RACONTEUR-ESQUE SCRIBBLINGS

 Keeping this here for posterity.  I had the link to the paper in FB, but the website has been taken down. The paper doesn't exist anymore. Had to take a snapshot on scribd until I check in all my gadgets for the downloaded copy of the paper.

source: freeprintablecoloringpagesdotnet Note: This is a story I wrote on 1st January 2011, inspired by the speed 2010 passed us by and also a comment on a friend's FB status update. Although it's been a year since then, the way 2011 sped by was no different, so I figured it's only fitting that I use it as the first post for the year. This story was first published in Selangor Times on 25 Feb 2011.  2011 sat nervously at the edge of her seat and fidgeted with her new sparkling white robe as the International Date Line shimmered in the silence of the arena. The only sound that was audible was the careful footsteps of 2010 as he made his way towards the end of his reign. He was noticed soon enough, though. As he took the bend, he was seen walking with a confident swagger, one arm raised high above carrying the Torch of Time, which most of the folk not involved directly with Time believed stay lit forever, and would only diminish at the sudden death of Time himself. ...

I write like Cory Doctorow I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software . Analyze your writing!

Note: This was an attempt to voice my feelings towards a particularly frustrating and tiresome part of something I had to do about a few weeks ago. Wrote it on a piece of rough paper while the sun was shining in brightly through the window as I stood near one of the machines in order to collect some data. Never got to finish it though... There was once a girl who was *preppy Her life was anything but crappy,      But some folks came down      An ugly blue they painted the town, And she ceased being happy. For two years they made her do stuff Sadly she could never pull a *bluff,      Though she tried her best      She could only detest, And occasionally wipe a tear on her cuff. Sometimes things were smooth Like the enamel of her tooth,      And then comes a strange request      That makes her go on a quest, For a flying phone booth. " Make your pr...

They got it right when they named it Script Frenzy. Nearing the halfway mark period wise, yet still quite far away from the target halfway mark (only 34 out of the 50 pages required by the 15th!), procrastination beckons in all sorts of ways. Worse still, I'm sleepy and nodding off on the keyboard! Frenzy indeed! Though not much of a towel thrower, all I feel like doing right now is to find a nice little comfortable corner to hide in until the end of the month.

Note: You might want to give this a miss if you're a guy. There is a time that comes around once a month, When a woman walks down a path, The pain endured is like no other, That the woman can only blame her father, For providing that wretched X chromosome, When Y would have been so much less troublesome, Because you see, when a cell dies, It goes down in a frenzy, all cries, It tears down endometrium walls, From all the grand halls, Violently, like an imp with claws, But it's not against the laws, What was once a womb, Suddenly feels like a tomb, While sometimes she just couldn't be bothered, At other times she's just annoyed, Because all the gore Can really get to be a bore, And again there's the pain, Which is simply quite plain, Oh, monthly woe You have stepped on my toe! Inspired by hormones, pain, and Tim Burton's Vincent.

She used to frighten the hell out of us with her somewhat forceful demeanor, loud voice and sharp eyes that caught even the slightest indication of mischief in the making. 18 years later, after a *strange dream of directing a play in which an old friend of mine was the actor, I wake up to the realisation that she was probably one of the best teachers I ever had in my entire life. Miss Eliza was both my class and English teacher in Year 5 (Primary school - I was 11) and she was the kind of teacher who saw potential in you and made you see it for yourself as well, to the point where you'd even start doing things you never knew you could do. I remember the time she forced me to write a play (and act!!) for my class for an inter-class competition which we won eventually and after a few tweaks (addition of a few annoying characters and a dance sequence to Ice Ice Baby, yeah zOMG!), was used as a performance to entertain the parents on our annual prize giving ceremony day, or the time ...

The radio played Baba O'reilly I started thinking "Oh my God, really?";      In the mp3 player I ignore it      Because it's too cool for keeping fit, Tantamount to munching on celery! Edit: For secretagentwoman... 1. I'm obsessed by certain things, Baba O'reilley walks in and out of my obsession list several times a year. It gets worse whenever I hear it on the radio 2. I've been also fretting that I had not written a limerick since 2004. Almost 6 years later, I do. 3. I never said I was totally sane ;) 

Ideas there were some, Words spill, but not in order, A haiku is born

It's beyond control Slipping right through my fingers Could all be lost now?

