Mahal kita means, I love you.

People of average fitness can achieve 20 km/h with an average power input of about 1/10 hp, or 75 watts. This level of exertion is minimal and can be kept up for hours.

Leg muscles are about 20 percent efficient, so a five kilometre ride consumes 80 kilocalories, or about one small apple. If you are wondering, this translates into a fuel efficiency of 595 km/l (1,400 mpg) of gasoline. Apples are renewable and clean; gasoline is neither.

Can the Bicycle Save Civilization? - Raise the Hammer

To be lost in the forest
To be cut adrift
You’ve been trying to reach me
You bought me a book
To be lost in the forest
To be cut adrift
I’ve been paid
I’ve been paid

Don’t get offended
If I seem absent minded
Just keep telling me facts
And keep making me smile
Don’t get offended
If I seem absent minded
I get tongue-tied
Baby, you’ve got to be more discerning
I’ve never known what’s good for me
Baby, you’ve got to be more demanding
I will be yours

I’ll pay for you anytime

And you told me you wanted to eat up my sadness
Well jump right in shorty, you can gorge away
You told me you wanted to eat up my sadness
Jump right
Baby, you’ve got to be more discerning
I’ve never know what’s good for me
Baby, you’ve got to be more demanding
Jump left

What are you holding out for?
What’s always in the way?
Why so damn absent minded?
Why so scared of romance?

This modern love breaks me
This modern love wastes me

Do you wanna come over and kill some time?
Throw your arms around me

I could even sleep to this music.

What is wrong with them? Already I feel that I am overloaded, and already it’s hard for me to clear my offs and leaves towards ORD because there’s nobody at the moment to hand over my duties to, and it doesn’t help that all this is happening during the fasting month…

And then this.

Can’t I ORD in peace? They should just rot in hell. Mofos.

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I am weary, but I love you.
I am sleepy, but I love you.
My arm aches, but I love you.
My back aches, but I love you.
My neck aches, but I love you.

I am angry, but I love you.
I am sad, but I love you.
I am disappointed, but I love you.
I am happy, but I love you.
I am hungry, but I love you.
I am not hungry, but I love you.

I am going home, but I love you.
I have reached home, but I love you.

You might not read this, but I love you.
You might not like this, but I love you.

I love you
I love you
I love you
But if you but knew
How much I love you
And only you.

Taman punya kita berdua
Tak lebar luas, kecil saja
Satu tak kehilangan lain dalamnya
Bagi kau dan aku cukuplah
Taman kembangnya tak berpuluh warna
Padang rumputnya tak berbanding permadani
Halus lembut dipijak kaki
Bagi kita bukan halangan
Karena,
Dalam taman punya berdua
Kau kembang, aku kumbang
Aku kumbang, kau kembang
Kecil, penuh surya taman kita
Tempat merenggut dari dunia dan ‘nusia

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. Shield. Armour. Guard.

Listen to this.

SNOW PATROL
Chasing Cars

We’ll do it all
Everything
On our own

We don’t need
Anything
Or anyone

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

I don’t quite know
How to say
How I feel

Those three words
Are said too much
They’re not enough

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we’re told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that’s bursting into life

Let’s waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads

I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we’re told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that’s bursting into life

All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they’re all I can see

I don’t know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

It’s so pretty, I can’t bear to finish up the Hershey’s Kisses—maybe not until I get more Kisses to refill it. Just notice the harmony of colours. Not to mention, the chocs are addictive too.

Thank you so much, baby… I love you!

Check ‘em out:

Tonight, Tonight

Disarm

And how could I forget “1979″:

[…]

Punah di atas menghamba
Binasa di atas ditindas
Sesungguhnya jalan ajal baru tercapai
Jika hidup harus merasai.

Maju.
Serbu.
Serang.
Terjang.

—Chairil Anwar (1922—28 April 1949)

Terjang.

Running was bliss today, much because it had felt as if I had not run for weeks already. Even better, I got a chance just now to yell at a dog, somewhere between a “HOI!” and an “ARGH!”, which even took its owner slave by surprise—it gave me a much needed release.

