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Do… April 13, 2009

Posted by ZaQ in Gak Jelas.

…’nt know what to write…

hmm hmm…

what to do what to do :p



High… March 11, 2009

Posted by ZaQ in Readings....


The Highwayman
Alfred Noyes


The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding-
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

And dark in the old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say-

“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”

He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i’ the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.


He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o’ the tawny sunset, before the rise o’ the moon,
When the road was a gipsy’s ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching-
King George’s men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through the casement, the road that he would ride.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
“Now keep good watch!” and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say-
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till here fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love’s refrain.

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up strait and still!

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him-with her death.

He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o’er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i’ the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.

And still of a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding-
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

creepy :p


Qu… March 10, 2009

Posted by ZaQ in Readings....
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…it the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart,
And take thy form from off my door!

–The Raven, Edgar Allen Poe

Exc… March 7, 2009

Posted by ZaQ in Gak Jelas.
Tags: ,

…ept our way of thinking.

The release of atom power has changed everything
except our way of thinking. The solution to this problem lies
in the heart of mankind. If only I had known, I should have
become a watchmaker.

Albert Einstein

Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster,
and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you.

Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

Jig… February 23, 2009

Posted by ZaQ in Nyanyi Nyanyi.
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…saws… puzzles…

Jigsaw Falling Into Place

Just as you take my hand,
Just as you write my number down,
Just as the drinks arrive,
Just as they play our favorite song
As your blather dissapears,
No longer wound up like a spring,
Before you’be had too much,
Come back and focus again

The walls abandon shape,
You’ve got a cheshire cat grin
All blurring into one,
This place is on a mission,
Before the night owl,
Before the animal noises,
Close circuit cameras,
Before you’re comatose

Before you run away from me,
Before you’re lost between the notes,
The beat goes round and round,
The beat goes round and round,
I never really got there,
I just pretended that I had,
What’s the point of instruments?
Words are a sawed-off shotgun

Come on and let it out (4x)

Before you run away from me,
Before you’re lost between the notes,
Just as you take the mic,
Just as you dance… dance… dance…
(dance… dance… dance…)

Jigsaw falling into place,
There is nothing to explain,
Regard each other as you pass,
She looks back, you look back,
Not just once… Not just twice…
Wish away the nightmare,
Wish away the nightmare,
You got a light, you can feel it on your back,
A light, you can feel it on your back,
Jigsaw falling, into place

falling falling xD

Coo… February 20, 2009

Posted by ZaQ in Gak Jelas.
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…kie cutter systems, have you built one? xD More like hundreds probably xD Usually identified by the generic naming system of *insert function here* information system 😛 Then again, it’s (mostly) easy because it’s familiar and routine, but… oh how I wish xD


Twe… December 30, 2008

Posted by ZaQ in Personal.

…nty sixth of december, 2008 17:55 WIB. I hope someday we can meet again.


Hila… December 1, 2008

Posted by ZaQ in Gak Jelas, Linkage.

…riously and disturbingly funny thread


Mir… November 28, 2008

Posted by ZaQ in Gak Jelas.

…acles or rather, the lack of it :p

The recent hubbub of presidential election in a foreign country left me confused. Especially when the hubbubers (I totally made that up) consists of people from another country… strange :p When questioned about this, some replied that it’s not about the election circus itself, but it’s about the message and inspiration of hope that one of the candidate for the election radiated. Some even went further to claim that it was a miraclous win. Right. It doesn’t really take a genius to see which one is going to win that one lol, he had the money, the right backing and the right buzz word :p

When people are fed up with a status quo, they tend to flock to whatever things opposed to mainstream thinking, it satisfies the rebellious side of human. 1930-ish Germany is in a state of economic meltdown, one candidate promised change, radiated hope and inspired belief from the people. Now I’m not saying that the situation right now will end up like the past (although of course, history repeats itself ad infinitum :p), what I’m saying is that, it’s easy to charm, even employ demagougery to the people, especially when they’re emotionally invested in the situation.

So was that such a miraculous thing? How is it more miraculous.. how is it more inspiring compared to some teacher in a ‘developing’ country managing to keep his/her school afloat and keep on teaching, believing in his/her student and somehow still surviving with less money per month than the highest paper bill in said country?

If you truly need to see miracles, or inspiration, go rent a dramatized movie (lol) or better yet, be that miracle, be that inspiration, work for it, because hoping for it won’t work :p

Child: Mom I’m hungry, can I eat something?
Mom: Unfortunately no, but let’s HOPE that tommorow we will have something to eat (continues watching soap opera)


Lo! Allah changeth not the condition of a folk until they (first) change that which is in their hearts (Q.S. 13:11)


Mich… November 6, 2008

Posted by ZaQ in Readings....

..ael Crichton passed away at the age of 66.

Here is an author that introduced me to the world of science fiction. I distinctly remember reading Congo in 1994, and although the novel never became one of my favorite, I still remember it quite clearly. The next novel from him that I read was Jurassic Park in 1995 (I’ve watched the movie by then), and his use of documents, diagrams, charts, etc (fabricated or otherwise) to provide some background to his novel(s) fascinates me so much that I began fervently scanning shelves on every bookstore for his works. This leads me to Sphere (I thought this one was kinda… weak), Airframe (thought it was too technical and stuff… but you know I was probably only 14 at that time, later on when I reread this one, I think I loved this one better than any other of Crichton’s works), The Andromeda Strain (quite creepy) and The Great Train Robbery (pretty good) just before Indonesia imploded in 1998 xD. The economic meltdown stemmed my er.. feverish impulse buying spree at least until 2002 when I finally bought and read Prey (quite good, it has genetic programming, which is hawt sauce), then Timeline (not quite able to like this one), and of course State of Fear (like) and lastly Next (like it better).

How did this author paved my way to sci-fi nirvana? By a combination of 28.8 us robotics modem and the magic of phone line (sorry mom and dad for the hiked up phone charges), I started to search for essays, reviews and discussion about Crichton’s works and through that, I was able to find the works of Arthur Clarke (2001, Rama), Robert Heinlein (Starship Troopers, Strangers in a Strange Land), the multitude Star Wars EU novel(s) (okay.. this is more like space opera than sci-fi… so what? xD) and Orson Scott Card (Ender series). And for all of this, and more it is in my humble opinion that this author really rocks 😛 Thank you for all the sleepless night(s) (and day(s)), here’s hoping that I can get my hands on your last title (to be published posthumously in 2009) and may it give me some more sleepless night(s) and/or day(s).