Mistcakes

It has been some time...

2009-07-16T01:14:00.002+08:00

Since We Last Spoke.

We are of many minds at the moment.

And our thought processes are hardly the most linear.

Our hiatus has brought us a reprieve of sorts. One which the faculty of writing did not employ. Nevertheless, writing, and wordplay, have never left our lives. Though divided, we feel that such an endeavour is an endless one, as only through them shall we communicate our metaphors, our ideologies, as best we can.

As we write this, I am tired beyond regular exhaustion. Our eyes unfocus, and my lone typing hand is jittery. We drift in and out of slumber and I edit what I see fit.

These are minor hurdles though. Putting this out on a screen is hardly befitting the original copy. Should you see the master copy, perhaps you could be so obliged to inform it of what you see.

We must apologise for being brief. The batteries are running out.

The One Minute Experiment

2008-02-22T09:33:00.001+08:00

First things that came to mind:

I wonder how many I can fit
Maybe I should eat out for lunch
Bread's not too nice
I like cold water
Jimmy Carr's funny
Big Fat Quiz 2007 is great
Miss David Walliams in there
Need to suck less at Starcraft
Need to bathe
Hungry
Plain bread's boring

Clearly, I am hungry.

Just a tiny piece

2008-01-31T02:14:00.000+08:00

A little word once in a while never hurt.

This is a good reminder to the purveyors of eloquence. Excellence is marred by extravagance, though irony does discard non-deliverance.

Wishes

2008-01-14T00:32:00.000+08:00

My words to you, dark and damp they be,
Shining none to see, hiding's all they do,
Why must it be you?
Why must it be me?

Spinning on the stars, righting none the wrongs,
Liking once the songs, feelings though are sparse,
The heart is truly scarce.
The footsteps lately long.

The walls greatly cramps, tunnel lights do fade,
Though I do evade, my marks clearly lamps,
Running gives no thanks.
Walking gets me dead.

One of us made something.

2007-12-24T23:03:00.001+08:00

He wishes you all to see it.

Things have happened..

2007-12-06T11:12:00.000+08:00

We see lots of protests these days, public protests with demonstrations and marches and such. This is supposed to be a form of rebellion against the government, which the government clearly despises and always puts out stories of how it is not the Malaysian thing to do.

We do not endorse these protests. If you group a bunch of people together, in order to protest against the government, is the best you can do really that everyone has to make a commotion and get the attention of cops ready to knock people out? All that proves is that the government should stop unruly behaviour (as that is what a protest is) and it also means that it is somewhat difficult to go out and go shopping on that day, we feel.

The government may or may not be a good thing. The public may or may not be on the right side. But if the only thing people are willing to do in this conflict of interest is to get together and incite unruliness and have others respond to shutting down this sort of thing, well, then, both sides have hit a stalemate and all we've got is a lot of wasted time, effort and possibly even casualties.

We do not have a solution, unfortunately, to however else a public can protest, but we do not believe that marching out in numbers is nothing more than a show of petty defiance.

We hope you understand.

Full Crowds of None

2007-10-18T16:39:00.000+08:00

I gripped my throne fiercely. Holding the sides gave me a certain little thrill, to ascertain that this was real, this was now, this was happening. The coronation was just over. I was now, truly, lord of this realm. I looked all over. The audience laughed for me, wept for me, they called my name, they offered themselves, others even, they offered what they had, and what they didn’t, all to celebrate this, my coming of birth, the coming of a master in a land without one.

This place was deemed Swallow, thought to be a namesake for the most common bird around these parts, rather it was a mockery of a name, for the number one duty that women did here. This was an honourless place, much less so since the death of my parents. Left without proper rulers and the council of a youngling that scarce knew better (me…) the country, the realm, all that was plunged into its own anarchy and chaos, as the world flew by outside.

