The world may be warming, but the mercury's still falling.

Strawberry Ice Cream!

2008-11-01T01:03:00.006+08:00

...with nuts! And chocolate drizzle! And rainbow rice! And...

...Cheese?!

A sharp tangy gorgonzola. Fills the mouth with a lingering warmth. Spiced gouda! Spice up your sweetness! Edam! Like having tuo edam with a voluptuous exotic beauty, backwards!

This is a combination that one never would have imagined possible until you accidentally mix them together. After all, so many things that turned out good in the end were actually accidents. Like coca-cola, or penicillin, or me.

Or maybe a close friend convinces (or dares[or bribes{or seduces}]) you into trying it. You suspiciously take a sip, always wary that that coke with panadol might actually knock you out cold, giving your friend the perfect opportunity to bait you like (s)he's always wanted to and is now trying makeshift roofies since alcohol failed. Or that coke with mentos will actually make you swell and rise into the atmosphere before going asplody.

Like coke and salt. The initial thought of it already evokes a retch and an aaaah, gross. Then you actually try it and realise that it actually works. Aaaah tasty.

Even if you don't like it, at least you tried. So try it!

Selfish pet peeves

2008-08-06T20:24:00.003+08:00

Everytime I see someone learn something I already know. I like to hoard my knowledge, and use it to win bets based on random information. But when I see someone acquire some golden nugget of trivia, my heart wrenches. I didn't even get that minute satisfaction of being able to smirk and look smart while telling it (if I decide to reveal such things). No, instead the random knowledge gap between me and the rest of the world narrows, and I feel stupider and stupider along the way.

I also hate it when I think of something clever, and it's just on the tip of my tongue when someone else says it and steals my thunder. My brain had been all prepared to bask in the looks of admiration when suddenly, ARGH it's been said prematurely. I mean it's okay if I hadn't thought of it first, but now that I've made all the effort to come up with such a bon mot and it's taken away, I feel cheated, robbed.

2008-08-04T20:13:00.002+08:00

The fates move in mysterious ways. Amil's shifting morals move in ways mysteriouser.

Thrice today I was given the opportunity to extricate myself from suffering. It would have required a mere word to take leave early and escape punishment. Instead I chose to 'do the right thing'. The only reward got was ennui and a wasted evening, and no one benefited from it. Sometimes the tragedy is being too virtuous.

Sometimes I wonder which is more painful. Doing wrong, getting punished for it, and living with the guilt, or doing the right thing, getting punished for it anyway and then realising that if if you had taken the dark side you would have escaped scott-free.

I've had a taste of both recently. The latter is more bitter. Definitely. But then again it's me.

As passive as passive-aggressive can be

2008-07-31T19:02:00.002+08:00

You are closed-minded and pedantic. Unresponsive to questions. Puts down inquisitive little green students and puts out the creative light in their eyes. Your ineffectiveness is made all the more evident by the intellectual who leads the next class. I hold no respect for you. You are a waste of food and all the potential that these children have.

But for some people, like me, you are not completely useless.

You inspire me to show that I can survive, even thrive, without you.

Force the Feel Flow Through You

2008-07-17T22:40:00.008+08:00

The typical Amil response to stress is to pump up the Kamelot, work self into adrenaline and envinephrine-fueled frenzy and bulldoze through whatever feeble obstacle or philosophy essay there is without pausing for breath. It's worked perfectly thus far, but in true dramatic fashion, the latest, most malicious, most seductively scary bad guy has the unfair advantage. It feeds on the incandescent energy, the juggernaut-like single-mindedness that Amil always employs, all the while becoming stiffer and uglier while mercilessly landing blow after blow of derisive laughter and insults to one's man/womanhood. Amil is outmatched, so delicacy and softness of steps will be needed, even a whole change in mindset. Or maybe just a sexy new costume. Don't succumb to procrastination, find out our hero's fate in the shocking conclusion ASAP next issue next week!

The Mastermind

2008-06-23T22:20:00.002+08:00

I once wanted to rule the world. Charge people for air and water. Then I realised that my brother had similar goals. And most other people have similar goals.

So there's some competition for that top spot. Gotta start early you know.

And now, in true megalomaniac fashion, I unveil my plans to the mindless hordes that are now within my grasp. The first step to world domination is joining FACEBOOK.

Every day, my reach of influence grows. It warms my heart to see the little email popup that says 'so and so president added you as friend, so and so hot model added you as friend'. It warms my heart some more when I think of how I will have 10 million friends. And it warms my heart again more when I think of how I will deactivate my account on 10 million friends, breaking 10 million hearts goodbye Mr Anderson heheheh

heh

2008-06-12T12:29:00.004+08:00

10 000 cheering souls packed into a replica of the Singapore Indoor Stadium.
7 brothers huddled in a penguin-esque ball, in the middle of the floor.

The itchy little vibrating ball of tension in each one grown steadily over the last 4 days, now too large to be handled individually. Beyond itchy, it has grown to become an unbearable unsatisfiable ache. It shuddered like boiling milk, the atmosphere the spoon dipped into it that makes it overflow violently through our faces, our hands, our eyes. We huddled, and hoped harder than we had ever hoped before

then in one consummatory moment the emcee announces, we win! and the tension, contained too long, explodes in the form of screaming jumping and for some, crying.

After which, we retreat in jubilance. The Vs congratulate and hug us, but it is an awkward moment. Their faces contradict their words. There's just too much emotion in the room, it would take an ubermensch to hide it from his countenance. We are tempered by the wretched looks on their faces.

Wrongly so. After all, we do not deserve to be repressed again do we? Not all the tension has been released yet; even the massive supernova cannot liberate all the star's energy in a split second. But we must have consideration for the crestfallen. We cannot celebrate in the same room as the grieving...

Deny this

2008-04-15T21:05:00.003+08:00

Loved by me
You'll never know if you are loved by me
As pretty as your face is
I'd never round the bases
From a distance home is easier to see

I'd be fine
If I could find the nerve to say my line
Too bad I lack the fervor
'Cause maybe I could swerve her
Off her beaten path and onto mine

To publish my obsession
Of love without confession
Would be to share the spotlight with chagrin
I'd rather just admire
Fanning my own fire
And when it dies I'd live to love again

What to do
I've only started and already though
You may not ever meet me
Surely won't defeat me
I'll never know if I am loved by you
Seems I'm just too yellow to pursue
Guess I'll never know if I am loved by you

Detachment from attachment

2008-04-06T02:24:00.006+08:00

'What do you all think of me?'

I ask a close friend, 3 years too late.

'You live in a world of your own,'

Echoing my very own recent pensive introspection verbatim. Lately I've only brushed the surface of the disturbing parallel world of interpersonal relationships, through second hand knowledge of course. I have a no-secrets pact with 6 of my friends. Obviously the few stories I have to share are juiceless and bland, but the ones I hear, while I belly-laugh equally hard as everyone else, make me feel a poignant tang every time. I walk in on the unspeakable acts committed by the last friends I would guess to engage in such shenanigans. Again, I laugh but the laughter hides a part of me inside that dies. It might be mere curiosity tickling me, which I am perfectly fine with, but I doubt that.

