Monday, 26 July 2010


It was awful, she said. What? Of course not, she affirms. What do you mean of course not, asks the man. Of course of course not! She yells in high, deafening pitch. The whole room cowers beneath the wooden tables in fear and shock. One man slowly rises up and smiles awkwardly. He says hi to you all. She calms and smiles back. He runs away. What a pussy. He should die, whispers another guy cowering. Why? Asks the lady beside her. Because he’s a pussy. Don’t say that, she angrily responds. Why not? Asks the guy. Because it’s inappropriate! By this time she was getting pretty annoyed with him, another woman beside her can tell. Her face was fuming with rage and thunder, she reckons. Okay! Get the fuck out of here, all of you! Says the angry, yelling woman. Why? Asks the annoying guy. BECAUSE I SAID SO! The whole room became red with incessant rage.

Saturday, 24 July 2010


I was waiting for the bus earlier going home from my Brazilian acquaintances' house party and I see a guy in sweat shirt and Spandex shorts jogging behind me. At first I was ignoring him but remained cautious that he might be dangerous and violent so I kept vigilant of the matter. He turns around and comes back then I thought maybe this guy does not have a clue what he is doing or where he plans to go, and the weather is just too awful to be jogging alone on the sidewalk.

He pops up out of nowhere beside me and asks, "Do you know what time it is?" Surprised, I hastily open my held Playstation Portable, late to realize that my phone was actually easier. I felt it freezing on me for a couple of awkward seconds and a slight sense of panic begins overcoming me. Finally it opens up and the clock stares back at me in hazy detail. "3:43 a.m.," I replied to him. He nods in acknowledgement and follows up in a swift manner, "Do you want a blowjob?" I felt my brain crack a little, as if someone just woke me up from a psychedelic nightmare. I remember I felt as if I was trapped in my own mind for what seemed like an eternity just asking myself if I heard him right. I did. He asked me if I wanted... a blowjob. A balding guy with ginger stubble and bulky, round face in Spandex asks me if I wanted a blowjob. He looked Irish but I do not really speculate on countries of origin. Much less for people who asks if I want a motherfucking blowjob. I did not know what to say to him. I kept mum and stayed that way for quite a few uncomfortable seconds. He then stared at me with those cunning, perverted eyes and tells me, "No? Thanks," and moves away. I whispered to myself in secret, "I should have been the one saying that."

Tuesday, 20 July 2010


It is a familiar feeling you may or may not have experienced before. Perhaps you have heard of it, read of it, or maybe it is quite archetypal and common. Fact of the matter is that it delivers the sort of intrigue that glues oneself into that storyline. A plot that thickens and thins out before you notice everything has to end unorthodoxly. Then shortly after feeling as though everything was an awesome mess, you slowly realize this faux pas was anything but a fluke. A good fluke at that.

Sure it entertained me, kept me wanting for what is next in store, but the entire thing fell short in creating that chaotic vibrancy common amongst these types of bittersweet screenplays. That emphatic feeling that was supposed to be there was almost nonexistent, and if present was lacklustre. That 'woe is her' feeling then became another 'oh it's her' and I certainly doubt either part or the crew intended for that to happen for what was to become mishaps of wasted potential. The premise of the mystery was lost beneath all the melodrama of typical mother-to-son dilemma. The whole point of the movie became lost in the never-ending carousel of redundancy and slight clumsiness.

Reminiscent of previous Korean movies I watched (Oldboy, Bad Guy, Sympathy For Mr. Vengeance, Sympathy For Lady Vengeance), the main characters are of the fragile sort. The kind of which that are prone to controversy and borderline mentally disabled. It is becoming rather clich├ęd and washed out, leaving a sour taste in any, if not all, eyes that feed and witnessed this feature. Although I should give credit to the one portraying the mother. Her performance was in a different level outshone by her cringe-worthy colleagues. The essence of her character would have deviated away from all the bad things about the movie if not for the excess of drama and the powerlessness to do even the simplest of things: common sense.