Old man dies on hope, Eyes gauged out, strangled silly, All rejoice inside. A kick in the ass, With a football boot, no less, The footprint stays on. Edited version A kick in the ass, With a football boot, no less, The *studmarks stay on. Red blood on the floor, Mystery killer around, Smothered Gollum at the door. Too much rage and not enough time. I will be back. * An alternative suggestion

Empty screen staring, I pause to yell come back here Muse has gone missing

Having a break in momentum on Monday was a bad idea to begin with, but laziness prevailed (due to a missing pair of shoes and protesting hamstrings) It's already Wednesday, and I still feel so incredibly lazy. It's like everything is in a standstill, or perhaps moving in slow motion like a particular scene from the movie "The Graduate" The air is heavy, hanging and I'm dreadfully sleepy, and all I want to do is to listen to one particular song loudly and sing along to it at the top of my lungs. which I can't because I don't know all the words. Bein' this lazy, Is drivin' me crazy There's nothin' fancy Who said it's a democracy? My mind's gone fuzzy The world looks hazy Fields are all grassy, Musical instruments, brassy. Tis a simple word, lazy But it kinda leaves you daze-y!

A strange sound echoes through the night, Through the morning, and right up to the evening It's a now common plight, That leaves her complaining For a fortnight it has hung out, Relentless in it's aim It's something to talk about, Or so that's the claim There's a pain in the gut, Due to shaken ribcages, She feels like she's stuck in a hut, Where there's a table full of pages! The cough, it comes and goes, It stays, enough to torture, Even if she stands on her toes, The cough, it's there to endure.

Stupid blogger's block You are nothing but a pain And a great big joke There's nothing like a haiku to save the day, and then there's only this... (although there is no connection, whatsoever)

People say the third time's a charm, but I'm fervently crossing my fingers and hoping that the second time can be a charm as well, because I don't know if I could attempt it the third time (not that I'm giving up so easily even before the attempt, but just because you never know what may happen) So, I've gone and signed up to torture myself for 1 whole month with the yearly writing frenzy that is best known as NaNoWriMo after not doing so last year because I knew beforehand that I was to be away for about a week in November, unlike the previous year where I went on with it despite having a major exam, but gave up somewhere in the final week of November when I realised that I had to pass the exam by hook or by crook. That sucked big time, and till today that old story still remains at 34,000+ words and unfinished. Enough with the old stuff... So far, I don't see anything impeding my progress in getting those 50,000 words this year besides myself, sudden bout...

An Introduction to THE FADED PURPLE ROBES The Faded Purple Robes is an attempt at fiction, and in my case a maiden voyage into the wild and cruel unknown. This of course does not include the crazy attempt at a novel during the nanowrimo of 2006 which I had to leave halfway. Anyway, before I put it up here as I had said I would in reply to two comments in an earlier post I would like to state the following: 1. The story is ridiculous. 2. It was a attempt at satire (but got lost somewhere in between) 3. It is also an attempt in comedy, because I dig comedy 4. Please note the emphasis on the word ATTEMPT 5. Honest feedback is most welcome. If it is lousy or you fell asleep reading it, please say so. 6. If you think you've seen it somewhere before, then it means you have seen it here as I put up the introduction on this blog a few months before THE FADED PURPLE ROBES This is a work of fiction. Any similarities with places, people or incidents, dead or alive, existent or no...

A few posts back, I mentioned about an attempt at satire that failed because I got bored even before I had reached the beginning of the story. It remains so till today, a loose document among other documents that scatter a folder that is so uncreatively named Documents. Nevertheless, I have decided to bring forth the unfinished story (actually it's merely an introduction that took a few weeks to move from my brains to a notebook and finally the screen) because I think it needs to see the light of day, and I personally would like to know what you think. THE FADED PURPLE ROBES This is a work of fiction. Any similarities with places, people or incidents, dead or alive, existent or not in the past, present or future is purely co-incidental. The old frail king sat back on his comfortable leather sofa, his head hung to the side. A crown, merely for decorative purposes was perched on his somewhat knobby right knee. His left leg was stretched out with his foot precariously close to a bo...

I believe I have something that I usually pass off as a wild imagination. It moves from one spot to another at the speed of 5 to the power of 3 lightyears, which is a gazillion times faster than my fingers can ever type. Two months ago, epiphany hit. A large number of interesting situations were happening all at the same time, and one story begged to be told. I was tempted to attempt satire ! (I guess it would be safer to say that I was going to attempt something that I thought could be categorised as satire) Being somewhat occupied at that time (well, more so than today, of course) I told it to wait while I got some things straight. Meanwhile, I put the idea in an old notebook which I usually use for things like these so that I wouldn't forget. (Note: It's amazing how many ideas there are that were actually written in the book - mostly cryptic because of the lack of time, and I am clueless on expanding them because I've forgotten the initial idea!) Fast forward two m...

Thick or thin, with shoes Chaffing occurs in stages I run away from all