Black Hole

Work in progress

2007-03-29T13:01:00.000-07:00

And so I left.

I left him dying there. Alone. As usual.

As I started to walk away from him, I heard his muffled cries of pain. They were slowly turning into a voiceless echo in the night. This echo did not have any sound, but it burned inside my mind. It was etched in my brain, after that night. Sluggishly is moved away, and as I lit a cigarette, I heard the sweet continuous gurgling of his blood.

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It never gets to me. I never stop and think about what I am doing. I perform them in a sequence of unconscious acts. The only thing that I know at the times of the acts is the music. The music I hear in my head. It is always the same music. Always Beethoven’s 9th Symphony. I find myself humming it. This piece of music is my only key to my past. When that car crashed and I was alone in the world, the radio was playing that piece. What happened before or what will happen afterwards is just a blur. It is not of great importance or consequence to my tale. My only care is the present. Everything, every minute was once present. Our present is what affects us the most. Past and future are secondary and resultant of it.

You may think that I am mad, crazy or a lunatic. That is neither here nor there. That is all a matter of perception of reality. If you care to know who I am, then you curiosity will soon be quenched.

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The first time was the hardest one. Well, before this at least. When I saw his face I could not bring myself to do it. This made things much more arduous. I do not know what he had different, but I knew that this subtle distinction made the world of difference. It could not be seen from a photograph. But when one is close to him, you could sense it immediately. To this day I do not know what it was.

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My name is Vengeance.

Saturday night

2006-11-01T12:15:00.000-08:00

IT's time. Go get ready, take a shower, choose what to wear, take a swig out of the hipflask,fag in mouth and away we go. Away to our island's night mecca.

The streets already filled with kids, which with each passing year seem younger. Girls with miniskirts, heels and face painted with make-up. Boys the girls age, trying to look cool and macho in their converse and Diesel jeans. All of them eyeing each other up, looking at future victims and conquests and notches on their bed post. As I wade through them I feel old and wrinkly. I touch my forehead and try to find the imaginary wrinkles.

Next stop - the liqour shop. I finf myself engulfed in these little kids again. I pay hurriedly for my bottle and I run away. I find a dark corner of the street and I start drinking. I drink and drink. I'm seeing everything in a much brighter light now. I try to get up but I stumble and fall flat on my face.

I get up and make my way through the sea of people. I stop abrubtly. I have just seen a vision. Her face is bathed with white light and her delicate features were highlighted. My heart skipped a beat. Slowly I made my way to her. Her eyes met mine. Oh wait. She is just looking through me. Who can ever look at me?

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This monster is inhabiting my soul and skin. This monster. This demon .But he is part of me. So killing him is like killing part of me. I cannot live like this but I cannot live without him either. It would be like cutting out a limb or an arm.

This quiet desperation is taking hold of me. I feel like drowning but I no longer offer any resistance. I just let it be. It is all useless anyway. No one would know the difference. No one would miss me and my annoying and disgusitng little tendencies. I wouldn't even miss myself. I would be glad that I'd be gone, because the world would be a bit better.

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How could anyone ever look at me? Who could ever love, or even tolerate me? That is why, when I see that the angel is coming over to me, I hurry up and disappear through the crowd.

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2006-09-10T03:09:00.000-07:00

Some people think that one's mood depends on oneself. That happy people choose to be happy. And unhappy, melanchonic ones choose to lead life under a rainy cloud. That artists choose to be like that, so as to help them create art. All part of the creative process and all that.

Bullshit. This is all utter,total Bullshit.

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Do you really believe that I choose this? To cry myself to sleep everynight and have bloodshot and tearstained eyes behind sunglasses. Oh.

This life is useless and wasted, so I might aswell waste it away with my good friends Mr.Smirnoff and Mr.Daniels. Splendid. Life couldn't get any better.

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My mediocrity is killing me. My averageness. My illussions and denial of grandeur. Well I was wrong. I know that now. I am that much wiser now.

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I kneel down and try to pray. But the usual words refuse to come out and are rolling around my mouth and choking me. I forgot that God is dead for me. He/She may be alive and well for other people, but for me this deity isn't there.