I catch myself searching the stoic tome of wikipedia for those two words (interpersonal attraction) in some desperate but inevitably fruitless attempt to find a magic code to elucidate this thickly-veiled world. The phrase that resonates in my skull is taken, quite inappropriately, from the tagline for the 40 Year Old Virgin. 'The longer you wait, the harder it gets.' Such a serious matter (for the moment), and I can only remember a line from a lewd comedy. Charming.

I'm quite comfortable in this world of my own. Inertia is an insufferable force. Hormones and curiosity are unstoppable. Even joined forces, how do I manage to resist them?

The faculty of a teacher

2008-02-27T19:44:00.002+08:00

Of the multitude of educators I have had, two who teach me this year stand out clearly. One has taught me some years past, and the other is new to me.

The one who has taught me before is erudite and awe inspiring. He sparked my love for the subject he teaches. The impression he has left on my life is profound. Now he has returned again, and his presence not only rekindles my love for his subject, but makes him a foil to another teacher I have been cursed with this year. He could be called an adroit mindsmith.

The second one contrasts the first horribly. She cannot communicate with her students. She cannot answer questions, and rather than admitting her shortcomings, insults and humiliates the innocent pupil. Malcom Forbes said that the purpose of education is to replace empty minds with open ones, and here my hypocritical 'teacher' works to create fear in the student. Sickening.

Emesis

2008-02-12T23:39:00.000+08:00

Slippery slope emesis.

For the want of a pill, a dinner was lost.
For the want of a dinner, a sleep was lost.
For the want of a sleep, a day of learning was lost.
For the want of a day, an education was lost.
For the want of an education, a future was lost.
For the want of a future, a life was lost.

Solo Amoeba

2008-02-08T08:40:00.000+08:00

The most efficient creature.
Hampered not by others.
Unicellular.
Self-sufficient.
An island.
A rock.
Wild.

Short story of a donkey

2008-02-06T09:52:00.000+08:00

A handsome ass sits between two bales of hay. It is closer to one, but it eyes the other, bigger, tastier-looking one. It wants both, but it knows that going for one means forgoing the other.

It must choose. The adjacent, and still-tasty bale? Or the one that's slightly further away, but holds many times more promise.

There is a twist in the story though. The handsome ass doesn't know if the one further away really exists. It could very well be his mind playing tricks on him. Going to that bale and finding out that it doesn't exist will be very annoying. It might mean embarassment for him, and he surely cannot handle that.

He sits in contemplation, pondering which bale to eat. As the weeks go by he grows thinner and thinner. Now looking little more than a cheap handbag on a bony clothes-rack, he still cannot decide.

Food is within easy reach, but the handsome ass starves to death.

a little tale of cognitive dissonance

2008-01-09T17:10:00.000+08:00

These are fickle children. They spend their years clothed in rudeness and arrogance. They draw lustful attention for their wanton debaucheries. Secretly however, most are sickened and would rather see them publicly humiliated or at the very least brought to a slow agonizing death.

Suddenly, within milliseconds, there is a marked change in mein. Not merely tangible but more like pie-in-the-face-of-whoever-knows-better. Smug, repulsive sneers melt away to saccharine grins. One only feels sorry for the poor deluded victim who helplessly falls to the overwhelming tide.

But that is not the end. In a primitive display of gorilla-like aggressiveness, the original demeanour returns with a vengeance. A testosterone-fueled fury marks the end of all civilised conduct. All innocents not contributing to the alpha male's manly glory are bowled over without impunity.

From fickle little children to raving monstrosities. Honestly, I have never been so disgusted in my life.

The smell of hormones mingling with perfume

2008-01-05T14:28:00.000+08:00

While it may turn the heads of most, turns only the stomach of this one.

Maybe it's an overexposure to too much romancy-schmancy pop culture* early in life, or more likely just a lack of food, but watching my first successful pick-up** made me feel more nauseous than inspired.

Sorry for being deceived with images of Romeo and Juliet but wasn't there once a time where there was actually stuff between saying hi and sex?

*Actually romancy pop culture is the only exposure I have whatsoever. Real life? What's that?
**As a spectator of course; don't confuse me with someone who has courage.

The Better Covert Ops

2007-12-29T17:44:00.000+08:00

I am rambo. Without the rippling muscles or extraordinary luck. I charge into a situation headfirst without considering the consequences. This has led to numerous failures before. I want to know a girl? I ask her. She says yes. Sometimes.

They, are subtler than the blackset covert ops. They will manipulate and coerce to whatever end they desire. The most frightening part is that they serve no one but themselves. Case in point, I leave my msn open on a table, unattended. One goes up to it while I'm not looking and invites herself using my account. Later on she tells me of the news, that I invited her. Now this is especially elegant because it defeats two problems. One, she doesn't have to ask me face-to-face, action movie style with big dangerous firey explosions. Two, because I know that she's invited me, I am flattered and don't follow through with my initial reaction of getting pissed for someone nosing through my stuff. Pure genius.

I sure do sound like the kid who finds air bubbles in his microscope specimen in biology class for the first time. I've made a groundbreaking discovery that only everyone else knows. Bah.

'Everyone has a skill. What's yours?'

2007-12-15T21:55:00.000+08:00

I respect the man who dedicates his time to one, and only one skill. He is so committed to excellence in that one area, enduring hardship for that one tiny moment of glory when he can shine. The impersonation of others, a little trill on the keyboard, or even the ability to make small talk with complete strangers sans a stutter. This sort of heroic (that's the word I was looking for) focus is seemingly beyond me.

2007-11-05T23:43:00.000+08:00

Every time a friend succeeds, I die a little inside

~Gore Vidal

who have i been fooling?

2007-10-31T21:27:00.000+08:00

We were never meant to be together. At times I tried so hard, but this end was inevitable. The story goes,

When I was younger and greener, I was so enthusiastic about this relationship. I had a place I belonged. Part of something meaningful. It was fresh, mainly because I had never been part of anything before.

Then trouble started. Me, with my attention span so short, began to drift away. It wasn't long before we never saw. I went on a year-long hiatus. It was happy times, without needing to be concerned with anything. Due to unforseen circumstances, we were back together again. However, this reunion was a grudging one. I garnered some other merit out of it though, but beyond that no pleasure was gained. As soon as possible, I severed all connection with it again.

Recently, it came back to me, on it's knees. I turned it away.

Goodbye, and good riddance. Hockey is just not for me.
Here I am back again, not part of anything.
How coincidental, the nature of the game I so abhor, that makes me so.

2007-10-23T19:08:00.000+08:00

It wasn't going well for him that day. Bad news was still whirling in his mind. He had lost countless rounds of poker, and how had a splitting headache. He goes to the counter and orders a drink. He downs several more before leaving the filthy place.

He shambles off to the train station, and squeezes to the seat vacated by an old indian man. He folds his arms like every one else around him and promptly falls asleep.

Worst mistake of his life.

