Excuse My Silence

People never give a damn.
You can find a lot of reasons to enjoy any given films. To drool over the lead actress, to be taken away by the lead actor's cool persona the comedies or even the special effects. You would crawl into every inch of the movies to find a good side of it just so you could enjoy it. As a (self proclaimed) semi-elitist myself I would often face such dilemma.

What is the difference between a semi-elitist and a full fledged elitist? Elitists (like movie critics and Roslan Aziz) look down on people, ridicule everyone, listens to The Beatles Anthology, eat cereals for breakfast and crap loads of bricks. I do not. I enjoy very much the sight of Megan Fox and I eat cereals anytime I want. I do enjoy The Beatles Anthology though.

ANYWAY, summer movies is a term used to signify movies which are released in the summer. Notably from mid May till the end of August. My definition of summer movies is; Movies of comic superheroes adaptations, super-hyped action flick, chick lit, animations and just plain retarded movie spoofs done with a second class acting and with over excited producers spelunking their bank account over the movie's marketing resulting in a over-hyped phenomenon. At least that's how it is these days.

Now summer movies is never known to produce a high acting performance (except for Robert Downey Jr. in Tropic Thunder and Heath Ledger in the Dark Knight), a complex plot (except for The Dark Knight. Well not really, but close enough. Watchmen) and good directing (except for Christopher Nolan in The Dark Knight. Again. What can I do. I'm a fan), but it is the time of the year where the cinemas is packed with audiences who watches movies for no reason at all (yes you need one good reason at least-- to drool over Megan Fox), and I think it's my responsibility to show you which movie you should put your money on.

I watched The Brothers Bloom -which turned out to be one great con film- last week with my 4 brothers, a family in the front row and ten retard bastards in the back row. This is one of the reasons why I claimed myself to be a semi-elitist. I watch good films, make a big deal about it, I appreciate it, hate everyone who doesn't but I do nothing about it. An elitist would complain or bitch-talk his/her victims in his/her blog with words the victims would never understand themselves. But ANYWAY, the reason why the ten bastards are retards is they buy the tickets expecting the movie to be somewhat like an Adam-Sandler-ish-road trip movie. Well unfortunately for them, it's not. Brothers Bloom is like a Woody Allen's films, well one-fourth of Woody Allen's humour plus the vibe of George Clooney's Ocean Eleven (you might not get the idea. I suck at this). So they complain like hound dog bitches at the back which annoyed me through the entire movie. It's not their fault really, I would blame the marketing. In this case, the poster;


Of which I think look good. The movie IS about those four people plus a whole lot of conning. Well you can't put conning in a picture can you? So I guess it's the bastards fault after all for having naive expectations when buying the tickets. And to make my point, an example of a god-awful movie poster is;

This poster just did it for me. The acting and plot could never get any better. And hear me say, that I call it first that G.I Joe, would be a mess this summer.

Now since summer movies is at it's peaks, I would like to share with you what I think about the movies. Coming in next week is of course the over-hyped Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. There is nothing, I repeat wrong OR bad about Transformers (they are a gift from God or so Elias from Clerks 2 would put it in words), but from the trailers, we can see they are selling the film as an action pack way over the top, hence explains the over-hyped term used before. I mean come on, everything is blowing up. For no fucking reason. Even the sands! It's like the desperate Michael Bay (who is notoriously known for using big explosions in is films; Armageddon, Pearl Harbor, The Rock, The Island, BAD BOYS 2) is running out of concrete to blow up and even Jell-Os would be great by then. THANK GOD FOR SANDS, HALLELUJAH!

But ANYWAY, I couldn't help myself to care more about the acting. I can't critisize Shia Labeouf's acting while Megan Fox is straddling a bike in mini shorts. It's Megan Fox! Esquire even made a clip of her waking up in the morning and lying by a swimming pool. In black bras!
As conclusion, enjoy the movie, but don't get over excited over it. Don't go around saying it's the coolest movie ever. Because it's not. The coolest movie ever is The Dark Knight.

Why The Dark Knight? Because unlike the Transformers, Heath Ledger died before the release and that just did it. And the scariest part is, it's true. People never really take his films serious before (except for Brokeback Mountain and Monster's Ball). 10 Things I Hate About You? Casanova? A Knight's Tale? Admit it people. You never really cared for Heath Ledger and that's why he takes drugs, overdosed and died. Shame on you.

