Tuesday, March 5, 2019

Sonic Youth's Anagrama

The album Anagrama created by Sonic Youth released in 1997.
21 years ago.
1 year before I was born.
Listening to it on a February day in 2019. The year I don't belong.
Wishing I was 20 at the time of this release....not an adolescent in this shitty era of pop indie edm whatever people want to call their unoriginal soundcloud garbage.
Instead of listening to it for the first time on Youtube, I can place it's vinyl record on a player and play it at the suggested 45 and then after that put the pin back to the edge of the record adjusting the speed to 33 to feel it a bit slower. Feel every crazy vibration.
This album is quite eccentric.
Words cannot describe what your ears endure during the EP's 23 minutes of 4 tracks.
The first track really hits the spot from the very beginning. So relaxing and tingly.
9 1/2 minutes of pure passion.
The first half of this EP is absolute sex due to this song "Anagrama" as you can see is also the title of the full album.
The second half is definitely more intense to the ears. A little rough and kinky.
Foreplay is officially over once you get to the 2nd track.
Sonic Youth is coming at you raw on these next 3 tracks.
You are basically in another universe at this point.
There's no turning back. The familiar drums then come back from the 1st track but you are still confused as hell.
You then find some composure after being face fucked by aliens. Hoping this is some time machine realm that will let you press rewind to the 90's. 
Then to realize that it's coming back at you even weirder and stronger hitting you with harsh reality of post-punk for the 3rd and 4th track.
The vibes are first sexy but actually it turns out it's more creepy than sexy. You even hear your phone ringing at some point but it's just an alien phonebooth no worries. 
It's just a whole lot going on but you learn to like it a lot. And replay it while you read the morning news. And then replay it again while you clean your house. While you drive the kids to school. You fucking fall asleep to the crackhead seizure of track 4 "Mieux: De Corrosion."

Alright good luck with it.

Wednesday, February 20, 2019


This wasn't the first time I've though about it. It's not the first time I attempted it. But it's the first time I was given a physical sign to not follow through. Humanity still exists. Even if it seems like there is not a kind soul in this world...you might be encountered with one when you least expect it or when you need it the most.

I was so close to my suicide last week. Taking the ferry to Butterworth with no change in my pocket to take the ferry back if I had changed my mind. I wanted to jump so bad out of that ferry, be completely detached from this fucked up world. Take my life out of my body, ending who knows where, the pits of hell, on the side of the shore, a rescue boast...I really don't know. But there were too many people on that ferry, old people, young people, families, babies, cars, motorbikes. I didn't want to cause a commotion in their day just because I wanted to die. That would just be completely selfish and inconsiderate. I just couldn't do it that way. So I stepped out of that ferry in utter disappointment of still breathing. What now? So I decided jumping off the Penang bridge was my next best option. No scene. No witnesses. Fast and easy.

So I walked. Steps and tears and confusion which way to go. I think I walked for over one hour...and unfortunately the first bridge had houses below it which would ruin a night of at least a few people....really though...2 bridges!? But wow right before I arrived to the 2nd bridge above the ocean, that would soon be home to my dead body, some guy on his motorbike told me he will take me across because it's too dangerous to walk on that bridge. I told him I was okay but he kept insisting until I shyly and with a bit of relief hopped on. One stranger's simple act of kindness saved me...LITERALLY. Thank you kind sir.

So here I am one week later with only shame and determination to change myself. Now with no Whatsapp no local number no contact with my parents since the morning I almost jumped. My friends and I both cut each other off months ago. I only have Allah and my fiance keeping me strong...no one else in my life. I'm trying my best to keep myself busy, not to sit with my negative thoughts too long but just keep moving. I've just been so tired lately and my body is sore everywhere even though I do nothing physically straining. Just drained mentally.

I want to get better though.

I choose to get better.

For myself. Not my parents. I truly understand that me committing suicide only terminates my life. Everyone else's life is still intact. Life goes on. The world doesn't disappear. Just mine.

Why give up when I can give myself time to change?

To those who want to jump or are so close to ending your life...I hope you are given a sign or a person even if it's a stranger to save you on that night. I hope you get some strength before the action. I know this post might not be powerful enough to be your sign, but I can still hope right? It isn't easy to save ourselves when their seems to be no way of getting better.  But give yourself just a bit more time, I know you are really trying and the patience is starting to wither. You just have to choose. Life or death. There is no turning back for both. But there is always going to be a movement forward for the first option.