As he dozes, several people enter and exit the carriage. Several people who potentially could have caused a marked change to his entire life.

A long lost friend enters. This friend is down on his luck too, probably even worse than our protagonist here. Friend sulks in one corner and shuffles out after two stops. Had our hero been awake, they would have noticed each others presence. They would have hugged and would have become business partners. Success would await them.

A charming and attractive lady walks in but takes no notice of him. Had he been awake their eyes would have met across the car, they would have gone out and spent many happy hours together, they would have realised that they were perfect with each other, and lived blissfully ever after together.

He then goes home, collapses on the couch with a beer in hand, and watches some Arsenal vs Liverpool before passing out. His half-finished beer spills over his couch which will leave a sticky mark until he throws it out several years later.

Every moment, a thousand thousand opportunities arise. Most of them flit by because one is at the wrong place at the wrong time. The rest are lost due to circumstances beyond one's control. The pitiful few left are not seen or taken advantage of and go on to become vestiges in the deepest reaches of one's mind where they will cause squirmingly-painful hindsight for years.

Old play-doh

2007-09-21T00:42:00.000+08:00

I am not the same person I was a year ago, and I wasn't the person I had been, the year before that, and so on.

Every year, I'd mold myself to becoming a different person. Different in deportment and work ethic. Now it'd be somewhat due to propinquity. Being the impressionable and somewhat insecure young child I am. These transformations were sometimes for the better; but more often than not for the worse. This year, I have been fortunate.

It is a vicious cycle though. I'd never hold on to a character for long enough to be good at it, and I'd never achieve the acceptence I craved so. By the time I settled down, I'd be in a different environment, and have to evolve, or devolve, again.

But do what? How to alleviate this problem? Should I even try? This absurd fickleness obviously stems from an even more absurd need to be assimilated. In the years ahead will I turn into something else? what will I turn into? I am quite satisfied with my current state after all.

One hears the phrase 'be yourself' so often. Easier said than done.

running to stand still

2007-09-03T22:40:00.000+08:00

Though we are only ordinary men,
And cocks and pigs and dogs,
We have some royalty in us;
We are crimson queens as well.

Constants

2007-08-27T22:12:00.000+08:00

Selfishness, stupidity, horniness.

The reasons we exist as we are today.

First is all-pervasive. It is obvious. It needs no explanation.
The third is irrelevant to me at this point of time.

But stupidity, it's very nature implies that it does not know of it's own existence. Most saddening is the fact that because of it's obliviousness to itself one continues to commit the same follies again and again.

For hope springs eternal.

It's the concept behind things like the lottery. Or dating. Or dare I say religion.

But the lottery, dating, or religion, they are by no means the point of this post. They are mere arbitrary examples.

Stupidity is way too powerful to be focused on those three. It's everywhere. In others. In ourselves.

keepin' the clean sheet

2007-08-25T01:10:00.000+08:00

I am a coward.

What could have been though, if not for the juvenile reengineering?

2007-08-22T14:38:00.000+08:00

I'll be fine, As long as there's a bed beneath the stars tonight

2007-08-21T16:41:00.000+08:00

Walked out this morning
Don't believe what I saw
A hundred billion other bottles
Washed up on the shore

I'll be fine if you give me a minute
A man's got a limit
I can't get a life if my heart's not in it

bowed, on his knees, almost down and out

2007-08-06T18:15:00.000+08:00

Like diving and holding your breath, but when you break water, there's no air up there.

Also like doing so much work and realising that the thing that you kept thinking of to keep yourself going throughout the day is missing.

Worser Flight

2007-08-01T23:28:00.000+08:00

Little fly,
Thy summer's play.
My thoughtless hand,
Has brushed away.

Am not I,
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou,
A man like me?

For I dance,
And drink, and sing.
Till some blind hand,
Has brushed my wing.

Bzzt - zing!

2007-07-30T07:45:00.000+08:00

is the sound of your brain making a connection. Neurons fire and grow at the speed of light, connecting in a full, closed circuit. The sensation is palpable and it comes with the euphoric shot of dopamine. It can be scary sometimes.

Letter From Will

2007-07-24T20:47:00.000+08:00

Fear no more the frown of the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe and eat,
To thee the reed is as the oak.

Nights of Formication

2007-07-22T09:16:00.000+08:00

The air was cool next to the sea. It carried well the nervous laughter of people who had met for the first time. Long periods of uncomfortable silence. Their eyes flitted about the darkening coast, resting not on each other's face for fear of awkwardness. Their minds raced though, in want of saying something sharp-witted to break the uncomfortable silence. Well, it wasn't really a true silence, it was scattered with the sounds of a little boy slapping at his legs, muttering 'damn bugs'.

Of course, as the night wore on, they grew more accustomed to each other, and words flowed more freely. There still was the sense of mindfulness about what they said, but that only goes away between good friends. There was more talk and laughter, but beneath all that there still continued the slap and smack and 'damn bugs'.

Fortunately I have reinforcements

2007-07-19T22:37:00.000+08:00

Again, mentor chytah comes to save the day with his innumerable wiseness.

Imagine I want some dough. I have people under me who pay me money for god-knows-what reasons, but it isn't enough. So I get these people, who are giving me their money, to work and toil and labour.

Let's say that I put them in a sweatshop, making origami paper cranes. They aren't paid, in fact they pay me, so my little workers are more than a little disgruntled. QC is non-existent, the average paper crane looks more like something out of a pretentious little art student's trashcan-of-failed-dreams-that-so-could-have-made-it-big.

Anyway, what I do is I sell the paper cranes back to the people who made them. They have no choice but to buy and give me more money. It's of course, for a noble cause, the weenie worker welfare watch.

The money just rolls in and I have more big cool stuff built in my name.

Queen quote #41123

2007-07-10T22:40:00.000+08:00

I got no feel, I got no rhythm.
I just keep losing my beat.

But I'm okay, I'm alright.
Ain't gonna face no defeat.

Just gotta get out of this prison cell.
Someday, I'm gonna be free.

2007-07-10T20:11:00.000+08:00

I'd gone running at an ungodly hour in search of the girl in the dream.

Didn't see her, din't expect to at all (hope springs eternal notwithstanding).

But fate throws you the strangest cards sometimes. Instead I met the girl from forever (really forever) long ago.

She even pronounces my name correct after the decade.

on maturity

2007-06-11T19:50:00.000+08:00

I initially wrote 'on growing up' as the title, but it brought to mind some channel 5 drama from years past. Never watched the show, but every commercial, without fail, had some crying woman pulling at the shirt of a man wearing a pink polo-t and striding determinedly out of a redecorated phua chu kang house. I remember that as being very tacky, so I changed the title.

Growing up means learning things that one would rather never learn. Like the fact that movies and comics are fictional, so ugly guys don't end up with pretty girls, and you can't really dodge bullets or become super-strong if you irradiate yourself.

One also discovers that there is a mystical link between the buying of food and the consumption of food. It's called cooking and it requires years of training. The money plant that you have believed in all your youth also happens to be a myth. Tough.

