No School Today

Well this is a pickle! I’ve reached a point of stay-at-home-iness where I feel saturated by boredom. The fancible colours that once graced my daily routine of pacification actions have all faded to a ghastly and dowdy grey.

A mix-up of some academic records has left me without a torture pit (school) to call my own for the next few days. What’s worse is the fact that ALL of my friends have found something to do in the mean time. The ones who weren’t victims of the mix-up have all gone back to school, or are setting foot on the bottom rung of ye old career ladder. The others who have stayed back to do over a subject or two to raise that pesky GPA are enjoying the sweet life, walking on that wonderful duplicitous edge of “I’m in school but not really”.

And that’s just my school mates; I have other friends whom I witness cresting the sweet, sandy dunes of campus life. There are the ones at UWI aka the fun-central of all Trinidadian academia and the intellectual mating ground for all post-pubescent young sluggers of all shapes and sizes. Yes I would love to go there, yes the thought of every fine, sexy kaiyo from here to Caracas all in one area is a formidable one, yes I know that guys who go there get luckier than a dollar bill at a strip club and yes, I know my girlfriend goes there (I try not to think about it, especially after previous point) stop! … I really forgot where I was going with this paragraph…

Look the point is, is that it’s usually an old friend of mine sweating his brains out through the ear at some academic institute who would ask me what I’m doing with my life these days. What am I to tell him, that I’m in academic purgatory? Or that old chestnut, “Residing in a temporary state of limbo”? I mean come on! It is in these times that I stand and babble for words because I feel like I’m wading in the shame surf because I chose to vacation on Incompetent Island. I want to be sweating my brains out through the ear; it’s how I feel most comfortable. WHERE IS MY PORTION OF SCHOLASTIC TORTURE???!!

The point is I’m bored as hell, and right now I feel like life is passing me by like a black cab in London. Sadly, I can do naught but wait, wait for my little “sichiation” to be resolved and for the schooling system to open its mouth up wide and swallow me with a gulped chaser of immense workload and unreasonable deadlines.

Hey coming to think of it, this is kind of like Burn Notice except that Michael Westen was accused of selling secrets to Bosnian intelligence agencies, and I’m being accused of… well, nothing; one of my grades was just misplaced. Oh, oh, I got a better one – Michael is trying to get back into the Central Intelligence agency and I’m trying to get back into… UTT… ok this is nothing like Burn Notice at all. Dammit!!

Garfield is real

talking cats

An old Around the Net classic

He's Not So Tough

Ok i'm kidding, if were this tough I wouldn't have gotten beaten up yesterday :'(

Taken straight from the intro to Vybz Kartel's "Badda Dan Dem", the title is both relevant to this entry and solid proof that I do in fact listen to music other than Riot Radio from The Dead 60's or We Had Love from The Scientists.

I say the title is relevant to this entry because this is just one of those entries where the words glaze your eyes and sentences form leashes that choke your mind in bordeom/entertainment/utter despise for yours truly or an overwhelming sense of WTF. It's one of those entries that are anagulous to director's notes to the director of photography on the movie of my life. Yes I just used the very cliched expression "My life is like a movie" only i'll add to the end of that expression, "that is constantly being raped by Hollywood".

I can't really complain about the current state of things you know, but I would say that things are a little...bland these days. No explosions, no chases or elaborate fight sequences, just one of those scenes where two characters sit in a diner and have a discussion that serves to move the plot forward and give you an opportunity to make out with your girlfriend/horner woman of choice.

If it's one thing that HAS been distubring me however is my near complete lack of social interaction. It's just school, home, church (not as often :( ) and the only people I interact with are the people who are in one of those places. It's like i'm stuck in one medium sized, steel bubble of repitition.

I don't even update my facebook status or sign on to MSN messenger any more. I'm going a.w/o.l. in a lot of people's books and a select few have expressed their curiousity and concern for my wellbeing/whereabouts, and when i'm questioned about my ghostly presence as of late, it's always the same, tired excuse - school.

Now mind you, I know that school does this to people (isolate them from the fun of life) TO AN EXTENT, and even though school is no bed of roses (more like thumb tacks with serrated edges as a mattr of fact) it's only natural and expected that I find a balance between the two social spheres - hell/school and social life.

This habbit i'm developing is serious cause for concern. I could imagine my married life (if/when i decide to do so) - i'm in the study room curled up next to the warm glow of a Netbeans project while my wife, she is awake, cuddling with demons of zero satisfaction. Not a pretty picture when you come think about it.

So I guess the reason the movie of my life is so boring right now is because me, the writer/director, has made it so through plot concentration on an arid topic. I think it's time I up the screenplay a little bit, dash on the colours of drama (and maybe even throw in a few *** scenes) to make this film pop. Though I think i'll have to check with the studio execs on the last one :D :P.

Who knows, maybe i'll sign in to facebook more and appear online, (same with messenger), dial other numbers than the ones that start with 633, 725, 627, 730 or dare I say 759 :O. Maybe i'll go a party or two, make a new friend from off the street and maybe even make friends with an old girlfriend or two (apparently that's the thing to do these days). So we'll see what can bake from all this shakin'

Now, I bet the only long-winded question on your mind is "who the hell do you think you are to think that I am even .00000001% interested in reading all this stuff about YOUR pathetic life?" to which I employ the use of my almost prerecorded response - "dude, it's 3 in the morning. Go get laid."

Thank you!

What's that you say Glassfish? Data doesn't match column count at row 1?

The pic says it all

Weekend With

Now it's been quite some time since I've written something with a light and happy spirit. Truth be told it's been some time since I've written anything at all. I don't know, but for some reason there isn't much time in my schedule for blogging these days, but I suppose that when I do in fact have the time, I can shoot a few words up to ye old internetz.

So what's this one about? Nothing earth shaking, just an account of weekend past.

The agenda was fairly simple - attend a special youth service at the Redemption Worship Center in Chaguanas. Now executing the one task on the agenda would have been a quick, clean cut operation had it not been for my own little personal On-Star navigation system packaged in the form of my mother, bubblingly overconfident with her geographical and navigational prowess. You see, had she been more modest in saying that she knew where the church was, we wouldn't have spent nearly an hour driving around Chaguanas pulling up on people asking for directions; I could have just asked for directions when directions were being offered. *grr!!*

There were two things that I learned from Chaguanas people on that day:

1. Apparently everybody is blissfully unaware of their surroundings, so much so that you can get away with holding a kidnapped person hostage in a shack ten meters away from their place of residence. By this I mean nobody in Chaguanas knows where anything in Chaguanas is.

2. People in Chaguanas are very suspicious of drive-by shooters. And here I was thinking that growing up in La Puerta was bad. People would literally jump or clutch their possessions, mate or child closer when they see the car pulling up. I mean sure the tint is a bit heavy on the windows, but through the windshield I'm pretty sure you could see a middle-aged woman in the driver seat and two *very well dressed* but not devious looking young people in the back seat. I mean come on, when was the last time someone was killed by a mom and her "two children" in a stationwagon? Better than that, people of Chaguanas.

