Gemini Baby
18th June, 9.09am:
I slept the shallowest of sleeps. I retired to bed much too late and rose much too early. I had a strange, strange dream. My cats, an ex-girlfriend and I was in it. I dreamed that Dylan, Sid and Jonsi died. She knelt on their graveyard, her face dripping with sorrow, and sat there silently. She turned, suddenly, and looked at me long and hard. I couldn't tell what she was trying to tell me with that cold, solemn stare. I had already died by then. Time was of no essence. Every scene was juxtaposed without any beginning nor ending. The mise en scene was confusing. But I remember the bits and pieces. And I remember that it was strange.
19th June, 12:45am:
As of 4.30pm today, decades ago, I came into the world in complete silence with one eye shut and feet as long as my thighs. I did not yelp a single cry. For a brief moment, my parents went berserk thinking I was a half blind, mute, semi-disfigured baby with alien legs. Thankfully, that was just a temporary joke God played on them. For whatever reason, remains a cosmic mystery. Probably for all eternity.
Fast forward to today, I am a healthy, cynical dreamer with no definite plans for world domination. Yet. There is just too much to type out the story of my life. Too much have gone by, and there is too little time and much too large of an ego (to not come off as being a tad too narcissistic) to realistically write about one's autobiography in a single page.
"My body is my temple", they say. Though I don't know if that's the case for me. I wish it was otherwise, but that's just useless wishful thinking. Over the years, my mind, body and soul have been riddled with bullets of shitty diet, haphazard hangat-hangat taik ayam workouts, infinite amounts of sins, cigarettes, and general substance abuse. As a result? I have a memory of a goldfish, fitness of a 12 year-old, guilts of a Protestant gay priest, and a perfect pair of charcoal lungs.
My only consolation lies in my firm belief that mistakes are what we're made of. I'd rather go through a life of rollercoaster than to cruise through life mechanically and monotonously with hardly any memorable bittersweet moments of stupidity and disaster. I've had a difficult, yet colourful life. And I'm thankful for that.
I'm thankful for all the memories, good and bad. For the people, friends and foes and lovers and family, that have came and gone and stubbornly stayed. For all the wrong things that I have done to others, and others unto me. For all my mistakes, stupidity and immaturity in the past. For every single one of my failures. For every single gray day and hopeless moments of utter defeat. For all the memories, and that I still have a decently semi-working one to remember them all.
I'm thankful that I'm still breathing today. 'Cause y'know, I kinda like living. More so now than ever before. And I think there's still a lot of good I can do for myself and others; friends and family and strangers. I think so. Lets just hope that's not yet another wishful thinking.
"Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than to be absolutely boring" - Marilyn Monroe.
19th June, 2:20am:
I watched Nosferatu halfway. It's an insult to the film to doze in and out of sleep, so I decided to lay it off till tomorrow. I hate sleeping.
