Tomorrow, I will revolutionize the world. I will start with brushing my teeth in the morning. For precisely 10 minutes, that’s all it will take.
For the next 24 months, I will find the perfect cure for cancer, end world hunger, write a song about homosexuality — or try to, bake a colourful cake, think of the gay lyrics to write, bake butter pecan cookies, resort to plagiarizing notable works of homo tunes — probably George Michael, and return to where i came from.
My name is Zuadrif, i came from the year 1980. It took me 29 years to travel to the correct future. There are about 219 wrong years i’ve beamed into — i’ve been to the alternative universes, i’ve seen what most have not –, and finally, have come to the right year. The year 2009. The correct year in the correct relative world, only parallel to mine, but also the year in a strange world where keen scientists are still making attempts at colliding accelerated particles in an underground tunnel that stretches between the Jura Mountains and Lake Geneva, near the French-Swiss border.
27 kilometers in circumference, the tunnel is 175 meters deep, about 29 years away from home, i’m not gonna waste any minute, and will brush my teeth in 10.
Tomorrow, i will make the healthiest man in the world to begin developing a specific type of cancer within his body, in about 4 weeks if i can get everything to be working precisely right, it will be the first steady hypothesis to what causes cancer. The first step to curing cancer, in my professional opinion as a man (and being a man is not an easy task), is to force infectious mutations in cell division, on a healthy subject. If I can always, without fail produce premeditated genetic errors each time i intend to do so, then the exact cause of cancer will be scientifically proven.
The first step to write a song, or to bake a colourful cake or wonderful cookies, or to end a world hunger, is still a mystery.
is a girl when i first met i thought was beautiful like the sun, regardless if no one would share the same opinion as mine.
Through time, i learnt that she isn’t so pretty. Quite ugly actually.
And her mind too. Nothing is so pretty about her mind.
But regardless of what i think of her, and what others might, — for reasons unknown, but time will tell, qua qua qua qua* –, she’s a dear friend. The divine Miranda.
Divine apathia, divine athambia, divine aphasia, who loves us dearly with some exceptions for reasons unknown, but time will tell.
Qua qua qua qua.
It doesn’t matter if i’m absurd as much as the theater, for reasons unknown, or tragic as much as the comedy, and citing Lucky’s speech, in the public works of Puncher and Wattmann, is to say blast hell to heaven, so blue still and calm so calm with a calm* [..], ok, enough of Lucky already!
Where was I again?
Oh yeah, Yenmay. She’s a dear friend regardless of what friends mean, regardless of what regardless means, she isn’t so happy lately. Could be because of you, my dear readers. Something tells me she isn’t happy with the world, including you and you, excluding me and me.
And it has been some time since she last laughed. Must be hard being ugly and depressed, i had thought.
So dear Yenmay, i might not be the best person to make you all smiling again, in fact, i think i’m the wrong person to do anything good to this world, but to destroy it, but i’d like to think that your dear friends can, make you all smiling again, and do other good thing i couldn’t. I have taken videos of them doing silly things, and here are your silly friends.
Isn’t Carol funny?
Tim doesn’t know what funny means
and here’s mine. An old video i must say.
Short Dance
Yenmay dear, don’t be sad for too long yeah. Cheer up =)
People like to talk to me in the elevators, even when my ears are plugged with artistic composition from the demented people who wish to die — they wish to no longer live in this world. I think so. But anyways, people like to talk to me in the elevators, even when my ears are plugged with whatever genres of music my iPod can feed me.
Except for dangdut, i wish that will never happen. Now, ‘Amen’ with me. Please, if you believe in God — even when i don’t — please, after you’re done praying for more banknotes and daily orgasms with pictures and videos from the net, please pray for me. Don’t allow Him to make me less prejudiced towards dangdut music.
Amen now.
A year ago, there was a guy — a cute guy if you believe whatever lies i tell you — who was being friendly to me after he went out from the elevator. Today, there was a black man — a real black man, if you believe whatever lies i tell you — who talked to me when i still had the earphones plugged to my ears. He said;
“Bro, i saw you this morning.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah man. Small,” and made his palms facing each other, and squeezed the air in between with his palms, and said, “small world.”
“Hehehe. You studying?”
“Yeah, SEGi College. Architecture.”
Farah — if she still reads my blog — would have not agreed with him. For Farah believes it’s architorture.
“How is it?”
“Okay after 2 years ..”
After so many years, i still don’t understand why people like to talk to me in the elevators. Not that i don’t like it. I do love talking to random people. But the way they talk, as though they’ve been secretly read this blog.
Now, that’s creepy because i’m prejudiced. I called him a black man. And i wish to never listen to dangdut.
P/S : The black man actually smelled nice. I think i’ve used the same perfume as his. And he’s cool, he did the ‘ebony handshake’ and he said ‘take care bro’.
