What's happening in Flic-En-Flac?

What's happening in Flic-En-Flac? Well, everybody seems busy with their lives - the new year came and went away, and all of us seem to have resumed our everyday routine.

The elite of the rhum-gulping club all seem to be alive and drinking. However, they are frowning upon the newcomers who came to make a few bucks with the forgotten trolleys (each one's worth 10 bucks) - the proof, Roy, the homeless wine/rhum veteran is currently walking around with a few injuries on his face.

Nothing's new with me - I'm still living in an impossible desert while crawling towards what looks like a mirage. My good mate, however, seems to be swimming in the lake of happiness. Makes me wonder...

My Confession

I like hugging you. I like being close to you, and watching you. I love everything about you, especially your hair, and how it gets all weird in the morning, when I drop by your house to have tea with you. The best thing that I like is hugging you. You're so smallish, so cute - I wish I could just keep hugging you.

I can't walk by your road without staring at your gate. I can't stop my heart from jumping when I see somebody far away who looks a little bit like you - and I just can't explain what happens when I hear your voice from afar. Everytime I come closer to you, and kiss you on your cheeks, I just can't help wishing I were kissing your lips. I wish I could hold your hand, and go on a walk on the beach with you.

My dear, I wish you were mine. I don't know what's stopping me from telling you how much I care for you, and how much I adore you. Would it be my shaking knees, or my blank mind? I feel something when we're talking on the phone, and keep thinking about our short conversations on the phone. I treasure each and every text message you sent me, and I feel blessed when you call me.

I love it when you yawn, and I adore seeing you dance. Everything about you makes me wonder... and I wish we were together, right now, at this very moment. Even if we die poor, I will still feel that I've been the richest man in the whole world.

There's no doubt about that. I love you.

Wow

I don't recall how the weather looked like, nor could I detect any delicate smells around me. It was neither hot nor cold, and nothing in this particular moment would've predicted what would happen. It was a normal day, the birds and the people around all looked normal.

Something fell from the sky, and I caught it. I was positively certain that I was still immersed in reality. My eyes, which had been closed halfway in response to the usual boredom of the world, suddenly opened up and sparkled with glee. I looked up at the sky, to confirm that I wasn't dreaming, and checked my outstretched arms. Yes, it was real.

"What's your name?" I asked

She smiled, but didn't reply.

Writing

When I write, my mind is closed to all inputs from the real world. I write to fill in the void inside of me, to compensate for the loneliness. Those words living here are the bits and pieces of my mind and my sentences mirror my heart.

I write hoping to be read. I know that those fragments of memories made up of words and punctuations might forever live inside of you, and that is why sentences are eternally forming inside of my mind, to finally be born through a melodious drumming of my keyboard. Yes, writing is selfish. The writer is both the father and the mother, who hopes for the world to see his or her children.

Hope...?

I hate unsolved mysteries. But I'm always delighted when I'm in the process of solving one.

Maybe the mystery of this year would be Hope. Hope is an individual with unknown motives; she visits my blog from time to time and drops me comments. We talked on chat and sent emails to each other, but for a few months now, the communication has been pretty much one way.

During blank moments, I keep thinking of methods I could use to track her down. I know I could compare the time and date of comments left with visiting IP's on my websites - but what can I really do with that? Call the local telecom and ask them for the phone number of that person? I don't even have a valid legal reason to want to track her down anyways.

And then there are the philosophical issues. What good is there to track someone who wants to remain anonymous?

*sigh*

P.S.
Yes... I made the blue sunflower drawing.

Blogging Under The Rain

Mysteriously, the sun seemed to have disappeared.

Experts all agree: it's not normal. Space shuttles and telescopes have been cruising the dark skies to find the star of our system. She's nowhere to be found. In those dark moments, the whole world stands united, but still slightly uncertain about its future.

The moon declined to provide a suitable reason for the disappearance of its friend. The main suspect, God, was interrogated this morning. God furiously denied taking the Sun away, and requested to be interrogated only in the presence of his lawyer, the devil.

The devil declined to give away any information regarding the case. The search goes on.

I challenge You.

