for those who haven't gotten their grubby hands on my book yet, here's a lil something-something for you to look at:


the cover


the inside

it's here, people. it's finally here. it won't be as big as potter, fer sure, but it's gonna be pretty darn close.

i wish.

make your reservations now!

had my last french class today. i reckon it'll be a while before i get to move on to intermediate french. oh well.

some people i gotta meet up with soon. you know who yawl are. make some appointments, people. the doctor is in.

neglect syndrome

he stands before the mirror.
half of what we see is his whole.
he lives in half a world,
the left side of which, does not exist.
if not for his wife, he would have a beard
on only the left side of his face.
he knows only to shave what he can see.
she prepares breakfast for him,
with everything carefully pushed
to the right side of the plate.
he sits in his wheelchair,
rolled up to the dinner table,
which stands on two legs.
she reaches across the table,
and places his meal before him.
he stares at the empty plate,
and asks where the food is.
his wife realises her error,
and the plate is spun around.
his meal miraculously appears.
another mysterious incident to him
which he duly ignores to finish his meal.
he is held to this fate
by the half he knows nothing about.

prosopagnosia

it was on the tip of his tongue,
but he knew he was lying to himself.
shoulder-length locks of golden hair
that framed a long, elegant face;
a complexion most women would die for;
moist, tender lips, curled upward into a smile;
those bright, wild eyes;
beautiful features, this woman had,
but her name still eluded him.
he had seen these features so many times before
but they never once formed a face for him.
he shrugged and shook his head
at the woman before him.
he could not answer her question.
those bright, wild eyes suddenly filled with tears.
she asked, “what hope is there for this man in his life,
when he can’t even recognise his own wife?”


agoraphobia

the child screams.
a raw, primal shriek.
she knows no other language of fear.
her mother tugs her, drawing her towards
the door.
she doesn’t understand why her daughter
won’t let go.
she clings to the banister
for dear life.
good god. she’s trembling.
her mother lets go.
the small child crumples into a quiet, sobbing heap.
stricken stands the woman,
barely recognising her own child.
this is no ordinary fear that grips her daughter.
something is wrong.
she falls to her knees to comfort her child.
now she too, is afraid.

obsessive compulsive disorder

unusually high metabolic rates
in the basal ganglia at the
base of the cortex.
that’s what they said.
obsessive-compulsive.
but they can’t see it.
what do they know?
it’s filthy.
filthy.
filthy.
filthy.
he shuts the door behind him
and slides the bolt across.
click. click. click. click. click.
back and forth it goes.
just in case.
off comes the trench coat and hat.
straight to the sink.
how filthy his hands are today.
unacceptable.
he opens a cabinet and retrieves
a bar of soap.
the hot water flows and the scrubbing begins.
an hour passes.
raw and bleeding.
but his hands are clean at last.
it occurs to him that
this endless repetition
might be irrational.
he pauses for a moment,
staring into his open palms,
to reflect.

then rushes off to check if
he remembered to bolt the door.

tourette’s syndrome

not now.
his pace quickens.
his face glistens.
unbearable hear on a cool morning.
it’s slipping away now.
control.
like trying to stop a sneeze.
muscles in his cheek go first.
his face contorts.
the body shudders.
bolts of lightning streak down his spine,
sending nerves into a frenzy,
and muscles into spasms.
passers-by stop;
wide-eyed.
the devil slips into him
his mouth opens wide as if to devour them.
curses pour out;
black cinders from his mouth.
the people turn and flee.
he knows not what he does.
he cannot help himself.
it is his shame, his disease.
his symptom of misfortune.

been reading up on psychology and the mind. it's really complex (and prolix) stuff, but there's always something interesting to keep me going. here are some of the things i've come across:

tourette's syndrome: in more extreme cases, there is a sudden onset of muscular spasm and the urge to yell and curse at anyone or anything in the surrounding area for no particular reason

factitious disorder: person craves a 'sick role' and so, pretends to have a physical or psychological condition

schizophrenia: comes in several types of which two are catatonic and paranoid. the former involves a sudden refusal to speak as well as the assumption of a rigid posture for hours or days on end. the latter results in the person being preoccupied with delusions and haunted by auditory hallucinations. (note that schizophrenia is different from the dissociative disorder commonly known as 'multiple personalities')

delusional disorders: grandiose, whereby the person has an inflated sense of self-worth that lasts for at least a month. an erotomaniac believes that s/he is deeply desired or loved by someone (usually of higher status) when in fact the person concerned has no such feelings. (sounds like a guy thing to me. heh.)

