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The past few posts has been rather deary. I have to apologise for that. It seems that life looks sad and depressing on my side of the planet, but technically speaking I doubt that. So I can’t have a few things that I want. What else is new?

Some idiot in a kancil this afternoon almost knocked into a motorcyclist. Coming into terms with that a motorcycle isn’t like an ant, its quite visible especially with the midday sun glaring on us, adding onto that the motorcycle was painted in a ridiculous shade of pink and red or is it orange? Must be sun. The rider was wearing a bright yellow shirt, jeans that seems to get shinier by the minute, red slippers and oh yeah, before I forget the ala Ah-Beng/Techno-shaker compulsory copper hued mullet-styled hair with patches of blonde here and there. If in event that kancil knocked into him, I’m pretty sure he’d have a tough time explaining to the police, I find it hard to believe to not being able to notice a copper haired orangutan wearing a bright yellow shirt, red slippers on a pink and red/orange motorbike. The insanity of Kuching drivers, and they say that West Malaysian drivers are worst. I honestly believe otherwise however. West Malaysian drivers utilise a systematic form of insane driving. I think we should have half the population to mate with Bruneians then all will be safer on the roads.

Some uncle was trying or should I say tried to race with me just now. I had my fill of dinner, very happy and satisfied, a humourous conversation with my friends, end result driving slowly while sucking on a cigarette with good jazz music. Heavenly, no? I crept up to the traffic lights, a balding uncle in the middle lane, I was on the left. The uncle looked at me and I looked back momentarily. The car he was driving, well, frankly it shouldn’t even be called a car, more like a rusted shopping trolley with patches of white flaky paint. The lights turned green and I took my time. I can still feel that uncle staring at me, so what the heck engage West Malaysian driving mode. Expecting that uncle to be a few cars behind me, my smugness was ruined when that washing machine on wheels was tailing me closely. “What the fuck” is accurate word of the minute. Traffic was light so it was a doddle for me swerving from lane to lane, the bubble-buster was that the white-haired balding monkey driving the rusted shopping trolley was still tailing behind me closely. So I backed off, figuring its not worth wasting my petrol, I moved to the left lane and let him pass, and surprise - surprise he slowed down, stared at me and zoomed off.

WHAT THE FUCK?

I figured I’d remember the license plate. Naturally I’ve forgotten now. The white hairded monkey must have came from a jollyhouse to get his fill of the naughty kind or maybe he just got married to a strapping young girl, rushing toward his ‘destination’ or maybe he just got his prescription of the blue pills? Kuching drivers!

I feel absolutely elated when someone decides that I play an important role in their lives. Trust and being trusted. Its as if when someone decides to depend on me that I feel the most alive. Do I feed off their trust to me? Or am I the sort of person that sincerely likes and wants to help others? Am I the sort of person that would fuck people off after I’m done feeding off them? Forgetting who they are and what they were to me? Am I such a bastard?
Why am I asking all this questions? Another session of self mirroring I suppose. Don’t we all do that sometimes, sit down in a quiet room and ask yourself “What the fuck is wrong with me?” At times I can’t live without my friends. At times I just want them out of my hair. And yet I worry that when I don’t answer calls or messages or IM’s I’d hurt their feelings and yet I still want that space, that space to be in my own little world, my own little fucking existence. It irks me. I remember a point a few years back where I wanted to be left alone. I wanted to be a hermit actually, not being disturbed at all so that I have the total flexibility to be an absolute bastard to myself, being a total slob. After a while I start coming out of that little shell of an existence, yearning for companionship and what do I get in return? Sharp stares from my friends and comments such as: “So difficult to answer you phone ka?” or “Dunno how to reply sms ka?” or “Cibai, so rude la you!”.

I have to say it is my fault. But then doesn’t everybody want a bit of space sometimes? Or am I just stereotyping like I always do?
I long for companionship and yet I push them so far away at times. Tsk tsk… Alex you’re one sei pok kai… hence the name of the blog/site. Appropriate isn’t it?