3/18/2005

Makings Of A Perverted Mind.

It is was on a saturday evening when i was getting back from KL, i was on a bus going from kajang towards Semenyih. As usual i sat upon the last bench on the bus as it would have the room to house these bamboo poles I call legs. I was actually sitting in-between a chinese kid who was busy sending SMSs to another person apparently not on the bus and three malay girls who were as usual too busy to care what other think of them,because they were like as any group of likeminded people did when they were together, they were busy entertaining each other. Amidst all this giggling and whisperings about pretend glances from men imagined and real towards them, and frantic keypad clicking. I noticed a solitary person in the in the bus, not busy with anything, and unlike me was hardly even awake at all.

From my bench behind her I saw that she had used her long straight hair as a kind of curtain. Whether it was to hide her face from the sun or to hide it from other people I wouldn't know. but in doing so she had unintentionally revealed her neck. the kid beside me had finished sending his SMSs and busy reading replies and now was in throes of heavy T9 assisted thumb typing and the three malay girls are going off the bus and was looking for other places to giggle in. In time the SMS kid also arrived at his wanted destination, maybe he going to meet his friends. There was now not much to look at so I did as any guy in my situation would do, concentrate on the girl.

The sun was succeeding in doing what it was doing in the dreamy light of near sunset, which was to make skin of girls look silky and details be emphasized with shadows going eastwards. her neck was creamy pale white. with fine fuzz from beyond the sight barrier that was her collar, those small hair were coming up her neck in an inverse 'V' pattern until it came to the pit behind the neck where it would start to grow longer in fine filaments of darker than black and abruptly up from that her hairline starts.

It is known in wet and warm countries like this to shave the fine hair behind the neck to allow for better contact of skin and air, but the girl apparently have never heard done that. what does this imply? the girl doesn't care about sweat? her hair was long on the back so it was useless to do so? I am thinking too much?

Then as usual, she did what people on busses do, she stood up and rang the bell. well so much for that. she got off that bus and walked home. i stayed on sweating amidst the indons and banglas and nepalese and vietnamese and malaysians and others that are smelling of the undried sweat the malaysian climate was excelling at producing. who am i amongst these people on this unair-conditioned bus , but the sweatiest of all, of stench and of lust. I am the paragon of this 'thing' here. when it came to my stop, the other passengers allowed me, their dominar, to get down first as proper respect demands.

Then I felt the urge of making lactic acid sting these legs of mine. so I walked home, while my mind and eyes were busy gawking and interpreting the abstract patter on the sunset sky. Seeing orgasmic symbols everywhere. HAHAHA!

3/17/2005

Past Paranoias And Dealing With Them

I've been reading Thomas Pynchon's books these couple of days. And now have better control of my paranoia, that unerving fear that people are hating me for thing that i know but they don't know but I seem so relaxed about it.
This pananoia i had since i was in primary school, having a lomographic memory, almost accurate if not for the embelishments made by my own imaginations. that weakness that smart people get; that you don't what other people are thinking. leading to people assuming that you think that they are stupid when all you are thinking about is "what are other people thinking?".
Then when in my secondary school i was getting surpassed by my classmates who were not burdened with my own neuroses. then when at the supposed finishing line of that period of education, i gave up and broke down my own confidence till it becomes not a wall but a ditch, so I may fall into it when cornered. Graduating from secondary school, last in my class of 40. I have this feeling that I'm to my classmates too dumb/inappropriate/unintellectual/stupid/lazy too be among their select 39 brains and that the second class wouldn't want me among themselves for i'd be too smart for them, this i realize due to reading Thomas Pynchon's books the same paranoia/neuroses and egostistical thing i would make up for what happened when all you wonder about is "what is on other people's mind concerning me?"
Then i college, I had been infected with the feeling that my own altruism is a handicap. That punk culture is dumb but yearning for anarchy of systems and idealogies, even as what I was studying then was Information Systems/Theory/Applications and being good with it. What's this? A discord between gifts and desire? HAHAHA!