A week in two days

A drive in the dark, a walk on the beach,
Those pretty cabins so close,
But just out of reach;

The taste of raw fish,
Electric green trees,
The slight smell of Pleasure,
Wafting in the sea breeze;

A thought in the rain, tide waits for no man,
But maybe, just maybe,
In a snow globe I can.

Conversations in the dark

I got home pretty late last night. Had a meet-up with my regular Friday friends, RFF or Rich Friday Friends as the Taman Desa gang calls them, and we did what we have always done every Friday for the past two years. A pint or two (today a lot more) and a conversation that covers the usual shit; work, sports, politics, subliminal anger.

So I got home and it was late, probably four in the morning, and I stood at my bathroom sink washing my face. I looked up and my mom was staring at me through the mirror. I apologized for waking her. She said nothing. 

On a side note, when I was 15 I was convinced my over-protective mother would have me shut in after I finished high-school so I wouldn't be participating in the fictional orgies she assumes all young men go to. It is a pleasant realization now for me that my mother is nothing of the sort and I come and go as I please, respectfully of course so not as to make worry. It was for this reason I was standing at my sink at four in the morning with my mother standing behind me and I didn't worry one bit if she was mad at me.

After 30 seconds of silence my mum suddenly spoke up and said "You look very different, not like the boy I used to know". I told her about the Gotye song that was playing on the radio a while back and she said she'd never heard of it and it sounded pretty daft. I couldn't agree more. I said I was going to make some coffee and asked if she wanted a cup. She said she'd make breakfast instead while she was in the kitchen. She probably smelt the alcohol on my clothes. She always makes me breakfast when I come home smelling of alcohol.

So we sat down, and had breakfast, and had one of the most meaningful conversations I've had in a while. She said I looked very tired and haggard. I said it was probably because it was late. And she said she has seen tired, "In your grandfathers face when he used to come home from the pepper fields, THAT was tired. Yours is a different face. The face of a boy (boy?) with a lot of things on his shoulder". Again, she was right. I told her I wasn't sure but I felt I had lost my way in life. That I used to walk the path with the destination firmly fixed up ahead. Now, it just feels like I'm walking through a fog. She said she knows, "I know my son very well. But sometimes you come home a stranger". I told her I'd work on that. She told me to jog more to put some colour in my cheeks. And that was the end of that conversation.

I asked her about my new god-son. She told me the family was going away to Australia in March and I might never see him again. I broke down a little in my coffee. "Well why the hell am I the Godfather!" "They just wanted us to baby-sit the kid for a while, don't worry about it". I fed this kid, carried him, sang him a lullaby. I sang this kid a fucking lullaby.

For some unexplainable reason I felt cheated on. Not by my long gone god-son,no he is an angel and I wish for him every good this world will ever offer. I just felt cheated by the circumstances.

She asked me if I was seeing anyone, to which I smiled and nodded my head. "I'm seeing a lady called Perdition and she's a cruel bitch a cruel mistress". She didn't get that. She said my neighbour had called us over for Chinese New Year. That they have a daughter and that I should stop being such a fuss-pot (I have always hated her using that word.It's a word that makes me feel indecisive and effeminate) and go 'talk to her'. I told her I'd rather have children by binary fission. She thought that meant adoption and looked concerned. I sighed. I told her "I'm no John Wayne, mum. Like papa." She stood up with a look like she would slap me. A look that I haven't seen in a while. "Don't you make the mistake of thinking your father was no charmer! Don't you ever make that mistake!"

 That startled me. She said that I had that same blood. My fathers charm and my mothers fire. For some fucking reason, in my head i pictured myself a charming arsonist. I told her it has now become a collective school of thought that the charm I possess is of the geeky variety. She didn't understand what geeky meant so I told her,"Like Nobita from those Doraemon cartoons I loved. Remember?" "Didn't he get the girl? Suzuki?" "Yeah mum I guess he did."

Nobita did.

And that was it. She said it was late and I should sleep. I told her to leave the cups and plates I'd clean it later. "Pandai. That's how I raise my son."

"Yeah you did a great job mum. Goodnight."

For my mother

I hope i'm just in time i pray ,

To get a gift for mother's day,

I thought i'd make it up to you, im not home you see,

I have exams due.

I want to gift the sky and stars,

But that' s not sold in Madura's,

To send you all that my heart has,

(Sigh) But that's not stocked in IBS.

Perhaps something from Central Square,

To show the world how much i care,

Perhaps something from Queensbay,

Would suit this very special day.

But nothings seems to fit just right,

A brand new shiny stove? Not quite,

I puzzled wondering what to do,

The perfect gift to give to you.

And then it dawned on me, you see,

My gift to you shall always be,

To grow up like you'd want me to,

Brave, strong, honest, true.

With humble hands that seek the Lord,

A prayerful man that walks with God,

My gift to you shall always be,

Your legacy that dwells in me.

Who I am hates who I've been...

I was having a conversation an hour ago that made me think and want to blog. Who I am hates who I have been. The naive little boy I used to be. The sad things I used to say and do. The careless things I let slip. The freinds i made and lost. I wish I could take it all back. A friend of mine keeps re-iterating that I've changed. And then refuses to enlighten me as to wether its for the better or worse.