other psychotic disorders: induced psychosis whereby a close friend or relative is 'infected' by a psychotic person's delusion.

dissociative disorder: apart from the multiple personality disorder that we're all familiar with, i came across another one that's called psychogenic fugue. essentially, it is a sudden, unplanned and unexpected travel away from home or work by a person, accompanied by amnesia and then the assumption of a new identity.

impulse control disorders: there are several of which one of the most comon is trichotillomania, which is the inability of a person to stop the impulse to pull out their own hair.
--

'diffusion of responsibility': bystanders witnessing a crime in progress tend to think that somebody else has already made a decision about what to do and that further help is either on the way, or unnecessary. in the murder of kitty genovese in new york years ago, 38 people could have intervened to stop the murder from taking place, but nobody lifted a finger.

speech: 70% of left-hander's speech control comes from the left hemisphere, while 15% have their ability controlled by the right hemisphere. the remaining 15% rely on both hemispheres working together to speak. interestingly, 99% of right-handers use only their left hemisphere for speech. stuttering is most common in left-handed males, and one theory suggest that this is because the two hemispheres compete for control. the majority of autistic children (who tend to suffer from speech difficulties) are left-handed.

prosopagnosia: (big up to my bro here. i'm sure he knows this one well.) it's the inability to recognise faces, usually resulting from damage to or problems with the occipital lobes of both hemispheres of the brain. that's the bit right at the back of your brain. possibly if you wish you never met someone, a quick chop to the back of the head (yours or preferably, theirs) might do the trick.

neglect syndrome: results from extensive damage to the right-rear of the brain. sufferers behave as though the left side of everything does not exist, including their own body. they do not realise that they have a left arm or leg, for instance, and so men shave only the right half of their faces and women apply makeup to the right half only. they only eat what is on the right side of their plate and they are blind on the left-side of their visual fields. this condition only occurs with damage to the right hemisphere and only affects the left side of the body. the reverse does not.

narcolepsy: the condition whereby one cannot help suddenly and uncontrollably falling asleep.

cataplexy: during a moment of strong emotion, the sufferer loses all muscular control and collapses in a heap, while remaining fully concious.

stockholm syndrome: during some hostage situations, the hostage, due to the realisation that death may arrive at any moment, may grow a child-like dependence on the hostage-taker. the hostage begins to sympathise with the hostage-taker and may even fall in love. the hostage may even support the hostage-taker's motives and insist that his demands are met. if you watched 'the world is not enough', james bond found out (the hard way) that elektra king was suffering from this condition.

--

well, that's all for now. a long and interesting read, i hope. stay tuned for more, folks.

"religion gives man hope of immortality and the ritual means of achieving it; it reveals the existence of god or providence and tells how communion can be established; it affirms the meaning of the world and the purpose of life; and, through its sacraments, it allows men to obtain a greater fullness of life. religion gives man the mastery of his fate, even as science gives him the control of natural forces."
- anglo-polish anthropologist, bronislaw malinowski

"more hideous crimes have been committed in the name of obedience than in the name of rebellion."
- cp snow

just watched Crime Scene Investigation (CSI) on the telly. it's the only show i watch in its entirety. am i missing out? maybe. i've probably lost my taste for television shows. it's been a long while since i watched anything religiously. CSI has me hooked. i can't put my finger on it, really. wonder what it is.

man who thinks he knows all, will always learn nothing.

--

the fact that there are disadvantaged people around deosn't necessarily mean that we are advantaged. we're just lucky, ignorant and ungrateful. ignorant of what they can't do and ungrateful for what we can.

or should that be, 'ignorant of what they can do for us and ungrateful for what we "can't" do for them.' ?

like summerstars on a sky of felt

i’d love to love you but you won’t even look at me,
smiling wildly, you love the way you are: lonely.
your heart is home to no one, and to all, a distraction too,
as you carry on oblivious to the man who adores you.
never mind that i’d give all to hold you in my arms,
never mind that you know not how your beauty charms,
never mind all that, they are nothing compared to this,
the thought of holding a love, something i’ve long wished,
winter has tamed me and i search for it all no more,
the sun has set on a day i wish i never lived for,
i feel the same; nothing’s changed inside of me,
but it all seems so different now that i’ve forgotten how to breathe,
forgetting how to think too, for all i ever thought of was you,
it’s nights like these that remind me of your eyes too.
of that dress you wore, and that dance we never had as well,
they were all beautiful, like summerstars on a sky of felt.
you closed your eyes and wished me away; far, far away,
you left me on my own to regret my bitter last mistake.
somewhere in time i’d forgive you for leaving me lonely,
but i’d love to love you and you won’t even look at me.

