I don’t know, things just seem blander than they used to be. The only times when I’m truly hitting the spots in me that need to be worked are when I’m practicing hardcore screaming: P Honestly, everything else just doesn’t keep me on my toes right now. It just seems to pass without making much of an impression on me anymore. And I just need something to catch me off guard and make me question the way I see the entire world. I feel older than the majority of the people I know. I’ve already come to terms with school, and jobs, and relationships. More than most people I know. So do I just sit here and wait for people to fucking catch up to me? So that I have more people that I can be rowdy and out of control with? People that don’t care who’s watching or judging I don’t know exactly what I need to change the way things seem to be going. I guess eventually they just will. without me realizing it. But I guess I’m just lucky that i have a few people in my life that make me feel like I’m here for a reason. If they weren’t there, I honestly would just stop existing. Like I would keep moving except that I would recognize that nothing could ever penetrate me again. Except a cock.

I want to be ecstatic. Yes. Ridiculously terribly completely excited.

Question is, How?

Siapa yang makan cili, dia yang rasa pedas

Freely translated, it means, ‘He who eats the chili, will feel its spiciness’. Without the wit and sarcasm that comes coupled with the Malay version, it doesn’t seem much. But it basically means, if you’re guilty of something, you’ll know and feel it.

“A perfect place to enjoy the effects of the happy pizza is another Phnom Penh institution: Seventh Heaven* on “the lake.” Beng Kok (Lake Kok) is on the northern side of the city, a ten-minute moto (motorcycle taxi) ride from the centre of town. The lake hosts a collection of guesthouses, situated on a dirt road which barely deserves the name. If we were outside Phnom Penh, I would call it a wide jungle trail.

The guesthouses have restaurants which look out onto the large, peaceful lake. There are hammocks set up so you can just lie there and watch the day go by. Travelers and residents are sitting alone or in small groups, talking and smoking ganja. There is an almost reverential silence, as if it was some sort of temple to utter passivity.

The rooms are cheap, as is the food. With the price of grass so low, an individual with $250 to spare can comfortably spend a month on the lake doing nothing but smoking ganja all day.

The food is adequate, but not great, and the lake makes it a nice place to eat. I chat with some of my fellow diners, sharing my stash with them although they have plenty of their own. This is an easy place to spend a few hours or days or months: a cool breeze from the lake, the open waters with quaint visions of Cambodian life on the far banks, fishermen occasionally gliding by in small boats, cheap food, and an inexhaustible supply of marijuana.

As the afternoon wears on and the sun heads down, it all starts to make perfect sense. My marijuana-enlightened brain realizes the idiocy of a career in journalism. The only sensible thing to do is to spend the rest of my life here on the lakeside, smoking Cambodian buds.”

Ok, sorted.

I am moving out in the next two weeks.

Pray for me.

….Gordon Ramsay’s cookbook.

no qualification.. cheap labour type jobs..

i mean.. if u offer Rm800 to some SPM / college kid for some fun to be involve in the movies and cinema related job.. yes.. hundreds would be willing 2 work for free..

but in other cases.. this doesn’t apply..
this only works for specific fun companies.. CO being one of them..

plenty of suckers out there for that..

try throwing Rm800 job offer to a person who is married or has other commitments.. then they’ll just turn around and say.. screw this..

i might as well go sell Nasi Lemak..

like i said.. it’s one of those fun jobs in which the employer can always exploit the gullible and desperate..

you do realise that u are being exploited right?

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, (all that self-worth sorta thing) and well, you know how these things can escort you down a path of hesitation. Working for the asses makes me sleepy.

I’m off.

I’m quitting, at last.