And i welcome thee to a life of flowers and wine

I never bothered about it nor did i seek it or dwell in it, sometimes i think life can be tad little disorientating. a constant attack of the senses and impulses, influences and deciders, a fllurry of never ending colours - like a bad LSD trip.

the difference however is that you do wake up from LSD, you dont wake up from life.

Today is one of THE days, a day where it starts of scorcing, with the sun ever too generous with its cancer providing rays and a bad turn which inturned spoiled what i call a section of my life. while today is kinda small if compared to the enless pain that peope have in this world, i am not obvilious to people who are born with just a life of pain and suffering. the religious call it karma, some call it gods will, i call it luck and god just having his divine fun with the unfortunate.

but this post should have a topic, no? while most of my rants have been a rather channel to transmit my thoughts of the world - today i am going to talk about excessive spending.

excessive spending can be called a capitalist dogma, an ideal of economic aid by the people for the people. somehow this cant save the americans (the pioneers of this ideal), but really i think i do live in that world. this world is something where your staff in some loony bubble tea shop gets our her Gucci bag and starts parading it out. a STAFF, sure she works partime and is by nature a student but you get what i mean. This is a world where 1k means a bit, i got this off a friend who thought the difference between two cameras were just a bit.

yet do i belong to this world? i think not and yet like a bad trip, i am compelled, the promise of such mindless spending seems to be similar to the Leprecon at the end of a rainbow. there is no purpose to find it and its pot of gold, but really did the irish care? they sought it as much as they could.

such hendonist-capitalist ideals are hardly asian and i am only half in culture, but the thought behind such mindless waste of value and money supply is somewhat strange. it is simply, satisfying and yet hurtful to think of. something like you burning a nest of ants for the fun of it, the ants all squrming and twisting in pain while you laugh, and when it hits you feel bad about it. it wont really stop you, that requires a higher force with ma-gik powers.

this is the world where we spend the riches and watch the poor suffer.

this is the world who are obvilious to the suffering of the needy in sudan

this is the world where we spend a months pay of someone on a bag that we might throw away.

the poverty of the masses to feed the small amount of the rich,

thus my mates in crime, i bid you a good life and i see you in hell.

future

future is a lot of things, its what you will see, what you will be, what will happen and so on. the future is rather uncertain for me, my parents are flipping out at the last moment. owh son its expensive come home dont take post grads. work and build up some corporate bullshit that i think could be cooked up from years of business propaganda.

business propaganda, when you wake up and think why you arent working as well for the company or think that the company is the greatest thing since sliced bread you are hooked. The "kim jong il" machine of business has got joo and now you have to be a slave to the ever growing and greed loving corporate machine.

now why is this tone of anger or uncertainly sounds familiar? parents, they just love to come in and screw everything up at the last moment. then they start claiming that they know you the most and think they can make plans for you.

i doubt mine knows that i cant do shit in Bahasa Melayu.
i doubt mine knows that whatever hint of malaysian ideal was never in me.
i doubt mine knows that i hate being in a muslim faggy country with faggy people
i doubt mine knows that i hate malaysia.

there i said it, i hate malaysia. i hate it since young, all along its one of my goals of my lifetime get the fuck out of there far far away and not damn come back. and now the oppournity is knocking at my door my folks have to come in and say hey you know its expensive why not try your chances at home.

i feel like just shouting at them for their ignorance.

now why cant i survive in a country that i spent my 23 years in? simple, i cant speak, write or use the language. open a malay book ask me to read it and i can spew gibberish that can rival a rabid chimp! yes it is that bad and i doubt that they know this.

and theres more, i hate the malaysian lifestyle. the everyday conservertive papers make me want to cry and pull my eyes out, the everyday conservertive and retarded people make me want to be a facist. malaysia is like a country of red necks and hill bilies, instead of "yaw, nigger git off ma loot" it woulud be "u ppl get away ar from my thing"

retarded.