Heartbeat

Do I look like I have won a battle in my dreams or something? (Photo credits to Ekamil Razali)

At times I find myself blungeoning deep down into the abyss of deeply-crested emotions.  My self is lost, fully submerging into an array of resounding heartbeats that pierce through the ear canal with as much pitch as the sound of gunshot.  As I descend, countless questions bombard my existence, some so easy I could simply hurl them back wherever they came from, some so difficult they nearly crush me with all their weight.

In all the mania of drama, yes, I am in reality, hurt.  Tired of the predispositions I have been placed in.  For no one knows not what I long for.  There exists this consistent battle between the silent heart and the beautiful mind.  Sometimes, the heart wins; sometimes, the mind.  Sometimes the heart and mind find a way to work together amicably, amidst all battle – and that, I tell you, that is a very funny thing.

Which is so because they have to please the Soul, a wondrous piece of art, mere atoms framed synchronously in position.  For the body is to live.

And when this occurs, gallant music orchestrates out from within the Chambers of Life, through the arteries, all the way up to the Pineal Gland, where the Soul sits.  His Eyes gaze forbiddingly, as if he had been forced to wait for the answers for too long.  His Ears catch the first notes of violin softly humming from far below.  Slowly, gradually, the harmony echoes through the empty space of flesh and blood, filling the entire abode of humanity.  As if the battle has been won.  It has, in its own way.

As for the Body – She triumphs.

Red Scarlet

If You Looked at Love Hard Enough

Could you name me a certain film that does not have any love theme?  Kind of hard, isn’t it?

Films and music videos and dramas – stage art, as a matter of fact – really have a sort of influence over the complex ideologies of love.  It just crossed my choo-choo train of thoughts these very words from a song of a 90’s band The Corrs that goes along the lines of: “I will run away, I will run away with you.”

Oh, how sweet that would be.  But it is a little too idealistic, is it not?  Because love, no matter how gentle or how vulgar – love sells.

I told a playwright friend I will turn up with a post on the very same subject, with the very same title, If You Look At Love Hard Enough by Mat Atahari.  And in the state of meshiness (pardon the pun) my mind is caught up in, I shall write this little prose, regardless of what you presume. Hopefully it will give a little insight into my understanding of the subject matter at hand.

Is love for real, or is it void? (Photograph courtesy                          of Alicia Ai Leng)

If you looked at love hard enough

You will find a way

Even when the going gets tough

If you looked at love hard enough

You will cherish each day

Oh, and never once let out a gruff

If you looked at love hard enough

You will do what you can

Forgive me, and look pass

If you looked at love hard enough

All the pain sheds away

Grace befalls everyday

Leave the trivial stuff 

Oh, yeah.  Period.

Dear Paul Walker

Dear Paul Walker, You have been an amazing team player and friend to all of us (Fast and Furious 7 actors).  It has been quite unfortunate to learn of your premature demise.  In memory of you, we would like to tribute this piece of art to you, where you shall return to your family who deeply love you.  Your children, who need you still.  There is none other like you, no better player in the game.  RIP, Paul Walker.                                                                                                                                Love,                                                                                                                               Red Scarlet

Author’s commentary: I had decided to creep up the long, dark hallways of the cinema next door to catch a good view of this movie which featured the last scenes of the late Paul Walker.  The urge to gain a further, deeper understanding of the film itself and the Sarawakian-born director James Wan piqued my interest.  I was not disappointed. It had a happy ending.  One that spoke of an eternal rest to such a handsome young actor (tell me, is he not?).  I still remember the last scene in the 2-hour plus long movie in which the computer-generated image of Walker was carrying his on-set child next to his on-set wife Mia by the beach, where everywhere was so serene, so beautiful, a perfectly sculpted mise en scene.  Vin Diesel was about to leave, when one of his comrades asked him: “Don’t you have to say goodbye?” To which Vin Diesel replied: “I don’t have to.”  And drove off in his electric blue automobile. Then, when he halted at the traffic lights in the mountains, Walker unexpectedly pulled up next to him in his white car (a peacefully grand mise en scene for this very last action) and said to Diesel through his open window: “I thought you don’t have to say goodbye?” The two men exchanged smiles, and with one last look, they drove separate ways in the mountains.  This signifies how the they were going their own ways, apart from each other. Death knocks on one’s door when one least expects.  How are we to know who goes next? You see, this is what I call art.  Film art.  The mise en scene and set-ups and geographical locations are very meaningful to the film, and so is the choice of words as it has to go in accordance to the theme.  And the theme of this film?  Togetherness, no matter what happens.  Family. I should not leave out the director, somehow.  Kudos to James Wan.  He has been able to put together an incredibly beautiful piece of art with such delicacy. P.S.:  I am extremely touched, but no, no crying, though.

The Write Project

My mind has been loitering on a wandering trail for the past few months.  Not that my lips cried, but my brains could not keep their silence.  It was as if life edged by a rocking boat in turbulent waters, and all the soul could possibly do was sit and watch.  And think, too.  Perhaps.  If it were possible.

In the joyous reunion of the family, I felt my essence sui generis slipping away, bit by bit, into the stark madness of reality. More and more I was drowning away in a plenitude of data, most nothing but cold hard facts, and facts, and facts.  And then came the time where I was asked to ask myself: What am I doing?  Where am I heading?  Is this what I want to do? For the last question, of course, the answer is undoubtedly clear – yes, of course!  But how?  What?  Why? Where would I lose myself to?

It is agonizing, considering the workload I am facing, and yet it is simply a part of the process. Which path was I walking?  Whose path?  What did I want, inherently, in the end?  I was always in the have-to, but no-time situation.  But I shall not deny that worklife has absorbed a great deal of me, so now I am hard at play retrieving it.  It was as if I been prancing about in a drunken stupor, but nevertheless the questions kept on pressing endlessly.

Stop, stop, stop.  Please!  This echoed through my head.  It had to, correct?  It is probably my identity crisis as a psychopathic writer, where I let go of all responsibilities and allow myself to explore.  And explore I have – I am still at it, to be frank.  Anyway, it is safe to say that I have been hanging around the wrong loop, and therefore it necessitates me to make a reverse turn to continue the walk.  Or the run, rather.  I have been using much time.  This year, however, my writing has brought me to another level, and I am required to prepare write-ups for website content.  It is not exactly what I want – for I really, really do want to grab hold of a drama director by the wrist, and demand that he allow me to screen-write.  JS (which stand for just saying).  But my emotions speak for themselves.  I have been waiting much too long.

Slowly, though. All the exploring and traveling has made me immensely sleepy.  It is necessary that I listen closely to my heartbeat – no distractions!  Ihrer haben ein solch guten tag.  Und ich liebe dich.

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