Monday, February 4, 2019

Year of Pigs

Pigs wildly run around
skin of pink
yellow stained streets
queue for food outside temple
prayers recited
families park their fancy car on the side of Buddha
smoke in the air
greed flying free
now eat til you die
eat until you cannot chew another morsel
happy new year sir

Sunday, January 27, 2019

Shopping Mall Murder

As i walk around this air conditioned shopping mall i contemplate propelling myself off the fifth level. I currently stand on the moving stairs watching all these lazy shoppers going up up to their death. Similar like me except they don't even realize that this suicide is much worse than a jump. This suicide is committed everyday. Their wallets is the gun and their head is their dignity. Their heart swept away with every swiping of their credit card. Its all a bloody mess. Cash everywhere. Cash they barely can get a grasp on. Some of them fall off the balcony just trying to stretch that soft arm one more inch to reach one single bill. People even traveled hundreds and thousands of minutes of sky time to end up in this hell hole where their salary can go much further in this Malaysia shopping mall than in their UK shops. I'm fucking disgusted. I am crying here stuck in the second floor trying to make myself to go back to the ground. But i decide to take the moving stairs to the third level. Closer to my last sentence. And you are almost at your last penny. Yet you didn't even make it near the moving stairs. You are already dead. Swimming in the pit of debt. Take care. 

Wednesday, January 23, 2019

Power of one text message

"I hope you are still alive."

What the fuck kind of text message is that?
Is this your way of showing that you are a real friend who cares about me?

None of you really give one shit about what I am doing with my life. I've been in and out of my hometown for 2 years now. In and out of the country I was born in. Sometimes I struggle with money and sometimes I am MIA completely off the grid from everyone and anyone from my past. Not even my family I care to contact anymore. Everything I do isn't enough if I am not back in America studying the fulfilling this fake ass "American dream." If Trump had the option to deport me he would, and surely I would deport myself. But I am surely grateful for the American passport that came along with being born in a funny country. So I am definitely going to use it to the best of my ability while I possess it. Going from Malaysia and Thailand like there's no tomorrow.

This one text message can shift my mindset into a depressive state instantly. One friend "hoping" that I am still alive...suggesting that I have gone that low in my life to give up completely. She expresses that all my "friends and family" are worried about me back home. What? That's complete bullshit because when I was back home my "friends and family" didn't even care to visit me or help me get out of drugs and a shitty lifestyle. The moral support is never there, whether I'm in my hometown or in Penang, Malaysia. No shits are given.

This one text message can have me worry my ass off about my future. Keep overthinking that what I am doing now, where I am now, is not good for my life. That if I was following the way my "friends and family" expect me to do my life would be better. This overthinking is complete nonsense. I am just giving myself a headache, nothing else. This is the last place in my head I want to be while I am becoming a Muslim. This is not Islam thinking. This is atheist, toxic overthinking that needs to be eliminated just like all the text messages and fake worries I randomly receive. Blocking people from my whatsapp is what I have to resort to now. My strength with Allah isn't where I thought it was. I really have to build that first before I try to strengthen any other past friendships or contact with my family. My relationship with Allah must come first. He is always there for you no matter what. He decides your future, not you.

Sunday, January 20, 2019

Toxic Levels

You never learned your limit.
You already knew you couldn't handle more than a couple shots a night.
You had to take it slow.
But you resisted.
You kept thinking you could handle yourself.
Emptying out your stomach in the toilet or the gutter.
Whichever was closer.
Even Ryan's new shoes.
And you didn't even know Ryan.
Sorry Ryan.
Face bright red.
Not from embarrassment.
Just my typical Asian Glow.
But paired with a tomato complex was asthma, vomit, and no coordination.
Possible alcohol allergy?
How could this be?
So I can't party.
I can't drink.
But I did anyway.
Even if it meant spending New Year's countdown in the bathtub.
I drank shot after shot.
I thought I had to in order to blend in.
Such a child.
Such a teenager.

Wake Up Little High Schooler

Philippines Summer Trip
Written Year 2015 as a Junior in High School
Personal Statement for College Applications
Desired Profession: Nursing Practitioner

The day after my twelfth birthday, I encountered the most unforgettable experiences in my life. I was
in the Philippines, my first visit to a third world country. My family’s vacation was coming to a close
when my sister’s foot randomly swelled so much that walking was painful. As a result, my grandparents’
driver drove my grandparents, dad, sister, and me to the nearest clinic.
After the lengthy drive to the city, my dad carried my sister into the cramped clinic that reeked of rust.
The entire clinic was about the same size as a waiting room in the Kaiser Medical Center that I’m
accustomed to at home. We waited for what seemed like forever, my sister and I sitting on the only
two folding chairs, watching the clinic’s only nurse assisting a patient. When the nurse sent the patient
home, my dad moved my sister to a metal counter to be examined. I didn’t really pay attention after
that because I was distracted by the heat and filth of the tiny building. Perhaps because the clinic’s
doctor was busy at another facility in a different province, the nurse just gave my sister pain relievers
to take home. The image of that clinic will always be engraved in my memory, as I am so
overwhelmingly grateful for the cleanliness and quality of our medical assistance back home in the

On the return to my grandparents' house, we stopped by the driver’s home and met his family. He
lived in the middle of Manila in a small closed off piece of land with his wife and their five young
children. Their land was occupied by two huts made of wooden planks and sheets of metal. I distinctly
remember the children running around and laughing, happy as could be, with no toys or phones to
keep them occupied, very different from what we see here. My dad told me later that day that the
driver was so grateful for his job and home, off the streets. Seeing their lives in the sea of poverty
of the Philippines really opened my eyes to the real world outside of suburban Folsom, California,
where I grew up.

