If you are squirmish with blood and severed body parts. Or detest strongly against animal cruelty, I strongly suggest that you do not watch this video. This refers to you mel. Experiments in the Revival of Dead Organisms
I guess that's the word - numb. It's how I feel about Malaysian news and life. Talks of race and religion, equity and stocks, rights and privilidges. Nowadays, when someone tells me something that's gone wrong with the country when it could do so much better, my numb response is this:
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2. Ahhhh, its cute. 3. Why dont we just cuddle? 4. You know they have surgery to fix that. 5. Make it dance. 6. Can I paint a smiley face on it? 7. Wow, and your feet are so big. 8. It\'s okay, we\'ll work around it. 9. Will it squeak if I squeeze it? 10. Oh no... I just got a flash headache. 11. (Giggling and pointing) 12. Can I be honest with you? 13. How sweet, you brought incense. 14. This explains your car. 15. Maybe if we water it, it\'ll grow. 16. Why is God punishing me? 17. At least this won\'t take long. 18. I never saw one like that before. 19. But it still works, right? 20. It looks so unused. 21. Maybe it looks better in natural light. 22. Why dont we skip right to the cigarettes? 23. Are you cold? 24. If you get me real drunk first. 25. Is that an optical illusion? 26. What is that? 27. It\'s a good thing you have so many other talents. 28. Does it come with an air pump? 29. So this is why you\'re supposed to judge people on personality. 30. I guess this makes me the early bird.
Poem: Slip of the Tongue by Adriel Luis My glares burn through her. And I’m sure that such actions aren’t foreign to her because the essence of her beauty is, well, the essence of beauty.
And in the presence of this higher being, the weakness of my masculinity kicks in, causing me to personify my wannabe big-baller, shot-caller, God’s gift to the female species with shiny suit wrapping rapping like, “Yo, what’s crackin shorty how you livin’ what’s your sign what’s your size I dig your style, yo.”
Now, this girl was no fool. She gives me a dirty look with the quickness like, “Boy, you must be stupid.” so I’m looking at myself, “Boy, you must be stupid.” But looking upon her I am kinda feelin’ her style.
So I try again. But, instead of addressing her properly, I blurt out one of my fake-ass playalistic lines like, “Gurl, you must be a traffic ticket cuz you got fine written all over you.” Now, she’s trying to leave and I’m trying to keep her here. So at a final attempt, I utter, “Gurl, what is your ethnic makeup?”
At this point, her glare was scorching through me, and somehow she manages to make her brown eyes resemble some kinda brown fire or something, but there’s no snap or head moement, no palm to face, click of tongue, middle finger, roll of eyes, twist of lips, or girl power chant. She just glares through me with these burning eyes and her gaze grabs you by the throat.
She says, “Ethnic makeup?” She says, “First of all, makeup’s just an anglicized, colonized, commodified utility that my sisters have been programmed to consume, forcing them to cover up their natural state in order to imitate what another sister looks like in her natural state because people keep telling her that the other sister’s natural state is more beautiful than the first sister’s natural state. At the same time, the other sister isn’t even in her natural state, because she’s trying to imitate yet another sister, so in actuality, the natural state that the first sister’s trying to imitate wasn’t even natural in the first place.”
Now I’m thinking, “Damn, this girl’s kicking knowledge!” But, meanwhile, she keeps spitting on it like “Fine. I’ll tell you bout my ‘ethnic makeup.’ I wear foundation, not that powdery shit, I wear the foundation laid by my indigenous people. It’s that foundation that makes it so that past being globalized, I can still vocalize with confidence that i know where my roots are. I wear this foundation not upon my face, but within my soul, and I take this from my ancestors because I’ll be damned if I’d ever let an American or European corporation tell me what my foundation should look like.”
I wear lipstick, for my lips stick to the ears of men, so they can experience in surround sound my screams of agony with each lash of rulers, measuring tape, and scales, as if my waistline and weight are inversely propotional to my value as a human being. See my lips, they stick, but not together. Rather, they flail open with flames to burn down this culture that once kept them shut. Now, I mess with eye shadow, but my eyes shadow over this time where you’ve gone at ends to keep me blind. But you can’t cover my eyes, look into them. My eyes foreshadow change. My eyes foreshadow light. and I’m not into hair dyeing. but I’m here, dying, because this oppression won’t get out of my hair. I have these highlights. They are highlights of my past atrocities, they form this oppression I can’t wash off. It tangles around my mind and twists and braids me in layers, this oppression manifests, it’s stressing me so that even though I don’t color my hair, in a couple of years it’ll look like I dyed it gray. So what’s my ethnic makeup ? I don’t have any. Because your ethnicity isn’t something you can just make up. And as for that crap my sisters paint on their faces, that’s not makeup, it’s make-believe.”
I can’t seem to look up at her. and I’m sure that such actions aren’t foreign to her because the expression on her face shows that she knows that my mind is in a trance.
As her footsteps fade, my ego is left in crutches. And rejection never sounded so sweet.
I wish I could join, but I'm part of the organizing team. I went for the trial run last Saturday, it was a blast! Anyway, for RM30 it's so damn worth it, the starter pack is already worth more than RM150. EVERYONE gets a RM150 voucher for prescription glasses at Malaya Optical. There's a new Liteyo product called Monster Juice that we get to have for free. All transportation costs are covered. It's open to the public, so if you are interested or wish to know more, call me. You can register on the day itself. Btw, its all by foot. Two ppl in a team.