Black & White

Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke | c1967

Nothing is ever original as people say. No amount of research or breakthrough creative storms can brew something out of pure originality. Striking gold with new ideas is like chipping off what is left of the big mined out mountain top.

Everything old has a natural patina to them. Old watches that still tick (hello Submariner), old boots that still kick (hello favorites) and old knives that still cut (Mark I and KA-BAR) are a few things that make the olden days seem much more alive today. 

I don't believe that nothing is original anymore, it's just that people seem to think of originality as somewhat a glimmering "fuck" that no one else apparently gives nowadays. There are things that we have to accept and a few of those is that people live way long before us and the originality that we claim it to be is as banal as the coffee making ritual many of us do every morning. We can still achieve originality in different ways. Some do more than others and some just really scrape the barrel.

Hangover Remedy

For the usually inebriated, alcohol can bring many good things to their dizzying world of spins and bar-room brawls. To name a popular few, things appear to be lighter in the eyes of a boozed man. People's faces light up hence the famous "beer goggles" that so many have sworn to have fallen victim to. Then there are the usual unhinging of social insecurities like talking to other persons, most probably that of the opposite sex. And then there's just the liberating feeling of being with friends and getting hammered entirely for a night, calling it a "blank day" that ultimately feels and hurts like it the next day.

No, this post is not about the movie "Hangover." 

Ankle High Brotherhood

It's always good to have friends. But it's always better to have friends who'd scream "It's baseball tiiime!" when you get pissed on by stank wankers. From our boot heels and smelly gloves and greasy bike chains, real friends will hold them for you even if they feel like holding a pair of nasty hairy ball sacs.

On Being Angry

Today, I had a pretty annoying ride to work. I ride a van to go to the next terminal and this morning, I had the chance to wait for 30 minutes to catch a ride. "Not so bad" I said, flicking the sweat on my then moist brow. The van arrives and we hopped in. And I was so fortunate to have been given the chance to grace the seat between two seats. That seat would be a wedge between a steady seat and a foldable one, a main feature for many passenger vans here in the country. "Okay, not that bad" I said to myself considering I can sit a bigger part of my butt on the seat. But as the traffic melee ensues in the bottleneck stop & go traffic near our highway exit, the tension begins.

Buzzkill

Good morning miss.

You there, in slim black cargo pants and your sneakers.

You work for a sports shop?

Those pants don't do your svelte figure any justice.

Still, you turn heads as you tower by people in the sidewalks.

Good bye, see you tomorrow.