Personally I liked the whole idea and intention. The execution was what failed me the most, quite frankly. The minute-by-minute scenarios were almost flawless. The setting was unremarkable. How they solved the mystery garners a B+ to me for having been unorthodox and slightly fresh. The showcasing of the relationship between mother and son was sufficiently delivered, shelling out the basics of their personalities but it stopped at that and there was no dynamic that followed soonafter. It ended where it began.

The ends do not justify the means is what perfectly captures the film's summary, and it is something used quite frequently on these kinds of mystery dramas so it is not at all new and creative. The first and last part was what is, to me, the moment of elation when ultimately the seemingly naive but not naive main character spirals into a freefall within one's own self.

Monday, 19 July 2010

Mouth To Ass

Custard doughnuts, strawberries WITH cream, three chicken drumsticks, an entire plate of chicken doner kebab, a tuna sammich, Cadbury cracker sticks, next-door pizza, a pending potato and leek soup, beef and mushroom soup with another round coming up next, bottles of Pepsi Max, bottle of Oasis, bottled water, semi-skimmed milk, cranberry and raspberry tea, and summer cocktail. Fuck my mouth-to-ass ratio, Batman!


Are You Gonna Be My Girl - JET at O2 Empire Shepherds Bush with my friend Julia. Awesome night. A little short but still great.

Saturday, 17 July 2010


A slight, vibrant chill meets him in the old alley where he frequents to that night. It is different amongst all others, he thinks. He has never felt the impact of the weather for he was too busy a man to be interrupted by earthly calamities. He puffs a final one from his cigarette which kept dying on him now and then due to the cold. He flicks it away and the cigarette hits the ground spraying tiny, sparkling lights all over that dark path. Shelly is just behind him, safeguarding and remains alert for whatever purposes that may arise for this situation. 'Anything is possible' is what she always believed in. Her old buddy, Jenkins, could attest to that. If he was still alive, that is. Now she works for Raoul. The world's most beloved criminal. At least that's what Raoul tells them anyway. Raoul has a weird fascination for Shelly. Although he does not mingle much with most of his Everymen, he spends an awfully lot of time with her, even made her his personal right-hand Everyman. She goes where he goes and there is nothing more to that except their professional relationship, or so they thought. Raoul opens the dark-stained door and the creaking sound of the door opening makes everything all the more spooky. But if you ask them Everymen, they would most likely respond by saying that spooky is a term best suited for half-assed wimps that lack the proper vocabulary for most of these improper occasions. Even Shelly agrees with a confident grin.

Raoul steps first inside, tiptoeing with careful but reassuring pattern. He makes ten steps at most when a light shines on to a vintage radio box across the platform. They stop in their tracks and stand still in attention, staring at the object from a distance.

'What is that?' whispers Shelly.

'Beats me,' replied Raoul. 'But I sure don't like it.'

'Must be one of Therin's elaborate plans to spook us out.' she says.

'And here I thought you hated that word.' Raoul says jestfully.

They move on slowly and painfully silent to the right where a pathway that leads to a dimly lit room is seen. The moment they moved farther away from the radio box, an increasing volume of relaxing lullaby was being played from the radio itself.

'Nice introduction,' smirks Raoul.

The two of them steps into the room where Therin lies waiting on his beloved and favorite chair staring into the chaotic movement of fire from the hearth. He smiles in acknowledgement knowing Raoul and Shelly have arrived.

Friday, 16 July 2010


Good laugh for a couple o' hours before some of them whiteknightfags sooked cook on all the funneh.

Thursday, 8 July 2010

Switched from XP to Vista

I expected the worst possible scenario but so far, so good. I'm liking it. I ended up reformatting the entire OS due to the fact some shitty, creepy /b/tard gave me powerful trojans that even my almighty antiviral software was not unable to detect and eliminate. I'm not all that mad and I don't totally hate /b/ since I was gullible enough to fall for their mischievous intentions, and I wanted to switch OS long before this happened anyway. 

