Misfits

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Dear fucking diary,

Tomorrow is Friday the thirteenth. So in case shit happens, the years have been trying, the months have been sweet, the weeks been a smash, and the days been one fucking literary right. In my rather heavenly 19 years of inhabitation on this soil, I salute my blokes and i commend em because if not for you clowns, God knows where I'd be.

Malvina Tan is one heck of a girl. People would say shes cool, shes spunky and all that side of vocabulary that would set her aside from the common girl and when i say common girl, i mean the basic rights of what a girl should possess, love, and feelings. Shes been there all this while and shes taken all my sardonic ruckus along with my emotional rants. Shes not that spiked hair girl that seems to be a tomboy or someone that isn't straight and for the record, shes attached. So many times that i had thought things would be over in my own trials with all the mofos in my life trying to fucking screw with my life but she'd be there. And shes more than what she looks like. Shes special.

Darren Fucking Tan
Now this lads, my best friend, my literary partner, my fucking One and t’other and one heck of a guitarist. Ive known this kid since my secondary school days and as he would put it, we're both fucking full of shit. We talk almost everyday from soccer to movies to how we should just go meet at each other at 3 fucking am in the morning when we have no intention to. We would call each other and say hello back at each other over and over till one of us gets bored. Yes, thats how fucking nonsensical we are and how we tossers would just have no means of a serious topic unless called upon. But he is my china plate, and my best friend and i would ask of nothing more than our friendship in this life. He says he isn't a racist but trust me, hes a fucking racist. Hes born racist. Its an innate nature, this bloke.

AnD We'd MoCk ThE PeOpLE ThAt TaLk LikE ThiS LeH aND NevER Fail TO DeeM thaT As StyliSh ReTARDed DegENEraTes oF Our CounTry As TheY ShOuT OuT To ThE whOLE woRld Saying , " HeY I'm An IdIoT" kekeke

But amidst all the mockery and the things we'd say, Darren and i, we'd head down to jim brown and call the merchant banker from time to time. We'd never ever quarreled or come close to an argument before except to debate who was more style or who was more fucked up. SO whatever im writing now may exemplify nothing of a best friend, but he is one who is there all e time and bothers to keep tabs on how i am doing and i say ditto in aspect to him with no pun intended to e rest of my mates like nicholas, yi en, phebs, gerald and the rest of the gang. Not to mention, i cannot forget the menacing presence of my two senior fuckers, gabriel and eric who have been there with me everytime i need them as well. And so maybe one day Darren and i will write a book together about how dead this city is or bring along with us cockney and london and keep them in our damn hearts. Maybe one day we'll go to london together and study literature and still be nonsensical. Maybe we'd know each other for the rest of our lives and watch our smoker friends die first before we get Alzheimer's or some other disease and just become retarded for the ending part of our lives. Maybe we'll bask in glory with our futures pending but this friendship would have lived and it would always live. So cheers to you chum. and with much love,Fuck you you old jeezer and may our mark on this God forsaken planet live for eternity.
Hope you tear the stage down with trooper mate.

And i just have to mention this one.

Benjamin Han. ( The preexisting friend )
One of the clowns that i would call nonchalant, but a piece of lying lazy shit would be apt. We'd been friends since secondary school and he'd take all my shit even till now. Needless to say, i would take his too. I'd call him at senseless hours in the morning just to disturb him and he'd return the love with a slur of vulgarities. We would hang up and that was that. Now you would think that we confide in each other and we probably have secrets. Truth is, Ben and i? We got none and thats cause we don't really talk about ourselves. We scold the shit out of each other, we jump school from time to time to eat like we never ate before or watch some movie. This tosser isn't one that talks about himself and i guess I'm used to his shit. For a friend, you could say Ben was one fucking nut who could care less, but really, you're going to realize thats what makes Ben, Ben.

My sweet escape.
And theres one extraordinary being thats made my months sweet, and my week smashing. I've talked about her more than once, in poetry, in poetry and well, in poetry. Shes taught me a lot about myself before like how i never really knew who i was or had seemed to be someone different every damn time. She had taught me how i never really knew how to take care of myself and how i had seemed to never take care of my knee and all. But anyway, i could go on and on about how smitten i am and it probably be too much for you guys to take. Truth is, i really am into this girl and it doesn't seem to matter how long everything takes because we better relish the now before it becomes then and irrevocable. So that's her boys. The most stunning person to my eyes and the most sweetest person in my heart.

And to say the least, I have never been happier.

Cheers mates.
May we all live forever.