I read in some book in Borders that you can tell the age of people by their position in a double-deckered bus.

If you sit on the top deck, in the front, you haven't grown up yet.
Top deck, at the back, you've grown a little, you're a teenager.
Top deck, in the middle, you're a young adult.

Bottom deck, at the back, you've grown up, you're an old fogey.
Bottom deck, in the front, you're ancient and when you go to the museum people think you're an escaped exhibit.

Bottom deck, in the front right, you've probably grown up to become a bus driver.

More adventures in the concrete jungle

2007-06-06T12:30:00.000+08:00

They did have one thing in common:

They had to prove themselves to themselves.

One, that he has it,
The other, that he still has it.

One returns triumphant and content,
The other is a little confused, in not a much better state than the one in which he came in.

The good part was that the scent still lingered despite the physical distance. It instiled an energy and vivace much like a shot of adrenaline. As well as some dopamine, when the good memories associated with the smell were recalled.

Club Med is awesome.

On responsibility

2007-05-31T01:38:00.000+08:00

Now this is being written long after the initial flames which were my inspiration died out. Now I'm merely trying to stoke the dying embers. With each second that passes, the will to pen something down fades, just like with so many other entries that failed to publish.

Maybe the object of my life is to shrug off as much responsibility as I can. I'd love to go running in the middle of the night, to see what the city looks like then. I'd love to stay out late without fear of danger or intemperance or immorality.

I could continue writing, but I hardly feel like anymore.

2007-05-28T16:00:00.001+08:00

All dressed up... and?

2007-05-07T21:46:00.000+08:00

Heart of summer, I still smell the grass. I still hear the lines of the dream in the night.

It distracts too much.

sad fat and bald

2007-05-04T17:07:00.000+08:00

I sit here in the eye of the storm, surrounded by all these overachieving people. To my left is my best friend, just returned from some international competition which he won hands-down. He's in the school rugby team. He scores inhumanly high grades for every subject he takes, and most embarassingly, for some that he doesn't take anymore. Most embarassingly because I take them myself, spend hours every week poring over them, yet still don't do as well. Women pine for him. He plays 3 different musical instruments. I just sit in the huge dark shadow.

To my right is a similar person. Scholar. Artist. Overachiever. Everywhere I look, it's success story after success story. How do I compare? I shan't even try to mention.

I realise that sitting here complaining ain't helping. Even if you're on the right track, you'll still get run over if you just sit there. Will Rogers.

But is it wrong to be envious when you're the scrawny black sheep among all the golden-fleeced?

2007-04-30T22:50:00.000+08:00

(Meekly, weakly)I'm already giving so much. What do you want from me?

'Your soul, no less.'

just salt in my eye

2007-04-30T17:16:00.000+08:00

Funny how the most insightful thoughts occur at the least opportune times, only to be forgotten later at the keyboard.

While playing street soccer the other day/week/month (it was some time ago can't remember exactly when), it hit me.

We know that most of the crap they teach us would probably never become of use when we are all grown up and stuff, and they instead should be teaching more useful knowledge like common sense.

But they do it anyway, and pile on so much work so that we're kept on our toes and don't question their shadowy evil motives. So instead we should-

I forgot what I was just about to say. To be continued.

2007-04-11T22:20:00.000+08:00

What is it about the undeserving people? They must possess some aura, some mysterious weapon that endears the beautiful blind toward them. Yet the gentle ones who would do anything for others lack it. It's not that these gentle people are oblivious to stark reality, but that they hold on too tightly to some faint glimmer of hope. Hope that this one time there will be an exception to the bleak futility of the truth.

2007-04-09T22:11:00.000+08:00

You could be driving a car, or at least riding in one. It's going at over a hundered, and as you look out, the vibrant bougainvilleas and frangipanis and the dull battleship greys and feces browns of the (school) buildings (101 Dover, more specifically) all blend into a wild cacophany of colours. Suddenly a dog crosses the road. Cars skid and horns blare. As you crane your neck you see the dumb animal, oblivious to it's impending doom. It's at that split second where you take in every single detail of the morbid picture painted in your eyes. You see the drool hanging from it's mouth, you see the panicked expression on the drivers' faces, you see pedastrians standing stock-still as they too prepare themselves for the grisly scene to come. You even have time to let out a mental sigh. Then time returns to normal and it happens. Wince.

Or you could be playing hockey for your school. Your'e on your own and you can't rely on anyone but yourself. All of a sudden your'e aware of everything. You see the bad guy goalkeeper shifting around his posts, you more feel than see the opponent racing up behind you. Without thinking, acting purely on instinct, you let loose a shot you wouldn't have been able to do normally and you even manage to catch a glimpse of the keeper's eyes widen in horror. You even have time to break into a mental smile. Then time returns to normal and it happens. Joy.

Or you could be playing some game on the computer. Say Counterstrike. It's you, one puny Arab terrorist against a squad of the most highly-trained soldiers in the world. You know you don't stand a chance. You skulk around the shadows, half-expecting to be killed the moment you step into the open, which unfortunately is exactly where you have to go. As you tread into the blinding light, you notice a movement in the corner of the screen. Instantly your finger jerks, and the poor sod who you saw is dead. It's a small consolation, there are still 3 to go, and 1 of you. Suddenly the dreaded 3 burst in at the same time. Without thinking, reacting purely with reflexes, you click 3 times so fast and so accurately you would not think it was you if you watched a replay. The last one is dead before the first hits the ground.

Best yet, you could be at a party with friends. Your'e the centre of attention, but not because your'e the most drunk or the loudest. In fact, your'e not even saying much. Rather your'e coming up with witticisms by the truckload, injecting one-liners of pure genius into the conversation every few moments. Inwardly you realise that 99% of the time, you wouldn't have thought of them. But now your'e conscious of it, you lose it.

It always lasts a moment. It's always fleeting. You yearn for it but have no idea how to achieve it. Sometimes you even dream about it. Hahaha I can't even put the way it feels into words but rather I just refer to it as it. Maybe it should have a name.

'Still looking-glass pool under light of autumn moon, after pebble has fallen into it'

Weather Forecast for the Next 100 Years

2007-04-08T21:58:00.000+08:00

If not for that last minute, bless it, I predict nothing would be done in my lifetime.

You're taking steps, that make you feel dizzy; Then you like the way it feels.

2007-04-03T21:20:00.000+08:00

I couldn't eat today. No appetite.

Haven't said that phrase and meant it in years, probably.

I'd just sit there and stare at the food. After a while they'd I'd talk to them. In the emotionless fluorescent light I realise how grossly yellow the macaroni is, how shiny and glistening, plasticky, the cheese is, how flesh-coloured the chicken is, how its texture is like that of soggy sand.

Mr. Macaroni, your'e probably so fucking GMmed that if I left you on that plate for another hour, it'd get cancer.
Mr. Cheese, you ain't made of milk that's for sure. I'm placing my bets on formaldehyde and spit.
Mr. Chicken, ah, the bringer of protein, big strong muscles and whatnot. If you didn't come from some creature that moved more than 3 metres in it's whole life maybe. But now your'e nothing but sawdust, ash and fat. Not the gleaming marbly fat, but the pale and putrid stuff you get when you mix old old milk with old old lemon juice.

