The Malady of Johnny Malkavian
the throne of the soul
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I watched a bird drown in canal today. It was flapping like mad, and it almost looked like it was swimming. But then it got tired and went under. A few seconds later, it turned up belly up.
I can almost empathize with what it must’ve felt in those final moments.
Love is what remains when everything that is not love is taken away.
House: “If your life has meaning your job doesn’t have to have meaning.”
“As a young boy, I was impressed with his delivery on TV. JBJ added a lot of colour; he brought a different approach to issues inparliamentary debates. We won’t see this kind of Opposition figure any more — that era is gone. He was special.”
You think?
Having heard about some of the games people are playing on Facebook, especially with regard to some of the medieval themed ones, i can’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia.
Wasn’t it just yesterday I was staying up till 3am playing Legend of the Red Dragon?
When asked why spending 200 hours breaking in a pair of head/earphones doesn’t make sense.
“It’s like getting to know a 12 year old then waiting 6 years before you can touch her, when the streets are full of very hot, and very horny, 18 year olds.”
Elsewhere, in my day job, I am being put on the management track. For additional responsibilities and decision making powers, I get a slight increase in my salary if and when I get promoted. The increment would probably not pay for a simple evening at a nice restaurant with friends; the only reason I want to get promoted is because of the fact that I want to have a say about management decisions that make no sense, and streamline processes so the business can run the way it should.
The business is by no means small, and the company has plans for expansion. Chances for advancement are aplenty, and despite my relative unpopularity among my colleagues because of my hardline approach and lack of much care for PR, the big boss of the company seems to like me.
On the road to passive income and financial independence, I don’t want to be caught fighting where I have to mooch to get things done, for scraps that my peers are bringing home as spare change after a night out. This is not how I want to succeed, and not something that I want to succeed for.
I just wonder why it’s sometimes so hard to tell myself that my world is bigger than this, that I know better, that, I shouldn’t really care.
The sundrenched afternoon made the quiet, half-deserted neighbourhood near Hua Lampong take on the surreality of a painting. Life goes on timeless here, the old woman that makes a business of selling sweets and tidbits to the neighbourhood kids looking the same today as she did a decade ago, a decade from now. The sound of children playing amongst abandonded furniture, debris and disused construction materials filter from round the corners of houses that are little more than huts; their parents sitting at the porch watching them, chatting with their neighbours in foreign Thai interspersed frequently with a more familiar Teochew.
Soon, the siren will sound the call for the National Anthem to be played, and the smell of cooking will start to waft into descending night. Another day would’ve passed in this little village in Bangkok.