Aside from the driving, there was some walking around to be had. This part I was not particularly fond of since my girlfriend wanted to hold hands. Now on a regular day in a regular part of Trinidad this would have been fine, but on this hell-strip of activity and potential murder suspects I preferred not to have a "soff-man" appearance in case anybody felt like trying on a coffin and attempted to snatch my "bling". I'm telling you, most of the dudes I came across looked like they would mug you and demand your teeth because they look shiny when they're slick with saliva. My face stoned harder than usual in attempt to ward off potential trouble-makers but my efforts were COMPLETELY nullified by the fact that I had a sweet little Indian girl clutching on to my hand, and to make things worse, she would occasionally stop to look at dresses... and I would have to accompany her. I'm sorry but my current level of "gangsta" doesn't permit me to look gangster in a dress shop... or in a shop selling guns, knives and bitches for that matter. Oh well...

After much ado (and painful jaw clenching) we finally found the church. Gladly we weren't given the stink eye for traipsing in about an hour late; the audience was too engrossed with the testimonies given by the youths that have volunteered to do so. But as I sat down and listened to what those individuals had to share, my eyes lost their interest in their surroundings, my vision was tunneled and my heart began to overflow with love and compassion. The experiences that were shared shadowed mine in an eclipse of misfortune. My past issues and trials seemed small and frivolous compared to the battles and tribulations that others of my age have fought.

At that point in time, I came to realize two things:

1. Just how blessed I am and how much Jesus has protected me from
2. Just how powerful Jesus is, and His ability to save any soul and anybody who is willing to be saved.

He has gone down to the pits of personal hell, braved the fires of their mental torment, broken the chains of their spiritual bindings, unveiled their eyes to the truth of His love and brought deliverance and salvation to resuscitate their dying souls. He is truly an awesome God whose power far greater than anything I have ever known and ever will.

Sitting there, listening, I felt great pity and sadness in my heart for my friends and those who I love who still do not know Him, for those who reject offers of salvation, for those who have grown cold towards Him. Knowing that there is nothing you can do but pray, wait and hope can be frustrating sometimes, but keeping the faith is important in knowing that if he could have saved those young people, he can do the same for the ones who are still in need of it.

After the sharing and a brief yet powerful prayer and fellowship session, we were treated to an exceptionally well-portrayed and perfectly executed play/skit. I must say that along with being deeply entertained I was truly inspired. I think my next big film project is going to follow that storyline (if not one similar). I think it's time I write something that's both entertaining to watch and spiritually uplifting; something that everyone could relate to that has a positive element of enlightenment. We'll see how that goes.

Well my faithful reader, I don't know exactly how I've reached here. I was really going to write about the humour I caught during the dinner and socialization session but I guess God wanted me to share something a little more substantial and meaningful, maybe even reach a special someone... oh well... I guess a laugh lost is love learned ;)

NEW VIDEO!!!

Well it's been so long since i've updated this site with anything useful and/or mildly entertaining. Well here's hope of changing that.

Over the past semester, me and a few of my friends have been working on a short video. The video had to be something short (obviously), amusing and entertaining enough to keep people's minds off of the massive delays of our signature project.

For this piece we decided to center the story around gang activity in our society and a very unorthodox means of solving it (a la Donald Love of GTA 3).

Anyway, here's the vid:


Hope you enjoyed it :)

Forever and Never

When the day is gone, when darkness shrouds as twilight crawls across the sky, it's nice to have thoughts of someone special flood your mind. Just the very thought of that person creates an eternal day within you, with them as your sun.

I come home from a day in which work was my master and pain was my portion. Academia, it's a cruel mistress of sacrifice. I throw my belongings on the chair, my shirt drapes the arm rest, I sit, I close my eyes and there she is; my angel, my desire... my love.

I think back to the last time we were in the trance of each other's company...

Seeing is believing and in seeing her on that dream-like afternoon, I believed that everything in my world was going to be alright... for at least the next six hours.

I skipped from acquaintance to acquisition; the point in the evening when we found solace and we were all there was left in the world. I looked into her eyes, all I could see was forever - a universe of stars, promises, peace and comfort.

I see her face - a true work of art mounted on the easel of pulchritude that is her body, carved from the stone of refinement by God's angels of allure. Her lips, oh her perfect lips, moist and warm on every kiss - residue from the waters of the fountain of happiness.

I reach over to hug her; her body is soft and warm to the touch. The heat is mirrored in mine. My arms find their way around her, they know the path, I’ve been here before... in my dreams. The embrace is smouldering, her breath upon my neck, and my cheek against hers. The fire can burn us both, but it's ok - as the fire rages between us my troubles are reduced to chaff and cauterized into non-existence, this is one of the few times in my life where I can say I am purely me, exposed and absolute. The inferno rages as the shackles of my fears evanesce and I am light and soluble. We melt into each other, the bond would unbreakable save for the axe of time.

We seize the moment. We engage in a kiss. Rainclouds spit forth lightning bolts of jealousy; lightening reaches down from the heavens with needy desperation to be nigh over our shoulders to learn of that which rivals its electric charge.

I'm electrocuted, jolted by her kiss and kept warm by her embrace until the gongs of expired time ring out in a frequency that energizes our electrons of love and breaks our bonds once again - we are rent one from another without mercy.

I open my eyes and the fantasy that was once lived comes to an end and I am filled with explosive acerbity as I realize that she is no longer in my arms and I must face another day without her. Just then I feel like throwing it all away if it would mean me being able to spend every waking moment with her.

I can't take this distance!! The gap is too large for me to clear, my love. The cruel bridge keeper refuses to release the bridge of time to let me come across to you. But I will forever keep you in my mind and heart. I will forever be with you, my love, my angel, my newest found reason for change.

I will forever have you, in my thoughts and dreams... always, forever and never.

That Time of the Year Again

Now, when I was younger I thought it safe to blurt out the very open ended yet cliched seasonal slogan "It's that time of year again" and expected that it would ring the same nostalgic bell in everybody's brain and wallet that it's Christmas; but 10 years, 1 puberty stage and a Niagara Fall's worth of cold showers later and I realize that it could mean other, less pleasurable things, and end up ringing bells in other people's lives that would make faecal matter fly out of their back ends faster than the elf Santa caught groping Mrs. Claus.

Examples of such events would be child support collection date, annual couple's time at the state prison or the one time of the year the menstrual fairy visits that special girl with the very irregular cycle.

Fortunately none of those apply to me, but the one event that does is worse than all three of them put together, pressed down, shaken together, put in a shotgun and shot with it. This device of evil i'm talking about is exams. Funny thing about exams is that if you use chat speak, you could actually get the word "xams" out of "xmas", unfortunately that's about the only thing funny about them. To most they're the minor hindrance on the fun times. To me, they're like herpes - everybody has them, one form or another and they come out at least three time a year with minor breakouts in-between. You can apply all the cream you want before they arrive but as surely as the sun rises from the north, they come, and you MUST go through your time of pain, itchiness and unmitigated unattractiveness before they clear up and you feel comfortable around people again.

I'm not saying that exams are a bad idea (well actually, I am) but i'm sure there are other ways of proving that you know stuff. Take my ex girlfriend for example - we'd start off well enough on an argument but from the time she realises she's losing the hits the clutch and kicks in panic gear and goes on to babble on about ancient Mayans and why China didn't invent the steel pan and other sociological hob nobbery. Meanwhile I stand there, listening (strangely) and by the time she's done I give her the win and in my quiet time (post conflict) I reflect on just how knowledgeable she is about... that stuff and how perfectly right it sounds. While this fills my head, I totally forget the fact that that we were arguing about why it's wrong to randomly poke people in the rectum.

