coming soon

me, myself and i

Me, Myself and I, are foes you see,
Chained together, never to be free,
With tooth and nail each day we fight,
Till the world in fullness sees our plight,

A torn mess we have become,
A fractured soul we have made,
Despairs our soul for it was wrought in battle,
Upon the battlefront within life's saddle,

And here we are to be heard,
To be seen by the world
Aware not awake; breathing yet dead,
A statue of living stone encompassed in this hollow head,

big chief no shit

There was once this Red Indian village in the middle of the Mojave Desert whose chief was constipated and all the village knew and were concerned for the beloved chief. Word of a talented medicine man from a neighbouring village came to the chief's ears and so, he called for the medicine man to be brought to the village.

When the medicine man arrived the chief said to him, "Big Chief, no shit!". The wise medicine man brought out a bottle containing an elixir, an elixir to end the chief's constipation, he told the chief to take a little and that he would come back in the morning and check on the chief.

The next morning he went into the tepee and discovered that the chief's situation hadn't changed. He instructed the chief to take a bit more of the elixir. He went outside and announced to the village, "Big Chief still no shit!"

This happened again the next day, he gave the chief more elixir and went outside and announced to the village that "Big Chief still no shit!". This went on for 4 days, however on the fifth day the medicine man ran out of the chief's tepee in a panic and yelled hysterically,



"Big shit, no chief!"

the story of the 99 mart girl

IF this was a movie, Jack black would be the star. All the words in italic are either thoughts or lyrics from songs.

Let me tell you the story of the 99 mart girl. I think her name is Lauren though until her name is confirmed I shall refer to her as 99 mart girl or 99 for short.

99 is the girl who works at the 99 mart down the street from my apartment. She's pretty in her orange uniform behind the counter she works at. Checking items out day by day, she never seems to complain, she's almost always got a big smile of on her face.

About a month ago a 99 mart opened up at Lagoon Perdana, where I stay. So naturally curious Yasir and I ventured out of our cave to survey the land and there she was, the most beautiful girl in world with her orange uniform and nose ring, there she was 99.

What can I tell you about her... erm she's got 2 eyes (they're big and brown), a nose (it's quite straight and sharp and it's pierced), 2 ears (they're pierced too), dark hair of medium length, a mouth (almost always smiling). She stands about 5 foot 6 or 7. She slender, petite even. Kinda like a punjabish version of that Nicole girl from the pussycat dolls minus all the skankiness and some of the height.

It's funny how a man only thinks about the

Sorry... what was I talking about? Oh yes 99, ah well yes, 99. So what do I do to generate contact between us, I go to the 99 mart about twice a week to buy a drink or some gum, so I can smile at her and so she can smile back at me. Such is our relationship, all smiles, winks, hi-s, thank yous and have a nice day. Not bad. Haha.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Mysterious girl, I wanna get close to you

I should probably chat her up one of these days but I'm really not sure what to talk about. Her orange uniform? Her job? Her nose piercing? The weather? Whether she believes that monkeys will one day take over the planet? Oh the myriad of topics are mind boggling. I suppose I should start with Hi, my name is Tristan or I could go with, Hey sexy lady, I like your flow... maybe not wouldn't be the way to go, she seems like a nice girl. So this is my distraction. I should be studying but... oh well. The question remains, to chat her up or not too? Tell me dance commander!

It would be awesome
if we could dance-a
It would be awesome, yeah
let's take the chance-a
It would be awesome, yeah
let's start the show
because you never know
you never know
you never know until you go

the PS3 conspiracy theory

You know what's getting me down, all this Sony will rise again stuff that we keep reading about on gaming sites, while the console's sales continue to improve it still lags behind the Wii and the Xbox360. Humbug I say and no it's not because I own a Xbox or a Xbox360. See if I hated Sony I wouldn't have purchased a PSP slim (though I did sell it after about 3months of owning it) nor would I have owned a SonyEricsson w800i and then subsequently changed it to a w580i (Now I own a Nokia 5800, gotta to love that touch screen goodness).

Lets face the facts, they tried to compete with themselves and ended up falling over, or did they do just that in a ludicrously, mind boggling, almost nonsensical and convoluted way to make room for a playstation3 with a 4 slapped on instead? Re-branded as next-next generation.