mercurial

she bleeds from her eyes tonight
staining the sky a crimson red delight
there’s no blood coursing through her veins
it’s raw emotion behind those tear stains
her sighs cloud her vision, so she can’t see
that some things aren’t ever meant to be
i take her hand and squeeze it gently
to let her know she’s still a friend to me
and her lips curl upward into a smile
beautiful enough to make my time worthwhile
precious even, if my heart wanted more
but it beats not as it did once before
i’ve grown to accept that, and she must too
that love is mercurial, whatever we may do
we must not linger, lest we fade away
into the dark, endless void that is yesterday
regret over that day and fear of tomorrow
are the twin thieves that rob us of the moment, so
regret not our loss, forget not our memories
cry not tonight, darling, i beg you, please.

someday we’ll meet as strangers once again
and i’ll fall in love with the girl behind that name
i’ll whisper bittersweet nothings to you
i’ll adore you and all that you say and do
someday, i’ll have you out for another dance
another chance for me to live by circumstance
under that night sky, you won’t be crying again
but sadly, i fear, that some things never change.

it was a good idea until s/he decided to tell everyone else about it.

i've found the best ever album to put in your car's cd player . the best bit is that you can't buy this cd in any store.

unearthed - es posthumus

it's an indie group that makes 'classical techno' (not that it sounds techno in any way) music. their music has been used in plenty of trailers that you've seen recently, notably the ones for spiderman, the planet of the apes and matrix reloaded. click here to buy their album online.

from boredom, a conversation erupts in my head. two fictional characters i'd love to never meet. as messed-up as i could make them.

when?
yesterday.
you're shittin me. yesterday?
yesterday.
what was he thinking?
i don't know. something tells me that i don't wanna know.
yeah. for someone who's a brick or two shy of a full wall, he sure has a way with women.
what in the name of all things holy are we doing with our lives?
i haven't the slightest. but love's not all there is to it, is there?
it's a pretty damn good part of it, methinks. don't tell me you're gonna screw your paycheck and get any sort of satisfaction out of that.
well, i'm not. but what about all that responsibility and shit?
aw come on.. that stuff always sorts itself out in the end.
tell good ol' 'arry that.
yeah, well.. 'arry's an idiot.
and so are you for what all you've just said. listen.. ya gotta learn the difference between falling in love and finding a pair of titties to sleep with. i know the difference because for the last two years i was sleeping with a pair of pliers. and they were firmly grasping my balls. and squeezing the fuck outta em every single day. hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, i assure you.
jeez.. you poor sod. that was shitty, wasn't it?
do one-legged ducks swim in a circle? - of course it was!
haha.. you're a right berk, simon, with that sarcastic lil mouth of yours.
it comes lemon squeezy (easy) when i'm around you. a'ight.. gotta head gatesways (home) now. Pool's on the wobbly jelly (telly) tonight. catching it at the bazaar (bar) later. join us?
i hope the gaffer's left that rubbish heskey out of it tonight. a'ight. see ya there.
right. i'm off.

ah, at last i hold a copy of my book. no, it isn't the real thing and the rest of you will still have to wait another 3 weeks at least. but this is almost as good as it gets. it looks like the real thing. a high-quality mock-up of the real deal. i'd show it to all of yawl. but oh..

i have to go and see a man about a dog. later, people.

the long dark night of the soul.
i search for belief and stumble on desire.
there is no calm in me now.
impatient and anxious.
how dare i ask for answers?
saints have walked this way before
with their heads bowed in awe and their
tears shed in joy.
i bow my head in shame and my tears
have no reason.
i thought i had to answer only to myself.
how wrong i am.

(la noche oscura larga del alma.
busco para creencia y tropiezo en deseo.
ahora no hay calma en mí.
impaciente y ansioso.
¿cómo atrévase me piden respuestas?
los santos han caminado esta manera antes con sus cabezas arqueadas en temor y su vertiente de los rasgones en alegría.
arqueé mi cabeza en vergüenza y mis rasgones no tienen ninguna razón.
me pensé tuve que contestar solamente me.
cómo es incorrecto soy.)

how important is it to you to be surrounded by people who ask you the right questions all of/most of the time?

from hemingway's the old man and the sea:

i wonder why he jumped, the old man thought. he jumped almost as though to show me how big he was. i know now, anyway, he thought. i wish i could show him what sort of man i am. but then he would see the cramped hand. let him think i am more man than i am and i will be so.

from the iraqi information minister, mohammed saeed al-sahaf, the best reality tv host the world has ever seen:

"There are no American infidels in Baghdad. Never!"