'But it isn't our fault, Mr. Amil, we didn't choose to be cloned and false and born in a lab. Why are you being so mean to us today? Most days you just chug us down like we're truffles and kobe.'

'Sorry guys, I'm just a little stressed. Not much though, they say I'm stronger than that, they say they can pile more on me and I'll just cope perfectly. You see? I only have this truckload of books to carry and work to do. I've even started using my school bag as a weight to work out, but it's a bit heavy for me. I'm sure my back can handle the weight, I've only had 2 slipdisks and a strained lumbar in the past week. See these bags under my eyes? They're not pitch black yet, so that means I'm not working at 100%.'

'So I guess I'll just stop whining and eat you. Maybe I'll get cancer from all the extra crap in you. You know my grandmother has cancer? That means I'm predisposed. I might die a little earlier, but what's the diff as long as I do my work for those who want me to work for them. As long as I give them a good name as long as I'm useful, no loss eh? Look! I'm not even getting paid. Rather I'm paying them! Life's good!'

Reverse L'esprit L'escalier

2007-04-02T19:14:00.001+08:00

Oftimes I feel that I have so much to say.

When the opportunity to speak out arises, the words fly freely from my mouth like pigs in thick mud.

2007-03-31T23:49:00.000+08:00

http://hosted.ap.org/dynamic/stories/A/AUSTRALIA_BLACKOUT_ASOL-?SITE=ASIAONE&SECTION=SOUTHEAST&TEMPLATE=DEFAULT&CTIME=2007-03-31-06-21-41

Amazing.

I salute those fantastic people who took part in Earth Hour.

Don't stop me now

2007-03-28T19:18:00.000+08:00

Over oily smudged spectacles I peer
The legions of hell their leader's face a leer
Strife and hunger and pain and torture
Bring it on
What does not kill me will only make me stronger.

The State of Affairs

2007-03-16T13:23:00.000+08:00

You've been living underground, eating from a can.

2007-03-12T22:29:00.000+08:00

The lady whom you notice may be beautiful, but the lady who notices you is enchanting.

-Adlai Stevenson

Staircase Wit

2007-03-11T12:10:00.000+08:00

L'esprit de l'escalier

A situation where one thinks of or recalls something crucial, but moments too late for it to be carried out. Think witty smartass comeback, or suave pickup line, but only after you've left the place.

It's why I like MSN. It gives me time to think.

2007-03-06T19:03:00.000+08:00

Alone,
Lonely time,
And time goes by,
So slowly,
While you sit and grow old,
Time can do so much.

2007-02-28T08:50:00.002+08:00

Methodically, I put on my clothes to the entrancing tunes of U2. Mechanically, I breathe according the the pranayama taught to me by my mother. Ritualistically, I recite in my mind the crescendos and forczendos that would be essential in this field of education, while gathering my spellbooks that are scattered around the floor, bringing to mind an old craggy recluse wizard in his tower, never bothering to put them in order.

The spellbooks of the bard.

Tugging the last lace of a well-worn shoe, I trudge off into the sun, to prove the worth of the last year's toil.

Too bad it's not with My Own Species

2007-02-23T18:54:00.000+08:00

I have an affinity with dogs. It can be disturbing sometimes.

Hapas ftw!

2007-02-20T19:46:00.000+08:00

Random person I'm meeting for the first time: Um... What are you?

Kanoyt: I am a confused soul searching for his body on a crowded shore. The ocean is polluted a sickening grey and in the distant horizon, there are battleships and oil derricks puking putrid gases into the air. It's gotten so bad that you can barely see ten metres in front of you. I'd find it someday , but right now I am just pleased to meet you.

Why Kanoyt Doesn't Take A-Maths

2007-02-15T21:39:00.000+08:00

(Click on image to expand)

2007-02-13T18:53:00.000+08:00

Midnight Snack

2007-02-08T20:26:00.000+08:00

I shamble to the fridge because my stomach overpowered the urge to sleep. Entering the kitchen, there is a pair of glowing disembodied eyes staring straight at me.

'Hey look, there's a pair of glowing disembodied eyes staring straight at me,' my good-as-drugged brain goes.

Then I realise there shouldn't be glowing eyes in my house, let alone without a visible torso, or at least a thorax/abdomen. The pulse skyrockets. I scramble to the light switch. Of course, the flouroscent bulb has to take 10 seconds to turn on, after flickering for a few no less. All the while I'm locked in a staring competition.

It's a cat. Black as the midnight sky. Eyes jade-green and luminous.

It bolts and squeezes through the gap in the window. I try follow but the magnificent creature's already melted into the twilight.

Of course it's a cat, what other organism seems to stare straight into your soul and burn the back of your skull when you make eye contact with it.

The light flickers again. It sorta stirs my mind, and I realise there's another answer to the rhetorical question.

Bright eyes,
Burning like fire...

It's Time to Grow up a Little

2007-02-06T19:01:00.000+08:00

Little brother, there's only one thing I'd weep my heart over if I lost it,

And it is the future.

Mantra of the Everlasting Runner

2007-02-04T12:25:00.001+08:00

I run not where my legs take me,
Instead I run where my heart takes me.

I come home not because of aches and pains in tired limbs.
Instead I come home because my bladder is full.

Why Kanoyt Has Not Been Posting

2007-02-03T21:10:00.000+08:00

He tripped as he got out of bed. He fell on his head. Hard.

He got amnesia.

Wandering the dark streets, he is greeted by an old bearded man. The old bearded man tells him he can regain his memory by training in the arts of ninjitsu and bushido. He follows the old rattly man to the sewers of Manhattan, where he is trained by a talking rat.

Forgetting what he was doing, he wanders out of the sewer, and encounters another old bearded man who likes to wave his hand at people to make them do his bidding. This old bearded man takes him to the Dagobah system where he is trained in the arts of letting stuff flow through him by a green gnome with pointy ears and poor grammar.

He wakes up one morning, not in his tree-house, but in a normal bed. He goes to work and receives a phone call to meet a man. He goes to an old mansion and meets a bald black man who likes to wear sunglasses indoors. The man makes him swallow a funny red pill and he wakes up in a gooey pod. The man trains him in the arts of not trying to hit a person and instead hitting a person.

He jumps off a building and falls headfirst into the sidewalk. He makes a big crater. He gets his memory back and goes home to write about a talking rat, green gnome and squishy sidewalks.

Times when innocence I've trad'd for company

2007-01-17T11:49:00.000+08:00

I seem to be what I'm not, you see.

-The Platters

What he had always meant

2007-01-08T21:41:00.000+08:00

He was by no means soft-spoken. He was sociable and popular in a crowd but sometimes, he felt a little insecure, and nervous, but he always found himself, and maybe even lost himself in the excitement of the situation.

Under the surface however, he felt that his preference was for the companionship of close friends.

