. Tired, I even missed my sahur.

And this next morning, ended up in a frozen hall with no sign of my goddamn Professor really is made my day.

Everyone then jokingly speculated that this professor maybe too tired of fasting so she decided not to come to class which is so not true. How can she? She wasn't fasting. She's Indian for god sake. And when another guy step up, jokingly says, he saw her at the McD having her Big Mac, I think that just more harsh than funny.

She's Indian!

Her absence was no biggies actually. She sent us her apology already. But to still mentioning her in this post, just show what a not-good student I am.

One thing that will surely prove to be pretty costly in this blogging industries is when airing your personal views. In airing your personal views, you sometimes tend to ignore others feeling. Worse come to worst when you start to kill your own feeling too.

Popularity? Nope? Might be? Ouch, it's hurt?

It's my perspective after all. Just don't tell me yours.


If experience is genuinely the best teacher, why should I go to school?

I'm done talking. Err.. asking.


Facebook is a place where you write your little diary, lodge a wallet-loss report and say a holy prayer.

When you've been too long in a certain condition, situation and environment, one thing best is you'll never have problem getting used to it again. And again.

I got a friend of friends who end up with a new boyfie three days after spending most of her night crying like she was in one man land. Either she's not good at enjoying a no-boyfie-life environment or so well in adapting a heartbreak situation.

And if you've been single for the last decade of your age. I really don't think it will be a problem if your spouse decided to call off your two-years-but-not-going-anywhere relationship.

Now, how good is that?


Even if I wasn't a family-guy, I can still try and become one.

The last time I spend the whole month of Ramadhan with my beloved mom is during my primary school.

I was planning on going back to my hometown this weekend only to be spoiled by my brother's what-a-high-commitment toward his work. Can't blame him for that. Work in such a huge company with such super competition, that's for me just acceptable. Corporate life suck didn't they?

He text me then. Confirming that it will be next week. Fine with me.

Just when I was about to continue my computer-gaming session, this stupid statement came up. "Dude, our economic test is next week aite? Saturday 21st." And I was like cursing and cursing and cursing which really done well in deducting my fasting reward.

Thanks you, me.

Lately there were lots of sad news about this un-sin masterpieces found in an unnecessary place. There were also talks and talks of sending the convicted to death penalty. I gave that a vote. To teach others not to, I think that will work.

They deserved it.

And the title is really something you don't have to think. It wasn't my intention of writing some mental harassment not worthy reading entry on this Sunday heat. Damn, I'm hungry.


Josh no more. I'm down to Alfie.

Love at the first sight.

Is it relevant?

Okay. Enough with love. I just can't get enough of it, didn't I? I'm broadening this to another aspect of life which is.. Life. How many time have you encounter an outsider who wasn't near to what you expected of.

Like this guy who wasn't so Chinese as I portrayed and me wasn't that Josh I once exaggerated.

Happy fasting. And God bless.


Hence, I must be the most cursing 'religious' school graduates.

One most annoying thing I never really want to remember is knowing the fact that my account balance is down to only a hundred bucks with almost another four month to complete.

Fuck the truth.

I'm really not good at handling money. I can easily flush out a sum of money without even realize the thing I've spend the money on. I can quickly buy this, that and that in a second. Oh liar. Minutes sound much logic. But that's my specialty.

I got another six hundred ringgit in my brother hand and another hundred at my sister. They borrowed it last month. That's how we run it in my family actually. Whoever got their money first, he need to help others who didn't. And this time it was me being the lucky first.

But that's another story. Unless their stupid maktab decided to bank in their delayed allowance right now, consider it an accrued fund. Still, I got eight hundred in total.

The truth is I really didn't feel that comfortable wandering around with only hundred bucks account balanced. The truth is I don't really feel comfortable ringing my mother asking her help to settle my next month house-rent and bills. And the truth is I feel much like a loser when my elder brother texting me saying he has put some money into my account.

Fuck the truth.


Because bad things always come in bulk.

You know ( betting you don't ), in life, everyone must have their own philosophy.

