An encounter with the unseen

Heard some bad news at work.

I've never been so emotionally defeated before. If it was last time, I could have just "fuck it" and "bring it on" at anything that comes. I'm losing that attitude of mine. Losing out of being young. Now, it's closer to something along the line of "fuck" and "bring it slow".

All I need now is the fire of being old.

Since Primary Two suggested to have a drink. So I met him and Fun Size at the mamak after work. The couple of hours spent was quite freshening. I'm a little relieved. At least I could bring myself to smile.

When we're about to leave, Zoky called.

She just got my text; bad line at her place again.
We continued to talk what we left out earlier in the day for a good ten, fifteen minutes. But the line wasn't any better. We got cut off. She did makes me feel better, unknowingly to her. Spontaneous. Encouraging. Positive. Humours included. Sigh, hearing her voice was so... never mind.

I started the car. And floored home.

called again. She complained about her line. And we picked up some small talk.

"Eh, I'm driving. Call you when I get back?" Hoping, hard.

"I'm sleeping soon."

"I'm driving woh..."

"I'm sleepy woh..."

It's almost midnight. We briefly ended the call. Though I'm a little reluctant to.

On the way back, I saw Since Primary Two. Twice.

First, was quite a distance; how can a Slow White Poke caught up with a MIVEC Turbo? He chose to profit the toll guys, I skipped it.

Second, I managed to caught up near the traffic lights; he's turning right, I'm going straight. Gave him a honk, but he couldn't hear it; the exhaust close to thunder on ground. His radio is there just for deco.

Back at home, I went online to check some stuffs before hitting the bed. Fun Size was still awake; waiting for Since Primary Two to finish his bathe.

"What!? How could that be!? I just saw him! Twice!" Hair all over my body started to erect.

"How can he still be in the shower?!" Tried calling. But no answer.

"Is his car still outside?" But who was in the car earlier?

Being bros for too long, how can I not recognize his car. Just a glance is all it takes. Even know he's near by just hearing it.

Did I just bumped into... Fuck! Jong kuai ah!?

Oh! He's bathing at his own house...

Just when you're too stressed about things, your mind starting to play with you.


My first time

Some stuffs dated back to college time. Wow, they are still here? Yeah, decided to give my hard disk a thorough cleaning. And I stumbled upon some old photos of her. So I thought, why not I write something about that, and that?

The smell of her. How I've touched her.

Brought her out of the room.

Guiding her. To the way I wanted.

Guiding her. To an empty space.

Shifted in. Slowly onto her.

Shifted higher. Pushed slightly harder.

Shifted higher. Pushed harder.

Shifted higher. Pushed as hard.

Shifted higher. Floored her.

I could feel the sensation. The adrenaline. Was beyond imagination.

I floored her. Floored her all the way.

Guiding and pushing her. To the max.

She maxed. Something was not right.

She can't take it. She can't take it anymore.

I shifted lower. And lower. And lower. And lower.

Pulling the side. With my hand.

I stopped her. She overheated.

Exhausted. I am exhausted.

I can never forget. My first time.

Driving a turbo-charged car.

This is exactly what I replied a girl asking about our first time in a public forum. Well, she didn't specifically ask which first time. So, not my fault. Anything goes. You should see what others had replied.

Cars, an expensive hobby to play with. Seriously. Even scale models are not cheap.

Evos, Scoobies, GTRs, are all out of the question. Don't even mention Eleanors and 8-cyclinders. Even 86s are so overrated and pricey because of the anime made popular by Shigeno
-san, and of course, the movie.

Having to like cars, and wasn't born printing notes, the next best thing to do is to have a heart transplant. A better, more powerful heart.

The conversion costs. But when you floor it on the open road, the hell with the money lah!
The feeling of your body glued to the seat when the boost starts kicking in is indescribable. The Gs are so orgasmic. And I haven't mention anything about the needle going beyond the highest marking.

In that ten, eleven months or so of driving her, she does bring me pride.

One day, she decided not to have a good term with a lamp post, brought it down, and lie herself on the divider after dragging it.

This is the post crash snapshot taken the next day.

Looks fine, right?

That night, I was having some *ahem* with Her. Once a Turbo rang and said Bro (was driving it) met an accident. Talks is in the car with him. I was stunned by the call. I
t was not bloody, but it is still not a good thing to hear at that hour. My legs was shaking from both the call, and the *ahem*. Tried to catch some breath from the "heavy breathing" earlier, changed, and rushed to the spot.

Bro's fine. Talks' fine. Lucky for them. Just minor whiplash, and chest pain from the seat belt locking during the impact. But she's not! From the moment I saw her, I know she's a gone case. Barely a year of driving her, I had to let go. Like what people had said, sayang loh,
her heart is still in good condition. Sigh. I sayang Bro even more.