Not so Cool After all

2007-01-07T01:33:00.000+08:00

It seems that the popular guys at school ain't so friendly out of it. They need their groupies. They break into cold sweat when people stop fawning over them. When being in the rugby first team or having the balls to talk back to a teacher no longer get them attention, but friendliness and a measure of conversation skills are called for, they shrink back and huddle with each other. Afraid to go out of their comfort zone.

Kiwi!

2007-01-05T22:45:00.001+08:00

If this bird is a Buddhist, he has most certainly achieved Nirvana.

2007-01-05T15:21:00.000+08:00

Sing this summer serenade,
The past is done, we've been betrayed.
Some might say the truth will out,
But I believe without a doubt,
In you.

We sat and watched the sun go down,
Then picked a star before we lost,
The moon.
Youth is wasted on the young,
Before you know it's come and gone,
Too soon.

You were there for summer dreaming,
And you are a friend indeed.
And I hope you find your freedom,
For eternity.

-Robbie Williams

2006-12-29T10:57:00.000+08:00

Neil Humphreys wrote in his book that Singaporean students could talk for hours on the topic of World War II or Biology, but when posed with questions on subjects not taught in school, for example armpits or doorknobs, they would be blank-faced and silent.

At parties, it's always the case that people have nothing to talk about, especially if they haven't been aquainted before. Too often I've seen a bunch of fifteen-year-olds sitting at the dinner table, staring blankly into their food, mouths chewing mechanically, and eschewing conversation. That sight never fails to brings to mind the picture of cows grazing, unmoving and silent except for the continuous grinding of cud-in-mouth. And the occasional fart. Any talk is always between those already comfortable with each other.

Worse still is the fact that no one even makes an effort to get to know each other. I'd be in a room with some friends, and someone I haven't met walks in. In 95% of my experiences, he/she would not introduce him/herself to new people unless introduced by the host, and even then after their brief handshake they would part ways and probably never see each other again. Throughout the course of the night, they wouldn't speak. No attempt would be made. At the end of the day, no one's phonebooks or email list has grown. Not unless you make the effort to do so, and then continue to talk to them in the future, and meet up again. If not, everything shall be for naught.

So I utterly sympathise with frustrated parents who put up with one-word answers. But who takes the blame for this lack of social skills? I've been told that the situation gets better as people get older, but I'm impatient. It's getting extremely annoying. Bah.

Like Christmas turkey without the stuffing: Just Turkey, Everyday Food

2006-12-28T14:34:00.000+08:00

It's ironic that a weblog of ones life is supposed to be the conduit for his thoughts, yet it rarely fills that role. There's always someone who would take offense. There's always someone who'd ridicule it. Just the trivial stuff gets through.

So what, then, is the use of a weblog?

2006-12-08T10:41:00.000+08:00

Every day as I walk up the stair,
I meet a man who isn't there.
He wasn't there again today,
I wish, oh I wish he'd go away.

-Hughes Mearns

Very annoying, this is becoming

2006-12-06T10:36:00.000+08:00

'To play Bach, first you must feel calm and peaceful. Have no fear of the notes. I see much fear in you,' says the wide-eyed piano teacher who's slowly turning green and sprouting pointy ears.

I know, I know, it leads to anger, then hate, then suffering.

Adventures in the Concrete Jungle

2006-12-03T14:33:00.000+08:00

And as I sat detached from the pulsing lights and thumping bass, I witnessed the majesty of an animal, long believed to be extinct. Sure, the wild creature was aged, but age brought a craggy and world-worn ruggedness that must have lent a sort of charm, not to mention a glib tongue. It was at home in the concrete jungle, for it carried itself with an ease that I undoubtedly lack.

Bruised, bleeding, blistered and suffering from all other kinds of maladies, I could only watch in wide-eyed admiration, while my little talking shadow gave random odd comments about the whirling masses that surrounded us.

The animal may grow old, but will never die.

But there still is only one Two of Diamonds

2006-12-02T11:17:00.000+08:00

It's an uncomfortable realisation that not every one in the world shares your interests. 'Specially at this age of our lives, when everyone's trying to find out what he likes, and what he is like.

What is even more disquieting is that you are told that you'll eventually find out what you want, but the word to look out for is 'eventually'. So what is one to do in the downtime?

Opinions are amorphous things. Too bad sometimes your's is different from everyone elses'.

Of Prodigal Birds and Stupid Humans

2006-11-28T18:23:00.000+08:00

There's this 'exhibit' in the Jurong Bird Park. I'm convinced that it's some cruel prank by the park.

Called the Talking Birds Section, it consists of a couple of lonely-looking parakeets and other multicoloured cousins, each solitary in their cages. The shack they are housed in, relative to the grand, spick-and-span enclosures in the park is, well, a dilapidated old shack. In front of each cage stands a sign. The names of the birds and the words they apparantly can speak, obscured by a layer of grime, are written on these signs.

Now if I were an ageing bird with creaky limbs and a bad case of ED, living in maddening solitude, I wouldn't be in the mood to talk to anyone other than my own kind. That statement must be pretty accurate because the birds didn't talk at all either. I also doubt they understand the words they were taught to say, but that is redundant because of the first point.

Obviously other people don't understand that, so what they do is call the names of the birds in retarded, croaky, voices in an attempt to get them to talk. It doesn't work. These humans would keep at it for many minutes until they lumber away, cursing the 'stupid birds'. What they don't realise is how idiotic they look while trying to talk to the birds. One has to experience it for himself.

There's a CCTV camera in the vicinity. Imagine the laughs generated for the staff.

These lines, ad-libbed, were well-rehearsed.

2006-11-24T19:23:00.001+08:00

Well I haven't memorized all of the cute things to say,
But I'm working on it.
Maybe I'll master this art form someday,
If I quote all the lines off the top of my head.
Would you believe,
That I fully understand all these things I've read.

Im just trying to find my way,
Trying to find my way,
The best that I know how.

2006-11-09T20:20:00.000+08:00

In the depths it's real name was forgotten.
Fetal, it's curled up, died, is now rotten.
A thing I've learned is even if you really care,
Some people will hurt you and no-one will raise a hair.

It's a bitch convincing people to like you,
If I stop now you'll all call me a quitter,
If lies were cats you'd be kitty litter.
The Olympic swimmer drowned in the lake.
A man was murdered on his birthday with poisoned birthday cake.

2006-11-08T22:14:00.000+08:00

I would say that this has been an unforgettable experience, but then again, a jalapeno up the rectum is an unforgettable experience too. Everything has it's good and bad days I guess. Just like the stock market. Someone once told me that the world revolves around sex, but I disagree.

Instead, I think that the world is one big playground filled with 6-year-old schoolkids. The difference is that these schoolkids have big guns, and nukes, and millions of bucks to boot. Everywhere you go it's just the same similar situation where the big bad bully makes faces at the little kids and sometimes there's this upstart who tries to defy him, and then he gets squashed.

Straining my ears,
Praying for time,
Why the hell did I commit this crime.

