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.
Monday, April 14, 2008
IN DEFENCE OF NOSTALGIA
I have never had much fondness for modernity. by and large, i find that the stuff of today is too temporary, and the stuff of tomorrow too speculative. i have thus, for the best part of my life, sought meaning from the backward glance we call nostalgia.
there's a lot more security in the past. things that have happened have happened. there's a sense of finality to them, but in that finality too lies a sense of eternity. an old coke bottle will outlive the coke bottles of today. it does so because it has died its death and now lives forever. perhaps i fear that death - that decay which renders the stuff of fashion unfashionable. perhaps i'm afraid of my own sense of style. and so i choose the best option available - to indulge in that which can no longer go out of fashion. or maybe it's something more. maybe it's some sincere unhappiness with the way the world is today. or maybe it's a phobia of the unceasing surge of our natural order in its linear and forward tangent.
two days ago, i bought myself a 1984 liverpool crown paints jersey. it's perhaps the definitive football jersey in my wardrobe. the crowning glory of my fandom. i've seen pictures of liverpool's new kits for next year. they don't really do much for me. it's interesting though. my excitement over my new old kit was met with the following conversation:
Fergus: Check this out man, Liverpool's 1984 jersey.
Tim: Cheh. Not nice lah.
but i swear, that shirt makes me feel a million bucks. so now i'm wondering. alan kennedy in that pic above has a moustache that also has retro written all over it. maybe it's something i can think about. together with that permed hair.
Labels: football, memory and nostalgia
4:15 pm ]