A sign:

Welcome to Morose.

To the right - a mountain, comprised of stitched nylon, cotton and various standardised fabric, revelling in its days-long amalgamation of dirt and stains.

Between the hinges and the door, the remains of a lizard - mummified by months of constant opening and closing - standing like a hieroglyphic warning to those who crawl and scuttle.

A war zone on a desk. Those fallen in battle remained, ignored by the world as it passes by, while the scenery changes by the whim of the Great Chubby Hands in its utter disregard of tidiness.

Also on the war zone; a grey shaver that would need a change of batteries.

Somewhere on the great marble desert, an ant is lost. It will eventually die of starvation or get unceremoniously trodden by a rampaging poodle.

Vines of a great forest, in fact a wiring nightmare, is strewn on the ground, coiling and trapping dust in its rubbery grip.

Speaking of dust, it covers approximately 80% of the land’s surface. Various organisms have begun thriving on it.

The sun of this land is dying; it flickers and wanes, and yet the Gods refuse to let it retire in peace.

Like the sighing of wind, or the howling of wolves, ungainly music floats across the land and engulfs all in its sombreness.

The Dirge sings.

------

On the day the sun died, a Goddess entered. And she brought change to the world.

The mountain diminished, raised to the sky from the earth. Thus, the land became cleaner.

The war zone became a land of peace. The remains of the fallen were claimed (Dust-cling Special Cloth), and the shaver replaced to its rightful place, its batteries changed.

The dust were consumed by the coming of the Great Vacuum. Gone also were its inhabitants.

The vines retracted, and only coil at the dark edges of the land, as with most lands of unseen and foretold danger.

The sun is substituted. The new sun shines proudly and basks the land in its fluorescent eminence.

Legends were spun. Songs were sung. They all tell of the same thing;

With the Goddest came Rapture. The land is now purged.

The sign now reads;

Tír na nÓg

The Land of Eternal Youth.

And just because they’re perpetually youthful, the land shall eventually return to its dire state. As time has proven, history fucks itself up.

Come back in a week or two.

************

In the Essence of Absence, Hiatuses or Those Really Long Breaks,

It would probably be more conducive for me to simply summarise the events of the past weeks into bullets. This is because with bullets, or as we Malaysians like to refer to as ‘Point Form’, everyone is happy.

(Fun fact: Bullets make quick work of everything. I’m talking about every type of bullets.)

Anyway;

--> A karaoke session with friends, in which shouting is singing and my going out of tune can be mercifully (and ignorantly) passed as a hum of a passing bee.


-->I was actually actively seeking jobs. And now I am pending the call that will tell me (in James Jonah Jameson’s quick and piercingly pain voice) that “You’re fired. Oh, you haven’t worked with me yet? You’re hired. And now you’re fired. Haha.”

--> Job interviews are an exercise of not trying to limn the room and fighting the urge to leap off the window.

--> Two days ago, I went on a stage, shook hands with Steven Tan and retrieved my graduation scroll (in fact an empty cylinder). And I tossed my mortar board. And I had a great, thankfully simple after-grad celebration.

Oh, and I’m in just about my final week of household liberty, as the father will be returning from his Euro-trip soon. I have therefore subjected myself to as much anarchy as it would allow without the complete obliteration of my house.

I’ve also been spending some time helping out the grandmother, as the grandfather had gone down to Johor to terrorise my maid-less cousins. I have actually learnt how to placate the baby as much as I can.

Those aside, life is a still a great big town square to bum in. If you’d excuse me, I’d like to return to the bench overlooking the fountain, where the people passing will notice me scowling at them like they owe me lunch.

****************

Why hadn’t I been writing lately? I’m rather hopelessly addicted to Battlefield Heroes.

And Wolfteam.

And I’ve finished [PROTOTYPE], and now getting started on Far Cry 2.

And during my trips to accompany grandma, I’ve been returning to FF12.

I now await the great arrival of Batman: Arkham Asylum.

(Somebody save me).