During the seven years it took for me to learn what I needed to learn to deal with this problem of my land and of the next lands around me, I had pretty much abandoned my people. Abandoned my absolutely filth and pigsty of a nation. Having naught learned anything of being proper, ruling, and being a scared little puss afraid of the extent of power in my hands, I had scampered to the arms of my dearest Uncle Joen. He ruled the Flight, a land which was next to the sea, so called Flight to see off the wonders that travelled the waters. At least he was in charge of a land that was not mocked.

Fled I did, for three years or so. Scared of the age between the eighth and the decade, I was forced to learn, to deal. I left Swallow naïve and uncaring of the damage I’d done, as I ordered my own council to keep the keep and only the keep, and care not for what happened to the kingdom.

Look at this place. It was horrible. Bodies rotted whence no one cared, trading had devolved back to bartering, as what is gold if no one values it? The worth of metals only goes so far if your rulers did nothing, especially if no one cared.

Ruler of Swallow. What a mockery indeed. I hardly needed to be mocked with a name like that, I mocked myself, my cowardice, my destiny to be a distraught young king, in charge of lands worth less than the name it was crowned. I looked up into the ceiling, and slumbered in front of my nation.

Then I opened my eyes, and stared into the pillow on top of me.

It suffocated me, and I wriggled and twisted and turned, and then I was hit, and I felt as I was drugged.

And I saw my mother rear her other hand back. She had given up on smothering and seemed quite intent now on knifing.

I am thirteen. I will not strike my mother.

Gutted as I am, I was only relieved. I would rather be back with my hollow and empty kingdom, one that I dreamt up, than be with my own flesh and blood. Debauchery and infidelity was nothing but footnotes compared to what my mother was doing.

My eyes dim. I don’t question it.

I opened my eyes again, and I’m back to staring up from the top of my throne. I could feel my life going away before me, though here I be fine. And I stood up, to the thunderous cheers of those around me. Empty, hollow, people that didn’t exist, they ran across my mind and called for me brightly as I fell forward.

And in the afterlife, I hope, that when I meet real kings and queens, real rulers and real tyrants, I would be able to boast, that they may have had the cheers and the jeers of those that lived, but I’d be one of the even fewer who had filled a whole nation with full crowds of none.

Then I would squarely at them in the eye, be they my age or thrice more, and I would ask them, “What do you dream of, dear lords? When I dream, everyone loves me.”

And then, be it heaven, hell, or some other afterlife that awaits me, that is something I can sleep peacefully with.

After all, hardly anyone else had a good sleep.

Go go go!

2007-10-11T21:01:00.001+08:00

I have returned, in proper form and spirit.

The dearth of updates recently pointed to a disturbing lack of livid and vivid commentaries to be made upon those that I see. This is not to say that I had nothing proper to say, rather I'd not have had the energy to spend saying properly what I want to say proper.

With that said, let us move on.

Length has been a certain particular point of interest to me for quite some time. Specifically, length of blog posts. It has been said that blog posts should be longer, more detailed, specially a blog such as ours. So much to do, so much to see, so much to say!

Oh, what a wonder it is to never, ever stop looking and thinking, wandering and wondering about the wistful thoughts that come and go.

I think that we think too much. Everything is under judgment, everything is under scrutiny. Why is that? Why must there be some sort logic put to everything that happens, why must they all be placed in various realms of acceptance be it personally or in society?

Why can't I just be left in peace?

This post will be like the contents of my stomach

2007-10-06T12:44:00.000+08:00

Ho ho!

2007-10-01T11:36:00.000+08:00

What a riot.

That's almost as good as, "Try one of our curries. You'll never get better."

I wish this happened to more people.

2007-09-25T11:11:00.000+08:00

Recently browsing through the online Darwin Awards site (found at, shockingly, http://www.darwinawards.com/) has given many a chortle recently. The fact that so many have managed to off themselves in such hilarious ways as to get ratings over which accidental (really?) suicide is a blast.