"My feelings - as usual - we will slaughter them all"

"Our initial assessment is that they will all die"

"We are not afraid of the Americans. Allah has condemned them. They are stupid. They are stupid" (dramatic pause) "and they are condemned."

"The Americans, they always depend on a method what I call ... stupid, silly. All I ask is check yourself. Do not in fact repeat their lies."

"I can say, and I am responsible for what I am saying, that they have
started to commit suicide under the walls of Baghdad. We
will encourage them to commit more suicides quickly."

"I triple guarantee you, there are no American soldiers in Baghdad."

Britain "is not worth an old shoe"

Of US troops: "They are most welcome. We will butcher them."

"I speak better English than this villain Bush"

"they are nowhere near the airport ..they are lost in the desert...they can not read a compass...they are retarded."

"Blair...is accusing us of executing British soldiers. We want to tell him that we have not executed anybody. They are either killed in battle, most of them get killed because they are cowards anyway, the rest they just get captured."

"We have shot down 2 Apache helicopters. Have the Americans said yet that they were shot down by their - what do they call it - friendly fire? No? Well... [dramatic pause, then smiles] ...not yet!"

idle thoughts:
people who use pick-up lines to fall in love are missing the irony.

contentment is a friend and foe in life. (like a wife who thinks she knows better than you.) it gives us peace in times of need and makes us lethargic in ambition, in times of want.

today: a whole lot of random¹ notes and poems, written as they come to me².

¹ yes, they are random. and no, the suicidal sounding ones (as usual) do not reflect my opinions, thoughts or feelings right now. i'm not suicidal nor do i have tendencies to be. i just write out of context. a lot.

² they come to me pretty quick.

just imagine. how wonderful it would be if the path i choose in life takes you to me.

a poem to those who know what it is to have lost someone dear. sometimes one wishes that they could rouse the dying from their apathy or indifference towards death. these are the words i would whisper in hope of achieving just that.

the fume of your sighs forms a cloud,
that blankets your past, covers your present,
and places your future under an uncertain shroud.
now you lie as still as a moment; your energy spent.
the youth and hope in your eyes slowly slip out.
you've fought hard; you've won some and lost some.
looking back, it was never in any doubt,
you couldn't and can't stop what came and will come.
but there's still fire burning in those eyes.
i can see it clearly, the will you have to live.
the desire, the want, waving away the goodbyes.
this is the one chance that death is willing to give.
i know you can't see me or even hear my voice,
you're slipping away, but now is the time to fight.
you are going to have to make a choice,
time is short and the end is within sight.
in death, old friend, there is no defeat,
but in life.. ah, life.. there is victory.
there is still time. the taste of life is still sweet.
now open your eyes, friend, and please... look at me.

the surging waters rise like a mountain,
and fall upon me as i flee in vain.
the storm thickens and the sky swells,
and it bursts out suddenly, unleashing hell.
rain crashes down, beating on my mind,
leaving me stranded, without shelter to find.
there is no escaping this raging tempest.
i can only curse the demon who sent this.
winds that can tear any ship asunder,
threaten to swallow me and pull me under,
to what now shall i cling on to?
there's nothing left in plain view.
it's only faith i have to wield tonight,
as i reach across and wipe the tears from her eye.

the blade slices deep and the blood gushes out,
screaming for the surface and getting too loud.
flesh dangles limply from the whole it once was;
my vision blurs as i strain to refocus.
i'm left wishing i hadn't cut myself,
and that i was alive and somewhere else.
the beat ceases and my body goes cold,
this is the fate that your eyes foretold.
cheated by your cunning guise of salvation,
i'm a car crash, second place with no consolation.
i've lost all i've lived for, life is now a loss to me,
it's left me lifeless, a shadow of what i used to be,
one day, someday, i'll see you on the other side,
but for now i'll bleed silently and go gently into the night.

and what of gentlemen, and their chivalry as well?
little games we play to save ourselves from hell.
sometimes i wish i understood this world's working,
instead of salting wounds of mine that never cease hurting.

something you didn't say caught my attention,
it left me waiting out here in the winter night,
hoping that you'd come back down that flight,
and finish off the sentence you started.

if it were for so much as a moment,
that i could once touch your hand,
and hold it to my soul for warmth,
would you understand?
if i could retrace my demise,
by searching deep into your eyes,
would you believe i'm not using you?
would you believe my lies?

some people are mentally strong. some people are physically strong. some people are spiritually strong. and this man is un-frigging-believeably strong.