7/12/2007 09:15:00 PM

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Fa Cup Third Round 2006, Anfield Stadium
Liverpool - Arsenal.
3-1 Loss

You would expect the crowd to be caught in a deafening silence. The kind of silence that only disappointment and gaping eyes could produce. One that would marinate the audience with much sorrow and pain. After all, this was Anfield. But at the 85th minute, when surely all faith was gone and depleted with the first 80 minutes of rampant cheering, this silence was inevitable. The fucking jeezers would mock us scousers, the mancunians would go on about their wonder boy, and the critics would fuck around about how we fired blanks. All that, was dawning and the jeers seemed to be imminent. Amongst the crowd, i was one of those fans that would say fuck a million times inside of me and just sit down and let the bad rats sink in to my already sick stomach. Yet it wasn't that day, January the 6th 2006 that the crowd was to go home in bitter defeat or yet, silence. It was with admirable faith and love for a club. Yes this was the day that even the fucking mancunians would go home and wished that their fans shared the same love.

When you walk through a storm
hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark.
At the end of a storm is a golden sky

And the sweet silver song of a lark.
Walk on through the wind,
Walk on through the rain,
Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown.

Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone,
You'll never, ever walk alone.
Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart

And you'll never walk alone,
You'll never, ever walk alone.

And as the crowd sang, the loss faded, the scoreline forgotten. 3-1 down. 3-1 down at the death of the game. We were beat. We had lost and we were going out of the fa cup. Yet at 3-1 down, the crowd sang at a volume i would swear i had never heard before. They had sung louder and louder to celebrate faith in the Kop. And as Steve Finnan kicked the ball into the sidelines with some good defending, the crowd never stopped singing, or cheering. The view at Anfield that night was a solemn affair. We might have gone out 3-1 losers. But we had gone out with not only pride and grace, but as a unit. Anfield was more one than ever that day and i bet you could picture it. Picture the fact that at 3-1 down, you'd sing your clubs theme in unison louder than any group of mancunians that day or any array of honking cars in traffic or the blabber of our trouble and strifes combined. You could very well picture it. I could.

The truth is I have never been to Anfield or been a step near it. I have never been close enough to smell the air at Melwood or know what its like to be in the stands. I've never been to abbey road and really, i have never sung the song out loud. I do not know the scenes where we last won our title some twenty years back and i had never sat a full game to see how Toshack, Dalglish or Rush ruled the game while we were still king. I had come in to support Liverpool FC at a time when Steve Mcmanaman was coming up the ranks, When Karl Heinze Riedle would bag the goals and Fowler would do a special or Berger bring the net down. Yes those were the times that i could recall as a liverpool fan. In front of the television screen. I know nuts about its culture to say the least. I don't know who died and i never saw Crazy Horse play. But i know something, that in my heart, that day, or most days, Anfield was home. Anfield still is.

Owen had come in on his debut against Wimbledon in our colors of yellow then. He would go on to score aplenty, become a Kop favourite and leave us for the Santiago Bernabeu. But a new number ten came along and he brought with him a spanish flavor one would fine hard to forget. Sanz Luis Garcia. A cheeky maestro, The midget of a spaniard would breeze through defender after defender with the cheekiest of flicks and death touches to send the crowd cheering after a jubilant finish. Sure he'd make a few mistakes and give us pain and hair pulling experiences, but this little spaniard would also send us through to the finals of the champions league, bagging goals against Juventus and Chelsea. He would prove his point again, making sure the ball had gone past the line this time in a repeat game against the Blues. The hair band and thumb sucking celebrations would be marred by injury that took him out for the whole season. We finished with a respectable third placed position and much was unsure for any Liverpool player with the opening of the transfer window. And yes, Garcia leaves Anfield with Fernando Torres coming in.

You would think that i would be thrilled by such a capture, that for once a club like ours would have a big time signing and yes, you bet i was. Who fucking wouldn't ? But let us choose to keep inside of us, Our little Spaniard for he had come from Barca, to give us joy.

To the future at Anfield, cheers to the arrivals of Lucas Leiva, Yossi Benayoun, Fernando Torres and the impending arrival of Ryan Babel and that maybe one day, i would be amongst the stands with all the scousers at the merseyside derby of my life and tell the fucking Toffees to lay the fuck off. And i'd probably get beat, i'd probably get beat to a pulp, heck i might ascend to the gates of st Peter but you know what, i'd ascend as a scouser. To say the least, i would have been there.

To the devils at trafford, the mancunians at emirates, the blues at stamford and with so much love, the fucking toffees at fucking goodison park, let the fucking bloodshed begin for this is more than a two horsed race. This is the fucking EPL.

7/11/2007 11:46:00 PM