I hear the reverberating footsteps of my current self trekking through my memories. My past flashing like HD TV's in a electronic shop with one show on. The Jeremy Show. And it's all re-runs.

I'll admit I'd done some really stupid things 7 years ago. Like joining the School English club to meet english speaking chciks from other schools. (In retrospect, that was both a good and bad decision) (Heh) But that's just the surface. I wonder what happened to all my buddies back them. Some are here, some are there, some living well, some have passed on to God's grace. My brothers.


I am angered. At myself mostly for not keeping in touch. If only I had said more. Maybe less. Sigh. But I can't change that, none of us can.

Have you had one of those days? When your alone and your thoughts drift to the what-could-have-beens? The If-only's and the I-shoudn't-haves? These situations that we ironically produce in the present for future retrospect, even whilst reflecting on the same ones we conjured years ago?


I'm going to wish i could 'tampar' my curent self 20 years from now. I guess i haven't changed much

But perhaps, ah perhaps, it was those same situations that molded who I am today. I will spend a good 3 hours tonight wondering what I would be if I were any different. Care to join me in the proverbial sunset of your past?


Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose. -The Wonder Years-

Toes part 2...

From the previous post I realised there is much to rant about my odd feet..

For starters my shoe size is a healthy eleven thanks to my GIGANTOUR TOE! Yup ladies and gentleman gather round at the marvels of a toe that makes your shoe one size bigger!

My housemate was exclaiming that generally the second toe would be longer or of equal length to the first but NOOO i had to be the special one with the extra large toe. (No its not to overcompensate for anything)


Exhibit A

Also,if there are any aspiring doctors reading this (or well informed would-be dentists) i have a blood clot under my nail that keeps bleeding and i fear will cause my toe to be gangrenous,therefore rendering my toe a viable candidate for amputation.
Which woudn't be such a bad idea seeing as it would keep me down a shoe-size.Wait, that's on only one foot. Fug.

Exhibit B

And marvel number three. My foot has NO ARCH whatsoever!I suffer from flat feet(also called pes planus or fallen arches). As i have pointed out (and have been victimised for) my foot has no arch. This would be my excuse as to why i suck at football (How can you excel at something that has foot in the name when yours are deformed). Apparently flat feet is a disability (Yay i get parking spots) and is one of the few reasons to be exempted from the military (JOY!) so yeah I'm not saying it doesn't have perks.

"Studies analyzing the correlation between flat feet and physical injury in soldiers have been inconclusive. A recent study of Royal Australian Air Force recruits that tracked the recruits over the course of their basic training found that neither flat feet or high arched feet had any impact on physical functioning, injury rates or foot health. If anything, there was a tendency for those with flat feet to have fewer injuries."

SWT!WTF-lah..

So yeah I'm cacat. But owh well these are the feet that i was born with and although it gives me as much prowess in football as a worm, leaves my legs aching after a measly 2 hours of walking around trailing women on a shopping spree, or might cause me to have rheumatic arthiritis at an older age. Well i woudn't have it any other way.

Flatties unite!!! (Legs only)


Exhibit C

Wait so that explains the feet fetish...

Mistakes...

I'm caged in indifferent bars,
Clutching perpetual scars,
Trying to avoid mistakes,
While passing these speeding cars.

The bridge is not to far away,
But will I make the leap?
I've made so many mistakes before,
It haunts my halted sleep.

I sat at crossroads long before,
An image I've always abhorred,
The roads that I have taken,
Have only sown discord.

I've only given tears,
Fuelled her every fears,
Spent my life a-wasting,
My mirror filled with smears.

So at the bridge I'll hesitate,
But I will crash at the bend,
And as i fall straight down below,
Then my mistakes will end.

-To those of us who have always made the wrong choices;hurt the people that we love-

Regards,
Jeremy Ryan De Silva

How juvenile are you?

I was randonmly having a thought yesterday. Most of us have the most juvenile of email addresses. Examples? oreolover@,juicyducks_tasty@,tricky_boogie@, and the kicker my own mercybringer@ (gees i was at a really holy point in my life,give a guy a break)(Shut up boys i was holy,i was a altar server for pete's sake!) (EDIT:AM not WAS)

so yeah..

Then i got to thinking. How did i end up with an email add like that and i realised just how much i've missed from when i was a kid. Well not exactly a kid it was probably around form 2. And i realise ghow thankful i really am for having an email add that has the magical power of digging up my past. I mean I've grown. We all. But it's nice being reminded of times when people were less matured (some still are,you know who you are,don't deny it,liar)or perhaps when you were.

Pretty soon were all going to make a new more (gah) professional email add. I already have mine. Beacuse god-forbid 30 years from now you go

You:Yes Mr. Gates I'll have my people contact your people via tele conference next thursday GMT. Owh my email add? penis_wilder@gmail.com..............

HELLO?

HELLO?
MR GATES??

SO yeah. But it's a nice reminder. So if you have a goofy MSN email add. Wear it loud and wear it proud =) Have a great weekend..

Owh song of the week?

Augustana - Sunday Best http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rz5F0SARWyo

(I have a poem swimming in my head about juvenile addresses that probably will be up soon)(I blame it on pre-finals stress,gah tons of microbio left to do and all i can think of are witty email address's please O' body of mine do not self combust in horror....haaaaah)