Claimed total lost for it. No point fixing her. The chassis won't be able take the torque anymore.

This is the back.

Would you want to fix it? Honestly?

As oppose to what the general public had said, speed does not kill, stupidity does.

Oh, it crashed right after midnight, on the first day of the Hungry Ghost Festival. Apparently, "someone" opened the rear door, and got down when the crashing had stopped.



Labeled as fail

I've lost unimaginable amount of pens. Not Mont Blanc. Not Parker. Just ordinary Artline 0.4s. Nothing fancy, really. But having to work in advertising, ideas pop when you are least expected; need pens within my reach - so a scamp is still call a scamp, a tagline is still call a tagline.

If I'm not at my desk, I'll rush back. First things first.

Buy my own? No way! That's spending unnecessary money and time. Tried that. Somehow, they still got lost along the way. Okay. Fine. I'll label what I have.

Tried scraping the "Artline" off. Pointless.

Switched cap other than the pen's colour. Nope, doesn't help either.

Stocked up with office's supplies (shh~) in my drawer. No. Losts overdid the

Failed big time.

Why victimized only my pens? Is my desk so strategically placed, and convenient? Good feng shui ah? Who's the John/Jane Doe here?

For fun. Yeah, I know. It's lame.

Back at home, we initials on the underwear labels
; to distinguish which fabrics had wrapped which dicks. You know guy's underwear lah, all look fairly the same. Nothing sexy or lacy like woman's. I even cut hole on the labels, or removing it totally for a more obvious difference.

But mother still got them mixed up.
My underwear might end up in brother's drawer, his in father's, father's in mine.

When you grabbed an underwear which don't belong to you, it screwed up the "smooth" routine self when you are already running late.
Yeah, the bothering irony. And where's my socks now ah? Should I make hole on them too?

Next, I'll just glue the pen on the desk, and don't wear underwear at all.


In need to touch myself

More often.

It used to be hard. As far as I can remember. Day in, day out. Everyday. Till I'm back at home. So hard, I'm not sitting comfortably anywhere. Office chairs. Food court stools. Car seats. In the conference room. Restaurants. Even nice looking designers' sofas. You name it.

I didn't notice it this morning when I got out from the house. Just when I'm about to tag the office door... Damn! Where's my wallet!? Not again! No wonder the car seat is so comfy lah!

And this is not the first time I left it.

There are things that I don't leave home without. Even to the street behind. Even I'm just wearing my boxer, and faded t-shirt (home-look mah!).

Watch. Functional, and fully shaken or winded, if it's automatic.

Handphone. (Fully) charged, or at least, not on red.

Cigarettes (with any ignitable flame/fire/sparks). Couple of sticks, at least. Even if I don't smoke on that journey.

Keys. House, and car.

And the wallet. Of course, with some cash in (and other barang lah).

All of these are flocked together on my drawer. All are within my sight. They are more like grab-and-go stuffs. Grab them, and leave the house. Bought an electronic safe recently. Don't ask why. And had been using it to keep my other documents and the wallet.

Not use to keying codes. Not when leaving the house. Not when I'm half awake. Not a habit.

I'll be shyly asking from colleagues again, if I didn't leave some cash in the car. Not my thing too. Not even to my closest. I refrain from borrowing money from anyone. Unless it's an emergency. Remember the out-of-service day? I wired to Since Primary Two straight away when I got his account.

Oh well, should check the pockets more often.

Don't mean to let you down; this is not a self-help masturbation technique or story. If I would to write something I fantasized, the title wouldn't be so obvious obscene porn-y.



Video killed the radio star?

Find me a TV when I'm stuck in the traffic.

Every new medium claimed to replace the older ones. Did any? Ever before? Not to my knowledge, not in my our time. Oh, the Internet replaces the conventional mediums? What channel was the football was on yesterday? Heard of prank calls? Do people not flip the newspapers and magazines anymore? Or at least, car brochures?

It's an idea that dictates a medium. And whatever works. A new medium, fortunately to us, is just another channel. The more medium that is created, the more channels we advertisers can choose to bombard you with our message. I'm sorry, but this is what we are paid to do.

Listen to this.

This is not a video.

This "will" was aired in Portugal. The English translation is for the purpose of international award shows. For my own personal liking, this is a very good written script. Strong words. Emotional, and straight from the heart. Good use of voice talent.

Good job to the creative team at McCann Erickson Portugal.

Radio, is one of the hardest medium to master. There's no visual. There's no copy. Just your listeners' imagination. I've written some. It's not easy. And there's a huge difference reading a script in your mind, and acting it out loud.