Yeap they weren't competing against Microsoft or Nintendo, they were competing against the playstation2 and I think it's evident that Sony put too much technology into a box too soon. Why would they do that? Why intentionally increase the price of your system when you can get away with so much less? After all price tag is important. So I think it was all cleverly engineered plot, indeed a plot I tell you. A fiendish plot (cue cheesy villainous theatrical music).

What is this fiendish plot? (Lightning sounds effects in the background for added emphasis)

Well I think it goes something like this...

Time frame: Around end of PS2 life cycle and PS3 pre-development time...

Enter fiendish type plot (Maestro cue the music!).

A seemingly deceptive and conveniently long time ago, in a suspiciously small room in the money grabbing brothel of Sony HQ, modern day Japan. Sat two Japanese nerds watching AV Idol porn and eating rooster testicles, amongst other things while cracking their heads as to how to best their PS2. The PS3 development team had come up against a brick wall, a thick brick wall, a very thick and suspicious brick wall, one which no idea could penetrate. They had tried everything! Played Halo, eaten McDonald's, ramen, rooster testicles, hot pockets, bananas, played golf on one of the rooftop ranges in Japan, prank called Bill Gates several times asking him if his fridge was running and that he had better go catch it. Alas nothing helped them, this is probably what they thought as I imagine it to be, with British/Japanese accents.

PS3 Guy A "Ok we're stuffed mates, our bloody PS2 is the bomb, wtf are we going to do, how can we out shine the PS2?"

PS3 Guy B "We should play more halo 2, maybe if I kill a few more noobs, my mind will clear and we'll be able to think clearer"

So after an excessive amount of time on Xbox live, the developers came back to the table but still nothing had changed, they were stumped, so decided to smoke up which gave them the munchies (oh the munchies! THE MUNCHIES!) and so our intrepid developers ate a bit more McDonalds and ramen.

PS3 Guy A "Wtf man I'm stuffed after 3 big macs" and suddenly a lightbulb went off in PS3 Guy A's head "That's it"

PS3 Guy B "What's it?"

PS3 Guy A "We'll stuff it!"

PS3 Guy B "Stuff it? Man I think you've tapped one to many times on the bong"

PS3 Guy A "I mean stuff it with all the tech we have, that way people will hate the PS3, and so when we develop the PS4 with the similiar tech people will love the PS4"

PS3 Guy B "Dude, serious no more big macs and weed for you."

PS3 Guy A "Seriously dude, if we f*ck up the PS3, then we can outshine ourselves when we make the PS4!"

PS3 Guy B "I'm starting to question your sanity and my very existence, have you seen the size of my hands? they're huge! Still, you are after all PS3 Guy A, so yeah I guess we can do that and besides this porn would look great on blue ray."

PS3 Guy A "This is going to be so f*cking rad!"

PS3 Guy B "Whatever you say, I'm going back to calling Bill, I'm going pose as Darth Vader this time."

And thus the PS3 was born, f*cked up on purpose.

And thus ends my ludicrous blogpost, hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have.

the fractured night

As I alternate between Nickleback's Savin' Me and Jars of Clay's River Constantine I sit here on my bed unable to sleep.

The drift to the other side is almost non-existent, I feel no pull. I am here, centred and unmoveable. Monolithic in appearance, these are my thoughts. The sound of music brushing against my ears does nothing to fracture the wall of cerebration I've created. No external stimulus seems to get through. I hear it but can't seem to process it, a back log created by my already innumerable thoughts.

The flavour of my one recurring thought is melancholic. I can't catch my breath. My slowed cognitive process won't allow me to express myself. My mind is dull, diffused and untethered. I can't catch my breath. I think we're spinning, I can't relate on this the fractured night of impenetrable thought. I cannot discern, I can't catch my breath.

The sun has long since fallen from the sky,
I am a traveller but I have not travelled far,
The sun has long since faded into the horizon,
I know where I am but I am lost,

The sun has long since settled west
I am looking up but I cannot see,
The sun has long since passed from interest,
I am standing still but falling free,

The sun has long since fallen from the sky,
I am breathing but I cannot catch my breath,
The sun has long since faded into the horizon,
I contemplate but I cannot comprehend,

the echoes' triumph

Echoes of the past call me to dreams of a life fate ordained in such a way, that I cannot lead. The voices remind me of a beautiful kiss that stained my lips in the waking world and still haunts me in shadow, from this road where do I go? Where do I go?