So that they'll know where their limit stand. My lecturer told me that. He was so against bribery that he set it deep in his heart that he will neither ever take or give bribery. Because he believe if he want the world to change, it himself he need to change first.

Setting and creating the philosophy was easy. You don't have to be Confucius to create one. But to implement was another. You have to be dedicated. Giving all you can to the world. To change it. I mean, how can you resist a bag of twenty gran well-placed on your desk.

Well. That took lots of courage. And sacrifices. And dedications too.

Only to find out your desk-mate won't mind all the integrity you bluffing about. Not even once.


An art personnel. The second chapter.

I talked to an art personnel few days ago. I told him it always nice to have a plan B so that you were well prepared when your first got fucked up. He goes against me. Right there.

He told me how thrilled life can be without the B plan. How many thing you can learn about when you decided not to use a substitute. Not to even create one. The joy of watching your dream burn into ashes.

'That's a disaster'. Again, I told him.

'You just never experience it (the thrill)'.

He laugh and then smile. He then ask me to walk into the middle of the packed road and stay there for quite a minute. I gave him a strange 'you gotta be kiddin aite' look. Only to add another big grin to his face.

'You never experience one (the thrill) coward. Go'.

I take the challenge. I make my way into the packed road. One step after another. A honk startled me just when I was about to put my left foot into the steamy road.

Fuck. You're not an art personnel. You are insane. Personally.


You aren't weird. You're special.

One thing that I've learn about procrastination thingy is that it takes you out of your comfort zone. For the time being.

What a luck!


Hang is not from China. It's from Kedah.

Remember the old historic legend of the five Hang?

No you shouldn't just remember it. You should be familiar with it. That's a Malay legacy after all. I guess it will be an epic if they decided to make a movie out of it. Just don't let the Metrowealth guy direct it.

Tuah was a good guy, a great warrior, a real hero but a failure when it come to the matters of love. Jebat was also a great guy and a great warrior too. What differ him from Tuah is his failure is only when it come to the term of friendship.

And to call Jebat a betrayal is harsh don't you think?

Poor Tuah. Poor you. Fuck.


Bobby Bolivia was right.

Because the drivers don't pick a car but cars pick their driver.

So if I was in the state of buying a car, I'll prefer to stand still. And let the car stroll. Hopefully, the one with longer lasting life. No. I really don't mind the road tax, traffic jams and the oil price hiked issues.

Can I apply this to love then? Fuck aite.


The World Cup season has gone and so do many beautiful things.

One thing that I like the most about world cup is that it unintentionally help me evaluating a certain part of my life. It lay as a look back on how my life been going from the last four years. How it change.

Germany, 2006, I was in west Pahang, completing my early stage of diploma level. Me and this one guy was a big fan of 'les blues' at that time. Zizou was our idol. He was screaming and bullshitting his brain out when the referee showed Zizou his marching order in the final.

When I met him at the mamak stall recently, he has changed his color to orange. And he came down with two lovely kids and a beautiful girls alongside him.

Four years before is South Korea and Japan 2002. I remember how me and four of my roommates cutting our prep-class, gambling our future which at that time already in the balance, in a favor of watching England versus Nigeria in the media room. Illegally. We survived the 90 minutes though.

Somewhere in 2005, I received a text message confirming me that one of the four guy killed in a car accident in Kuala Terengganu.

France, 1998 was my first world cup. I was on the school trip to the east coast of Malaysia and we had a short-break at the local stall when I saw Luigi Di Biaggio put the ball into the crossbar against the mighty but slippery number sixteen bald-guy.

I was a good and naive boy back then. Too naive that I don't even object when my friend asked me to join him sneaking out from our hotel room to watch the quarter final match.

There, at the moment when Iker lifts the world cup trophy, I can't stop but recall all the previous years I've passed. Good and bad. And I wonder where do I stand in the next four term.

Yup, the World Cup season has gone. And so do many beautiful things.


I've decided. Dah lama dah.

This is an old post kept in my draft for quite some time. Glad to finish it at last.

21st June 2010,

Halt mate!

