ALIEN LANDSCAPE
Author : NHJ
MSN: crescent_cage@hotmail.com
email : spherickey@gmail.com
Other Blogsites
MRH
Yeoks
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Iskandar
PostSecret
echoncyllan
Before Gargoyle
One Million Footnotes
Read My Poetry.
Playing:
Between the Bars (Elliott Smith Cover) by Metric
Monday, August 28, 2006
worm in my skin
i had the most disturbing, adventurous, saddeningly realistic, amazing dream.
there was one scene where in the dream, i said, i know this is a dream. i don't want to wake up. then i felt myself waking up like it was a command to exit but forced myself to stay asleep. the dream continued but it felt sadder. it was real.
there is a girl i was travelling with in the dream. i am so close to remembering her face but each time i almost see her, she disappears. i know her or i'm going to meet her soon.
the world was asleep. it was iced over by the sleeping hearts of men. i was in a train. i was with her and a group of other travellers who are like me, puppets.
i had a worm in my body. i saw it bulging through my skin.
my grandmother stood under a sickle moon. she looked at me as if to say, thank you, you can leave me here now.
we bought tickets with chocolate coins but had no home to return to.
we soared above beaches with wooden huts. there were handsome blond boys. they looked good in their swim shorts.
a man in a trench coat blasted everyone into drones. he took New York like a slice of cake and placed it in a cemetry.
i went to a doctor because my hand was bleeding from trying to dig out the worm.
we walked through a dead town and took pictures of the ghosts of children as they laughed and played in coffee shops. nobody roamed the streets but us.
the man in the trenchcoat saw us and expelled us from the city. we had no home. just tickets bought with chocolate coins.
it was cold. it was so cold. snow and ice.
i was scared. there was a worm in my body and i saw it bulging through my skin. it moved around. my nails bled. it wanted me.
we were by a big iron gate. beyond is more desolation. more ice and cold. but it was more land to explore so it gave us something to do.
the man in the trenchcoat was going to kill us all.
the train. it was going to slow. it was merely gliding on ice. all water on earth has turned to ice.
we walked. no, there was only me. i walked. ice. ice all over. the buildings were coming down.
a comic shop selling first issues of every comic there ever was. burn. burn. ice.
the camera was abandoned in a puddle of dirty water which reflected a sickle moon. where was my grandmother?
tickets. the train was not moving. we walked. no, there was only me.
burn. burn. ice.
debris. i cannot see because of all the debris.
there she was again. she blamed me. she hated me. it must be because of this worm.
i have a worm in my body. i feel it as i lie sleeping in my bed. i claw at it with my eyes closed. i am so scared of waking up.
i woke up. i woke up shaking. the worm.
thank God it was just a dream. there is no worm. and it is summer all year round here in Singapore.
i'm safe. i'm awake.
Posted by NHJ 8/28/2006 08:00:00 pm
Saturday, August 26, 2006
crimson on white
an old indian lady collapsed on the fringes of a giant, humid bazaar tent. the few people gathered around her had damp and orange faces like tired lamps.
their shocked eyes quietly molested the fallen woman. several people fanned her with unrolled bundles of newspaper. there were excited murmurs and wide eyes. there she was, sprawled on the dirty wooden floor, stained with discarded food of greedy children.
her sari was bright green and gold. her face was a beautiful dark dusky brown and her hair was like cobweb. she was the only thing of a colour other than orange in that bazaar tent. a tissue paper laid quiet near her right hand. vividly white and crimson. blood was pulsing out of her nose.
nobody seemed to have called an ambulance. it just seemed like there was no need to somehow.
it was because this old bird who caved in an oven-hot bazaar tent was smiling radiantly. her white teeth complimented the deep brown of her skin and the bright green of her sari. she laid there smiling at the people around her as they puzzled over what to do next. she seemed anything but hurt.
i smiled at how this old woman managed to gather around her a crowd of selfish shoppers, turned from their routine path. there she was, the eye of the storm, serene and careless. the trigger of dormant kind hearts.
beautiful, i thought and walked away. that smile. she's probably dying and she couldn't care less. well. the world can take care of itself. i am no hero. she will be fine.
she is in good hands.
Posted by NHJ 8/26/2006 06:37:00 pm
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Higher Than Thou
to-day was Higher Than Thou day. every step was a momentous lifting and planting.
daintily, she walked among the tiny people avoiding them as one would with broken glass. HO HO HO she guffawed, forgetting for a moment to be a lady. arrogantly, she peered at the bobbing black heads below her and gasped rudely at the occasional shiny plates of hairless domes.
squish. something felt funny.
annoyed, she lifted a foot to see which unfortunate boy or girl was tragically crushed under her Bigger Than Thou's shoes. oh dear. what a red red mess. who left a pile of tomatoes in the middle of a crowded street? she shook her head at the impossibility of these feeble minded tiny people. tiresome little things.
people continued to stare as she made her way in long awkward strides. she merely hmphed elegantly and proceeded in her goose-like walk. several tiny people smiled behind their hands or whispered to their partners. the Higher Than Thou lady tossed her head.
from afar she saw him waving. reluctantly she waved back. he ran to her, his face glistening with excitement. my lady! he panted with a broad smile. to her amazement, his comical face was at eye level. she repressed her astonishment and indignation over this gentleman who dared to be as High as she, for how could it be that anyone would be as High as she? it is virtually impossible.
sir, she responded with a slight inclination of her head.
they walked off together careful not to trample on tiresome little people.
those are lovely red shoes, the High gentleman complimented graciously.
humbled by the High attention, the Higher Than Thou lady shrunk visibly and said, thank you.
Posted by NHJ 8/16/2006 11:58:00 pm
Monday, August 14, 2006
the delights of soliloquies
i thought it was a good idea to put form in thoughts and create an inner monologue that plays as i think. it's actually harder than i thought! thoughts keep coming in mentally inaudible thought waves. it's like a deaf person listening to music on the radio; one can feel the beats but can't understand what is going on.
besides, even upon the success of having thoughts run smoothly in a karaoke voice along with karaoke lyrics flashing in my head, there is that tendency of the face reacting to it. just now i was walking down a bus interchange musing cheerfully about zombie movies while chuckling and grimacing at deliciously gory mental images accompanied by an eager narration.
i've always wondered why people stared.
so yes. one of the small random things i would like to do before i die is have an inner monologue playing in my head. along with being ambidextrous and vegetarian.
'before i die' is such an excellent motivation. everytime i have to do something important, all i have to say to myself is: come on man, you gotta do this before you die!
while pain, among other things is one of the best teachers life has to offer, death is your best cheerleader.
dismal.
Posted by NHJ 8/14/2006 05:18:00 pm