did i ever tell you about the man who taught his asshole to talk?

Oh God, Naked Lunch is such a trip. Tee hee. It’s fucked up beyond any reasonable doubt, but in an awesome way.

I was at Art for Grabs at the CM Annexe today, and it was quite great. Bought two books at the KL Alternative Book Fair (Kasut Biru Rubina by Sufian Abas and a compilation of stories entitled Aweksku: Himpunan Cerita Pari-Pari Untuk Bidadari Kota [yes, I read stuff written in Bahasa too]) and a movie, Tan Chui Mui’s Love Conquers All (I’m a sucker for romantic stuff, what can I say?) at Art for Grabs.

Browsing through some of the books, particularly the compilations/anthologies of stories made me really want to see if I could somehow get published. But I guess that’ll come in due time. God knows I wouldn’t know how, anyway. And the photos at Art for Grabs honestly made me feel quite… inadequate, as a photographer. Maybe someday, somehow.

I bought a roll of Lucky b&w film, and instead of loading it up into my dad’s Olympus OM-1, decided to wait until my Minolta 3000i arrives from the US for a grand total of RM90-ish. The 3000i’s small, so I’ll be able to carry it and my A200 in my bag at the same time, probably. Yay for increased pretentiousness and faggotry.

Now, where the fuck do I get b&w film developed?

Watched (and enjoyed) some acoustic sets as well, which certainly a far cry from the live music I’m used to. Very enjoyable nonetheless, and I somehow was reminded of my age-old desire to be up on stage with an acoustic guitar, some pedals, a drum-machine ticking away and someone singing over my ever-cliche chords. Not that it’ll ever happen, since I don’t have an acoustic, don’t have a drum machine and certainly don’t know anyone that’d want to sing. And I’ve forgotten every song I ever wrote on an acoustic guitar and can’t write any more since I suck at writing. And I don’t have an acoustic guitar that I even feel like playing.

Time to buy one, I guess?

Two photos from today:

I need to learn the art of getting to know people. Because, frankly, if I didn’t have the Internet then I probably wouldn’t have any friends outside of uni. God’s truth. And that makes me feel pathetic.

Haha, funny how I can never have a good night.

get going cowboy!

I’m done with exams. Can’t say I’m incredibly enthused, but it is a slight relief to have that shit over and done with. Shame I couldn’t end my exams on a high note (my Introduction to Literature 2 exam today was quite crappy) but it doesn’t really matter regardless. I’m done, and I have a glorious 18 days of nothingness to look forward to. Well, 15, actually, since I have some tentative plans for three of those 18 days. Art for Grabs at Annexe tomorrow, Metal Camp gig at MCPA on Sunday, and that Harmonic May Rockerstra gig at MCPA on the 11th.

It’s a near given that I won’t be improving on last semester’s results, and I’m quite sure that they’ll be a significant bit worse than last semester’s 3.55 GPA. How much worse exactly, though, is anyone’s guess. I certainly don’t know (and you wouldn’t expect me to, right?), but if I did then it wouldn’t be fun, now would it?

No, no it wouldn’t. Suspense. Killed. Boring much?

I finished reading Toyofumi Ogura’s Letters from the End of the World tonight, and I have to say that it is a great book and worthy of anyone’s time. The author’s prose is simple but direct and conveys the horrors, chaos and destruction of the bombing of Hiroshima quite wonderfully. The fact that it’s basically a series of letters to his late wife, Fumiyo (they were actually written as letters and only later compiled into a book, from what I gather), makes it that bit more emotional and human. The letter recounting his late wife’s battle with and eventual death from radiation sickness really moved me, as did the diary entries of his daughter Kazuko in the appendix, which also (later) dealt with Fumiyo’s sickness and death. Moving, powerful stuff.

Want to see for yourself a side of the bombing that textbooks and teachers will never really be able to teach you? Read it.

I also finished reading the book Like Shaking Hands with God, which is a transcript of conversations between Kurt Vonnegut and Lee Stringer. Thoughtful stuff, and almost essential for anyone interested in writing as a reader or even as a writer (which is me, I guess). I will admit, though, that reading it did give rise to some more doubts within my already doubt-filled mind. Self-doubt is my constant companion, as I’m sure some of you know.

Read more of Burroughs’ Naked Lunch while listening to Naked City’s Heretic, Jeux des Dames Cruelles album, and I have to say, the two fit together quite well, to an extent. It’s fucked up, Naked Lunch is. Really fucked up. The blurb on the back doesn’t lie when it says that the book is “probably the most shocking novel in the English language”. If you get the chance to, read it and see. I actually, somehow, quite like it. If only for the fact that it makes me seem just that bit more odd, dislikable and pretentious. And that’s always good!

Also, there’s this girl (as one might have ascertained via this post having a label saying “the fairer sex”) that I hardly know (I don’t even know her name for christ’s sake) that I’m… somewhat attracted to. As in, I want to get to know her better. I’m curious about her, which doesn’t happen often, boy or girl. Which is all fine and dandy, really, but as one might expect my ever-present self-doubt makes me doubt if I can even muster up the balls to actually strike up a conversation with her whenever we bump into each other again. I should at least get her name, dammit! And somehow there’s this lingering feeling that it’s once again The Wrong Person. Haha. Well, fuck, get to know her first man.

(I mentioned how I didn’t know what anyone could possibly see in [little 'ol three-chord] me to a couple of my friends, and they said the same thing: I’m a nice guy. Which is great, yeah, but I can’t help but feel that it’s not going to be of much help. For whatever reason.)

I’m too lazy to go back and add this new label to my previous posts about this subject (that, and I can’t really recall which ones are about this subject) so I guess that this post will be the first one to carry this label. Sure as hell won’t be the last, if my track record is anything to go by. Expect a post in which I whinge about being a coward and not having the balls to talk to her soon!

(Photo post tomorrow, perhaps.)