My girlfriend (yeah, i have a girlfriend, hihi) went to Japan and did her degree under the sponsorship of the Japanese Government. That was some years ago. Today, she’s a spy for their secret intelligence.
So one day she bought me the Hiragana board and the next day Japanese was my native language — i spoke fluently and i thought of sharing it with the world since learning it was easy as pie.
So here are the videos that i did in step-by-step and i hope everyone will enjoy learning Japanese the easiest way. Remember to practice yeah.
Step 1 : Put my girlfriend on the speakerphone
Step 2 : Say hi and make new friends with the Japanese
It shocked me when it arrived. Micheal Jackson, i thought, must have inspired one of these people. I had never seen it being ordered before.
“Why there’s chicken?” i asked and the thought of it was chaotic. Horny Bin Abdullah now? Ahmad KY now? Siti Suanie now? What? Tell me something i didn’t know. Better tell me now! It was the among the weirdest things had ever happened to me after being taught of how to masturbate by the seniors of a religious boarding school of which i went for 3 confusing years — and all the juniors including myself were doing it side by side, like it was a religious fertility rite, and the second weirdest thing is being able to write this information down and share it with the world — I never thought i could ever write it! Hell, who would have written about his juvenile years and brazenly tell the world, “Hey, wanna know how i learnt to masturbute? My seniors taught me!”.
And ordering a hot bowl of chicken soup in a famous Bak Kut Teh restaurant is the 3rd weirdest thing in my life. That if i consider the 4th one is running away from the same religious boarding school during my the first year there with a 9-volt battery, a stainless steel spoon, a few bags of tea, a sachet of Tang — the most famous orange-flavoured powder in those years of mine, and the dream was ambitious : i was hoping to make a decent living from those sugared drinks and the 9-volt battery was supposed to heat up the stainless steel spoon and boil water, should i have succeeded with the escape plan. But, I had been caught by the locals 2 hours after i left the school, and they brought me to eat Sate and i told them all the silly lies i could, and they asked me to duck in the back of the car the car and quickly lie down before i realized they were actually entering the police station and didn’t want me to know about it. And one policeman offered me a place to stay and i spent a night at his house, and his house was next door to my disciplinary teacher’s house, and the next morning i was sent back to the school in a patrol car and all the students gathered around and they looked really puzzled when there was a small kid — me — not wearing the school uniform (because for the escape plan to be succeeded, i thought, to never bring the school uniforms along in my backpack so that no one would know i was running away from school) and was walking with the policeman, and sent straight to the headmaster’s room.
I insist, my life is filled with thousands of nonsensical weirdness and i must write everything down one day, but ordering a hot bowl of chicken soup in a famous Bak Kut Teh restaurant?
“No worries,” told KY, “the chicken got alcohol one. They cooked it with chinese cooking wine”.
It’s amazing how some people could see things we couldn’t.
Reading a newspaper, I saw a picture of birds on the electric wires. I cut out the photo and decided to make a song, using the exact location of the birds as notes (no Photoshop edit). I knew it wasn’t the most original idea in the universe. I was just curious to hear what melody the birds were creating.
The access card didn’t work. I slapped it again against the stubborn device that was happy to reject my card each time — and was smaller than my palm — about three-four times this time, and each time i had brought my eyes closer to inspect the red light it emitted, hoping that it would turn green, but it didn’t. Tired and had it enough, I rested my aching bones against the wall. My skull rolled left and right as though i was lying on a bed, waiting for someone to open the glass door.
But i didn’t wait a second, or rest one second. Soon, a black man, tall, his short hair was a tangle of tiny black coils, came towards the glass door. “Thank you,” I told him for the door had been opened. And i walked, i only know how to walk these days, didn’t jump as much as i was a young boy, though i do dance a little when no one’s looking, to the mailbox and reached for a bunch of keys in the right pocket of my blue jeans.
You have to remember that all my jeans are blue.
One hundred forty something? What the hell ever happened to my meter? I thought while reading the white sheet i took from the mail box : the insanely expensive electric bill. Why not one million so i can tell my friends a really funny story and ask them to laugh with me?
I pressed the button and waited for the elevator. I walked into it with 3 other people when it finally arrived. A guy, a woman, and a young boy, a young boy with a short hair who sang the national anthem on the way up in the elevator.
“Negaraku, tanah tumpah nya darahku.” He sang, happily.
The guy corrected him, or tried to, “London bridge is falling down, falling down,” with a thick chinese accent he tried to correct the kid.
“Negaraku, tanah tumpah nya darahku.” He sang, happily still.
“London bridge is falling down, falling down,” the guy tried again.
But to no avail, the kid sang louder this time, “Negaraku, tanah tumpah nya darahku.”
I'm supposed to have been dead — i shot myself, and died —, but in an alternative universe, i survived and have become addicted to wanking and sex, and the occasional wanking and sex. Oh la.
And under a moniker, i write anonymously on blogspot and under the real name, i write nonsensical stuff at Firdauz takes 5.
Firdauz takes 5