It's three oh clock in the heat of Monday afternoon. I'm all alone in my bedroom. Nope. It's my friend's room actually. Mine is under no comforts to be in with. I mean the heat. Oh mine. No blue(s) at all.

It's been a while since I last write anything here. Ten days ago.

The world cup fever that I'm pretty sure none of you guys fail to notice. I spend most of my time in front of the television, at night, at the Mamak stall instead of going through the net.

Being a young lonely lad who had so much love with the game and with no other commitment in the next two or three weeks, well, what do you expect?

Ok. Liar. I got two final exams coming this Wednesday and Friday. And I still hold the card fact-ing that world cup is once in a four year time celebration. Which I think, should not be missed. I do facebooking sometimes. Too not-often.

Enough with the world cup. I'm gonna write something about it on my next entry. (Hopefully)

I recently just lost my passion toward this writing thingy called blogging. Yup. Terms before, I was criticizing my lack of out-door time as the main reason why there are less and less article on this blog. With less time watching the world I failed to ignite my timid mind to generate and blow some harsh word for you guys.

I do miss it. Can I blow one now?

26th July 2010,

Owh. FTSNC is back to one-guy-standing blog. Both writer decided to leave. I asked them to, actually. Nicely. Mutual consent you can call it.

Shax is now, should I say busy, tying her knot with books, hitting calculator keys and chasing the purplish buses. She previously sent me her resignation letter only to be rejected again and again.

Dewajiwa still has too many island to explore. Yup. Chasing the momentum girl he admired so much. Goodluck dude.

"I've decided. Dah lama dah."

Remember that line? It was quoted by our former fourth prime minister when he decided to step down from his position as the first person in the country. And the country washed with tears. Nope?

Forget it. You might not even been born when all this happen.


Sorry, but I really can't stand it.

Fuck! the super not cool.

I'm thinking of creating a serious relationship with mutual consent. So that everybody can just leave when they feel like doing it. As simple as 'I can't stand it so bye' or 'you're such a fucking loser so just fucking die' with no regret bound.

Oh God I wish.


The man who can't be moved. Almost can't.

To the man who can't be moved,

They say an art personnel is hardly giving appraisal to their fellow art personnel. No matter how beautiful and well write their masterpiece is.

Why? Aren't the value of art itself is damn subjective?

Living a life is like building a country. There's a time when your gross domestic product is lower than it always be. There's a time when your country decided to make an agreement with other developed/ing country. And there's an election day, where your enemy will stand up and all out against you.

And then there's a war. That destroy your beloved country. Sadly.

To the man who can't be moved,

It takes two to tango and three to rock and rolls and I just don't agree. Almost because I am too an art personnel. Almost. So there will be no harsh word for today.

Or maybe just today.


10 Line Spillage

  1. It's much easier to spill to a stranger, spares the stigma and the judgement.
  2. It's much easier to be understood by somebody who has been there and done that.
  3. Everybody has skeletons in their closet.
  4. Take a bit from my plate, chew, swallow then talk for no reason.
  5. Reality hurts, truth bites, living kills, today tortures and yesterdays are just as bad. What else's new? The only comfort is knowing we're proudly smart enough to live life the way we want it, though others never fail to screw it for us, we prove them wrong.
  6. A friend can be a good psychologist but sometimes I doubt it vice versa.
  7. My fucking naughty little sister rip the paper. I can't read what I had wrote.
  8. There're times when we want to be vulnerable though how thick skinned we appear.
  9. Believing in God's love, live on because of His love. Nothing can beat that. I know you'd agree.
  10. They have no idea what I understand from the word 'MIRROR'. Because I hate what I see looking back at me.

p/s ; Running out of idea. Running out of passion towards blogging. Is there anyone wants to replace me? ^.^


He wasn't a jerk. Me neither.

The last time I ride a train on my way back to my brother's place, I fall asleep. Bounced and wrongly exited at Bandar Tun Razak. At the very moment I tapped my touch n go card to get out of the station, I was like "the fuck you were thinking dude?".

Oh. I forgot. I wasn't thinking at all. I was sleeping. Fuck me.