A few centuries ago, it would've been quite easy to instil divine fear into tribesmen who had not chosen to improve their lifestyle through trade or mechanical and technological means. Fire a gun or explode some fireworks - and *bang* you're already their God. We can understand their reaction. Humans tend to attribute things that they do not understand to higher and therefore incomprehensible powers.

Most of you reading this are no better than those primitive tribesmen. Maybe even more stupid. I don't think even 1% of you have ever witnessed an event which could not be scientifically explained. Still, you believe. You've been raised - brainwashed - to believe, without asking yourself questions.

What you have to say:
"But God SAVED ME! I was locked up inside a crashing airplane's toilet and my butt was blowing diarrhoea while everything on the plane was on flames. I still survived! Is that not a miracle?"

What I have to say:
"No, shithead. Had you died, you wouldn't be bragging about God picking you out of everybody on the airplane. But you survived, and we have to bear your stupid thoughts."

What you have to say:
"I had prostate cancer, and I had only 1% chances of survival. Even if I'm missing a ball, I'm alive and well! Isn't that a miracle? Didn't God SAVE ME?"

What I have to say:
"Out of 100 patients, 99 died, and you survived. Out of the next 100 patients, 99 will die again, and yet another dickhead will survive. You're just statistics. Bitch."

Religion is like Santa Claus. However, there's nobody to tell us that God doesn't exist.

I must still applaud all the religions around the world - they are the best and oldest organisations around. They self-regenerate themselves in terms of members, brainwashing everyone and giving valid or partially-valid philosophical answers to many questions. In many cases, they give a sense to life.

Religions are here to make us forget the fact that after we permanently lose the illusion of consciousness, we return to our most basic form: matter without intelligence. Very few of us are ready to accept this, and it is somewhat comforting for the weaker and dependant minds.

The Quiet Story

This is the story of two young fishermen. Contrarily to the heroes of Ancient Greece, they did not participate in historical wars; unlike Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, they did not find a buried treasure in an abandoned house; nor did they solve dark mysteries like Sherlock Holmes and Watson.

This is the story of two fishermen in the modern world, living lives without earth-shaking adventures, lives without the fear of tomorrow: the lives of two simple persons.

Should I tell you the wonderful story of Joe and Gérald - the two happiest men on this planet? Would you be interested to know that both of them wake up at five to go fishing on their boat, and always come back home to their wives with a smile on their face? Would you like to listen to a story that starts well, is quiet in the middle, and ends beautifully?

I know the story. I can assure you that it's beautiful.

The Mysterious Girl

Who would have guessed that there was such a place inside of Flic-En-Flac? The one last haven where trees freely grow and butterflies flutter, guided by the sweet smell of the wind. I heard that a mysterious girl lived in there all alone, in this house with no television and no telephone.

Was it a dream, or was it for real? I was shocked by the simple design of the house, and the complex artifacts of decorations hung around almost everywhere. I had never seen the girl herself - I had been invited to her house by her cousin. We were there for only a few moments, but the magic of the place had totally entranced me. It all made sense: A fairy lived in that place. It should've been a very beautiful woman, with long hair and kind eyes. A simple and yet cute girl, with a charming smile and a beautiful personality.

I felt like the young innocent lad who had been led to the mysterious forest where the princess lived in disguise.

I could've chosen not to meet the girl who lived in there - after all, I might have been deceived. I however got hold of her phone number (Yes, she had a cellphone. I was surprised.) and sent her a text message. We were on the beach, two days later, talking about our lives, karma, and things I would never have expected to talk about with someone. Even if she wasn't how I imagined her to be, she is still beautiful - very beautiful.

My virtual life all seems like a blur - my email address, my blog, my ongoing projects... yes, it's there: the real world.

2006 Starts

I read a strange book by a disturbed spirituality guru. He neatly explained illumination through a fascinating example:

We are all drops of water. Illumination would be to return to the ocean; but as we would fall into the ocean, we would all die. However, we would still live on as a part of the ocean.

Yes, that would be illumination all right. But before we all return to the universe, or maybe re-incarnate into the neighbour's underwear, I think we should make the best out of life.