Lyrics of the day.

Touch.

Touch in the flame's desires
Feeling the pain's denial,
And your fingers in the fire

Look:

Look in the candle light
See in the flame of life
And my spell is our lie

Taste the love,
The Lucifer's magic that makes you numb
The passion and all the pain are one,
You're sleeping in the fire
Taste the love,
The Lucifer's magic that makes you numb
You feel what it does and you're drunk on love,
You're sleeping in the fire

I gaze at the flame and fire burn
And cry out the name of which I yearn

Taste the love.
The Lucifer's magic that makes you numb
The passion and all the pain are one.
You're sleeping in the fire.

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Why do these two songs

seem strangely and delightfully similar? :)


Winnie the Pooh 2011 - The Backson














listen here (embedding disabled because Fuck You copyright Nazis)








Lovin' the dark-ish minor key on both. Well-crafted, awesome melodies.


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Spambots: More Hateful Than The Average Pedophile

Spam always feels vaguely threatening even when you know they’re non-personal messages generated by bots. Maybe it’s because those bots were made by humans. Humans I hate more than bank robbers and pedophiles combined.

Spam is more than annoying. It is a crime against privacy. And I am one of those people who guard my personal space fiercely. I invite people openly into my space; but if you’re not invited, Stay The Fuck Out.

That’s just the irksome factor though. The threat factor comes from the spam machine feeling like just that - a machine. This thing is attacking you and you Don’t Know Why. Nevermind that you are simply one of a hundred or thousand getting stupid shit in your inbox or alerts; nevermind that spam has existed since the age of AOL and Hotmail (and not forgetting paper Junk Mail). It still arouses that powerful feeling of nausea, hatred and intrusion.

We can physically weed out the trash that comes in between our bills and letters. And adjust the Spam Filter settings on our email inbox to make all penis enhancement ads invisible. But many social networks do not as of yet have a proper bot detector; so till then, we will occasionally be barraged by a faceless, nameless army of cold-blooded privacy killers.

Be very afraid.

Disclaimer: The post title is a strict generalization and is inapplicable to pedophiles who indulge in rape, molestation and acts severely traumatizing to children. It does, however, suggest that spambot creators be placed in the same jail cell as them.

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A Work In Progress

 I am sorry.

 

Sorry that I have failed to live up to your expectations.

 

Sorry that despite your efforts in molding me and scolding me and guiding me and deriding me, the projection of your energies have been in vain.

 

Sorry that at the age of 24, going on 25, I have yet to attain what you seek of me.

 

I won’t pretend to be the dream you sought when you made me in an act of love. I am not a personification of perfection. I am not a divine creation. I am not Galatea. And you are not Pygmalion.*

 

I am not a building you can tear down and rebuild from scratch. I am not an immaculate statue given life. I am here; I have been born, and I have been made. Now it is time for me to make myself.

 

In the process of that remaking, I may be scratched and scarred; knocked down and showed up; played out and pushed in. I may thrive or fail. I may find an easy path. Or learn the hard way.

 

What can I say? I was not born complete. I was born of flesh and blood and intention. Or perhaps inattention. Perhaps an accident. Either way, I was born of you.

 

I came forth with your flaws, and to make things more interesting, I brought my own.

 

I am a wanderer finding my way.

 

I am a dreamer finding my dream.

 

I am flawed despite your efforts.

 

I am a work in progress, and I do not know when the work will be done.

 

Perhaps it never will.

 ~ ~

 

*Galatea was an ivory statue made by the sculptor Pygmalion, and given life through his prayer to the gods. He built her as an ideal woman, one who would rise above all others – a paragon of  perfection. In many ways, that is how we make children. We create them in an act of love and believe with all our hearts that they are just as we dreamt. But even dreams take time to come true. And sometimes they never do.

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It Erases All Traces Of Your Life!

Hello, folks. This post could potentially damage my career, or not, depending on whether this thing even gets read at all. I have exactly 6 followers - that's more than one hand; woohoo! - but then again, I know quite a few people who stalk bloggers silently and invisibly. So.

Anti-Aging Products. Ladies, who wants to talk about their age? No? Honestly? Ma'am, you may look 30 but let's not kid ourselves. GETTING OLD IS WRONG! It is not enough to have healthy skin. Let's get real. Let's get immortalised, cryogenised, sanitised and Botoxised. Who knew you could look like a Photoshop image minus the toxins? Well Now You Can!