In between Bukit Ampang and AF8 Shahir's 'Kebahagiaan Dalam Perpisahan', I act like a goddamn Japanesse amateur. And so, so.

A 'no' from a card player always come with the possibilities of 'yes'. Notable when it is red-blooded-empty heart placed on the betting circle. What you need is an undead pulse and suicidal seduction.

I lost. And fuck, I hate Akademi Fantasia. So, so.


Fighting for nothing.

I did something which I really don't prefer today. Misplacing my glasses at where it shouldn't never be put. I planned myself a riot. I did actually. Trying to teach myself a lesson. So that I know there's a place to stop and so a time to drop.

Hell, I am fighting. For an absolute nothing. A pretty fucked up.



Relentless attention : Missing a miss.

I've got an idea but it was too much to talk. So I screamed the fuck word. Harsh and loud.

What was it like to be sixteen again? When everything was just in between. Too naive to talk back. And so too young to even understand.

I am missing my time. Godly.


That punk dude is now my idol. His girlfriend too.

I remember one of my teachers told my mother that he had not yet seen the direction of my life. What course should I pick. What will I be when I grow up. Et cetera. Et cetera. I'm quite sure that it must have been related to my additional math and modern math grade, which both written in red.

I watch this flicks about a guy who didn't even bother to do anything other than living his life. And he is living his life on only his self-need basis. Which is doing thing he want to. You know, enjoying much of his life time.

He got a cute girlfriend lives with him. They looks for money only when needed, i.e: to pay rent, buy cigar, drug and food. Wasted it all the time. Starve when they feel they need to. Steal if they had to. An absolute punk I'll say.

It was just a damn movie but still it was kind of admiring since that's what I think a life is all about.

Let's see what will I do after my graduation. An actor?

Oh Fuck.


A corn for breakfast. A star for supper. I choosed not to talk to strangers.

Few days ago, this old friend of mine told me; that her heart is hard. So hard that no one can put a scratch to it. Up until it melting for this asshole. I just stood there smiling, wishing those asshole she falls in love with, all the best as I don't expect the beautiful lips of her to spell out my name. No. I leaned back and gave her another smile. A smirk that annoyed her enough as she brought my face away from her.

A bit shocked actually. It always occurred to me of becoming the first to know about her great love story. To know the name of the guy she surrendered her heart to. And by being the first gave me so much joy. I saw her living her life, hard. Day by day, digesting the taste of disappointment. It is too obvious that I couldn't hide my relieveness to know it was my friend she fall for. Too happy for it.

Fuck. I'm talking shit again and again. Let's just read between the lines. Ok?

By the way, my heart is hard too. Lol.


The sun lightens our hair but darkens our skin.

I was at the mamak stall, as always watching some game when this fellow came up with this idea of us being racist. And my mind start to wander, evaluating itself whether me myself have this racist thingy inside?

Hell, I'm not. Pretty sure of that.

It just how many time already had I encountered an accident without asking "melayu ke india?" at the first place.

Damn curious, huh?


A single hurt won't kill but lots of it will do. And I nodded as I beg to differ.

Through this few days I realized that being emotional and hard on myself would bring nothing. I used to learn life the easier way before. Too easy that I can hardly remember my enemy. But that's the life I would prefer. A life where I savior only my own.

Arrogant they would say. Why would they care actually.

A sudden occasion changed me. Ruined a lot. 'Everything happen for a reason' sound so fucking lame but still hard to disagree. Yup. Nothing in this world happen for no reason. Even coincidence have reason written all over it.

Fate? I know what that is.

One of the thing I got from my economic class is opportunity cost. The basic concept where I have to forgo this in order to get that. Waiving the A thing for the B thing. Got it?

Just what if I forgo something that I could impossibly reclaim. What's next then?

Regret? Yeah. They always come last. Lol.


This is who we are.

The day when one of my mates tell me how he think he looks like some kind of stupid premature corny kiddo dress in that mighty-tighty black pant with that silver shiny slim shoes,

I can't help but screams "at last!!". Inside.