Da Vinci

2006-07-20T16:45:00.000-07:00

Just to update on the intrigiung saga of mr.marshall and the da vinci code. he has taken down the guestbook, once again. Surprise surprise....

Here are his beautiful words - MA AHNIEX NIES
Bhal ma ghad ahna ma ahniex nies basta nitkelmu fuq l-espresjoni tal kelma imma ahna EGOJISTI iridu li l-opinjoni taghna biss tkun tajba ahna maltin konna u nibqaw LAQQQQQQQQQQQQQQAAAAAA .Avzajt min qabel biex fuq il Guest Book ma ghandnix nihduwa personali imma dan ma sewwa ghal xejn li ghad jien mela issa kullhadd jibqa bl-opinjoni li ghandu u kulhadd ferhan . Pero il-protesta saret ma sarx il pellegrinagg imma saret il lejla ta reparazjoni tax xema li din l-ghajta mhux biss instemat Malta biss imma Finland u L-Awstralja u il film ma intlahaqx f`Malta kif kien mahsub u min mar jarah kif hareg min hemm kelma b`wahda u qall BLAJNA KANNA . "

Disjointed rambling

2006-07-20T16:22:00.000-07:00

Bhalissa ghaddejja minn nixfa kreattiva. Ta vera. Ili ma nikteb xi haga sura zmien. Jista jkun li habba s shana. Jista jkun ukoll li hajti regghet hadet il qaghda tar ritmu ghajjien u monotonu tas sajf, li ghalkemm jkun mixtieq, dejjem bejn wiehed u iehor jkun l istess. Jista jkun ghax ghazziena wkoll. Jista jkun hafna affarijiet, li bhalissa fil hin tas 1.21 am ma tantx jkollok aptit timmedita fuqhom.

Viva l insomnia li tahkimni perjodikament... ole'

ok now this cartoon . let's analyse it

this cartoon is....whatever

can someone shoot me now pls? Like now. Thank you

Ole ole ole

2006-07-04T15:09:00.000-07:00

Fratelli d'Italia,
l'Italia s'è desta,
dell'elmo di Scipio
s'è cinta la testa.
Dov'è la Vittoria?
Le porga la chioma,
che schiava di Roma
Iddio la creò.
CORO:
Stringiamoci a coorte,
siam pronti alla morte.
Siam pronti alla morte,
l'Italia chiamò.
Stringiamoci a coorte,
siam pronti alla morte.
Siam pronti alla morte,
l'Italia chiamò!
Noi fummo da secoli
calpesti, derisi,
perché non siam popolo,
perché siam divisi.
Raccolgaci un'unica
bandiera, una speme:
di fonderci insieme
già l'ora suonò.
CORO
Uniamoci, amiamoci,
l'unione e l'amore
rivelano ai popoli
le vie del Signore.
Giuriamo far libero
il suolo natio:
uniti, per Dio,
chi vincer ci può?
CORO
Dall'Alpi a Sicilia
Dovunque è Legnano,
Ogn'uom di Ferruccio
Ha il core, ha la mano,
I bimbi d'Italia
Si chiaman Balilla,
Il suon d'ogni squilla
I Vespri suonò.
CORO
Son giunchi che piegano
Le spade vendute:
Già l'Aquila d'Austria
Le penne ha perdute.
Il sangue d'Italia,
Il sangue Polacco,
Bevé, col cosacco,
Ma il cor le bruciò.
CORO

This Weekend

2006-06-18T11:03:00.000-07:00

I think I have insomnia. I haven't slept well in ages. Always going to sleep really late.

Il bierah youngman faqana. Weggana id dj :) Now counting the days for Dave Clarke.

Madonna wasn't that bad. Just she didn't look like Madge, and she didn't sing like her. But we had fun dancing away to daft 80's music surrounded by people my parent's age.