Which brings me to my proposal. Instead of stretching the fabric of human sanity by forcing us to regurgitate the integral of x divided by used toilet paper, give us a podium, a glass of water and let us ramble on before a panel of University professors who wear fuzzy sweaters and find everything terribly fascinating. If our yapping sounds like we could convince a crowd of natives to plant poisonous plants in their children's play area or use a hand grenade to knock out that shaky tooth or give their senior citizens nuclear powered Gundam suits, then let us proceed to the next semester. If not, and by not, I mean if a person sounds like they've sneezed out a chunk of brain while guzzling down a pint of Vat 19 on a Dentist's chair in the middle of a root canal, then give him the failing grade and tell him to come back when he's learned not to go to dentists ;).

Politicians do it, and look how far they've reached.

If you don't want to do it that way, then give us a check list containing all of the topics we've covered for that course and let us tick off the things that we're sure we know how to do. I promise we'll be honest :D. If we lie, then rest assured that our employers and our wives would teach us a lesson when we get older, get a job and something goes wrong at work and we don't know whether to integrate by second order or run like hell. Subsequently we lose the job and come home to find our belongings keeping the lawn furniture's company and a man named Ted with a rather hairy chest standing in our doorway with our wives wrapped around him like a hot towel. The metaphor of my life... sigh... Anyway!

We better find another way of testing our knowledge in our respective areas of study before I put the gun to my head and the hammer slams down on the only chamber with the live round in it.

Take me as an example of what human sanity looks like when it reaches its elastic limit - my first exam is on Monday and I have completely lost my compass of priority and where the toilet is. I spent the entire day stacking my DVD collection and peeing in shoes. This is the result of a pretty hard semester; a semester where my lecturers crammed so much work up my tailpipe that any thought I had of having fun had to tiptoe past my lecturer's laser pointer. My brain has completely shut down at a rather inconvenient time I must admit. Is this what genius is all about? I could do those things if I were selling blue crabs to tourists on Red square or vying to become the world's best scab collector. Mind you I don't want to stop pursuing my fancy-pants degree as a Computer Engineer to do either, but me and the other heathens in the world have the same worded question on our minds - there has to be another way (mine pertains to an alternative to exams, theirs pertains to avoiding partying with the guy downstairs).

Look, at the end of it all, exams are something that we have been faced with since the age of three or four (I don't know about you but my prep school had finals) and it hasn't harmed us till this day (except for the guy that jumped off of UWI or the dude that hung himself over CAPE. That wasn't a joke by the way). The point is we all have to do them and score really high, so that our "intellectual superiors" can sleep well at night knowing that their past postponements of suicide wasn't in vain. The only way to get through them is to develop discipline and work hard at it, and in the end we only turn out better and slightly more eccentric individuals with twitches, paranoia and/or other slight mental defects. Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stranger, right?.

It still doesn't change the fact that finals and the concept of school are still worse ideas than a sleepover at Freddy Kruger's, though.

Good luck in exams everybody.

Trimming the Fat? Careful Where You Snip

Now we all know what Facebook is by now - a single point on the graph map of the internet where millions of people, with millions of friends while away hours of their day looking at statuses, relationship drama or the pics one of their so-called friends posted of them from the party the other night when they were drunk, stripped down to their underwear, defecating in wine glasses and straddling the lamp stand.

It's no doubt that www.facebook.com has become so popular that people are wondering why they're not making keyboards with just the w, ., f, a, c, e, b, o, k and m keys since navigating to that website is all that the computer's uses have been widdled down to over the past year. No need for quad core processors, 1gb graphics cards and X-fi speakers, give me a keyboard with 10 keys, a browser, a mouse and a pocket full of "I don't care about outside" and i'm set for all of my daily functions.

Now the main purpose of facebook was to keep in touch with people you already know - share pics, see what's going on in each other's lives and generally stay in the know with people in your network. But (I know you shouldn't start a sentence with but, but) as surely as zombies love brains, boys (and some men) love the p-word that i'm not allowed to say, and facebook is proving to be a sure means of bloaks potentially grabbing some of that thing that makes the world go round.

Chances are, that a male in a network of friends, some of whom might be female might have the luck of being the town whore like that guy from Nastaja's Calabria 2007 video or the town Haunch back like that guy from that animated film that I never saw. One way or another, they're going to get bored of the same old same old (whether it be "ease of access" or successive, unrelenting and hardcore rejection) and they're going to venture outside of their little group and start hunting sheep from another shepherd's flock; in other words, they add random pretty little things that they know nothing about, and the said pretty little things innocently accept the lustful friend request. You know the friend request is lustful because there's usually a bulge a little below the waist of the "+1 Friend" icon.

So now that your "target" has accepted the request it's time to put your game face on and play the waiting game. You log in to the site and pretend to be tending to your business while waiting for your "target" to come online. When she does, the conversation bit can begin. I don't need to go into the ass-crack of this process since i'm sure most of you know how it goes. The end result can be one of two things:

1. The convo went well and you eagerly await her next appearance online
2. The convo went horribly and you eagerly await her next appearance online to redeem yourself

No matter which, you leave your target on your friends list hoping and waiting for the day that you finally get some of that sweet stuff. Unfortunately for some, the day never comes.

As time passes and this process of trial and blue balls repeats, your friends list becomes a mixed bag of people that you know to a T, and others that you won't be able to identify in a crowd unless they have their profile picture taped to the part of their head where their face should be.

Get me wrong, not, strangers can end up on your friends list by other means such as mistaken identity (especially if you're one those tards that hid your profile info from search) or by pure peer pressure when a friend of a friend adds you. On that last point - why do they do that? Where does that compulsion to add you, a perfect stranger to them, come from? They always leave me with the difficult choice of unwillingly accepting, or rejecting and running the risk of having that person go back to the person I actually know and tell them that I'm a long streak of piss because I don't accept requests from "people". Knowing some of my friends, they might actually turn on me because I didn't accept their friend as a friend. Ridiculous, I know.

At any rate, at one time or another, there comes a point in every facebook-er's career when he must clean up that friends list and weed out the scraps. That time came for me today.

I realized that it's all dinner and strippers when you have to add people but when the deletion time rolls around, I deliberate on touching that "x" button more than deliberating whether or not to wear pants to leave the house on a morning. Deleting these "extended" friends tends to put a strain on friendships.

First off was the "failed attempts" group. Deleting them was easy for very obvious reasons. Next was the "mistaken identity" section, then came the "spoke to a few times, never really hit it off" set, then the "friend of a friend" section. The friend of a friend section was difficult because of the aforementioned complications of word getting around to my actual acquaintances. In some instances I said bollocks to that and hit the "x" harder than a white boy at a rave. In other cases, they remained there, the warts on my friends list's buttox. My success with "other ventures" remains hinged on their existence on my list.

The next category is a VERY touch and go one. One wrong deletion and it could mean some friendships that would end faster than a fight with a monkey. The category in statement is the *long inhale* "We went to school together, we weren't that close at school but you added me on facebook but we haven't really talked since then and now I have to delete you" group.

These are the people that you met already, be it through a friend or a glance and they added you on this crackbook or you, them. Since you added them you haven't really spoken to them or been very interested in their well being or recent activities even though they've probably been in every party you've been to over the past several months. You just don't really care about these people that much to have their life stories cluttering your activity feed. Come on, you have more interesting people's business to mind ;)

I really have to be careful when trimming the fat in this layer because I could be passing the shears next to a very vital organ and not know it. If you happen to be in this quandary, do as I do: label them as hot rocks and let them be. They're just occupying space, not spitting in your tea and passing it off as cream. Sooner or later, they might delete you and save you the headache.