According to a recent advertorial (This Just In!) "The passing of time is every woman’s worst enemy." No shit, Sherlock. Ain't the passing of time every mortal's worst enemy? Do you wanna die? I don't. But the point is this: the ad ain't just telling you to make yourself happy by having fewer lines - if that rocks your boat, by all means. No, the ad is telling you that Aging Is Now Your Worst Enemy even if it wasn't five minutes before. Is that hammered into your pathetic geriatric skull yet? Good! Now we can sell you some creams.

A certain accomplished Asian celebrity has already been sold. Sold and bought. For copious amounts of money (hell, why not?) to spout lines that aren't hers about why W.A.W.: Wrinkles Are Wrong. She goes on to talk, in authentic-looking quote marks, about a miracle product or two that allows you ladies to be just as radiant if not as wealthy as her. Because wealth, fame, talent and a trim booty just ain't worth a crap without 20-year-old skin.

Here's some trivia. I found out about two years ago that it is perfectly legal to have brand ambassadors say whatever you want them to in printed materials (or situations where the actual ambassador is not present) without them ever having said it. "SHITE. You mean my dentist didn't really say those things about the toothbrush I've been using for five years?" Guess you'll have to ask him in person eh?

Of course, I shouldn't be saying this. I'm in bloody advertising. But here's what I do love about advertising: giving people ways to feel good. I enjoy getting into people's minds, finding out what they want, what they need from a brand. (Is it manipulative? Perhaps. Come on; if you hated it, you wouldn't buy it. Don't look at me that way.) What I don't enjoy is telling people that This is Wrong and This is Right. "What you thought of as annoying but natural is, in fact, Bollocks!"

But what's even sadder is that thousands of readers are gonna eat it up. If not consciously, then in the back of their minds that already worry about how they no longer look like they left school yesterday. Hmm. Not exactly a mood-lifter. But why lift your mood when you can lift your face?

A face unlined is a life unlived. And now there are products that will eliminate the evidence. To wipe out all traces of what I have been through is like a kick in the head. A facial concussion that denies you ever laughed, cried, made love, sang, smoked pot, baked in the sun, went crazy at a rock show, nicked your chin in a friendly fight.

What will it take to make a change? Well, if we can simultaneously and collectively ignore all calls to look younger and instead look great - two things that should not be confused - I think the world might actually tilt on its axis a little bit. Y'know, from the weight of women NOT reaching for the nearest miracle anti-aging cream. Or the card with Dr Botox's number on it.

Now at this point, some smart-ass will point out that for all my ideals, I just breached some serious ethics by speaking against brands that we are helping to endorse. But look; it's marketing. Marketing is about getting people to buy, think or react. Success depends on the reaction of the consumer. Am I committing a crime of contradiction? Or am I reacting as a consumer?

But heck. Who am I to talk, you ask! I turn 25 this November. By the time I reach my 40th November, I might be singing a different tune. But for now, here's something from Mark Twain - a dead guy who lived well.

"Life is short. Break the rules, forgive quickly, kiss slowly, laugh uncontrollably, and
never regret anything that makes you smile."



~ ~ ~

Scars are evidence that you have fought, and lived.
Serpent 5:11



_

It All Went Downhill From Here.

Was researching our very first Prime Minister (local equivalent of the President title) for an ad, and --after a horribly un-paragraphed, lengthily disorganised Wikipedia entry -- found this page.


Note how both the website's tagline and header hammer in the fact that Mr Tunku Abdul Rahman was the First And GREATEST. The Internet is not always a sacred chalice of accuracy, but in this case I beg to proclaim:

That headline is absolutely right.

In all probability he won the Politician With The Least Shit Up His Creek award, back in the day. If he were around now he'd be among maybe three people contending for it.

Today we have a dude whose idea of keeping the peace is forcefully silencing people with opinions (with gas, cannons & the works; mark my words this Saturday). And writing bad slogans.

The occasional violence I can deal with. But one more crappy sloganised campaign? When the next one is launched, the best thing for everyone to do is to Collectively Not Give A Shit.

You know what, stick THAT on a banner. Or a poster, or a laughably crap logo done in 5 mins in MS Paint. DEAR NAJIB, WE COLLECTIVELY DO NOT GIVE A SHIT.


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