This weekend was great, as I haven't really been that much at home. I went over to my friend's home ( as her parents are abroad) and there were always loads of people to hang with. Had fun chilling out and getting ready for some clubbing :D

Picture

2006-06-09T01:24:00.000-07:00

Just felt like sharing this with you. I have no idea what this is. Maybe it's a cat trying to eat an eel. Or maybe it's an eel seducing a cat.... hmmm

Update on the Da Vinci Quest

2006-05-08T05:01:00.000-07:00

Update on the Da Vinci Quest

Revelation no 1 - The DEVIL has infiltrated the Curia

Revelation no 2 - Mr Marshall needs to go to school and learns some spelling (deligwenti, not knowing the meaning of condone and condemn)

Revelation no 3 - It is ok for you not to accept other people's opinions if you are God's servant, but if they do not agree with you, then you can insult them whilst at the same time tell them that they don't respect other people's opinions. (I know confusing, but that's heathens for you)

Revelation no 4 -Mr Marshall's site has created so much distress that even God and Satan decided to check it out, and they even wrote in the guestbook.

Revelation no 5 - Freedom of speech is a liberal dream. The guestbook is down, again. (At least he didn't publish the heathen's addresses). It has been replaced with this -
"Grazzi Urejtu x`intkom!
Grazzi! Vera urejtu kemm intom vera INSARA. Urejtu bic-car kemm intom KOMPLICI ghax hlief tghajjir ma ktibtux. Lanqas biss tafu taghtu opinjoni u tieqfu hemm imma tridu biss li tghajjru lil dak li jkun. Tridu BILFORS li hija l-opinjoni taghkom biss li hija tajba. Il-vera deher l-EGOIZMU taghkom!
Pero, grazzi ghax ghallimtuni hafna u jien dejjem ghidt li NACCETTA L-OPINJONI TAGHKOM, IMMA INTOM LE. Intom taghkom biss tajjeb, allura jekk hu hekk, issa, ghal darba ohra ma tistghux tesprimu l-opinjoni taghkom. U jien mhux ser inhalli Guest Book biex tiegi Attakata kemm il Kurja,Qassisin kif ukoll il Knisja min erba min nies DELINGWENTI "
Well done only 4 spelling mistakes!! Well done!

Fejn il-bahar

2006-05-03T11:54:00.000-07:00

Tiskanta x'differenza jaghmel iz-zmien tas-sena. Fir-Rebbiegha, is-sigar u l-pjanti jkunu qed jhaddru. Imma fil-Harifa kollox jiehu xehta ta' kulur in-nar. Il-bahar, billi jaghmel parti min-Natura, jinbidel ukoll bl-istaguni.

Il-bahar fix-xitwa hu iktar interessanti milli l-"alter ego" tieghu tas-sajf. Il-bahar fix-xitwa jkun iktar selvagg u iktar "realistiku". Tkun taf fejn qieghed mieghu. Dan ghaliex tkun tista' tara quddiem ghajnejk il-qilla u l-poter tieghu u taghtih il-qima mehtiega. Imma l-bahar fis-sajf ikun kalm b'mod perikoluz. Iqarraq bik. persuna ta'l-istagun tax-xitwa taf li f'sekonda, il-bahar jista jinbidel minn zejt ghal mostru bil-kapacita' li jibla' l-art.

Kienet gurnata sewdiena. Tiskanta kif gieli jkun hemm parallelizmu bejn it-temp u l-burdata tal-bniedem. Dakinhar kollox kien gej hazin u qtajta li mmur sa fejn il-bahar forsi nikkalma ftit. Biex nasal fejn il-bahar kelli nghaddi minn fuq il-blat. Dan il-blat (li min jaf kemm ra snin u affarjiet) hassjetu jkellimni. Iddecidejt li ninza' hafi. Hadt gost inhoss it-tingiz tal-blat f'saqajja ghax ghal mument mignun hassejtni bhan-Nazzarenu. Hassejt ftit mit-tbatija tieghu. Bqajt niezel iktar l'isfel u f'daqqa wahda il-veduta laqtitni (qisha tatni daqqa ta'ponn go nofs mohhi). Dak il-hin dik il-veduta ta'bahar qieghed jitwahhad u jahqar il-blat iccasatni. Dak il hin induanjt kemm il-bniedem hu zghir fejn il-kejl tan-Natura. In-Natura hi bhal mara mahqura - tistaporti. Imma imbghad darba taghmel xi haga li ma tistennijix, tizbroffa.