In the waking world I am pensive. The shadows were my refuge, my oblivion but now the voices of remembrance overruns the shadows taking over me, forcing me to submit to the bitter sweet memories of a time long since past.

I wake. The cool air that blankets my room lies undisturbed, yet nothing about it is calm. I wake with one thought, the echoes' triumph. The echoes have pierced the shadow and I remember.

I remember. I remember. I remember.

goodbye, goodnight

goodbye, goodnight,
i tried in vain,
even in my ears it rings trite,
now i wait for the pain,

goodbye, goodnight,
i say once again,
to this fight,
my will is all but waned,

goodbye, goodnight,
time to purge you from these veins,
not out of spite,
only so you fade from my heart and mind,

goodbye, goodnight,
i say for the very last time,
turn off the lights,
and with a sigh walk away.

self destruct initiated, where is my deus ex machina?

a disembodied, unnervingly neutral computerized female voice says repeatedly

Self destruct initiated.

(This statement sums up the sad but true story of my life)

We're at red alert and have no plan of action, life is once again spiralling down the tubes and as per normal my willingness to absolve myself from blame and have my dear friend apathy shoulder it overwrites my sensibilities. Such is my modus operandi.

I often find myself wondering where I lost my sense of responsibility for my life and the direction it is going in. When did I take my hands of the wheel and say to my life, drive yourself? This is one of those times, the wonder of it all is compounded even further by my willingness to sit here and blog about it. Here I sit expounding my brilliant yet pointless theories on why my life is about 3 paces away from the gutter and about a light year away from any form of normality. The only constants in the differential equation that sums up my life are these, I am shit and I basically have death and taxes to look forward to, provided I have money to pay taxes and if I don't well I'll still have death. Oh the sweet bright side.

How did I come to be acquiescent?

In my mind I've deferred living life by shifting myself into neutral and have allowed myself to roll down hill, a hill that is slowly getting steeper. It seems to me and contrary to Robert Frost's argumentatively ironic poem of two roads that diverged in a yellow wood with the possibility of neither having any truly consequential difference, I've managed to find and take a third, the road with the steep decline. Aided by my lack of effort I can't retrace, I look back to see the incline as insurmountable, the shear scope of the task at hand threatens to deplete my already underpowered strength of will. What now?

Where is my deus ex machina? My exit to salvation? Where are the breaks on this confounded vehicle?

The evidence of my fall into the ever darkening abyss is incontrovertible. To cope the mind constructs possible ends, mine hopes that oblivion is at the heart of the abyss and the annihilation of care will bring freedom. Though honestly speaking, I highly doubt that idealistic outcome. The acknowledgement of idealism inherent in the wish for oblivion then renders the statement sophistic. Which then alludes to the sophism and irony that is intrinsic in the nature of hope or the act of hoping. The desire that an outcome will be different and better than what you know to be statistically correct is a fallacy.

My mind also proposes that nihilism is at the heart of the abyss, the belief that nothing exists. One could theorise that from the perspective of the abused mind at the end of the fall nothing will, as everything will cease to matter not even self. However the question is if relevance is removed from an object or person and no longer have a purpose do they then cease to exist? Do things need a purpose in order to exist? My minds sees that even if a person was hollowed out and they're ethereal self or soul was obliterated their shell would remain. In some form they would exist. Unless the shell has no meaning in comparison to the destroyed soul. Then it would seem to me the only way to cease to exist would be death. Now go tell a pebble to die, I dare you. The argument is cyclic and without end.

And as I sit here thinking and theorising, it dawns on me that I am still falling and for all my brilliance, I'm no closer to a resolution then when I started. In fact my seemingly impossible situation and my reflection on it has only served to unnerve me further and so now we come full circle, which begs me to ask myself, what keeps me on this path? Myself, a fairly obvious answer. And why? I wish I knew.

Frankly, my mind is not a pleasant place to be right now, I don't remember the last time it was. Well actually I do but those times are brief and sadly I'm usually too distracted by my lack to enjoy them for long. So today, I'm going to step out of my head for a little while and maybe when I get back things will have settled down. Maybe.

pass me by

If you see me, pass me by. Don't stop to ask me why, why I sit with my head in my hands and cry. I beg off you not to stay, please go about your day. Don't stop to ask me why, why I'm failing to articulate the storm swelling up inside. All I can do is sigh, so please don't wait, go about your day. Don't stop to fix me, please don't try. I've tried and look at me now I sit here watching the world pass on by, so please don't stay, go about your day. Don't stop, please don't stop, please for your own sake, I beg off you don't stop, you may stall and have the world pass you by. If you love yourself, I urge you to pass me by, just pass me by. Because I can't have you sit with me and cry, I can't watch as someone I love commits the same cerebral suicide. I can't have the world pass you by. So if you see me, please pass me by.