I'm saying this because I once deleted someone from this category and in about three days time, they added me back with the personal message "Why did you delete me?" then there was this conversation as awkward and jerky as a virgin's first time. This convo lasted seven painful minutes, and I hope never to relive them ever again.

At the end of it all, my friends list is clean. Not spotless, but sanitised. Before it was as sludgy and black as the Beetham swamps, but at least now it has that dingy brown colour your water has when it now comes back. A much better state, I must admit.

So what was the purpose of this note? Well I'd say it was just something to bide my time until my next engagement, but I suppose it can be a lesson to you - yet another excuse for your conscience to kick in before you do something trivial. Use it as a yard stick fro cleaning out the old friends list of yours, ridding it of the vermin of unknown people (yes I called people vermin) and in the process having less chunks in your straw when sucking up all the juicy gossip on your activity feed.

Prepare for Payne

This entry contains spoilers about the Max Payne film currently in theaters. It's also a fanboy rant, so uninterested parties can stop reading right about... now!

Ok so in case you didn't know, I recently went to see the new Max Payne movie that Fox produced. Yes, I went - it was a Friday and I went all by myself. Just for the record it was a personal decision, and I won't appreciate anybody who saw me at the Cineplex last Friday (walking around like the grim reaper of fun) making fun of me.

All insecurities aside, let's get down to the marrow of the article and that is, how was it?

One word - PAYNEful! (Don't laugh) After the movie was finished I couldn't help but wonder if the opening line was aimed at the audience to prepare them for the hour and a half long gritty, grimey turd that was wrapped elegantly on the film reel instead of the actual movie. A prank portrayed by a masochistic joker who gets his willys off of PISSING ME OFF!

Let's start with the facts:

The movie was based off of the first installment of the Max Payne series. Us fanboys should know how this plays off, but for the wanks who haven't played it yet, buy the game or look for a synopsis somewhere. (Gotta love the lead-on haha)

First off, let's do a comparison as to how 'close' the movie characters were to their video game counterparts:

Michelle Payne (Max's Wife)
Game: About 5'5", 28-32, blonde, straight, short-cut hair. Gave birth to a girl
Movie: About 5''6", 28-32, brunette, long, wavy hair. Gave birth to a boy

Jim Bravura
Game: 5'10", 54-65, White, Spokesperson for AA
Movie: 5'7", 28-32, Black, Has rap career

Mona Sax
She was close

Max Payne
Game: 6'6", 38-42, White, Blissfully naive
Movie: 5'8", 35-40, White, Bit of a jerk

As if that wasn't enough, the story was the further from the game than a middle-aged mom in the suburbs.

Trivia:

Max, at the beginning of the first game, was a ranking DEA detective. He was not a recluse working in a cubby hole at the local police precinct filing papers in the "Cold Case" department. Though not the brightest of sunbeams, Max was never regarded as the "office weirdo" or "that guy". Though people knew he was two shakes short of a lamb's tail, he still had friends in his department and on the force.

Though Max (in the second game) called a sex hotline, he was never closely associated with Russian prostitutes. Nor, in either of the games was a suspect in a "whore murder" case. He seemed to have more sinister deeds on his criminal record, such as being wanted for blowing away an entire office building of mobsters by himself and shooting a lady cop in the chest. The police never chased Max for the alleged murder of a prostitute he kicked out of his apartment after not having sex with her.

Max also quit smoking just before leaving the office to go home on the same night his family was murdered. He NEVER took the Vlkyr drug!!!

Jack Lupino was a crazed drug user and mob boss. He did not hang out on rooftops stalking prostitutes and/or cutting people up with machetes. I would have quicker associated Frankie "The Bat" Niagara with that kind of scene. Though hatterly insane, Jack was not an axe murderer. He spent his days dispatching orders to mob whimps such as the Finito brothers and dining on the flesh of fallen angels.

Lt. Jim Bravura was a man on the downhill side of the age hill. He beat the bottle and became the spokesperson for Alcoholics Anonymous by the time the second game roller around. He was also Max's direct superior and was not an internal affairs officer and part time rapper. He worked in the same department as Max.

In the game, bullet time was supposed to simulate an exaggeration of how your body works on adrenaline i.e. the enemies moved slower while you moved at more or less normal speed. Bullet time was not a major slow-down that caused you to spend two minutes just pumping a shotgun, giving a guy enough time to squeeze three shots off at you.

At the end of the first game, Max shot Nicole Horne's chopper down. She died in the subsequent explosion - the game did not end with the murder of a fat sweaty guy in an overcoat.

Now these are all the things that were out of synch (that I can remember), but when the writers could get such basic things as the gender of Max's child right, I have to ask the question of whether or not anybody ever even played the game before putting posterior to paper to write the script.

Sheesh, now I know how you tossers felt after watching the Doom movie.

I say they should have let Fergle make his movie. I bet the folks at Fox feel like a gymnast that tries to show off with a fancy flip and lands awkwardly on his head. I feel like that ominous mother figure that stands over your bleeding body wagging a finger, after you impale yourself doing the same thing she ordered you not to do - You see, Fox? I told you you should have let Gibson have his film, now you're a few million dollars poorer, a few haters richer and your company review rating is as middle of the road as a confused deer on a night time highway.

Mr. Gibson, sir, I wish you all the best - show the internet what a real Max Payne movie is about.

A Mass Infection

Ugh... this bleeming virus. It's taking the whole country by storm, that's what it's doing. I mean, at first when I saw my mate at school all hunched over in the foetal position I just thought he was panzying out over the bad cafeteria pigeon he unknowingly consumed for lunch, but when he eventually uncurled and staggered out of school like an alcoholic in the desert sighting a Johnny Walker mirage I knew things were not as trivial as they seemed.

So anyway, the next day comes and falls right on my lap like a tarted out pole dancer, and I find myself in an air-conditioned class fighting off the sandman (ICT guys know who this is) and all his sleep devils as I try to untangle the knotted up slotch of indistinct words that crawl out his mouth in a volume that falls just under the human range of hearing. Yes, it's a task already, (trying to stay up and understand through this greuling two hour snooze fest) but throw in this new variable of unexplainable nasal cloggage and a higher than usual level of fatigue and you have yourself a recipe for stress that will clog the arteries of even the most avid of adrenaline junkies.

The first ten minutes of the class were well spent absorbing the material as all there was to do was plagiarize the note being scribbled on the whiteboard, but after that, the shit officially went pear-shaped. I could literally feel the mucus in my nose solidify exponentially with every turn of the internal AC fan. My head got heavy and my vision showed more motion trails than usual as my head bobbed on my neck in a helium balloon type fashion. The symptoms intensified until I was sprawled out on my desk like an exasperated rape victim. My classmates were concerned, caring and kind enough to take pictures of me in my derelict state to post on the expletive internet :S I dunno where the pics are right now, though. I suppose they'll surface sooner or later.

Anyway, with the sound of the last shutter click, I awoke to my lecturer (still babbling) and a subtle nuance of "when will it end?!!!" moaning. This room was no place for me to be, no sir! So I upped and stepped outside for some fresh air. The compound was as hot and desolate as ever with the commonplace decals and scenarios that make it a true UTT John D. campus - a few girls scampering here and there to avoid the ever horny testosterone-pumped beasts; a few guys sitting on a bench hoping to get a glimpse of a girl or two from the Fashion programme; one guy walking down the hall in some overly tight jeans with a look on his face that says "I'm metro, and not hetero". The sight just depressed me more and made me sink further down into the depths of un-wellness(?) so I decided to return to class.