That's why I hate Monday.

It was an ordinary Monday morning, with me, an ordinary guy waking up to my own extraordinary world. I march into the kitchen, looking for some snacks to fill my starving stomach, my breakfast. To my disappointment, I watch three packs of instant noodle greeting me in Brits accent.

I don't usually take my breakfast. Ok. Fair enuff. I actually missed it. Always.

And I hate Monday.

The same way I hate those politicians for their not-walking-the-talk attitude. They promised a better future for everyone and I wait. They said that thing going to get well very soon and I wait. They told me that the old thing going to be replace with new one; a better one and I wait. Still.

Only to realize that it was already Sunday.

Much like today. Another Monday.



The art of losing : Multiplying choices.

I was wondering on which one of this hurt most; losing someone to death or to break up.

A. Death. Thank you, god.
B. Break-up. Don't ask me why.
C. Wait until I killed my ex.
D. Society exhaust me, man. Like seriously.

Or should I stop taking life seriously? Nobody ever gets out alive anyway.

Fuck then.


Bad guys aren't stupid. They just don't know when to stop. And how too.

"Dude stop. "

He turned his head with 'why' look drawn on his face.

How can he stop? Why should he? He was two feet away from achieving what most called the new stage of his life. The stage where one simple order will result in twenty thousand mobs holding hand ready to commit suicide. War. For him.

He worked his heart for this.

"No way."

And he took his next step. Neither knowing nor expecting it'll be his last. His doomed. His burial.



"Duh. I just got dump. I'm being single and affordable again. I'm so super not cool. What the fuck."


Douchebag is the last name of a lover.

I lay myself on the coffin-shape two seater sofa, cracked, counting an extra-ordinary sheep jumps over a pale white pole when I suddenly saw the previous me.

I miss those days. The day where I can't just simply put myself into that black sticky mud with no one to sing me a 'hey, don't do that' song. The day where stars and moon were just centimeters away from my head but with zero chances of plucking it. The day when earth will never start spinning unless I ask him to.


I lighted one of the cigar only to quench it back. Shame I didn't smoke. I just don't brave enough to start it.

I just don't have that guts. That's what my problem is.

How many times have I bumped into this uncivilized dude who throw out shit from his red shinny Ferrari. Worst when it hit my second-hand local-made car. But being a dude with no baseball bat nor a hockey stick in his car to come out with, I choose to continue driving.

And pull the wiper trigger to clean up all the mess that guy caused.

Back at that time when I saw a pregnant woman broadened her eyes looking for a seat in a packed train. I was thinking of giving her my seat but my coward side hold firm enough to deny me from standing up and offering her my seat.

And I let other douchebags takes all the credits. All the applause that previously and suppose-ly belong to me.



This is crap

Have you ever feel angry but you totally have no idea what the fuck makes you angry? Have you ever feel anger and you want to put all the shit behind by escape to Lombok? Ever think about it? If not, it's good then. Because I want to be the special-freak-weirdo-looser one who have that kind of thoughts. It just, I lie bout the Lombok thing. There are much more beautiful place, vintage places that I can chose to run and obviously it's not Lombok.
Many things made me lost my mood today. May be caused by pms, may be caused by tired, may be caused by satiety, may be caused by irritated. But the main caused is I am fed up. Fed up with the same daily routine. Fed up with the same person who smoke in the elevator [You sucks man!]. Fed up with myself who do nothing to get rid the-fed-up-feeling.

If possible, I wanna learn how to bake a cake. Cupcakes better. I wanna decorate that cute little cupcake by do a writing style FUCK YOU at the center of the cupcake. Or else, decorate it by a picture of skull bone, or Marilyn Manson. Let people get ticklish. Let people hate my lil cupcake. Let people isolate me.
If possible, I wanna learn how to sew a shirt, sweater is better. It will keep me warm. I wanna decorate it with the words DON'T COME NEARER. Let people read, understood and hopely will go away. I will be alone at last. But I know people nowadays do [pretend] not to understand the language, the sign. They are always broke the rules. Pretend they actually care. Bullshit.