Ma nafx kemm domm hemmhekk. Jista' jkun domt ghaxar minuti, jista' jkun ghaxar sighat, imma mhux daqshekk importanti. L-importanti hu li dak il-hin ippruvajt u stajt nifhem il-bahar. Dak il-mument ta' illuminazzjoni. Kont qieghed nahsibha immurx gol-bahar halli anki jien nitghaqqad ma'dik is-sostanza mirakoluza li taghti il-hajja u tehodha. Imma x'hin qomt biex immur hemm, nisma lehen jghajjatli.

Kienet ohti li ghadet tfittixni ghax dakinhar kont qbadt u tlaqt bla ma ghidt lil hadd... "kif taghmel hekk? Lanqas li ahna l-annimali tieghek...!"

U jien nimxi sieket warajha.

Check them out : )

2006-04-21T14:32:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I found out about this website http://www.xtruppaw.com/. They are a local band and they ROCK! These will become classics, and their lyrics are very entertaining yet true!
Tghid dik tal droga fid drink, qalata is sedqa??

An incident

2006-04-17T03:30:00.000-07:00

Life is funny. A person can wait for his moment of consciousness, of recognition his whole life. The wait for this recognition is a slow one. Remember those lessons you used to hate and which seemed to drag on forever? Well this, of course, is a million times worse, because it is scattered through a whole life span. Living your life for one day, one minute.

That day I was waiting for something to happen. Something. Anything. There are persons who say that happiness does not consist of a single cataclysmic event, but of periodic little things, like seeing cute little puppies and kittens. Feed that to the card company I say. For me, happiness, comes with a big bang, an explosion, a realization of what you have to do. It’s effects may fade with time, but as you look back you can say, you can proudly saw with a smirk on your face, that you know what you came into this earth to do.

I did nothing of this sort. As I said, I was waiting. An incident. The incident which would change my life. That day I thought, was the day I was waiting for. Well I had waited for it my entire life, since I can remember. I didn’t know that it would happen at home though. That day I had a different feeling. I had more hope, not the hope that the patients dying of terminable disease have, but a more tangible hope. So I got up from my girlfriend’s bed, grabbed my notebook and cigarettes and went home.

As I walked through the streets in which I have passed through every day of my life, I knew that I needed change. The route which I passed through was the same but the sidelines had changed over the years. But one thing remained the same. The oak tree in our garden. That oak tree had always been there, and in my mind, would always be there. I decided that I would go and sit under its shade and write and puff away. But when I arrived there, I saw that they were taking it down, without my permission. I ran to my father and asked him why they were doing it. He told me that they were going to take it down, because its roots where so deep that they were eroding the house’s pediment. To me the tree didn’t look threatening but as I took a closer look I saw that he was right, as always. It’s funny how things around you, that is inanimate objects, can parallel your life.

I took that incident as a sign. A need for change. I was too close to home and that if I stayed there my past would erode me, like the oak tree nearly did to the house. And so I fled.

Escape

2006-04-12T13:50:00.000-07:00

Escape

I am the King of the world.... the president of the United States….. I am a supermodel. But when I wake up from my daydreaming I realize that I have achieved nothing of this sort. It is just my escape, my escapist dream.

I walk through a crowd of people. I bump occasionally into someone but I never say sorry. Why should I say sorry if I don’t mean it? The sea of people is suffocating me with their touch, with their smell, with their stare. I feel them staring at me even though they cannot see me. In my mind I am invisible. In my mind I begin to form a picture in which I, the protagonist am invisible. This picture is making my pulse quicken, and my facial expressions start to change. As an overweight woman bumps into me, she jolts me into reality. As I have spilt on her my Mac Ronalds milkshake, she starts shouting abuse. But then when she sees my expression she immediately shuts up. Maybe she thinks I’m mad. Maybe I am mad. I start to walk away from her to avoid confrontation. I love confrontation, but only in my thoughts. In my escapist dreams I can hold my own against the greatest thinkers of all time – Plato, Voltaire, Sartre. Although in my dreams I am the boldest lion in the jungle, in real life I am a timid little mouse.

