Hic Sunt Dracones

the smylere with the knyf under the cloke

Posts Tagged ‘death

Opium for the Masses — Mental Retardation

leave a comment »

I sent mass text that rendered the perfect white picket fence garden, smeared with the obscene calamity that struck the peaceful citizen into the “soul of soulless conditions, the heart of a heartless world”. Not twice or thrice. But only ONCE.

That is enough to get a citizen of outsource capitalization that is frequently flooded with global call to get irked with one simple text that only inquire about a shipment of goods from Borneo. I apologise for not abiding to the rule of internet sophistication of Twitter and Facebook at that moment, since I’m in the middle of 3G and Internet void. Hence the sms, as the shipment just arrived from Miri and intended recipient is required — the goods is perishable and still fresh.

I don’t have to be creative with an elaborate prose just to inquire 3 people. Yes, only 3 masses of person.

Massive masses of human mass.

You wanted me to make a different tearful and eye jerking story about the passing of something dear to me for each of intended close circle of loved ones too? I send it to the citizen of the animal lover with ever intricate narrative; and the reply is understandable since the trip to the mountainous theme park surely take out breathe of the visitor there. I don’t trespass further, and the succinct reply is enough.

If I didn’t blog it, does that mean I didn’t value it the same with someone else quote that comes from a different mode of communication? Do I have to divulge everything just to make a simple point that death is something poignant?

Why overlook a simple structure of word — death — yet looking further to the voice that uttered the word; unsteady vibration, foul stench from the parched throat, indistinct accent and the facial tic that’s irksome. The messenger is being judged, for he didn’t come decent and charmingly enough to utter the distressing word — death. How should I say it: Longer and poetic version with singular recipient, as if the world of my despair revolved around one person alone?

Somehow, I, remaining in perpetual confusion amuse some of you. Like a decrepit dog tailing its tail.

Does death also amuses some of you? And do I have to blog every frustration with every answer that comes from each of you just to be fair — as whom I value the most?

Should I also divulged how many promises that’s broken, how many debt left unpaid, how many disappointment that I stomach with nihilistic contempt! Because being ignorance is bliss?

I’m glad [he] got the gut to make it happened, because that would be definitive enough for me, how it should ended in term of being in perpetual complication.

If blogging my frustration is the valid form of real life frustration. So there. I’m frustrated with all the argument about stupid judgement of one simple multiple or effing mass sms, plural recipient for tragic story instead of singular recipient and the grading system like in kindergarten on how much valuable the feedback is.

This is such an infantile argument.

Would it be professional if I ask how much debt that you should pay? Or just because I work in Oil & Gas, I should ignore all the debt incurred? Oh, that’s only rhetorical question, since it required spending monetary value equivalent on how many gas, mileage and time that already spent the last 4 years.

It’s easier to make the argument worse by divulging financial losses. That’s when alimony issues arise.

Nevermind. Do whatever you want to do.

If I did, is it going to get worst?

Only if I blog this that is.

And I did.


Blogging is not a valid form of mutual conversation. Try the traditional verbal dialogue next time, winning the argument is easier amidst the tantrum. Then again, that’s why I blog, to stay clear from the “paroxysm of indifference importance”.

Written by cthulhu

February 27, 2009 at 1:37 am

Travelogue, Dislodge

leave a comment »

As I keep updating my globetrotting of near and far flung cities to a circle of loved ones, I realised that it hardly matter to some of my whereabouts. I don’t think they even notice of my absence.

I guess, I fear for my safety whenever I travel to some dodgy place — like the time in European cities’ back alley. Mentioning of my destination to a circle of contact, should leaves an ample track of footsteps, if something really bad should happened to me.

It may sound like paranoia but I likened it as a safety net. My current job is risky enough with all the travel between vessel, platform and the port. A simple text of assurance is a mark of my welfare.

I’m cutting down the text-ing recipients. There’s always facebook, twitter and this wordpress for the rest of you.


The frustration might be attributed to the recent passing of my favourite cat — baby — back home. She died on the second day after giving birth to a kitten. Baby barely has the strength to eat off the umbilical cord on the kitten — she needs a little help from my sibling. On the second day, just when my sibling takes a day off from her work to take Baby to the veterinarian — she died. The way my mom picture it is so heart wrenching as the kitten still suckling the warm teats from her deceased mother.

I’m feeling angry rather than sad. Perhaps, to the futility of preserving the connection between the loved ones. A friend’s view of life, after I text her, pretty much summarise the wistful passing of someone that’s dear to me.

An existence of anything or anyone serves a purpose in life. Once the purpose is fulfilled, it will disappear into the background and we learn something in return.

Life is fleetingly fragile.


I hate business travel. I love backpacking. I miss Baby.

Written by cthulhu

February 26, 2009 at 3:32 pm

Posted in life and dream

Tagged with , , , , , ,

Syurga Nekros

leave a comment »

Prologue: I’m Syurga. 


I live.


I found faith.


I lose faith.


I found Sci-Fi channel.


I blog.


I lose virginity.


I blog about losing virginity.


I found humour. Try being funny to compensate with the superficial grasp of metaphysics or even physics.


Life is fun.



Epilogue: I’m Nekros.


Annotation: This is a parody.

Written by cthulhu

February 12, 2009 at 2:50 pm

Justifying Death of Innocents with Halakha (Jewish Law)

leave a comment »

Professor Geoffrey Alderman to Rabbi David J Goldberg:

The Halachah is crystal clear. It is entirely legitimate to kill a rodef – that is to say, one who endangers the life of another – and this is true, incidentally, even if the rodef has not yet actually taken another life. So the Judaism that I practise permits what is generally referred to as “pre-emptive” military action.

Rabbi David J Goldberg to Professor Geoffrey Alderman:

I have no argument with your explanation about the status of the rodef in Jewish law (the Halachah) and the permissibility of taking pre-emptive action against him, except to add that the biblical law should be viewed in the context of a desert society and blood feuds between individuals and clans. That is why I disagree with your contention that in the context of modern Gaza this can be extended to include every member and supporter of Hamas – about 1 million people according to the election results. Or would you advise every innocent civilian and child to wear a large placard visible to Israeli jets proclaiming “Don’t blame me, I voted for Fatah”?

[From Comment is Free: Geoffrey Alderman vs. David Goldberg, Can Israeli actions in Gaza be justified on the basis of Jewish scripture?]

One commentator said:

Makes me glad that I am an atheist and I know why this is wrong.


since feeling is first (1926)

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;
wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don’t cry
—the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids’ flutter which says

we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life’s not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

— e. e. cummings (1894-1962)


His tools were secular, but he practiced a religion nonetheless. It was the romantic individualist’s religion of the heart, in which love is not an emotion but a deity. Its creed was faith in the miracle of man’s individuality, his capacity for delight in beauty, in spring, in flowers, in girls. Its galaxy of devils, which grew as Cummings observed the modern world (“a hoax of clocks and calendars”), included dry intellects, science, mass thought, security worship, Sigmund Freud—everything inside man or outside him that tends to limit his individualism, to reduce his sense of wonder.

(Source:TIME – E. E. Cummings: Poet of the Heart)

Written by cthulhu

July 22, 2008 at 10:50 am