Pass me by.

pardon my distraction

Pardon my distraction your eyes have caught me in remission, from a disease which laces my life with dissolution as every line I trace is erased while the world around me fades to grey, I can see extinction on my finger tips, this disease that stains my lips. For I am trapped within a prism, the prison of a life filled with self created schisms. This is my mechanism, the vehicle my life will take to its final destination. Here exists an allusion to illusion as everything that exists in the minds construct can be written off as delusion. I am afraid my mind's division has taken almost all my attention.

Even so through my distraction, I note your eyes are cool but not cold, steeled but not icy. They are faux nonchalant, their armour wavering ever so little belying that inside you are affected by my attention's diffusion. Please pardon my observation and its intrusion as I am prone to assume, perhaps your eyes are speaking in a different language or to a different person.

I pull myself back to the world for a minute to vocalise my thoughts of you but all that I can manage is a feeble statement of something arbitrary almost non sequitur, it is vapid to my ears. Still you manage a smile, even your eyes. I could ask you why? but I know you would probably answer with, why not? and smile again. You intrigue me and perplex me, they seem to go hand in hand. My minute ends. Once again my thoughts are like light diffracted, rarefied the entirety of the situation derisive. Somehow you remain constant. Pardon me in this seemingly torpid state. I am not lucid, it is evident that my mind is not placid. But for that brief minute I was eased.

A calming slice of sunshine amidst a terrible storm, my boat threatens to capsize in the high tide of a world I cannot control, I've fallen down the rabbit hole. I've dragged you into my twisting perception, I've burdened you with my locution. Shown you the gaping wound I'm nursing from choices of my own making. Perhaps it is time I stopped making excuses for my life's failings. Trimmings of the disease that stains my lips tonight.

Pardon my distraction, your eyes caught me as I was falling.

the monash ball 2008

I wrote this last semester about the Monash Ball for Monga, the issue was never published, so I figure I might as well post it. Enjoy.

Bright colours, lights, music, everything is so fluid, bodies swaying to a rhythm euphoric, this is our pantheon and for a moment we are the Gods, we are Zeus, we are Hera, we are Morpheus, we are Aphrodite, we are rulers. A pantheon designed for us, a pantheon for the people. Our pantheon, the Monash ball, the highlight of the university’s social calendar for us the students of this university, organised with the students in mind, themed, coloured, purposed for a night of memories, good ones at that.

The theme: Mardi gras or Fat Tuesday as the interpretation from French goes. The last day of carnival, a 3 day period before lent, the Christian fasting period similar to Ramadan. As Zhen Yao and Shazeea the MCs for the night quipped it’s not what you get after playing football on a wet field, muddy grass. No definitely not muddy grass, Mardi gras is a celebration of colour and music and dance and so the night was themed that way. The Mardi gras theme was brought to the students in the form of decorations and performances, the performances most of which by our own dance fusion club gave you a taste for the flair of a culture alien to us. A fashion show to highlight the sensual styles of carnival further opened eyes to a world far removed from our own. All of it being very pleasing.

The man behind it all, Manil De Run the activities chairperson. This writer knows firsthand the amount of planning that went into the ball. Preparations were being made as early as June and months of planning culminated into a night of brilliance.

Though what made the night were not the decorations or the music or the theme. The people, the Gods of this pantheon made the night. Their presence made the night, for without them all we would have had was an empty ballroom with pretty lights. Everyone was dressed to kill; the men looked sharp in their suits and the women enticing in their dresses. Every colour of the rainbow was represented in a glory and grace splendid. The students of Monash had never looked more beautiful.

When the dance floor opened, there we were dancing the night away. This writer had the privilege of rocking out the night on the dance floor with a very beautiful woman, one who knew how to sway her hips to the beat. And the scene he saw before his eyes was being played out across the dance floor. Boys and girls were dancing the night away, beautiful in their own right, graceful in their sway.

A night of memories, indeed memories were made with every conversation, with every passing smile, memories were made at the tables the students sat at and memories were made in the sway of the bodies on the dance floor. Memories were what the night was designed for and memories it gave you.