As I cracked the door I saw the dingy light of misery peeking out from behind its hinges and as I opened it further, the boredom train slammed into me and relentlessly ran over my will to stay at school like a dog with it's paw stuck in the crack of the train-tracks. I didn't care at that point, my health and sanity seemed to be on their last leg - I had to leave school. Mark looked like he was about to pass out anyway...

Day 2

Congrats common cold, you finally have me where you want me - sweating and sprawled out on a bed like a Copa. employee. I feel terrible - nose clogged up; throat lined with mucus; hacking, hagging cough; sneezing fits - yeah, I got it bad. I didn't go to school today, yesterday or the day before but each day that came, passed me by as a man lost in a mountain of snat stained tissue paper. In my spare time though, I tired to narrow down the cause of my infection so that I might have a direction to point an infected finger at - Mikhail - no; mommy - highly likely; swimming in close proximity to that prostitute at Toco - that's the damn ticket! Yeah, I spent the day at Toco with my homie last Sunday and I got in social with this chick in the water. Further down into the chit-chat she said she was a whore... The cold that is now running rampant in my body had to have come from her, this might not even be the cold coming to think of it - might be a benign strand of AIDS that leaked out of her.... whatever (you know where I'm going with this).

At any rate, things weren't made any easier by the massive sunburn I got. At first it was the pain, now it's the look. Feeling the pain made me feel all manly and stuff, but looking at it makes me want to cry :( You see, it's reached the peeling stage and I've begun picking away at it. Unfortunately I did not wait until the whole things started flaking off so I could tear off big chunks of dead skin. No, I started picking away at myself like a tightly wrapped Christmas present and now I look like I was tried to the back of a chariot and dragged over a field the size of Russia... only the field is made up of broken glass and pitch. I look like I'm wearing the most skin-tight military camouflage uniform ever!!. At least my face looks ok. Then again, i'm thinking of systematically peeling the skin off so that i'll end up looking like This guy but:

1. 1. My lighter complection isn't sky blue


2. 2. With my luck, my skin won't peel in that manner


3. 3. The ladies might not find that skin pattern attractive

Bollocks!

Anyway, back on topic.

I have the flu, not just me but a large portion of the youth population - it's an epidemic. From Diego Martin to St. Augustine and beyond, this flu is just screwing things up on an epic scale, and stomping a mud hole in everybody's fun plans. If you don't have it, don't get it. If you are F.L.U. negative, take steps to remain negative.

Proper sad, though - they can come up with a machine to clean the shit out your ass, but they can't come up with a cure for the common cold. Oh well, I guess they still need a viable means of getting people to use good old toilet paper :P

Some Follow-Up

Well i'm sure by now you all know very well about my public journal/diary over at www.diegodeviant.tk and how my daily hijinks bring a light of joy (intensity varies) to my multitude of readers... wait, you don't know about my journal? The screw off! What kind of a friend are you?! Ok i'm just kidding - the site, though well known isn't very well visited, at least by local readers anyway. All of my comments are usually in a language I can't understand, like Czeco...sla...van...i..an.

.ese or something. Anyway!

Now before your literary gland starts pumping the thick fluid of anticipation through every sacred orifice in your body, I regret to disappoint you by saying that this is not the follow-up to "The Hungry Pit". I'm sorry, but that is a dark and desolate chapter in my life that I no longer wish to revisit. It's gone and the offending individual mentioned in the piece is as dead to me as the road kill that lies oh so disturbingly before my neighbour's gate.

So this is going to be a progressive entry, one that answers the question of "what's next?" To get to that answer though, we'd have to deal with the obligatory pre-amble in the form of the question "What's going on now?".

So let's begin...

So what's new with me, you ask? Well for starters i'd say monotony is the order of the day -I wake up, look in the mirror, turn my head and gag, get ready for school, go to school, get back home, procrastinate then top the day off by falling asleep screaming into the night or counting the tiles on the ceiling while slipping slowly into the abyss of insanity. Yes, pretty monotonous indeed.

(Just kidding about the "topping my day off" part btw)

But aside from that though I can't complain at all, as a matter of fact i'd say i'm pretty darn blessed. I'm more spiritually centered than I have been in ages and life has found synchronicity with my brainwave pattern of "Tolerance for BS". Nothing bothers me much these days, or is it that I have become totally numb to the salt-laced gashes in my back that were manically and incessantly issued by the whip of life? Either way, I like this feeling of indestructible euphoria - Girlfriend wants to leave me? Go right ahead; Doggie just died? Was nice knowing you, Rover; Programme Leader barges in and tells me that I have to start over from my first year of Pre-University? Nothing like a clean slate! Walk in on your parents "doing the nasty"? Bleach in the eye makes the bad memories die :) It's like having a whip smart come-back line to every insult life spits at you from it's mouth, oozing with venom.

Hmmm...What else is on? Well, with the new direction my life has taken, i.e. following Christ, I have completely turned away from the party/clubbing scene. Now my nights are spent either chatting on the phone with a friend (female) or snuggled around the warm glow of my computer screen reading up on the latest news about the Google Android phone or simply enjoying a good movie with my mom. Sounds pretty damn sad, I know, but it beats pissing God off with a wild night of drinking, lewd bumping and grinding to degenerate music that (in some cases) ultimately leads to crazed debautched sex in a borrowed car, bedroom or bamboo patch. If you ask me I'd rather not wake up on a Thursday morning to witness Jesus maniacally tearing my name out of the book of life just because Zen was free with I.D. the previous night.

Needless to say with my turn away from the "hip" scene I have lost contact with the majority of my friends, but I still keep in touch with a select few who have inspired and/or encouraged me to keep along the straight and narrow. These are the ones you'll most likely find me hanging out with - a tight little unit whose existence spans a little over a half a decade, with bonds cast from the steel of Atlas' binding chains. The closest thing to brothers I've ever had at least.

Then there's the other set, by which I mean my "new" school friends. In this set I find a bottomless well of inspiration, joy and security. The colourful nature of the characters of this group makes rainbows sweat beads of jealousy. These are the people who must be described by the adjectives known only to the heavens. To think that so many people of such contrasting personalities can get along and unify so well is a modern marvel in itself, a spectacle that will forever disappear when we, the elements that comprise it, have passed and gone.

Afterthought: Was that last paragraph describing a group of guys? How gay!!

Moving on...

I've got a movie coming out - super awesome! Getting plenty of fan support but things on the back-end are a little bit serrated. The film's still coming out but, we just have to get some newly-formed issues ironed out first (More on that in another post).

School's just restarted, an event to which I respond with a resounding "ugh.." The vacation was so damn boring that I wished for school to re-open so that I could hang out with my friends, but I wish that hanging out with friends could have been the be-all and end-all of school. All this "work" business really puts a spoke the size of the Blade of Olympus in my wheel. I'd be much happier off getting my BSc in Piss Taking if you ask me - this kind of strain on the old brain later has you being regarded as a wired up kook whose grasp on sanity is looser than an old lady's undergarment. What good is a fancy degree if you're going to end up all cooped up in a looney bin two months after receiving it because your employer found you bashing your face on the keyboard at work singing Old Man River? Bollocks if you ask me!