But ANYWAY, you can't compare the two films. It won't do justice to The Joker. Come on, The Joker and Megatron? If I were to go out on a limb, I would say The Dark Knight is literature. The Joker's dialogue is in itself is art. And to portray him as sulky, vulgar, brilliant yet psychotic is just genius. I mean for the first time, kids wanted to be the bad guy! The Joker affect the society. He doesn't want to take over the world for no fucking reason (like The Penguin), he doesn't want to play riddles in spandex costumes. He's a villain with philosophies, along with Don Vito Corleone ("Now you come and say "Don Corleone, give me justice." But you don't ask with respect. You don't offer friendship. You don't even think to call me "Godfather." You come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married and you ask me to do murder - for money") and Tony Montana ("You know what capitalism is? Getting fucked!"). What he really wants is to show us that evil exists in everyone of us -even a speck would put out a glimmer of hope- with a diabolical and highly elaborated plan. He did manage to do that exactly. Well, Batman and Gordon cheated at the end. But apparently they have a very good reason for it.

The best that Michael Bay's Transformers could do is pop culture. And trust me, you would want it that way.

And unfortunately for that same (unclear) reasons is why X-Men: Origins, soon to be released G.I. Joe and Terminator Salvation is not up to the task.

The only movie this summer could offer as contender is Star Trek. But still nowhere near in the vicinity of the Nolan-Bale epic.

Having said that, I think it's easier if I just tell you which to look out for.

500 Days of Summer.
UP.
Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince (because Snape kills Dumbledore!!).
Funny People.
Away We Go.
Inglourious Basterds.
Drag Me To Hell.

Yes people, these are the good ones that is left. But you won't need my permission to waste your money on the bad ones.

And ouh, my personal favourite,

The Hangover.


And it's rated R. Eat that PG-13-ed Terminator Salvation.

Day Thirty Five

Tetris Orgy

Day Twenty Seven (Instrumental)

M. Ward

Day Twenty Seven

9:30. I woke up.
Like I did every morning. I meant the time. Not the part that I come to my conscious. Now that I said it, it's not like every morning. I usually wakes up at 7:30. Today I'm late.

Is it just me that thinks morning time is the best time for coffee?

I guess not.

Day Twenty Six

7:30. I woke up.
I can't see. I hate waking up to this. The vision of mirage and it confuses. I found my glasses.
I walked downstairs. It's dark. This sounding more alike to a B-rated horror movie isn't it. I switched on the light and turn the TV on. Charlie Sheen is on TV. I don't get it why people make fun of his show. At least I think they do. It's a pretty funny show. There's a kid and two grown man living in the same house making fun of each other. There's nothing more to it. No women. And what I meant by 'no women' is the inexistence of romance. People can't make fun of melodramatic relationship anymore (see daytime soap/telenovela). I hate what they did to Friends. At least the second half of it.
I changed the channel. Audrey Hepburn is on. And she's a nun. And she's lying face down on the floor begging for forgiveness. I'm in every fiber of my being is stunned. I can't help telling myself to hope somehow that this is to be the best porn ever even if it's on a local cable TV.
Went to the kitchen and made myself some toast. Then it started to rain. I like hearing the sound of rain falling down on the ceiling. Comforting. Safe. Like wearing a condom.

Day Twenty Five

I'm the kind of person when I'm bored I'll ridicule my friends online. The one with an online account which means most of them. I don't know why. They watch crappy movies read crappy books and listens to bad music. I can't help myself.

I'm disgusted with myself. But it's just because I made the confession here.

