don't buy me

i dreamnt that one day all advertisments turned on their masters. they began to reassure people that what they owned was enough, coveting that luxury car will not make them truly happier. everyone was beautiful and special and different, they din't need to be slimmer, or younger. for the first time people felt content and happy, realising they had all they needed. people stopped spending, no money was circulating and soon the advertisements dissapeared. without their reassuring messages, people became insecure again.

highways

sometimes, work brings me to out-of-the-way places, like little sleepy townships strewn with uncompleted housing projects and empty shoplots. are these the modern ruins of a wasteful civilisation, a legacy we leave for future historians?

i usually want to get out of these places fast, my damansara boy sensibilites are greatly unsettled by the surroundings. soon i discover there is no easy exit to the nearest highway, the lifeline that will bring me back to my lovely middle class bangsar. little sleepy town settled by the ghosts of economic crises past, i'm right next to the north-south expressway with no means of escape. what must it feel like for the locals, to sit next to an artery of modernity and watch progress pass them by?

highways bring distant places closer, but seperate neighbour from neighbour. i remember a time in school when i could just cross the street to the stores. the ldp sits between the two now.

flower power

noticed how chrysanthemum tea in packets taste nothing like real, brewed counterpart? i wonder how it evolved to this point. will it continue to change, so that one day packet chrysanthemum will be a totally different creature? the only thing keeping it 'chrysanthemum' in our minds will be the yellow packaging and the yellow coloured fluid. branding will overcome our sensory judgement and render the actual product irrelevant, we will continue drinking packet chrysanthemum, the mind is fooled into likening it to the real thing.

and we shall never awaken from this stupor.

i'm collecting scenes

dummy first post

first posts are the hardest. all the pressure to say something worthwhile. like so many other things in life, i'm avoiding the real problem with a brilliant workaround. witness my dummy post. so this isn't my first post, no siree. this is a stupid made up post.

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you know the hardest part of starting a blog, apart from the first post, is finding a damn blogspot name that isn't taken.