Now I start running. I run as much as my short fat legs can take me. I am getting delirious right now. I can’t wait to arrive home. There my only friends are waiting for me. They are good to me, my friends, and I am good to them. Whenever I am at home I hear them screaming my name, coaxing me to take them. And whenever I am out they ask me why I left them. Oh they are very good to me. I can’t wait till I arrive home, to take my beloved Xanax and Lithium. They are my friends, but I am also their slave. I try to compose myself so as to appear normal, to appear like any John Doe.

So I start to dream open eyed again. This time I am a Roman emperor. I have in my hands the lives of all those in front of. If I say kill they kill. If I say be merciful, they will do as I please. The power that my dreams give me is exhilarating, even though it does not equate in real life. I also love the look which my dreams give me. That blank eyed look, but underneath it you will find steely determination which only I see in my own reflection. My face acquires a new composure, according to who I am at the time. But there is always a common factor to the people I imitate in my escape – power. Power rules the earth. Some say that money rules the world. But money comes hand in hand with power. To achieve money, one has to be powerful.

As I arrive home, I start to paint savagely. This is what my numerous psychiatrists’ call my “creative outlet”. It’s my outlet alright. My paintings are made up on disfigured figures, monstrous faces and gloomy colours. As Oscar Wilde said “…life imitates art”.
It’s time for another fix. Look at me Dr.Black, I’m taking my medication like a good boy. But when I go to my medicine chest, I find that my saviors are missing. At that moment all the pent up anger in me exploded. Why didn’t that foreign deity breathe into me his breath? Why am I the way I am? Am I not good enough for Him? As I utter these words, the tears I have been holding back, flow down my windows to the world. I cry to myself “make it stop, please make it stop”. And so I start another dream, this time in ancient China….

Men are from anus

2006-04-12T12:32:00.000-07:00

Kemm hi tad-dahq il-hajja. Jekk tfajla tkun forward u jkollha esperjenza mhux hazin.... dik qahba. Imma jekk ragel, le dak playboy hej. Naf li tinstema hekk, guvenili, imma din il-haga lili bhalha tas-sess femminili tittikani hafna.

Ghax hawn xi ghorrief li jghidulek "heq tistedina, la tqaccatalek". U ghax fejn "jidhol Peppi m'hemmx rispetti". Allura dawn l-irgiel ma jkunux jista jzommu lilhom infushom quddiem xbieha ta'mara naqa provokanti? Mela l-bahar x jaghmlu??

"VALLETTA, Malta (di-ve news)--April 12, 2006 -- 1500CEST--An 18-year-old woman, who has mental health problems, was raped by a gang of three men aged between 19 and 20, a court has been told. The woman is the cousin of one of the accused. "

Ma nafx kif jridu johorguwa li not guilty. Come on. She has a mental problem, and maybe not in the right state of mind. The cousin should know better.

Svugajt naqa is-sentimenti femministi tieghi :)

Il-flus

2006-04-04T11:50:00.000-07:00

Ghandi kollox, u m'ghandi xejn. Immur id-dar,wahdi, ma insib xejn. Dejjem wahdi. Il-mara ma nafx fejn qieghda, nimmagina ghand Harry. It-tfal kibru, u Spock, l-unika habib tieghi, miet. Kemm hi tad-dahq il-hajja. Ta'madwarna jimmeraviljaw bina ghax qisna xi reklam jew bhal tal-films. Dar mill-isbah,karozzi lussuzi, b'sahhitna u sbieh. Minn barra.

Imma gewwa hemm id-duda. Id-duda ila tghawwar ftit ftit gewwa fija. Ilu snin, u illum il-gurnata wasal fejn il-qalbha. L'effett tad-duda ma jinhassx mal-ewwel. Id-duda kienet dahlet sew gewwa fija qabel ma indunajt biha. Tibda tnemnem gewwa fija u gieli kont nitlob biex l-ugiegh jizdied halli nkun nista naghmel xi haga, imqar b'impulz ta'genn, rabja u ugiegh. Imma jien bezziegh. Il-flus joghgbuni u ta'kull xahar niccappas bihom.