What's even more interesting is that the horrendous blunders of those that offed themselves are actually funny, if tragic. And it is interesting how such unfortunate incidents are indeed a great source of laughter.

It was fun while I was reading it.

Oh, wait! ARCHIVES!

I've been for hours...what kept you?!

2007-09-25T00:49:00.000+08:00

Normally, I am not fond of waiting.

Not fond at all.

However, delaying the necessary action to complete the task at hand is really appealing right now. Surely I'm not the only one to go through this remarkable phenomenon. Sure, you can see the reasoning. Do things early, finish work, go and do whatever you like at your leisure. Work, then be rewarded.

Course, most people would rather be rewarded, and be rewarded still. Let's just skip out on the work part. I mean, if everyone wanted to stick to good old hard work, well...that's not happening anytime soon. Point is, it's interesting that there are so many people with so many things to do with so few hours in a day and so few days in a month and so few months in a year, that it's a wonder anyone has the time to put off anything. Unless, of course, it cuts in on something else, say, beauty sleep.

But if that's what it takes to enjoy myself while eventually doing work (maybe) then I'll stick to that, thanks.

Is an insult still one if no offence was caused?

2007-09-17T16:49:00.000+08:00

And likewise, are the praise of such wonderful people concerning wondrous things in various fields that may or may not be patronizing such a great thing? These wonders wander around in their lives, wandering their expertise, laundering the reaps of what they know, and these wanderers are such wonders to the world, especially if we elect them.

All hail democracy.

I wonder.

You may be Light but I am Heavy

2007-09-04T16:36:00.000+08:00

It's quite shocking to see the progress I've personally made over the years. Measured time and time again, I find myself in a more easily defensible position now more than ever. Even with all the setbacks and all the problems and all the confusion, this is still highly more valuable than my previous academic venture.

But I rather wanted to speak of something else. I've always wondered about people that want to know their own purpose in life - their true meaning, who they are, what are they here. Which is not to say that these thoughts do not pass me in brief, fleeting moments (such as other thoughts like "I wonder how bad my results are now that they're out?" and "Do I really want to get up and go make myself a sandwich?"), but I just find it weird that people can spend the rest of their lives devoting themselves to this question.

I am not saying it is a useless venture. Rather, it is just one that eludes my interest at the moment. But what is interesting is that some people have achieved their goal! Or so they say. Those that know what they are here for, those enlightened, those blessed enough to know these answers to intangibles which elude most of us. Their behaviour, in particular, has struck me as somewhat interesting. I myself have met some who really believed in them throughout my years, most of whom are my peers, oddly enough (and I am hardly one who has experienced a lot within my current life).

I don't know if my unenlightened status mars my eyes from seeing further, but those enlightened either seem to be pretentious pricks or patronizing pastors of preferably persistent positives. And by that, I mean either they think highly of themselves for being enlightened, or try to forcibly convert you in order to hopefully have an euphoric revelation of some sort within seconds of talking to them.

Both of these annoy me to no end. For one, I really don't think being enlightened means you should have a cock up your ass. For another, I also don't think that you shouldn't be trying to shove your big, holy phallic symbol of inner peace and tranquility up mine.

But if you wanna talk about other things, be my guest.

Heavy

2007-08-25T16:27:00.000+08:00

The sand tugged at my feet. Heavy, it was, surely a detriment to my walking.

Walked I did. I kept going forward. What other way was there to go? I couldn't navigate by the sun, and even if I could, there wouldn't be a point to it anyway. I was lost, completely lost. Alone, with a pantheon of never ending sand around me, I kept walking onwards, with the hope of eventually bumping into something.

This desert was quite literally a desert. There weren't even the remains that you would find in movies. Apparently they're spaced apart much further than you would be led to believe. But that is okay. I don't expect to find anything here.

It is terribly boring though. Hell upon hell of my own, a heat distraught, a light, too bright, and a body, thirsty and weary.

