Sept. 24th 2017

Day woke up late as a lazy morning. All had gone to church and I was alone. I wonder why girl friend is not whatsapping me? I am wondering of painting of words and music of letters. Mynahs a whole bunch were twittering on trees. I wonder why only a very few of my books are sold in Bookrix. I am thinking of quitting smoking. It’s giving me an erectile dysfunction. I need to go to Malaysia to sell my girl friend’s house. I badly need some funds to go. I was not able to sleep well. The sleeping pills are not working. I think they have become adjusted to my body. I feel so disappointed in not winning the bumper lottery. I am worried about how I will finance my daughter’s medical school. I am tired of working in schools for a measly sum of money. I want to travel and write books. Sometimes, I wonder what is my self? I have tried following Nietzsche’s God is Dead philosophy and Camus nihilism. But then I waver back to Christian faith. I am stuck in the cauldron of conflicting worldviews. To live and write in art is a passion. I am forced to remain anonymous on the web as conservative parents do not like my writing. I have been removed my photos from my blog sites. I have also deactivated my Facebook. I am always exploring new ways of writing. What is avant-garde postmodernist writing? Pastiche, extreme irony, multiple selves’ magical realism and all that. I really wonder if my writer self has emerged. I have published most of my books free. I am not interested in money. All I would like is to be read. I had enough of work and I want to live a retired life of writing. Yes, in one sense, life is absurd, it is meaningless. Even though God is Dead one can’t become the Ubermensch.


Painted colors…
The canvas is
A rich texture
Of music…
There gleams gold,
Like a bride’s ornament…
Purple is settling in
Like a mystic
Seer’s robe…
Pink’s a sculpture,
An abstract of
Picturesque doodles…
Evening’s is poetry
Of the sky….
Now fading into
A dark dream.