Although the night existed only for a moment and faded from the corporeal world, as time ever progressing forward took it from us, it continues to live on in our minds and our hearts with the memories we took from it. To quote a song by Eve6, “here is to the night we felt alive” and alive we were, we the Gods of this pantheon.

thing - crossing boundaries

This is my bands first original play, enjoy =)

a callous rhyme

enrage the fire of war,
i've gone cold to the core,
to the world my soul i've whored,
i will take no more,

my back to the precipice,
rewarded with pain,
life calls no armistice,
my words are in vain,

a sickness within these icy veins,
i am a man on his knees in the rain,
into madness i fall insane,
i am a man on a runaway train,

i collapse for the last time,
in a bed scented with sage and thyme,
above my head reads this little sign,
my life is a callous rhyme,

please do not resuscitate

shut me down he says,
he has had just about all he can take,
this heart is failing at a constant rate,
please do not resuscitate,

through eyelids florescent lights are red
and no one hears him from his bed,
his silent cries slowly fall dead,
after all there is nothing left to be said,

like flawed fabric he quietly unravels,
away from the light he slowly travels,
locked away in his mind he is miserable,
this boy a failure unbearable,

so shut me down he says,
he has had all he can take,
his heart has failed to wake,
he signed please do not resuscitate.

insomnia's delight

He tosses and turns in his bed as his lover insomnia prolongs the night's solemn visage. With his consciousness she wrestles nightly, forcing him to hear her madness and the hush that falls all around, it lies thick and heavy in the air. Slowly it comes to him, the realization that the world is cold and sterile, an unsavoury place.

The night singles out his loneliness, magnifies his loss of perception. Clothed in darkness and its deceptions, he is isolated. A frame that his vulnerability cannot hide in and so he tries to dream, to transcend his physical form, to find solace in the colours of his thoughts. His dreams a masquerade of his own design, his mind's little deceit to hide from the cold, lonely night.

Though this night even his dreams he is denied, no refuge from her grasp. His soul screams for light, for reprieve, its own all but gone cold. Its barriers all but worn from her constant assault. He looks away from her. He looks for focus.

He looks to the moon, he can see she is beautiful, a beautiful thief mesmerizing with her light taken from the sun and so he looks away to see the stars. They offer little comfort, their light kept selfishly so far away. Teasing with their faint twinkle like the wink of a flirtatious girl from across the room.

He is reviled, insomnia his vituperator. Sickened by his lack of visual escape he turns away from the heavens, resigned to his fate. He thinks perhaps rest will come on the wings of the dawn. Perhaps then he may slumber. She whispers to him again feeding his madness, still he can't deny her beauty and her genius. In her own way she has made him who he is, she has coloured him. Till rest comes his way he stares into the void of another dreamless night, his thoughts abstract, twisting beyond this mortal coil. This is insomnia's delight.

when life comes to call

When life comes to call,
What will you feel?
Will you be crying?
Will you be smiling?
What will you feel?,
When life comes to call,

When life comes to call,
Who will you be?,
Kind and loving?,
Hopeless and breaking?,
Who will you be?,
When life comes to call,

When life comes to call,
Where will you be?,
Right be side me?,
Or far off hiding?,
Where will you be?,
When life comes to call.

i'm a fucking tsunami

this goes out to jerry who asked me to write something that had i'm a fucking tsunami, phantasmagoria & non sequitur in it. Enjoy!

i'm a fucking tsunami,
come watch me roar,
complete tonal madness,
i'm the auditory orgasmosaur,

i'm a fucking tsunami,
come watch me shred,
i've got you in my bed,
with my wicked licks on this fucking thread,

don't try to stop me,
don't try to stop me,
don't try to stop me,
i'll blow your fucking mind,

don't try to stop me,
don't try to stop me,
don't try to stop me,
i'll fucking blow your fucking mind,

i'm a fucking tsunami,
you'll beg for more,
come watch me scream,
i'm phantasmagoric with my wicked lore,

i'm a fucking tsunami,
i'm non sequitur,
i'm a fucking tsunami,
i'm the phantasmagoric auditory orgasmosaur!

don't try to stop me,
don't try to stop me,
don't try to stop me,
i'll blow your fucking mind,

don't try to stop me,
don't try to stop me,
don't try to stop me,
i'll fucking blow your fucking mind!