Slips of the mouth ain't no felony.
But nevertheless, the guilt hurts on the inside,
Never something you should hide.

Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire

2006-10-30T09:46:00.000+08:00

Done: The flirt-fest that was named Stock Challenge.

*Dabs trickle of blood from nose*

'He could have sworn that the pretty girl sitting in the adjoining table was winking at him just so he wouldn't be able to concentrate on the latest stocks and shares. Yet, he still managed to scrape an above average score. He only wishes he had better self-control and was not a weak-willed fool, because he undoubtedly would have won if that was true.'

Oh dear God some teacher from school just called me, and is asking for bloody HOMEWORK. Dammit there isn't a single day of rest for me. All in the life of an ACS guy I guess.

2006-10-21T13:14:00.000+08:00

Haze until december + training 4 times a week = Lung cancer

Goodbye world, tell Santa sorry I was naughty this year.

2006-10-19T15:59:00.000+08:00

I learned absolutely nothing from school this year that I would probably use in the future.

With one exception.

First impressions count.

'Don't judge a book by it's cover' is a saying that absolutely no one abides by.

At the beginning of the year, I had replied, tongue-in-cheek, to a question set by my chem teacher with an answer that drew racous laughter from the classmates. Somehow, it spread like a wildfire and every student and teacher knew about my little self-deprecating joke.

I was foolish to think that the repercussions of the joke would die down after a week or two. Instead, it stuck in the minds of everyone 'till today. It took a year of trying to disprove the first impression to change their minds. Hm.

Intro/Outro

2006-10-06T16:41:00.000+08:00

Fooled again,
Blood, sweat and tears,
All for naught.

Yet the things,
That I had forgone,
Meant everything.

The black tyrant fell from the sky,
Halo 'round his head, but bringing his white lie.

The visions dancing in my mind,
The early dawn, the shades of time.

Am I awake or do I dream?
I'm seeing the strangest pictures I have seen.

2006-10-03T13:48:00.000+08:00

He may not be the greatest math teacher we have had, but shit his attitude cannot be doubted. He walks into class, tells us stories about his wife's husband, and teaches for five minutes. Then he gets it all wrong. His math's kinda wonky, but his physics and chem rivals the best out there.

Still, he can't teach for nuts, and despite everything we do to him, he still has faith in us. I feel just obliged to practice some.

Some people say things for the sake of saying them
They hardly know what they mean.

End of Chapter

2006-09-22T19:30:00.000+08:00

I am a dreamer, don't want to wake,
You can't break my spirit though my dreams you take.
Really, it ain't no fair.
Falling down and down this oiled stair.

It's hot as hell, in this room,
Sure hope the weather will break soon.
The air is heavy, heavy as a truck,
Need the rain to wash away my bad luck .

I'm a cartoon in motion,
A hero who shows no pain.
I slip for a second,
And you laugh at anothers shame.

My head won't hang,
Caught in the wrong time, wrong place.
The wounds will heal.
To the world, I'll still show my face.

2006-09-20T21:56:00.000+08:00

'Everyone has a clear idea of how other people should lead their lives, yet everyone is clueless about how he should lead his own.'

-Paulo Coelho

2006-09-13T23:47:00.000+08:00

The colour of the sky,
Reflected in the window of the school bus,
Is depressed and dull.

A whispering and sighing,
Of the wind it's not comforting but chilling.
A zephyr lacking in zeal.

2006-09-11T18:05:00.000+08:00

Interesting point brought up yesterday.

I was told that it's sometimes better to hang out with geeks than other people. The reasoning behind this is that these 'other people', at parties, are always trying to look cool, and every strained action is scrutinised, from one's clothes to one's accent. Whereas with geeks, you could just be yourself. I agree with this, except that anyone close enough to accept you for who you are would take the place of 'geek'.

Thinking about it, I believe that I am a geek, deep inside. I remember openly declaring my geekness by discussing the Lord of the Rings and Star Trek lore with my long-lost friends from primary school, but now it's all been sheathed by a facade of 'cool things'. Not that I want to bring that side out again in public, I'd be ponded more often than I already am. Ironically, I was the bright spark who introduced that colourful concept. In fact, I could actually prove this from whatever's happened in the classroom this year.

That clears some things up for myself. I'm still convinced that I'm not wise.

P.S. Cephas please don't get pissed at my MSN DP, it's all tongue-in-cheek. You know I'd never really insult anyone.

2006-09-05T19:20:00.000+08:00

I once said that I'd never willingly run more than five kilometres at a stretch.

I guess I lied.

Is 20.17 minutes good? I dunno. I can do 9.50 for my 2.4km.

So as I walked back home, I passed the playground. A family of cats stared at me, and I unconsciously started humming the tune to 'Bright Eyes'. It's scary how cats keep eye contact with you, while dogs, monkeys and humans like to pretend there's something more interesting hanging around behind your ear. Normally, they'd stare at you until you walk a good ten metres away, but today I decided to hold their gaze. Now let me say this, you don't want to be in a staring competition with a cat.

Slightly unnerved, I did my chin-ups at the fitness corner (bragging rights well earned). There was a kid there who I didn't recognize. I don't think he would have looked out of place at the library, but don't forget where we were. He spoke to an elder woman in hushed tones, while throwing glances at me.

Going to the point, the woman who I guessed to be his mom approached me and initiated conversation. Not-so-subtly, she turned to the topic of studies. I answered truthfully, saying that I was from ACS and stuff. Growing more and more disappointed, she suddenly popped a question which I wouldn't have expected in a thousand years. "What did you get for your PSLE?"

Slightly stunned, I replied. She brightened considerably and bluntly stated that her son, in collared polo shirt and short shorts, did better than I. In my mind, I was like,'So what?!!?!? It was three bloody years ago'. Instead I nodded dumbly, only accentuating my academic inferiority. The kid, who looked like he was 13 or 14, seemed to share the same thoughts that I did but didn't say, and he visibly shrunk away, embarassed.

Obviously the progenerator of a child prodigy and therefore the superior in this conversation, the lady went on to give me advice about studying hard and how important it is to my future. Like I haven't heard a lifetime's worth already from the people I see every day.

I made a feeble attempt to escape by saying that it was late and stuff, but she overrode me. Abrubtly changing the subject to the touchy one of girls, the above repeated itself. I really really couldn't take it and hoped that my discomfort was showing on my face. The sun had actually begun to set, and I took that opportunity to say that it was late and run off. I think I would have done another 5 km to get away from the woman there.

Back at home, I was thinking to myself,'What the hell is wrong with Singaporeans these days?' I mean, some people I know are better than me at pretty much everything we do in common, my best friend being one. Great! So what? Metallica said,'It's not who you are, it's who you know'. I'm happy with what I got (not really, but still quite happy), but i guess some people just can't have enough.