So anyway what's this long gargle about? I have no idea. It's a rant, it's a rave, it's a piece of literature that'll jump smack the world off it's axis. No, it's none of those things - It's me doing something I like for a change, just letting the thoughts that hang precariously at the front of my brain trickle down my arm, onto the keyboard and onto the internet for your viewing (dis)pleasure.

The Hungry Pit Pt. I

Well I initially wrote this to get over the crushed feelings I had when me and my last girlfriend broke up (old news, I know) But in lieu of another warm humanoid, I only have my keyboard and the blank willing receptacle of an Untitled MS Word document... Anyway, here it goes - my heartbreak on a page; a page now splashed with an ink so poisoned and dark that soaks deep into every fiber of paper to forever stain its countenance, never to be used again, never to be restored...

Life is like a forest, at it’s edge, the beginning, all that meets the eye is tall trees, the brilliant sun hovering above, a green carpet of grass spread along the floor, the sound of laughter – all jabs at your positive senses to lure you into that false sense of security that in turn leads you to dash into that forest head first, away from the barebones outside, to get lost in the thick bushel of promised happiness.

As you get deeper into this forest, this forest of life, you see just how ugly it can get sometimes. You begin to question yourself, ask yourself why you chose to walk this path and not the other that seems so green and crisp that parallels it. Some parts of this forest are dead, gutted with flames of fury and pain and all that’s left are the haunting whistles of the ghosts of grief, despair and heartbreak, the sound streams through the hollow branches of the cold bare trees. Their wails are a crescendo. You walk faster as your heart begins to beat that horror-predicting melody. As you pace through this patch of purgatory you try to re-assure yourself that these fiends won’t get you, they won’t be able to lay a hand on you; you’re superman – all lies.

I thought it couldn’t happen to me, I thought that if I closed my eyes to all the signs that it was coming, that it would pass without incident – I was wrong. The trouble with my method was that closing your eyes to something doesn’t make it go away; it just gives the situation a million different new angles to come at you from, and blinds you from further thorns in the track down your path of life.

Like a pendulum guillotine manufactured by pain to sever the ties of love, the ghost of heartbreak swoops down and courses through me – I feel dead on the inside, a cancer of frigidness crawls over my heart and freezes my core that once burned with hot passionate love for another. With the flames of love doused, I was blind to the rest of the road; I couldn’t find a way out, couldn’t see, couldn’t feel anything... I stumbled onto the open mouth of a pit.

My foot, desperately needing, thus expecting the semi-sweet surety of solid ground was just as blind as I was and gravity yanked at my ankles with needy vengeance. My cold, dark, shell of who I was fell… I fell… I fell forever. I tried to hold onto something, but protruding branches snapped with rehearsed repetition as I clutched onto them. Gravity had its plans for me and he was sure as hell bent on accomplishing them; he made sure that I got where he wanted to send me – all the way down to the bottom.

I crashed at the base of the pit, I heard a sharp shattering sound, it was my heart breaking – the impact so sudden and unexpected, my heart so firm and cold – all the variables were set for this to happen. No matter, the pain seemed to be just the same - unrelenting. No amount of anaesthetic can deliver me.

I clattered to my feet, clutching my chest, breathing heavily, thankful that I at least survived the fall. I look around – only thick billows darkness. The soil is damp, cold and sticky. Blood, old heart fragments and tears were the weak adhesive, the components of soil made from hell’s half-acre I suppose. I tried to have a look around, see if my unaided vision could pierce the darkness to find a way out – no such luck. So I sat there waiting for my rescue.

Months pass and I keep a diligent unblinking eye to the top of the pit, the only source of light in my own little personal hell. The lighting wasn’t all that great anyway- tinted in a kind of rainy-day gray and mostly attenuated by the time it reached the bottom. Regardless, still no rescue.

My eyelids grew heavy and my sight got dim and very soon, that unblinking eye began to renounce its title. It started to take long, slow blinks… my head dipped… my eyes remained closed. There I go again, closing my eyes to the situation, at least so I thought – the pit wouldn’t let me. Upon closing my eyes and dreaming of my deliverance, I hear broken echoes of my last love oscillating through my head – in one ear and out the next, leaving tracks as they come and go. I snap my eyes open to apparitions of her, telling me the things I least want to hear, I see her laughing, living life unaffected in any way; I see her playing, going on without me just fine; I see her heart reflecting another’s image; I see her in the arms of another no sooner than I was out the door. The imagery was too much to bear, each frame in this Romantic Tragedy film built toward a nasty, gut-wrenching end and I didn’t want to see it anymore.

By this time, the vacuum of my heart sucked away at my composure, I felt so weak and broken that I was forced to lie down on the carpet of hell’s making; on the corrosive compost of ceaseless sorrow. I still hear the echoes and see the images in my dreams and nightmares, but I can do nothing about it. Just then, I felt the creeping of a sweet salty badge of emotion cradling the rim of my eye and prancing across my face onto the ground… Then another… and another… the process recycled for three straight weeks until I was literally treading the water of a shallow pool created as a result of the hurt from emotional betrayal – the good thing about it was that I didn’t have to touch that disgusting, sticky rotting soil anymore.

I’ve been trading for a while, my face bobbing above the surface, my eyes still fixed upward. I grew tired of treading and I was beginning to go under, the pit was about to reclaim its prize. I thought this was the end for me, how ironic and twisted nursery rhyme– death by the summation of all my creations.

With my eyes squeezed shut I squeezed the last drop of determination out of my soul to meet my hand to make that last motion to keep my body afloat. To no avail. I began to sink.

Thoughts of hope drained from my head, I felt the waves of submission washing over my brain, but just before these insidious waves crashed at the back of my head I felt sleek soft fingers reaching out to me, taking my hand so softly… so gently. They knew just how to hold me so that I won’t fight back or resist- not that I could have, anyway.

They were angels, all angels sent by my Father to keep me alive just a little bit longer, to stay afloat for the summer. The light radiating from their eternally pretty faces was bright and welcomed, one of the few things in my life at that point that was any good, pure and without the tattoo of betrayal hidden anywhere inconspicuously.

They kept me afloat and they still are. Thanks to them I’m still breathing. Thanks to them I am still alive. Thanks to them, there is no longer a vacuous space where my old heart once resided. Thanks to them I have a new heart. Thanks to them I am not afraid to love again.

Finally... A Full Post!

Hello to all members of my little internet community - it sure has been a while since my last whole-hearted post. I know the last few posts have been a little... "basic" for lack of a worse word but it was just my feeble attempt to hold you over until things cooled down on my side of the keyboard, and I could once again make a full-length, detailed studded post.

Now, what's been keeping me away for so long was school. You see, I told you school would do nothing but hold you back from more important things ;) For the past few weeks I have been leaving home at 6, leaving school at 10 sometimes 11 in the night, waking up at 3 and doing it all over again. Not much time for the old deviant space, won't you agree? Anyway, the sacrifice was hardly worth it as I know for a fact that I shat all over at least two of my exams, one of which everybody else found was easy. That's the hard thing really, having no company in failure - you feel so old... and stupid... anyway, looks like i'm up for the repeater's class next semester... whoopee...

It wasn't all bad though, the late nights caused our creative juices to flow like a million ruptured dams. The waters of creativity found its way to the valleys between the mountains of our childhood senses, the senses that yearned for games and entertainment. We invented a game - a pretty dangerous, yet high octane and FUN game - avoid the traffic. Here's how it goes...