Day Twenty Four

Mary Mack

Day Twenty One

Now, Rod Stewart may could never be the ultimate Rock N Roll star when compared to Kurt Cobain, John Lennon, Robert Plant and Johnny Rotten. Because well ... He's pretty much lacks the essentials of a rock star. First, he's pretty much alive while Cobain swallowed shotgun shells, Lennon got himself shot by a psychopath (four times), Plant released a folk rock/country album with Alison Krauss (yes people, I am being sarcastic), and kids seem to adore Tom Delonge and Hoppus, I suppose Mr Rotten would be god then. Rod Stewart only gets drunk and then puke in his English mansion. But having said that, I personally think Rod Stewart has the best singing voice. Ever. Now people my age never listens to Rod Stewart, so god knows I can't argue this with anyone, but they are totally going to dismiss my thought immediately (hands down -obliterate- it) if ever put it on the table. And people whose older than me will think anything comes out of my mouth is heresy. His singing voice sounds like how a very very thirsty person would sing. For example, if I'm thirsty, very thirsty, and if I sing, I would sound like Rod Stewart. And that sound is magnificent. I pretty much rest my case.

Care for some alien monsters movie?

Day Nineteen

Though I don't look like one, I always think how I would die.
And how people in my life would remember me by. And what would they write about me in my obituary. I don't really have that much friend really. I thoroughly have eliminated any sort of contact in the virtual world (given that everybody make some friends over the internet these days). Okay except the Friendster. And Facebook. But I hardly log in to either of them. It just seem reasonable to have one. Heesh, conformity, and I say I follow the teaching of philosopher Johnny Rotten. Really, I hate the fact (I hate a lot of things lately) that people think we could actually make friends through this media which in the first place does not encourage you to engage in outdoor activities or meet people in the first place. I don't understand how a person could be nice and friendly to a person you would never care in real life with a comment on his/her Facebook. Unless you're Tom Hanks and she's Meg Ryan and you guys just found out about the email on the internet in downtown Seattle OR you're just stalking. Mostly, it's the latter. Other that that it's a futile attempt to look hip like John Travolta in the movie Hairspray remake. It's what the society is doing today. It's the effing culture. I'm trying to explain why I never tend my online account anymore. So the online friends is totally out of the list who'll write in my obituary. And just this morning, before she went to work, my mom lectured me about God have written my fate and everything. And everything includes my death. It's not really qualified for a lecture really. Not long enough. More like a rant, just because I questioned the idea of my written fate. I know. I sound more like a revolutionary atheist day by day. If you would venture on the idea how I would become in the future if I keep this going, I'd be more like a character in an article of a local tabloid that your ustazs/parents tell to their children to repent and make full use of your brains or else it'll melt down. Yes. I could be a male Sufiah Yusof.
But then again, they are telling the truth, and I am lying.

REALLY, CLICK HERE. NOW

Coldplay live album. FOR FREE DOWNLOAD!

Hell yeah!

Aren't you glad you clicked on my blog just now?

Day Eighteen

I honestly have nothing better to do.
It's a break. Doing nothing is the prime objective. For some people, yes. But I've been doing this for forever now. It's like The Stones been doing their music tour. Without the girls and booze and adrenaline-pumping-kick-ass show since 1969 OR the Rocky movies. Without the girls and booze and the adrenaline-pumping-kick-ass show. So yes, it's a voyage into darkness. A darkness where mothers are still asking too many questions and people still anticipate who is going to be the winner of American Idol 7. Or is it 8? Really, if not being a total ignorant about the texture of our society, I don't know what have this dysfunctional world taught me. Ignorance is bliss anyway. If I really ever care or listen to everything I'd be Darth Vader post-joining the dark side. I should be like that really though. But ANYWAY, American Idol? I never knew an Idol with an album with a quiver of substance in it. Heck not even one that I can get high to either. Kelly Clarkson latest single is 'My Life Would Suck Without You' and the Underwood girl is just whining and and trying hard singing like she's a tough chick. But then again, that's how a country chick suppose to do it anyway. So she's cool. Plus, I have never listened to any of the Idol either. So yes, none of what I said can be taken into consideration if you're considering bashing me. It's not that I hate the Idol. I just despise the idea of the Idol and some other reality TV shows conveying. In Idol (just because almost everybody watches it), Everybody loves everybody. It's like The Beatles from 1960 to 1967. Nothing but love. 1967's Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band does not count because as much as they were still singing about love, the album grew about when they're tired of touring. Yes people, giving out too much love at almost constant of a time is tiring and you're fooling yourself. Love is tyranny. So yes, play dress up and write quirky but still zero cool songs is the answer. Not 42 (as implied by Douglas Adam of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, well, the album IS apart of life the universe and everything). But then again, I am criticising the most well known band and the one with the most fan in the whole wide world yet. So don't worry, everything will be fine. As long as you don't care. But ANYWAY, the Idol should be more alive. Real. Like the TV show, Lost. It answers a question with another question. Because that's how life is. A whole elaborated fabrication.
How convinced are you that the earth is a planet?