But reality check please Shax. You don't know how to make cupcakes, and you don't even know how to sew. Sigh.

What I know is I wanna lay myself on my bed, listen to this. And hoping there is a miracle that can get rid this fucking stomachache from me. Let me be in my very own world. Let my mind go up up and away~


Momentum Girl.

(dedicated for those who wait.)

She walks on the sight of grace in plain feeling.
step on the tricky stones of attention vigorously without even notice the shake. she’s in that pace. the hold-me-not pace. steadily actuated by the motivation of being there, the place she know. where the seat of glory is waiting for her. to be grabbed. she’s so focused like in her parallel universe she were there. nothing can stop her momentum nor shake her focus.

She never even stop at any romance checkpoint.

She knew her surrounding matters still.
that is very why she care to give her precious glimpse. she’s always humble on any wave of encouragement or the warm greet. alas, she always missed my hi-there smile. damn. still, i send her passed through with glad feeling smirk. as a genuine looser, i keep hi-ing her. not a fan like, just adoring her attitude, kinda. i happen to like anybody like that; on pursuit, always constant in feeling.

Oddly enough, she stood in front of me today.
greet me softly before she kill me with that deep brown eye stare. blew me into pieces with that bomb of concern question. she even care to let me be in her shoes by telling me her small secret. about she actually noticed me and point her radar on me all these years but kind of waiting for me to make a move first. fak. am i on the dreamland? i pinched my consciousness few times silently. idiotically nice, i just replied short on every dialog changed between us. cutting every lifeline of chances eh? i cursed myself at the moment she left, leaving me wrecked slowly.

There she goes again, on her very own momentum lane.


Speak With Me by Elza Irdalynna.

This is the letter wrote by Elza Irdalynna; Benjy's Sister. I found this on Amir Muhammad's facebook last friday but I just didn't have much time to post it.


Speak With Me.
On March 11th, he was arrested at his apartment's parking lot in Segambut. Police brought him to an apartment he rented in Kepong, and after entering, claimed that in that residence, he possessed 800grams of cocaine, and 140grams of methamphetamine, and accused him of processing and trafficking, putting him under the risk of being charged under Section 39B, which carries the death penalty.

On March 12th he was remanded for 7 days. When my parents inquired if we can engage a lawyer, the Investigation Officer told us "No need".

On March 17th, after our family waited more than an hour, we were allowed to see him for the very first time, under supervision.
Again my mother asked if we should get him a lawyer, again the I.O advised against it, claiming "Lawyer tak boleh buat apa-apa sekarang. Buang duit je. (Lawyer can't do anything now. It's simply a waste of money)."

On March 18th, his remand was extended another 7 days. The magistrate inquired why there was no lawyer present for him, and whether he was made aware he had the right to a counsel of his choice. He replied "No." Therefore, he requested for one, and only nine hours later, did the I.O call to inform my mother, who promptly engaged Amer Hamzah Arshad.

But the very next day, the police used their Executive authority under Section 28A that vetoed his right to a counsel. All requests made by our lawyer to visit him was denied.

Only after we complained to SUHAKAM, did the police allow Amer to visit him.
On the last day of his remand.
After the investigations were concluded.
For only 15 minutes.

On March 25th, he was brought to court, and charged under Section 12(2) for possession of 0.24grams of metaphetamin in his Segambut residence. Nothing the police claimed they found in the Kepong residence, the cocaine and shabu that was "already packaged to be distributed" or the so called "cocaine processing mini-lab" was brought to court.

Because there WAS none.

He was released on bail. A trial date was set. He was so close to being free, and seeing his 4 year old son again.
But as he was signing the papers of his release, the Plainclothes were outside waiting.

Not two steps after he came out of the bail department, without any explanation, they re-arrested him. Amer was restrained from protecting him, and only after Amer repeatedly asked them to show their I.D, did they do so. Still, no explanation was given to the family. We were merely told to go to the Headquarters and speak to Inspector Kang. The same guy who claimed my brother possessed the cocaine they NEVER found.