We walk on the side of Wrightson Rd. that hardly has pavement. We continue along this path until we see the concrete medians. Upon seeing them, we attempt to run across the road, hop over the medians and make it to the other side of the street before the container trucks catch up with one of us. What adds thrill is the fact that this is about 10:30 in the night, we're tired (meaning less alert) and the road is dark. I remember my friend JP nearly tripping over one of the concrete slabs once. His deep shriek of "what d ass" was heard over the looming roar of the approaching Heavy T traffic... aah the memories :) Coming to think of it, that game sounds kind of dangerous... I guess that's what they call University Dementia...

Anyway fast forward from that and I'll find myself in a dark cinema watching Contract Killers - the movie that was made by our own local talent. My opinion: the production quality was through the roof. High quality films and sound equipment were used, also the camera man and storyboard artist knew what they were doing - 10/10 in that department. the story - too complicated and convoluted for its own sake. Very hard to follow and from the little I understood, it had some plot holes or weak reasonings behind some of the decisions made - 3/10. The rest... well... let's just say that me and JP had to find our "own" route of entertainment by identifying unintended locale-oriented jokes. For example, whenever someone would make a phone call, we would assume by their expression if they were using bmobile or digicel. And if they were on the internet, we assumed that they were using dial-up, Blink of Flow depending on how quickly they got their information. Much fun indeed.

So now i'm here.. in my house... broke, hungry and bored. The fellas just called me and said that they want to have a look at street kings later, but i'm afraid my monetary reservoir is just about vacuous. In other words, i'm a broke nigger. I'm supposed to be getting some questionnaires filled out for some Spanish people but I have a feeling that they think i'm some kind of pack mule or something... I mean, the questionnaire is 78 questions long and you're going to make me stand in teh hot sun, tormenting another person for about 20 mins for $12 per questionnaire - bah! I'm done with the small money scraping - I want the big dollars and this school shit ain't cuttin it thus far... what choice do I have though? I'm from Diego Martin, and I have not a gun or a devious bone in my body. I'm the kind that might shoot someone and ask if they're OK... possibly even offer some medical assistance. Yeah, that sounds real criminal fo' sho'. Ugh...

Anyway, I have few more projects under my belt right now and it's just starting them that's the hard part - I have a website to design for the QRC Old Boys Association, my two movie and this damn questionnaire thing... wish me luck...

Bestr Rapper Alive

What? You en never heard of OG Loc? Best rapper alive, cuzz! When I grow up I wanna sound just like this :P

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COD 4 Gun Sounds

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This is why I wanted t join the army - to make pretty music with lethal weapons :)

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Look Who's Back

Well i'm not going to beat around the bush with all the usual pleasantries and apologies as to why I haven't been posting, instead i'll take the vodka apporach and get straight to the point and probably bruise some throats while i'm at it (ok i'm just kidding about the last part).

Anyway today wasn't quite as I expected... as a matter of fact it wasn't as I expected at all. I expected to awake with a "Oh what a glorious day!" kind of attitude and go to sleep with a "fuck this shit" look slapped all over my Junior Sheppard before I pull the cover over me and let the sweet sounds of my inner demons wailing out in my sub conscience lull me to sleep. Instead, it was quite the opposite; and by opposite I mean complete freaking inverse.

I awoke this morning not at six but at three with a God-awful pain in my eye (usual migraine), so I staggered out of bed, drunk with pain and fatigue and slugged my way to my computer desk where I usually keep my stash of pain killers... or at least I thought that was what I did. I took one, forgetting that the tablet worked in a most pleasant, yet inconvenient way, they put you to sleep AND cure the pain. This kind of sleep, however, is not "Lunesta" kind - the pills have as much tranquilizing effect as a horse sedative. I knocked out for seven hours more, awaking (still in a spot of pain) at around 10 - much too late for my Engineering Science class - sat upright in my bed, cursed the clock and looked around at the previously orderly sanctuary that was my bedroom. Remember earlier in the entry I said that I thought that all I did was go to the desk and get the painkillers? Well apparently that was the last stop I made on my way of wanton destruction and mass obliteration. Apparently in my desperate search for relief, I cleared all the items off of my dressing table, ransacked a clothes hamper, tossed a few pillows, pulled off the sheet off of my sister's bed (?) and then went to the desk, where I made enough ruccus to wake my sister, mother, the neighbor, her mother and her dog. You can't blame me though, I was blind with agonizing pain...

So anyway, it was off to school... now this patch of info would have been the same except for a few strange feelings I've been having lately about my fellow school mates. Now by order of the optometrist, I have to wear shades or some other sort of light de-intensifying gear while I'm outside. Now that sounds good enough, but only if I could have gotten some sort of disclaimer to wear on my T-shirt for people to read so that they won't think i'm some sort of arrogant prick wearing "cool shades" and "strutting" all over the place thinking i'm better than everybody else. Sounds cliched, but I feel everybody's eyes piercing my back whenever I walk by... it doesn't help that out school corridors are like a runway of some sort, with spectators on either side too (no, really that's how we lime at school)

Aerial view (the black dots are people, the captions are actual quotes from "liming dialog")


So now you see how the set-up is.

So I have to walk in this passageway, with my shades, with practical strangers on either side. Now I know it's not me being paranoid because whenever I walk by, the crowd gets silent and I see the girls' top lips curling upwards in that "I just smelt something nasty" kind of way. The fact that my eye wear doesn't look clinical doesn't help it either - they actually look like sun glasses that an arrogant "I'm better than you" kind of guy would don.

No matter, I know what they're for and it's just a coincidence that they look hottt ;)

Anyway that's all I have to say about school.

After school was something that i had on my agenda for the past few days - not something somebody would actually put on a an agenda, but it was there anyway and that is to break up with my girlfriend. Now I had a vision of how the whole scene would play out - I would call her outside, bring up the topic, she'd call me an asshole, i'd call her a long streak of piss, i'd go home, she'd go back in her house and do whatever it is the hell she was doing and i'd find my way to the transport terminal and phone the next chicken in line for the relationship slaughterhouse. Instead, things went
North and none of the events that I envisioned took place except for the first two events. The breakup was pretty clean and (in my case) about as painful as a shot from a rubber band - the reality hits you, you flinch a little and then turn around tell the guy that hit you to piss off. I thought it would have been a little gorier than how it went. More cussing and crying, less agreeing and shaking of hands.

But i'm not going to lie to you, my audience, or myself - I am going to miss certain things. Not the big things, but the little things that she never knew I observed and loved and stayed with me and will always throw me into a time vortex; a memory spasm; a light skip down the hall of mirrors of my past: The ring tone of her first cellular phone, the smell of the body cream that she rubs on when she's just had a shower, the look of her hair in the 5 o' clock sun, that look in her eyes when something's wrong or when she's unsure.

That long stretch of polluted roadway that they call Wrightson Rd. will always have the cleanliness of our memories to purify its air... the conversations, the arguments... everything... all of the good and the bad will forever stain that sidewalk, and the setting sun will only make these stains more vivid as it's orange rays skip along them, bringing them back to life with the kiss of nostalgia. Looking down that road as the sun retreats into the sea will never be the same for me again, for my eyes will never see the scenery for what it is, but for what it was and what it represented and what it will never be again.