It's Better Empty

It's empty. Fitrah manusia selalunya akan isi ruang yang kosong. Tangki minyak kereta, perut kosong, gelas minum, pagi ahad, malam minggu. You get the idea. So, the same goes for me.

What i'm trying to fill in is, this blog of mine. Not with another versions of 'verses of a slanted braincell'. Don't feel like doing poetry. Someone once said; 'Don't fuck with poetry'. If you feel not like doing it, then don't. Pretentious you're being. Or so how Master Yoda would have said it.

So day one at home. Feels vindicated. You know, like that girl said; 'I never realize how much I like being home unless I've been somewhere really different for a while'. Feels pussy quoting that. Just because the chick spouts wicked lines like a monk chanting mantras and my egoistic hormones won't forgive myself for thinking she's just so effing cool. Don't worry, I'll get over it.

"Pussy, pussy, pussy, pussy." He whispers.

Okay, bukan dalam masa terdekat ni. All in good time.

For now, the pussy misses the mouse.

The Beautiful Living Thing

It's a pier just by the river. The river with the moonlight on it. Sparkles with no shame. It's always the moon. Never argues with it. It's always the fucking moon. Even when it's cloudy. People would talk about the moon. How the moon cowers in fear amongst the clouds, for she cannot bear the despair the night brings. There's always a way for the moon to make an entrance. Sometime, sometime, you'd wish it's not the moon. It'd be something else. Something more alive. the one you can touch. Talk to. Don't even care if it doesn't even talk. Just wanted a face expression. A face that says;

"Hey, wake up. It's just a fucking moon!"

The Love Song Of Mohd Bule Mohd Azmi

Let us go to the streets with endless names and a crying dame
And walk the night out of her shame.
Let us go when it's nighttime and the moon shines in flames
To where the whisperers speak and the politician shrieks.
Let us go to the streets where our eyes speak to the people who greets.
And they'll say 'How would you like your coffee today?'
Like warning the people; impending doom is on its way.
Let us go the streets where two paths meet
And pick the one where flowers grow in a heartbeat.
Let us go to the field to see the trees dance awkwardly,
To a tune of the wind that moves like a lady.
Let us go at twilight to see the moon,
And measure our love with a coffee spoon
Let us go by the fall of the first morning dew,
For its poetry is so pure and true.
But I think I shall never see anything that imbues
A poem as beautiful as you.

You're A Lucky Man. With Fire In Your Hands

Lets pretend you'll suffer a memory loss when you're thirty. Not all of it. Just five years. Okay maybe 'just five years' is an understatement, but the best five years of your life. It could be anything; kindergarten, high school, or college. Or, it could be when the day you met a stranger and fell in love with him/her at first sight. You will fall in love with her. The kind of 'you jump, I jump' love kinda thing. Now, this is guaranteed. And it will develop into somewhat more of a serious relationship; You guys adopted a puppy together. Okay okay, engaged, maybe even married. Now now lets not get all too rosy. Memory loss. You will not remember this significant person in your life, given that you were deeply in love (If that makes any sense at all to you. Atleast The Beatles says so). After the accident in which you lost your memory of, you don't recognise this person, atleast not anymore. You will have no feelings whatsoever for this person. But people around you've been telling that you two were once very in love and care for each other. You tried to remember, but nothing gives. You'll find old pictures of the two of you together. You tried hard and harder but not even the slightest hint would inspire you to love her/him again. She's'/he's a stranger to you. Just like when you met her/him and fell in love. You can't remember what made you fall in love in the first place. Is it her/his eyes; so big yet droopy. Looks like she's/he's sleepy all the time. Is it the shape of her/his nose; the way it curls up on the way down and how it looks like a ladybug when it's all red. Or is it the smile? It has to be something but you can't seem to recall any of it.

Now, you don't know this person but you know that you once loved her/him. You don't have feelings for this person either and you will never heal from the amnesia. It's permanent.
How confuse are you?

Really, talk to me.