A business partner commented that public relations isn't a game. I would disagree.

I can't think of anything in life,  that isn't a game. :-\ I'd like to think that my risk tolerence is moderately high, for discussion's sake say 30%-40%. But upon reflection it's probably closer to 60%-70% - which is to say, I feel content with failures over 2/3 of all attempts to do anything. But that's generally arm-waving as it leaves out the crucial variable of VAR (value at risk, per probability under consideration). After all, in formal science we expect the vast majority of hypotheses to be falsified, in order for us to get anything done. And that's all I feel about daily life, in society and commerce, anyway.


Dream Stomper

Darlin, where did you go? Why, over there? How did you make it, with so much space to spare? What makes it easy to forget what you said: it's just the ways we knew about our heads. We were, hackers in meat, wrights of flesh, always prepared to wipe our desks... of all memories... [instrumental interlude]

(Oddly enough, inspired by a team running jackhammers in the house next door, while I procrastinate in bed before business meetings. Also maybe by all her posts, and her posts, and her silence, and her absence, and [there are too many missing people in this story].)


This is supposed to be sung in 8/4 time signature over a lilting guitar in a minor key. But if you sing it in 6/4 it sounds funnier.

Random Realestate Hypothesis

Wait for the Kuala Lumpur MRT to be completed. The middle-class will move farther from city centres and the upper-crust will move in to fill the gap, driving up urban realestate prices furthermore. This will be interesting to observe. ETA 2018?


3/4 Through a 32-hour Shift

Sometimes when I think about it, working in cosy cafes is a strange profession for me to pursue. For example, a lot of the people whom I meet at work like things like sweets, and boardgames. I find both sweets, and games,  disgusting - but it is polite and professional, and socially constructive, to enable others to enjoy these things. So I tolerate these things,  perhaps in the way that a racist tolerates his co-workers of colours, or in the way that a religious person accepts the murderers and molestors that she may meet at the bus stop. I make efforts to emphathise, in the way that we should all try to understand the minds of criminals,  and to share in the suffering of the deranged for the sake of community. Apart from various interactions such as these, I remain a relatively simple fellow. I like to study science, some arts, and a little poetry. I do math, work out, and fuck bitches, when there are women who can tolerate my personality; and when there are no bitches, I am a lonely man;  (and I say that in the colloquial sense, in as much as either partner in an intimate relationship is a biatch to every other). Life is strange indeed. Here we are, on that little rock,  around that little star. Conscious of what is given to our senses. Ignorant of everything without. What to do. Have some coffee. Carry on. Maybe a little more sleep,  eventually.