These are little treasures, more valuable than any work of art or rare stone, that i'll keep in a little mahogany box, carved in an intricate design out of time, love, anger, blood, sweat, tears and everything else that went into that relationship. This box will wear the insignia of my heart and I'll take that box and keep it somewhere in my head, somewhere where it's dark and lonely so that the joy it keeps will illuminate my dark psyche, and I will be sad never more.

I am going to miss certain things, but with my sacrifice comes my freedom, and a different, less fragile, kind of happiness.

I'm surprised I'm not bitter though, I mean usually after watching a year and change of my time and energy go up in smoke, I'd be more than a little perturbed, but i suppose this is an example of what happens when you do everything in God's timing.

Plans for another girlfriend, i'd say they haven't been made yet... but until then I guess I can say a line that hasn't left my lips in quite a long time - "Ladies, he's single ;) " Hmm.. funny, those words meant alot more the last time I said it... :(

So I guess the real question is: what's next for the Deviant? I'm not quite ready fro Facebook to know my business yet, and it's much too late to call anyone, so I guess I can start by taking a shower, saying my prayers and going to bed. The i'm going to get up and do this again tomorrow - this should be interesting...

- One step at a time.

I'm Back (Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, balh)

Hello loyal readers, yes after a long hiatus I am back once again with a new entry. Now I know usually i'd try to do the polite thing and fill you in on all that's been going on in a feeble attempt to make my life look more interesting than it is, but I think we'll skip that this time and move on to better things... Ok i'll just give you a summary: the past few weeks have been nothing but the same old, same old - a clean bill of health and a healthy debt of stress and depression to be paid. Well actually the stress and depression came in smaller doses this time, and the depression was more like a slight drizzle. Yes the "d" in girlfriend does have a purpose after all. Yeah, that's all, really. Riveting isn't it?

Oh and I relaise that my past few entris have been a bit "soft" and "not like Kevin at all" well i've got good news for you. I've adopted a new attitude when it comes to dealing with such issues. it's called "Bother this nonsense" or as the uncensored version of yhatzee's review puts it "Fuck this shit". Now really, do I really need to explain how this new frame of mind works? Come on now, you aren't that slow.

Anyway all i've been doing thus far is procrastinating studies, hanging out with the fellas from school and, oh yeah, working on the movie. No it's not dead and I mean that this time. The guys I got to work with me this time around are REALLY serious! They actually show up for rehearsals on time AND they don't gripe and moan as to when they can leave. If I mess this one up, the only one who'll be at fault here is me.

We just started recording some behind the scenes movies to add to the DVD so that people can see just how ridiculous we look and exactly how much hard work it is to put out into a movie. Either way thing's aren't going EXACTLY as planned, but they're still going. All I have to do now is find a decent balance between this and school and i'm golden.

As for my day yesterday, it wasn't bad at all. My reluctance to go to school to drop off an assignment put me dead center in the path of the fun train, and boy did it run me over good! After rehearsals for the move, we had an impromptu field trip to National Flour Mills. Mind you, I am not part of the Electrical Engineering class, but I found myself in the thick of things anyway. (Hell, a nigga needs something to do on a Friday afternoon). Now to say that the trip wasn't interesting at all would be a half-lie - we did get to have a bath in compressed air, a method that I think should be the new world standard. None of this "getting wet" business like traditional showering; bah! I shake a condescending flipper at you, you glitter of privative life, you soap and water!

So anyway after that we went back to the computer lab to run a game of Soldier of Fortune 2, Double Helix. Long story short, we kicked the arrogance soaked stuffing of pride out of the Electrical Class (ICT rules!!!) They were no match for my USAS automatic shotgun (hoo-hah!!).

Now usually after this we would run a game of basketball followed by some light sparring, but apparently the unusual loss by Electrical in the game of SOF somehow offset the gods of physical activity and their beams of hyperactivity missed the JDTI campus that afternoon. No bother, we always have a plan B

Our alternate activity for the afternoon was to go straight home, but not before making the women of the working class feel excruciatingly uncomfortable with their perfectly shaped breasts and buttoxes. I'll tell you, nothing looks better than a woman in an RBTT, TATIL or Clico uniform on a Friday evening. I don't know where they all come from, or how all of them look so good, but it appears that the algorithm that God used to place them was somehow lopsided as there is usually an office building full of terrifyingly sexy women. What are the odds of that? I felt like I lost a few inches in height as the constant swiveling of my neck ground away the last few ounces of synovial fluid I had cushioning the plates of my spine. No matter, getting shorter only brings me a few inches closer to be at eye level with their boobs, that way, they can't see me looking down at them :D

We also took a walk down the newly named Shit Street - the street where my friend JP saw a pile of actual human feces confidently sitting in the middle of the road some time on Carnival Monday (or Tuesday). We did, in fact, encounter another pile, with some of its members smeared all over the adjacent wall. We had a brief debate as to what kind of depraved a person would commit such an act, but it was cut short as we found that same person posted up in an adjacent crevice, looking rather anxious to commit the act again; this time using my friend JP's long curtain of a T-shirt as the canvas for his next feces masterpiece. In an attempt to prevent such a thing and save ourselves from becoming the dipping palettes, we just walked a little faster, not too fast though - the bright fluttering colours and young smiling faces might arouse him.

So let's take a trip skip down to City Gate where JP had to withdraw some cash. It's the end of the month and the ATMs are screaming with frustration. The lines are long and S'ing. After much searching and disappointment we eventually found one that wasn't so bad, except for the little clepto that tried to put his hand in my friend Jabari's bag. I mean, the evasive action that Jabari took would have been enough if only after the fact he guy didn't stop staring at him with that look in his eye - you know the look I'm talking about... After a minute or two of being subjected to that, I got the feeling that the guy wasn't exactly reaching for Jabari's bag... maybe a little lower, you know what I mean? But i didn't want to traumatize the bugger any more, any more action and I think the guy might have flipped his parity bit.

Pew!

The wait at the maxi terminal was fun. We had some laughs, but all that ended for me when I saw the same woman whose ass I was stalking walked right by me - her perfume, her hair, her everything... mmmmm....... I wish I was a little bit older, y'all...

Anyway, what conspired after that is just too funny and explicit for words. I really wish Mr. Farfan had is camera running.

So after I saw my friends off on a maxi, I proceeded to my platform - I myself had a ride to catch as I was planning on going to church (which starts at 7) and I was at the maxi stop watching ass at 6:15. Shameful, I know.

Anyway, we somehow managed to reach church just in time and the service was a good one indeed. The message was insanely appropriate. I said a little prayer for myself and another person who's too... nothing. I'll leave that description out for now. But yeah, I went to church for myself and that other person that night.

So that's all for me, really. Today we're supposed to have a voice-over session for segments of the movie where a radio transmission is going to come in. I have no idea how i'm going to engineer the synchronicity of the voice over and the actual shot or scene but I guess that's my food for thought for the rest of the week right there.

Oh look forward to seeing a format change sometime soon. I dunno, maybe i'll incorporate video or pictures in the entries and save the pure text format for writer's block style entries.. so... yeah... that's it...bye

Intersting Video

Ugh! I promise you my dear readers that my blog will not become a festering cesspool for pop culture videos but my friend Ashvini sent this to me and even though it's a chain letter, I just feel compelled to share it (it's a personal choice people, I don't usually do this kind of thing) I have a strong feeling that it's the music that's making me feel this way. Aaaaaawwww maan!!!