Tuesday, 6 July 2010


I've been cleaning my room and even my console and the things inside my room as well as my laptop and its icons and the theme and my folders, so basically I did a lot of things. Petty things, probably, but worthy of minor praise. Blame /b/. I've been hanging there for a couple of days now and, my, is it a frightful but refreshing experience. My IQ decreased by as much as 10% since then but I'm still elated for no apparent blissful reason but to shut up. Anyway the struggle is at its full gear still and unfortunately the stupid Studio didn't accept me as a worthy leader of their summer camp. Probably figured I'm a pedobear or something, who knows what the reasons are. I personally thought I did a wonderful job during the interview. Anyfuckingway, moving on, I have to move on in order to move my life which is immovable due to a lot of stupid circumstances, like, everyfuckingthing, but it's all right. I have to believe in something. God, I sound ridiculous. Optimism is such a cancer. What's more godawful is I speak more like a /b/fag now more than anything else.

Congratulations, Cilfag.

Monday, 5 July 2010


Finished draft on my first short. Not so epic as I had hoped but it's intriguing. Proud of it, I so am.

He scares me a rot!

Japanese Garden Party @ Hammersmith Park. Photo by Cil Rand (Me, me, me).

Sunday, 4 July 2010

Until the real thing comes along

I'd wait for you, I'd slave for you
I'd be a beggar or a knave for you
If that isn't love it will have to do
Until the real thing comes along

I'd gladly move the earth for you
To prove my love, dear, and it's worth for you
If that isn't love it will have to do
Until the real thing comes along

With all the words, dear, at my command
I just can't make you understand
I'll always love you darling, come what may
My heart is yours, what more can I say?

I'd lie for you, I'd sigh for you
I'd tear the stars down from the sky for you
If that isn't love, it will have to do
Until the real thing comes along

I'd lie for you, I'd cry for you
I'd lay my body down and die tor you
If that isn't love, it will have to do
Until the real thing comes along

God bless the child

Mama may have
Papa may have
But God bless the child that's got his own
That's got his own


Japanese Garden Party at Hammersmith Park. Photo by Cil Rand. (Hey, that's me!)

Friday, 2 July 2010

Gangs of New Dork

So the week's about to end. Different situations, same results. I've remained a fucktard, for Pete's sake. There I was going in and out of the room and these people just don't value me. I'M YOUR DOMINATOR, DAMMIT! NOTICE ME! I yelled to myself. But nobody did and I remained so agitated. By then I wanted either to take one of them and kick his or her ass or play by their game, be nice and look smart. They noticed the smart but I doubt the nice. I wasn't able to back up my wit though. Guy across me was wimpy but resilient. I would have liked him if he wasn't such a half-arsed vuvuzela look-a-like. There's this woman, you see, she had really chubby cheeks. I could like her. Yeah. I could, but I'm still thinking about it. Not much my type. Chubby cheeks mean fat vags. Actually I made that one up. Personal theories are fun to make, they sort of wake up your migrated brain. It's not even winter yet. The whole country's actually burning hot and I loathe every single moment of it. So, another woman, looks like a penguin, thinks she's hardworking. Oooookay, hold your horses there, bird-mammal. Bet she's good at surfing. I've never tried those in my life. Me and water equates death. Another woman, fatty (NOT THE F'K AGAIN!), with unnatural hair colour. At first I thought she was going to eat me or something. The way she stares at me it's like she sees right through to your penis.. She kind of looks like a pornstar, what with the eye shadow and all. I'd do her, but she probably already did me in her dreams. I think she likes me. What a slut. Another woman, old, her mammoths are unfit for her body contour. She would have looked dastardly ugly if not for her mammoths. Pass. Give her to someone like the guy next to me.

Lots of choices now actually but those were the most common ones I came across. The Despicables, I call them. Down to their very core. Despicable, yes, they are.

Search and destroy