I feel incredibly fortunate to be living in the United States, and I feel a passion and an obligation to
help those suffering from poverty. Now that I am older and understand the true challenges experienced
by that clinic and the people they serve, I yearn to care for those seeking medical attention around the
world, particularly in third world countries. Being a nurse practitioner would best allow me to use my
profession to make such a difference in the world.


Anywhere but America Trip
Written Year 2019
Response to Fake Personal Statement
Desired Profession: Not a robot

In curiosity I went through my Google Drive and stumbled upon this personal statement
that I started in April of my junior year in High School. I started writing this horrid
essay when I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. My dad enrolled me and
invested his precious money in this stupid college counselor that basically walked me
through the application and enrollment process into my top choice colleges...they helped
me develop emails and applications to send to rowing coaches of colleges I thought
I wanted to study at.

So basically I was cheating...none of it was me. It was all Sharon. Thanks Sharon. It’s
not fair you know...so what just because my dad could afford to pay for this college
counselor then I could get this opportunity and acceptance into a sub par catholic
stupid private mother fucking big shot University with a capital U. How is this fair?
I wasn’t even that great in rowing. I was average at everything I did. So I really
thought I deserved an average future. But my dad thought the complete opposite.
I don’t know what was going through his head. I would slap my 16 year old stupid
pansy coward face all the way back to my 9 year old bunk bed. As Sharon and my father
both worked their manipulative magic we formulated my life path. So I chose NP as my
desired profession because it paid more than Nursing but it wasn't as much school as
becoming a Doctor...wow that really shows how sincere I wanted to care for people huh?
Thank you Allah for waking me up sooner than later. Realizing that none of it was real.
None of it was real. It was a fake life. My whole existence in America was a fucking lie.
Since I was just an innocent child who knew nothing about my family roots...I was told
to get a good job and earn money. I didn’t know where I came from, and I still don’t really
know. But what I know now most importantly is that I really belong is Asia. I am Asian.
I have to find myself in Asia. Not in the fake white country of America. America almost
got me so fucking good. They almost trapped me in their lie forever. The American
Nightmare almost killed me. Three times.

Maybe you are curious about this American poison that flew me out multiple times. This so-called
American Dream is farthest from a dream. It’s a lie created by all these sadistic Jewish
capitalists. Everything they created for the benefit of their capital and western world
to thrive and takeover the world. Feminism, sexuality, consumerism, selfishness,
individuality was all created to rule the world. To eventually destroy Islam slowly. It’s
already happening. Allah already gave us everything we need to live okay but people are
making it hard. Open your eyes. The poor is just getting poorer. The rich are getting
richer. And they want to keep us dumb. Numbing us with sex, luxury, drugs, alcohol and
dopamine fixes from likes on Instagram. What is this nonsense? They tackle human
weaknesses and strip us down to our naked bodies literally. They skin us alive and let
our skin dry in the sun. They take our skin and put it in our food, in our medicine,
secretly giving us a taste of our own blood and cum. They want us to be inhumane in
every way. They talk about human rights in the same way they fight for animal rights.
Because in their eyes, there is no difference.

Okay okay I’m getting a bit carried away here. So basically what I’m trying to get at
is no matter how hard you try to be the best Nurse or Nurse Practitioner or doctor
you think you can be...you will still be just average. Your white colleagues will get more
credit. Unless you cure cancer, or diagnose your sister thoroughly, you will be nothing.
And the worst part, you will just be their slave. Clocking in just like how you clocked in
at Whole Foods Grocery Store, switching shifts with other nurses similar to how you
switched with that bitch cashier who wanted more time to get ready for a concert.
It’s all a fucking joke. They numb you with all this shit so in the end you can be their
robot. Once you are in the system they got you by a wire. And you just have to hold
on tight. And better yet, everyone around you is going to be as plastic as the apples
they feed you with open minds but closed eyes and mouths. Maybe they feel bad for
you because you will never be white? They will ridicule you in secret, but still give you
a donut on Friday. And you thought this was good enough, oh wait, they will make you
worship them. And the saddest thing is that you will cry yourself to sleep because you
will never be white enough for your Asian dad.

Yeah sure the medical facilities and equipment is spectacular in the US...but it's just
part of their trap. All this insurance, retirement, and medical check ups basically reject
the existence of Allah. Relax. You are okay. Except death. Expect death. Life is simple.
People, positions, social statuses, Facebook updates, and borders just make it difficult.

Sonic Youth's Anagrama

The album Anagrama created by Sonic Youth released in 1997. 21 years ago. 1 year before I was born. Listening to it on a February day in ...