Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Thoughts as I am cruising down the TPE:
I am tempted to zip closely pass that van or in between the two nissan sunnys for a "near miss"
At times I treat the accelerator like the "x" button on a ps2 controller: fully depressed or not depressed.
Out of nowhere, hitting the brakes and veering to the left suddenly to go into a drift suddenly seems like a good idea for chalking up imaginary boost points.
If I change lane suddenly to take that exit, I'll down my wanted level.
It's okay if I scrape the side of the divider or ram into someone's car. The spray 'n' pay will take care of the damages in an instant.
There's always the restart race option if I totally screw up and flip the car over.
All those hours of Grand Theft Auto, Burnout and Need For Speed weren't for nothing afterall. I should not be driving in this state of mind, no siree.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
It's been a year. Not much has happened since that day. I saw Timmy's mum for the the first time at his funeral. It was a quiet, simple affair at the church parlour. The turn out was low, two to be specific. His mother and his psychiatrist. Apparently the pastor had had a severe bout of diarrhea on that day.
The psychiatrist had come to collect his bills and left soon after he realised that Timmy had been shit broke all along and died without a penny. During the five minutes I spent at the wake not a word was uttered and Tim's mum just sat there, gazing out onto the streets. Perhaps she had been expecting something like this to happen for a long time now and its happening did not change a thing.
I was sitting at the corner of my block, passing time. Timmy's death had given me some publicity among the circles and I still took the odd case now and then.
"You know sonny, you look like a guy set on doing nothing in your life." I did not reply to this voice, preferring to concentrate on fiddling with my newly obtained driver's license. That ought to shut Timmy up, if he was still around, though I was nowhere close to getting a car.
"They used to call me the King in those days, I was on the road, did shows and everything. Then one day I realised things weren't going right. I found myself standing on a high place, looking down, wishing, to be down. But I decided not. I just walked out of my own life."
"So what should I do?"
"Ya know kid, now I walk the plane between life and death. The world says I do not exist, that I am dead and yet here, I breathe and speak! Sometimes I wonder if I can ever die. My advice to you? Go an-"
I decided not to take it and left the stranger to continue his rambling to the air and a few moments later, found myself sitting on the ledge of my apartment window, looking down at the streets below. At the corner of the block sat an old Indian man, still speaking about his conflicting state of existence.
I took a deep breathe and let go. I lived on the second floor. I spent the next few months with a cast on my leg and walking on crutches, but I lived.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
After much procastination, it was finally DONE! An evening of regurgitation of half-developed ideas from the intangible recesses of the mind, given life through my fingers into numerous 1's and 0's, then pressed onto paper and taking form in the material world.
It was then sealed, stamped and sent to the front lines.
Return with your shield or upon it, I whispered.