He never saw us, he was "in a meeting." He wasn't too occupied to give the press a statement, but was unavailable to see us.
We were told by the new I.O for this case, and the DSP (the guy who signed the papers denying my brother the right to a counsel) that they are detaining him for 60 days under the Special Preventive Measures Act (LPK), after which, they could further detain him for 2 years if found guilty.

Guilty according to THEM. For under this act, it is a detention without trial, like the Internal Security Act. Any information gathered from "witnesses" and "investigations" will never be disclosed to him or his lawyer, or the court. He will also not be able to defend himself against any allegations. Under this act, he will never have his day in court.

On March 25th, my brother, Ben, was denied his Constitutional rights.

For 2 weeks, our family went through hell. Sleepless nights, press waiting outside our door, Ben had asthma attacks after the police delayed themselves in acquiring the requested medication for 3 days, Mama, who is a cancer patient herself, suffered chest pains and lost her voice.
We felt it was all worth it, for we would be able to have him back.

But now, a new nightmare has begun.
Whether or not Ben is guilty, should not be for the Police to decide. If they HAD the evidence to strengthen their warrant for re-arrest, why was it not brought to court? Why is Ben not given a chance to defend himself? How can we ever know the authenticity of these so called witnesses and their statements? If there were ANY to begin with?

Under this act, I could simply be caught for any crimes of drug offences the police accuse me of, because they can claim they have enough information (even if they have absolutely nothing) and detain me. For 60 days, for 2 years, and even EXTEND it after.

Acts like this and the ISA are licenses for ARBITRARY arrest and detention. Anytime. Anywhere. Anybody.

My family and Amer will not back down. We will fight for Ben's right. We will speak up for all of those who were silenced before us, who will be silenced hereafter.

But we seek your help. In any way at all, help us fight this. Re-post this, write on your blogs, write to your local representative, to our newspapers, and together we shall use our voice, our art, our space, to stand up not just for Ben, but for all our rights.

Liberty is a Constitutional right. It's time to get it back.


It's not about playing a blame game on who's wrong and who's right. I read/post this to the fact that I do care about my and others rights. On equality. Come on. You and that big brain of yours should understand better. Peace.


Sharing is Caring

Cehh. Ignore the title.
Just wanna share something. THIS. Look-At-The-Price. To me, no more MPH, and Popular. Just Amcorp Mall Amcorp Mall and Amcorp Mall.




That's when I know I prefer a lavender than roses.

'do you believe in hallucinations, silly dreams or imaginations, don't go away cause I feel you this time, don't go away cause I need you there this time'~music~

As I lay myself on the bridal chamber,

She peeled the skin out of me. Dried it. And wraps the once white roses carved from my skull, now painted with my young red blood, nicely. She then pulls the spine from my back. Crunch it with that black hammer of hers and with a few drop of tears she impressively turns it to a ribbons. Gold ribbons whom tie the wrapper. That wrapped the roses, yes.

And by faking a smile, I know I let her.

'do you believe in hallucinations, any dream or it's revaluation, don't go away cause I need you there this time, don't go away cause I'm making you all mine'

"Ah damn we always tend to think bout others..."
HafizChan on I'm damn cowardy even with this two sharp Cullen-look-a-like fangs.

Thanks for the spot-on dude.

Owh. And all the roses-thing-hallucinations was none but an exaggeration. Don't bother.

But it did hurt. Fuck.


Sorry. Totally have no idea so it just a random post

3 months to go. And i absolutely do nothing. Eating, online, gaming, movie-ing, youtube-ing. Eating. And eat again. And again. And again. These activities totally drive me to crazy. Superb bo-ring! Well, sometimes i fullfilled my fucking holiday by reading books. The result is positive ; currently addicted to books.

done with ;
Remember Me by Sophie Kinsella
Shopaholic and Baby by Sophie Kinsella
Tunas by Hlovate
Rooftop Rant by Hlovate
5tahun5bulan by Hlovate
aA+bB by Hlovate
Diary of a Wimpy Kid (red cover) by Jeff Kinney
Diary of a Wimpy Kid (green, blue, yellow cover) - POPULAR. kehkehkeh. no need to buy huh? ^^

currently ;
Babylon Rising by Tim Lahaye and Greg Dinallo - I borrow it from this weirdo-funny-brat. It feels so great to have a 'penpal'. Haha. He got my Remember Me.

