From Dawn To Dusk

13:15: A stream of light and consciousness.


16:51: Retail therapy after therapy.


19:14: The writing on the wall says "dinner".


21:25: Feeding my Introbar addiction.


00:31: A home away from home.

Jesus Wants The Rose

From Dusk To Dawn

08:34: Waking up on the right side of the bed.


09:05: A sartorial 5BX.


09:09: Prompt replies: Part of a positive professional brand image.


10:12: In case of emergency, administer cognitive behavioural therapy.


11:09: Psyched about therapy.


14:14: Out of the rain.


19:30: 900 calories I am happy to have.


20:16: Back to the grind.


22:18: All I want to do.


04:03: What keeps me going.

Before & After

Knowledge

When the intellectual universe alters, in other words, I don't feel arrogant enough to exempt myself from self-criticism. And I am content to think that some contradictions will remain contradictory, some problems will never be resolved by the mammalian equipment of the human cerebral cortex, and some things are indefinitely unknowable . . .

. . . And yet - the believers still claim to know! Not just to know, but to know everything. Not just to know that god exists, and that he created and supervised the whole enterprise, but also to know what "he" demands of us - from our diet to our observances to our sexual morality. In other words, in a vast and complicated discussion where we know more and more about less and less, yet can still hope for some enlightenment as we proceed, one faction - itself composed of mutually warring factions - has the sheer arrogance to tell us that we already have all the essential information we need. Such stupidity, combined with such pride, should be enough on its own to exclude "belief" from the debate. The person who is certain, and who claims divine warrant for his certainty, belongs now to the infancy of our species.
Christopher Hitchens, God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything (2007)

To quote Socrates, "I know nothing except the fact of my ignorance." But with curiousity, humility and freedom from the biases of religion, I hope to grow in knowledge and anti-knowledge; and learn to live with (but not ignore), amongst others, the anthromophism of God. And perhaps, one day, I will love without judgement, question or reproach.

Midnight Merry

Wahjong

Strange how I would consider this blog fodder (and with more than a tinge of embarrassment, my first achievement in 2009) but hey, I take what I can get: A whooping victory with 11 台s on Viwawa!

Alpha & Omega

Aloysius Lilius may have won himself immortality in yesterday’s memoirs but the Gregorian calendar remains a treacherous contrivance propagating romanticised illusions of beginnings and endings; staking false claim on the linearity of time's eternity.

What is a day, a week, a month, a year?

***
2008.

The year of decadence without debauchery, convenience without compromise, wonder without deceit and life without lies. The year I relished beauty's raw simplicity, like the magnum opus of a dusk sky. The year I accidentally stumbled upon the grimy streets of a Bangkok heartland and found joyful emancipation from the trenches of the should-be, could-be and would-be. The year when even the brown vineyards of Barossa Valley, devoid of summer sunshine in the winter grey, could not steal the glow from my smile. The year you held my hand as we retraced your antiquity with Acland, Bourke and Collins. The year our souls gave, shared and melted into each other over and over again. The year I waited for the moment which would uncover my deepest, darkest suspicions but in its place, an unprecedented pat on the back, heartfelt gratification and unrivalled satisfaction. The year of butterflies in my stomach, cheeks scorched by tears and the ruthless drive to achieve and over-achieve. The year I wrestled demons of hopelessness and helplessness. The year I wallowed in the anguished and the macabre. The year I toyed with mortality with frightful abandon, spat in its callous face and knelt at its feet. The year I courted new worlds and was courted by new opportunities. The year I was wanted and never left wanting. The year I was ignorant and intelligent, curious and confused, living and learning. The year I grew wiser and wearier. The year I grew older but younger.

2008 is the year of many first-s, second-s and perhaps, last-s. But of the many chapters it reads in my story, it is simply one reality: It is the year my cup runneth over.

***
On the cusp of 2004, ahead was all I had. And now, just a mere minute away from 2009, I stand on the same ground I groveled on.

I will not beg 2009 to make me gasp, bring it on or hit me with its best shot. Instead, I ask for fear, for it is only in fear's paralysis that I will find something to lose and something worth fighting for. In demented hysteria, I will find peaceful understanding; in crushing discomfort, I will find quiet acceptance; in vulnerable cowardice, I will find the conviction of compelling optimism and in lingering defeatism, I will find my next step.

After all, life does not end with a panic disorder. Life begins with it.

So what is a day, a week, a month, a year?

Happy New Life, me.

Blessed Christmas!

Poll Of The Day

ABBA or Bee Gees?

ABBA is the Super Trouper! Bee Gees is still Stayin' Alive!

33 Fabulous People, 4 Languages & 1 Chinchilla

Thank you for the best birthday party on reel!

From Dawn To Dusk

12:42: When was the last time you slept in?


14:09: Speed, convenience and a health hazard.


15:11: A walk in the park.


15:19: Time to stop . . .


15:23: And smell . . .


16:04: The flowers.


16:05: From threatening grey clouds to sunshine, out of the blue.


16:06: Chatting about everything under the sun.


16:13: Frolic.


19:08: Now panic and freak out.


20:17: Ditty of the day.


20:22: A surprise in streaks.


20:27: Sarpino's, eat you heart out.


23:16: A sparkling celebration.


01:07: We beat the boys.


02:17: My wish for you: Have your cake and eat it.

From Dawn To Dusk

17:25: So kiss me and smile for me.


18:00: In the direction of self-reflection.


18:15: Escaping from the everyday.


18:38: Read between the tides.


19:34: Obviously the longer end of the stick.


20:04: A toast to solitude.

Thanksgiving Tirade

At a traffic crossing this evening, I drew a deep breath, arched my neck and was surprised by the most wondrous sight: A pale, azure blanket stained by beams of bright tangerine, erratically scarred by alabaster-white clouds.

Incredibly thrilled and deeply humbled, I was about to text God a thanks. Then, I stopped short and laughed in sheer amusement, as if a friend had just shared his most ridiculously embarrassing secret with me.

Do I share Tevye's intimacy with God, albeit in the 21st century, or am I, just simply, ontologically human?