Youngest kid of six with an inferiority and black sheep complex, but determined that God saves not just his soul to heaven but the remainder of his manic-depressive life, so others won't say he became a Christian and remained a jerk.
i won't be transparent before i'm opaque. and you'll get to know me starting from the small things: who my favourite bands are. what kind of movies i like. who are my heroes.
I’m convinced that when confronted with sincere, real love, the Jesus factor will become obvious. But let’s not plant the cross before we carry it. I’m not trying to con you.
Some dreams are meant to be achieved. I know that. But maybe other dreams are meant to drive us, privately. Never known to anyone but ourselves.
It is a sadness that, when choosing between crying and sighing, will choose sighing. I'd almost say that melancholy is being sad about sadness itself.
On memory and nostalgia
It saddens me when life moves forward and people decide that certain things are worth forgetting.
I've learnt that the word irregardless is filed as a non-standard word in the English language. That's a lexicographer's way of saying it's not a real word.
Crowds are fickle things. So when we stand in the thousands and cry against the present government, do we know who we're actually crying for?
People always want the best for themselves. But I want to sometimes take second or third or fourth best, just so that the loser down the road doesn't always have to come in last. It must feel like shit to always come in last.
On growing old
Leasehold property make me feel sad. It doesn't matter how old the family photos are that you put on your wall. It's your family but it's not really your wall.
I ask you, if God loves everyone, and if God is also incapable of loving evil, how can there be such a thing as an evil man?
On a daily basis
One line quips, like this.
Friday, January 11, 2008
TO A FRIEND WHO JUST LEFT
I don't even really know him.
i just know that he was a very knowledgeable guy with a bookshelf full of titles that read like the who's who of a worldview seeker. the first time i met him was with a group at his house. everyone played on his playstation, but i didn't. he sat with me and we started talking about hinduism. i quickly found that he knew his mahabharata and his vedas. i later saw them on his bookshelf.
he told me that he'd been looking into the stuff that the rishis put into ancient sacrificial fires, and had come to the conclusion that they were burning up hallucinogens. i thought that was quite funny, but he was serious when he said that the vedas were all about sex, drugs and rock n roll.
he showed me his poetry. we talked about films and surrealism. he passed me a copy of luis bunuel's un chien andalou. it's somewhere - i have to dig it up.
we talked into the night, him about extraterrestrials and me about the harmony between the gospels (because he asked). when the night ended, he said that he hadn't met a christian who could talk about "these things" before. i felt happy. i felt happy that he had found himself a christian who was almost as interested in his convoluted journey of belief as he himself was. and when i reached home that night, i told myself that perhaps i was called to reach guys like him.
a few days later, he dropped me an sms telling me that he had two copies of hitler's mein kampf, and that i could have one if i wanted. i accepted it. so yes, i've got a gift from him and i'll forever treasure it.
the next time i met him, it was over lunch. he cooked a mean pork dish, among others. the playstation came out again. this time, i played. maybe if i didn't play, he'd have sat with me again. and we'd have talked again. maybe that conversation could have led to more exchange between us. maybe i could have given him a shred of christian hope. he didn't look like he was looking for any that day. and i thought some playstation would be fun.
that was the last time i met him. two nights ago, he hanged himself in his room.
i don't even know what to say about this. i just know that his passing is a notable loss to me, because somewhere in the back of my messy head, i always told myself that he was a friend that i was very interested to get to know better.
apparently, not interested enough. now, all i can do is pray for you.
Labels: death, tributes
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