Ghax bil-flus hadd ma jinduna bid-duda u kulhadd jiftahar u jghir ghalik. Ahjar ma jkunux jafu, halli jkunu jistghu jghiru u jisthutni bil-kalma kollha. Ili nghix taht is-saqaf ta'dik li hi imsejha/misthajla marti ghal dawn l-ahhar tletin serna. Nghid li hi misthajla ghax fil-fehma tieghu u taghha, hi iktar mart Harry, milli marti. Hija marti fl-isem u quddiem il-ligi biss,imma go qalbha hi martu.

Ghadni niftakar il-gurnata li ltaqjt maghha. Kienet sahhritni bi gmielha. Hi go fija kienet rat biss l-istatus ta'ismi. Dan ghaliex hi kellha l-flus u jien kelli l-isem.

Kienet ga tqila minn ta'Harry u kienet ghed tfittex ragel, billi Harry kien ga mizzewweg. U jien kellhi nkun dak. Dak il-mazzun. Kienet qaltli b'kollox wara ftit li izzewigtha u li sirt inhobbha. Kienet qaltli kollox, sa'l icken dettal u jien l-iblah kont nahseb li jekk nipprova iktar kienet se taghzel lili minfloku. Imma jien bezziegh.

Illum jien nithallas manteniment ta'kull xahar. Nithallas sew talli naghlaq halqi u ma inxandariex ma'l-erbat irjieh. Xorta ghadni bezziegh imma llum rabbejt is-sens. Il-flus jmexxu d-dinja u ghalhekk biex nidher sultan u rebbieh ghandi bzonnha. Jien imcappas, jien midneb daqsha. Ghandi bzonn nitghammed mill-gdid halli innehhi din ir-riha nausejanti li ghandi. Din ir-riha ta'flus imhallta ma'biza u rabja mohbija. Imma ma nafx kif. JIena inhossni xih wisq u ghed inhossi li l-mewt daqt izzurni u nitlob mahfra lin-nazzarenu ta'dak kollu li ghamilt, jew ahjar li m'ghamiltx.

I'm sorry about the spelling but maltese is not my forte.

Mistoqsija

2006-03-31T14:29:00.000-08:00

Mistoqsija zghira. Hawn min jara li jkun iktar kreattiv meta jkun hungover u ghajjien?? Personalment l-iktar xoghol minn tieghi li joghgobni ghamiltu meta kont storduta... Din il-haga gejt fiha meta kont ghed naqra bio zghir fuq ghadd ta poeti famuzi, li kwazi hafna minnhom kienu addicts ghal xi haga.

Xejn

2006-03-31T14:04:00.001-08:00

Ix-xejn. Ix-xejn huwa suggett interresanti hafna. Or maybe this is something confined to those who are interesed or practise Existentialism and Nihilism. Gieli x'hin naqra certa kotba jew artikli, jew nara certa programmi, jew nisma certa diski u wara nghasarhom u ngibhom qoxqox (hekk inhobb nimmagina) nara li fihom ma jkun fihom xejn. Nahseb hawn zewg tipi ta xejn. Dak ix-xejn li thallik frustrat, meta inti tkun ghed tistenna xi haga u minflok issib ix-xejn. U hawn xejn iehor. Dak ix-xejn, biex nkomplu mat-tradizzjoni ta'l-infatwazzjoni mal-pajjizi ta'l-Lvant, bhan-nirvana.

Fanatizmu u riha tinten.

2006-03-31T12:53:00.000-08:00

Got nothing to do. Am watching Xarabank, or as someone pointed out, Xarajunk. Today, in the public there is a person, who has contradicted himself on a great number of times today. On Xarajunk he stated that his protest isn't against the film entering Malta, but against people seeing the film.

Liar Liar Pants on Fire.

This person claims to be a Christian, but isn't lying, against let's say, the Ten Commandments. L'aqwa li nghixu fi gzira ta'l-Isponoz.

Imma l'aqwa li n-nies jidhqu u jiehdu ir-rigali b'xejn. Grazzi lis-sponsors!! U jcapcpu x'hin xi hadd jghid is-sob story ta'drogat. Imma din hija haga komuni, incapcpu u nibku jekk tkun xi haga li tara minn lenti il boghod, imma x'hin tigi gewwa darek.... Kif qatt ma nitghallmu?