vicious paths
I have to wake up at 6 in the morning and I hate it.
Yang is already late so he throws a bucket of water over my head while mom gets breakfast ready for us downstairs. We leave soon after, he’ll drive as I play co-pilot. I’m armed with my iPod and a fresh new playlist to get us into gear. We talk on the all way there; mostly about music, his homo-phobic dreams and our tragic love lives. I’ll give him my two cents and he’ll laugh reminding me that if for nothing else at least I’ve maintained my brotherly role by showing them everything not to do in life. I keep a grin on my face and continue working the iPod. I don't dream anymore, the sedatives have taken that away from me. He doesn’t know.
When we reach Empire Towers I get off, bid him an excellent day and start walking to my own little concrete crib. It’s a long 45 minute walk but it makes for good exercise. It’s also the best part of my day.
You’ll find me strolling with amphetamine charged music in my ears and wanderlust in my eyes. I love walking down the middle of Jalan Ampang at 7 in the morning. It’ll be inevitably turned from a road to a car park during that time and I’ll walk past a hundred different faces stuck in traffic. I see them reading the paper, putting on make-up, tinkering with their radios, screaming at kids, trying to pray, holding back tears, planning their entire day behind a steering wheel… the list goes on for about six kilometers and it is never the same.
I try not to stare and they try not to pay attention to me. It’s an understanding I have with this city. I can look as long as they don’t notice; I’ll survive as long as I keep dancing around these infamous motorcyclists.
Breaking the contract, the city doesn’t know that in my head I’m secretly watching REM’s Everybody Hurts. The world is monochrome and everyone hears the same music. People actually notice me although I’m still pretending not to be seen. They step out of their cars, one at a time, and begin slowly to congregate behind me. They’re marching together in a very melancholic-non-conformist-Tyler-Durden manner. No one talks; we just walk forward breathing air that doesn’t make us hurt. With the corner of my eye I can see them smiling. They’ve broken away from the city’s grasp and are marching towards whatever it is liberation means to them. Everyone is holding hands now and I don't have to dance anymore.
That's all for today, I have to go.
Goodbye, world. Take care of yourself.
-----------------------------------------------
Someone you should bump into:
His name is Quddus. You will find this secluded code-addict sitting in the deepest, most concealed corner of an IT firm in Kansas City. Do not let his mild mannered demeanor fool you. This man is the single most anal-retentive, judgmental and philosophically-pious person I've ever known. He serves as my harshest critic and my greatest nemesis.
Although, there have been moments that stands to contradict this. Like once, when he was barely ten years old, Quddus ran into a completely foreign shopping mall alone. He charged in there to look for his kid brother who wandered off by himself (which at the time, he was not yet popular for doing). His mother was frantic and did not know what to do so Quddus sat her down and told her to wait. He ran in there all by himself and although it took him awhile, the two were reunited and Quddus lead their escape back into the arms of their mother.
I should also mention that he is without a doubt my foremost reference of literature, culture and art. He has thought me so much and without him I would not know the meaning of courage, imagination, nobility or brilliance.
These days he lives far away but when I’m sad I still like wondering off. Regardless of how it looks to my peers, I’m not annoyed or running from anything. I just miss those kind hands that were always so good at leading me home.
This is Quddus. My big brother... also, my biggest fan.
Yang is already late so he throws a bucket of water over my head while mom gets breakfast ready for us downstairs. We leave soon after, he’ll drive as I play co-pilot. I’m armed with my iPod and a fresh new playlist to get us into gear. We talk on the all way there; mostly about music, his homo-phobic dreams and our tragic love lives. I’ll give him my two cents and he’ll laugh reminding me that if for nothing else at least I’ve maintained my brotherly role by showing them everything not to do in life. I keep a grin on my face and continue working the iPod. I don't dream anymore, the sedatives have taken that away from me. He doesn’t know.
When we reach Empire Towers I get off, bid him an excellent day and start walking to my own little concrete crib. It’s a long 45 minute walk but it makes for good exercise. It’s also the best part of my day.
You’ll find me strolling with amphetamine charged music in my ears and wanderlust in my eyes. I love walking down the middle of Jalan Ampang at 7 in the morning. It’ll be inevitably turned from a road to a car park during that time and I’ll walk past a hundred different faces stuck in traffic. I see them reading the paper, putting on make-up, tinkering with their radios, screaming at kids, trying to pray, holding back tears, planning their entire day behind a steering wheel… the list goes on for about six kilometers and it is never the same.
I try not to stare and they try not to pay attention to me. It’s an understanding I have with this city. I can look as long as they don’t notice; I’ll survive as long as I keep dancing around these infamous motorcyclists.
Breaking the contract, the city doesn’t know that in my head I’m secretly watching REM’s Everybody Hurts. The world is monochrome and everyone hears the same music. People actually notice me although I’m still pretending not to be seen. They step out of their cars, one at a time, and begin slowly to congregate behind me. They’re marching together in a very melancholic-non-conformist-Tyler-Durden manner. No one talks; we just walk forward breathing air that doesn’t make us hurt. With the corner of my eye I can see them smiling. They’ve broken away from the city’s grasp and are marching towards whatever it is liberation means to them. Everyone is holding hands now and I don't have to dance anymore.
That's all for today, I have to go.
Goodbye, world. Take care of yourself.
-----------------------------------------------
Someone you should bump into:
His name is Quddus. You will find this secluded code-addict sitting in the deepest, most concealed corner of an IT firm in Kansas City. Do not let his mild mannered demeanor fool you. This man is the single most anal-retentive, judgmental and philosophically-pious person I've ever known. He serves as my harshest critic and my greatest nemesis.
Although, there have been moments that stands to contradict this. Like once, when he was barely ten years old, Quddus ran into a completely foreign shopping mall alone. He charged in there to look for his kid brother who wandered off by himself (which at the time, he was not yet popular for doing). His mother was frantic and did not know what to do so Quddus sat her down and told her to wait. He ran in there all by himself and although it took him awhile, the two were reunited and Quddus lead their escape back into the arms of their mother.
I should also mention that he is without a doubt my foremost reference of literature, culture and art. He has thought me so much and without him I would not know the meaning of courage, imagination, nobility or brilliance.
These days he lives far away but when I’m sad I still like wondering off. Regardless of how it looks to my peers, I’m not annoyed or running from anything. I just miss those kind hands that were always so good at leading me home.
This is Quddus. My big brother... also, my biggest fan.
posted by Ngan Chong at 4:23 AM
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