I don't know all this though. That is the feeling I always get soon after I wake up (unless I have a dream, but that's more an anomaly). That feeling, that sick feeling I get which discourages me. And sometimes, it lingers for the rest of the day.

I compare it to life, and how I walk through it. I watch at what happens around me.

And sometimes I think, the nightmare isn't so much of a nightmare anymore.

Mistcakes Complies

2007-08-22T15:09:00.000+08:00

1) Each player must post these rules first.
2) Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3) People who are tagged need to write on their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4) At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5) Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

8 Facts about Mistcakes:
1) It is not my name.
2) It is not my alias.
3) It is not a clue to my identity.
4) It is not an acronym.
5) It is not a mystery.
6) It is not journal.
7) It is not sitcom upon which the gags are premeditated by obnoxious laughs of the unseen audience.
8) It is not yours.
9) It can, contrary to what is seen here, count.
10) And it does not like tagging other people.

Spread it wide open

2007-08-16T09:53:00.000+08:00

Openly gay. You can, and should, be openly gay, apparently (if you're gay, of course). This has been brought to my attention after watching the Big Fat Quiz of 2006, where apparently gays can scrutinize other gays because they are not openly gay about their gaying gayness.

What the hell does it mean? To my understanding, to be a gay, you have to have to have sex with someone else with a similar sex as yours. Homosexuals and the like. Thus, as far as guys are concerned, being gay should be the whole backdoor knocking thing. Or perhaps a blowjob would just do.

Thus, being openly gay would mean that they have public gay sex! Something which I would rather forgo simply because I am not turned on by it (but hey, whatever gets you off).

Seriously, what in the world is openly gay. Is there this stereotype that gays must conform to to be open? Is there a specific circumference over the size of their open anus? What exactly does it entail?

Even if you were to follow the stereotypes, different cultures have different stereotypes. Fancy pansy men are known to be gays, by being fem-like and having limp wrists and such, but go over to Japan (bear with me if I get their culture completely wrong), and big, muscular men with great beards are depicted as gay whereas those femmy pansy men are instead studs who are narcissistic casanovas.

See, this bothers. I have no problems with gays, at all, short of them screwing me. I'll hardly defend them either, nor will I attack them, because, well, it's their business. But when you get terms like this that people say to insinuate that all gays have to be open, somehow, well, then you got a problem.

I call this problem to be Boy George.

Short

2007-08-14T23:37:00.000+08:00

It is amazing how complete one sentence may be.

A sight for sore eyes leaves a bitter taste in the mouth

2007-08-13T02:03:00.001+08:00

The girl was two tables away from me. Or one table, if you were to count diagonally.

I guessed her age to be not more than my own. Seated placidly with two of her presumed family, possibly her grandmother and kid sibling, she ordered her food with a smile. Confident with her order, she proceeded to chat with her grandmother animatedly.

Seated with my book, I could not help but give the occasional glance to the girl. Why was I drawn to how she looked? A canvas, attractive, though living and breathing was a fascinating sight as I waited for my food to arrive.

She caught my glance once, and our gazes met. Breath flickers of comprehension seemed to cross her face as she seems to have both acknowledged my presence and identified who I was. She showed a quick smile and went back to talking with her grandmother (who seemed to disapprove) and insofar as I knew, not once did she look back again, as I wondered whether she knew who I was or if we knew each other, or simply that she was being friendly.

Then my steak was served.

It was unpleasant.

Stray Thoughts

2007-08-12T02:24:00.000+08:00

Lately, I have been knackered and hampered by a lack of unconsciousness. The heat, the humidity especially when darkness envelopes the surroundings, it gets to me. It makes me sweat in desperation, it makes me unable to think, unable to focus. Lest, I stay up many a night to simply do whatever I wish, short of actually doing what I wish, sleeping.