And i still looking for penpals. Anyone?

p/s ; I know some of you might know her in former times, but I just wanna share. Check out her writings. Kinda cool. The character, the plot etc. And it is not publish by Alaf21. Not a loveydovey type. Thanks.


Clarification: Dots.

It's a single dot what differed me from you. It's a single dot that made me hate you. It's a single dot that separated he and she and they. It's a single dot that created diversity. It's a single dot that make once unbeatable dynasty a history.

"Hey, come on dude. It's just a single dot. No big deal."


I'm damn cowardy even with this two sharp Cullen-look-a-like fangs.

You know what differ human from other living things? We human have heart to spare with. We human have heart to take care of. I'm not sure if animals or trees got that responsibility, like the one I've seen on TV and silver screen. But as a pretty realistic person, I just assume they don't.

In life we human experienced a lot of things. A lot of parts. From happy to sad to the greatest ever feeling and even to the lowest points you can ever reach. All this affect this red-blooded little thing called heart. Yours and theirs.

And to take care of a heart is never an easier thing to accomplish. I've tried. Way too many.

I don't spell an AEROBIC when I'm sure it is an ESCAPE written on the card. Yup. I know. They asks me to do that too. But I just can't. Why? Because I know it's somebody's feeling I'm playing with. Somebody's heart I'm messing with.

Again. I don't hate it. But I just don't prefer it. Right now. Who knows I might enjoy it later, no?

Fangs? That just so bull-shitting.


World without L.

Caught in the middle of the state-of-confusion mind, I sound like an egoist pilot who hit a two hundred thousand feet high bird and says that it was the bird whom flying too low. Too complicated to quote? Let it be shit then.

I just lost my word. Sorry.


Et Ducit Mundum per Luce.

Ever heard the story about a hiker who nearly gives up his life when he fell into a dark cave all alone by himself? And he was just about to surrender (read:die) when a thick line of light shone over his tired legs; the light which bring him out of the dark cave and off course spare him his life.

Thanks god he has another evening to spend with his family.

I believe in hope. Always. That's why in most of my post, there's a puff of hope blows at the end of it. I strongly believe that in this world, everything has been destined for something. I believe that when our pragmatic world is about to die, there will be a light which would guide us.

Out at least.

And I will keep on believing.



Since last week I got these crazy feelings ; Nervous-Scared-End of the world-Loser. Yeah. I can't help myself from being such a negative-thinker. Cut the crap, I got my STPM result today. Have been a long time I haven't feel this kind of feeling.

Flashback when I was in form 5, I do nothing to get straight A's in my SPM. Fall asleep in Biology class, skipped Est class. Well, I can't stand with Mrs Yusma's chipmunk voice. Night before Add Math paper, I went out with my girls at Mapley and had a great Azwan Ali-ing at 2am. Seriously, I hate Math. Who the hell can stand with those fomulars? Ava Kadabra Pak Aji Mata Buta! And when the SPM result came out, nahh! Have no feeling at all. I came to school, get my slip and have fun with my girls. Loser~ boo me. To make me sounds more drop dead loser, my ex-classmate who got flying colours in their SPM now are futhering their studies in overseas. Me? haha. Lets just say I love Malaysia. and I love school uniform.

Back to 25 Feb 2010. I can say that I do satisfy with my result. LIAR. Ok I'm damn happy with my result and zillion thanks to HIM. Alhamdulillah. I can't believe it and I'm happy. Thank you thank youu Allah!

So as a blog partner Mr I'msosupernotcool and Dewajiwa, it will be my honour if you guys treat me a large set of Properaty (is it how you spell it?) Burger and Dinner Plate and Cadbury and Kinder Bueno and 1 lorry of Oreo and Zinger Tower and Chicken Mcdeluxe and Hawaian Chicken and..