Yeah, release. It feels as if I always have a lot of pent-up energy, good or bad, just waiting to be released. Just recently, some vile schadenfreude gave way to it. (Good God, please forgive me.) Nowadays, I just need to let out a good roar once in a while, I think that would do.

Terjang. Terjang. Terjang.

What do we feed and nourish ourselves with? That which pollutes? That which degrades? Should we not, instead, guard our hearts and minds, against that which might precipitate our degeneracy?

What do we admire, what do we look up to? What do we desire? What are our deepest desires? What are our darkest desires? How much should we entertain these desires? What exactly should we be desiring?

What do we want? What should we want?

What do I want?

Answer.

The true, pure and inviolate.

You hide in silence, it’s your
Weapon, it is your gun, and
Oh, what makes you feel good?
Are you always right?

He hunts with fists clenched on hearts
Preys on the weaker voices
And you seem to dig in
And you call this progress

Suppose for a second
That you are not you
How could you be so scared?

Tuhanku
Dalam termangu
Aku masih menyebut namamu

Biar susah sungguh
mengingat Kau penuh seluruh

cayaMu panas suci
tinggal kerdip lilin di kelam sunyi

Tuhanku

aku hilang bentuk
remuk

Tuhanku

aku mengembara di negeri asing

Tuhanku
di pintuMu aku mengetuk
aku tidak bisa berpaling

Aku tidak bisa berpaling.

The conclusion is underscored, dramatically, by the current upsurge of violence, which began after the capture of Corporal Gilad Shalit on June 25. Every published Western “timeline” takes that as the opening event. Yet the day before, Israeli forces kidnapped two Gaza civilians, a doctor and his brother, and sent them to the Israeli prison system where they can join innumerable other Palestinians, many held without charges — hence kidnapped. Kidnapping of civilians is a far worse crime than capture of soldiers. The Western response was quite revealing: a few casual comments, otherwise silence. The major media did not even bother reporting it. That fact alone demonstrates, with brutal clarity, that there is no moral justification for the sharp escalation of attacks in Gaza or the destruction of Lebanon, and that the Western show of outrage about kidnapping is cynical fraud.

[Emphasis added.]

Read more: On Israel, Lebanon and Palestine: Noam Chomsky interviewed by Kaveh Afrasiabi (ZNet)

Let the mutt howl its pathetic cry, my love;

Hmm… “mutt”.

:-)

I think I’ve been overly sensitive to detail, to the point of obsession. Every single thing that comes across my mind will insinuate a plethora of questions, which often tread on issues most sensitive to me. And I scrutinise every single bit. The small things. Their effect on the larger picture. “Why this? No—really, why this? And so, why?” And so forth. And I let nothing slip past.

And I think we ought to think about some things. Here’s the way I see it. Have you seen pornography lately, or at all? Seen how they behave like animals? It’s mind-numbing. Imagine its essence, fused into an environment that is, perceptibly, entirely human, and, apparently civilised. Add deceit. Mix with sheer shamelessness.

What do you get? Imagine the sight. Can you believe what you see? Suddenly the former isn’t so bad after all, because they’re presumably animals, behaving like they should.

But humans? Does it not stab you?

Recall Orwell:

The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.

I cannot help but feel helpless from what I see.

God, save us, please, God, save us.

Worried?

Distressed?

I don’t know, really, I don’t know.

What do we nourish ourselves with?
What food do our souls need?
What values do we cling on to?
What do we plant our roots in?

What exactly do we want?

Whitman:

O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless–of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light–of the objects mean–of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all–of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest–with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring–What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here–that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.

Of myself forever reproaching myself. Forever; reproaching myself.

Browning:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints—I love thee with the breath
Smiles, tears, of all my Life!—and if God choose
I shall but love thee better after death.

For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. Freely. Purely.

Purely.

Anything less would kill me.

But I already feel like I’m almost dead.