This is not the first time I have been encumbered by a problem such as this. However, the circumstances that force my hands have differed. Be it true the duty to which I was entrusted, to simply companionship, or the depression that comes with disappointed or worry, those reasons are not the reason this time. In fact, it is just too fucking uncomfortable for me to sleep. And that is putting it elegantly.

It is around 3 am in the morning as I type this. My eyelids heavy, I barely see the screen and the words that I am typing. I assume that here, they be typos, but alas, I am far too exhausted to check. My exhaustion comes not from the activities that I did, but more from the attempts at rest which elude me time and time again.

Burdened by such, my mind wonders of many things. It is times like these that make me think back on what has happened to me. I reflect on the relations that I have, that I had, that I chose to violate, and chose to cherish, friend and foe alike. Is it not wonderful how drawn we are to other people, and is it not intruiging exactly who they are?

I have tried time and time again to discern a pattern between the different kinds of people that I meet, and just why exactly do I seem predisposed to judge them in the ways that I do. Do I take it on gut instincts, do I evaluate carefully, do I just simply make it a lottery? This is a riddle that plagues me since I was a small child until now. I ask it, I question it, anytime my mind wanders* and as such, I value it.

* At least, when it wanders unto this topic, most notably when I'm feeling either sad or emo or tired.

Time and time again, I can't answer myself.

Which, I think, is for the best.

After all, when is an answered riddle anything but worthless?

A second entrance, and a second applause

2007-08-10T21:09:00.000+08:00

Ladies and gentlemen,

I feel obliged to welcome you all back to the show. It has been renamed and modified, upgraded and rated, henceforth! This is Mistcakes, and I am your grand host, your royal dignity, your conscience and your thoughts, put here into words!* Welcome to Mistcakes where they happen and sometimes, they just slip by you even during registration of blogs!

* I am also a dramatist, and may exagerrate or lie as I see fit.

My first act, is to decree a semblance of who I am.

I am a person that temporarily suffers from bouts of melancholy. Thus, I am handicapped by the limitations that such feeling impulses on me. This is in fact a rejuvenation of my foremost thoughts, embodied into the consciousness of my fingers that slide across the keys that allow themselves to pressed and my meaning construes itself into sentences of coherence which may or may not be read by those possessing literary skills, depending on their level of achievement within the finer confines of the English language.**

** Roughly translates to "This is my fucking blog, and I write shit when bored."

Alas, the pavilion that holds my desires and my thoughts are with me tonight! That calls for a topic of discussion, of persecution, of debate and of judgement, and such are topics that I may or may not touch on.

As I sit here eating lime peel, I have to wonder what addiction is. Lime peel may be mine. I can scarce go for more than a day or two without it, or some similar food which enables me to suckle upon its strong, sour taste. Long have I gone with it. It has been my father and my mother, it was my brother, it was your brother, and your mother, and father too.*** It was all that I wanted, and all that I need, and I could easily spend dozens of Ringgit in order to get a plentiful supply that may last me the week.

***I originally tried to put sister there too, but it just didn't ring that well.

In short, I am an addict. If I could, I would eat every meal with it. About the only thing that is stopping me is that I run out of it too fast to make it last through every meal. And I snack on them too. This makes it disappear faster than your contact on my MSN list. Just like how I need to regulate my MSN list, I also need to regulate my lime peel intake. Of course, one I regulate solely on the basis of "Is this person someone I can't stand at all?" while the other requires a more economic approach (read: scarcity).

In any case, I believed I am doomed to spend the rest of my life harboring intent of wanting to eat lime peel. About the only way I could think of stopping it is to, well, replace it with another addiction, but when you think about it, lime peel addiction is not that bad. What is the worst that could happen? ****

**** Probably choke to death on one, but let's ignore this.

Thank you for reading that tirade. If you simply scrolled all the way down here for no apparent reason, thank you for not closing the page immediately upon its loading. If you do not get far enough to read this, well, I've got nothing to say to you (and you have nothing to read, anyway).

Ciaoserricious~~~