2006-09-04T08:10:00.000+08:00

'One of those people who take so long to coalesce into a definite person; just this big blob going through adolescence'

-Sigourney Weaver

2006-09-01T22:59:00.000+08:00

Oddly enough, when I try to pick up a skill, I don't improve while doing the activity itself. For example, I tried ice skating a couple months back, and couldn't even stand straight for the entire 2 hours. I kept slipping and sliding like fresh tofu. Then the second time I gave it a go, I miraculously could shuffle around, albeit at the pace of a handicapped snail. Now but today, I had my third attempt. I instantly could skate not just like a normal human being, but faster than most people there. This unexplainable improvement in skill holds true for everything I've done, and it still baffles me.

I will test this theory next time I go wakeboarding, which is exhilirating. I would have stayed at the lagoon had I not run out of money.

2006-09-01T07:52:00.000+08:00

An angel,
Garbed in clothes of a devil.
Delivered a message,
Veiled in clothes of hate.

Negative,
Connotations of resentment.
Flitted across my mind,
And swatted to death.

Days later,
It came back to me, this time,
Stark and undisguised,
Bittersweet but banal.

2006-08-31T22:04:00.000+08:00

A trend I've noticed recently is that my friends are blogging about how they hate blogging.

Now, a more accurate description of "bloggers' block" would be not be that blogging has gotten old or one has nothing left to write about, but short-term memory loss. Throughout the day, we all experience things that upon seeing, we say to ourselves,"I gotta blog that," but our mind discards it five minutes later, like last week's cheese that's turned an interesting shade of green. When we get home, our mind is blank as my term 4 art project canvas.

I also think that some people (the ones I know at least) are missing the entire point of blogging. Web-based diaries are exactly that, diaries that are on the world wide web. Rather than recording the day's activities, I believe that reflecting on the thoughts that went through one's head would be slightly closer to the mark. I've mentioned this before, just that now it's refined a bit.

Intellectual idiot, I like the sound of that.

2006-08-27T15:37:00.000+08:00

Womad was great! Unfortunately, all but two of the friends who came with me left early because their eyes felt like they had weights on them, and they were complaining of strange unexplainable hallucinations despite not taking any sort of alcohol or poppy-related products. What sissies(jk). Phone battery died at the same time I needed it most too... bummer.

N, could you care to explain why and how the hell you happen to know half the people who walk past us at 2 in the morning, at an ulu little coffee shop in Joo Chiat? JOO CHIAT? Go easy on me next week too pls, I'm sensitive.

Dad, if you ever find a Chinese Nasi Padang stall, let me know, and we could set up our Indian Bak Chor Mee stall next to it, and make big bucks. Saying that aloud was hilarious, albeit embarassing for us.

Ode to Candid Cam

2006-08-23T22:18:00.000+08:00

I may be naive,
I may not understand your plight.
You may be all broken inside,
But believe me, I don't want to fight.

I thought we were friends?
Help us up when fallen on our face?
But no, you misunderstand and misinterpret,
In this dog-eat-dog rat race.

Maybe you don't know it,
C.D., Tony and South.
We joke but don't mean it,
Just can't control our mouths.

You surely don't know one thing,
Someone's looking out for you.
He's closer than you imagine,
It's true, but I won't say who.

Loosen up a little buddy,
Maybe someone'll jump out and say 'Your'e on candid cam!'
Alright, the joke's on me,
How about that for an idea eh S_m?

1 - 0, to Kanoyt

2006-08-20T21:56:00.000+08:00

It was a long and bitter struggle, but through sheer will and determination, Kanoyt prevailed in an epic battle against a hideous monster from the deepest reaches of the earth, where no man has ever trod.

It was a roach. Nasty bugger. Flied around too,

Like a mosquito.

Have you ever seen cartoons where a dopey, loveable character prepares to exterminate an annoying bug (who's always cheeky and sly) with a can of ACME spray, and proceeds to spray himself in the face? That's pretty much what happened here. Then I got flustered and emptied half the can (the right way round) onto the poor but deserving monster. It didnt last 3 seconds. It must've realised the futility of attempting to flee, because it just sat there as I approached it, rather than buzz around like it did when I noticed it's dark presence. Alot of it did get on the floor though.

I have gained from this experience. I walk away now, stronger and braver, with a slimy floor and a funny smell as mementos of my struggle.

2006-08-19T15:14:00.000+08:00

Each morning, he gets up,
Heaves a great big sigh.
He works so hard,
But wonders if it's all a big fat lie.

He works so hard,
All the way to the bone.
His hard earned pay,
Eaten by those living in his home.

He's finding himself slowly,
Going back to those golden days.
Of games and running free,
Away from the smoke and haze.

So unappreciated by all,
It's good old dad week.
Mom, brother, say thank you,
'Cos without your love, he'll turn into a sad old freak.

2006-08-15T16:08:00.000+08:00

To lengthen a string of rotten luck this week, I sprained my ankle during hockey training.

Idiot me still decided to play soccer during PE today, which resulted in a worse ankle and some blisters on the guard area I was wearing for good measure. And I have this huge patch of white where it was, because all the skin around it tanned by quite a few shades. I'd take a picture but my phone's still broken. Have to wait till the weekend to get it fixed, AND then I have to wait for it to be fixed, AND then I'll have to wait till the next weekend to pick it up. I'm gonna go crazy.

I'm going slightly mad,
I'm going slightly mad.

They are giggling at me.
The babies' faces on daffodils,
I run and play on four limbs.
Over and over the rolling hills,

I'm going slightly mad,
I'm going slightly mad.

The faces are trying to tell me something,
I realise that I'm missing a few screws.
I ain't really in the pink of health over here,
The extent of which I have no clue.

I'm going slightly mad,
I'm going slightly mad.

I'm one card short of a full deck,
I feel like I'm sick at sea.
My brain is melting outta my ear-holes,
I think I've become the banana tree.

I'm going slightly mad,
I'm going slightly mad.

Cold turkey

2006-08-14T23:04:00.000+08:00

*twitch*

My phone is broken!!! Woke up last morning and it refused to switch on! It just died on me!

2006-08-08T17:27:00.000+08:00

I woke up in the middle of the night last night, and dismissed it as the natural waking period of sleep.

I heard the voices of men speaking to each other, from nowhere in particular. The voices seemed strangely familiar. Guessing they came from some neighbours, and they were the reason I woke from my slumber, I tried to return to the land of candy and bunnies.

Then a dull orange blob floated across my ceiling. It changed shape from birds to the face of Freddie Mercury.

I didn't scream, but attempted to sit up and investigate what the amorphous thing was. Failed that. It felt like there was some force pushing down onto my chest. Naturally, having read my share of ghost stories, I tried to scream there, but for some reason my mouth didn't listen to me. I can't remember anything else, except dire panic.

Scary stuff. Must be the ghosts from hell.

It's actually a medical anomaly called hypnogogia, where a person undergoes REM-like brain behaviour but takes in visual signals at the same time. Meaning, I was dreaming with my eyes open, and being asleep, my limbs wouldn't respond to commands. Well despite this scientific explanation, it's still gonna be a rough night tonight.

Runners' High

2006-08-07T20:04:00.000+08:00

It's like when you run yourself dead, and then when you feel like you can't go on anymore you put in an insane burst of speed. You'll lose all feeling and it's wonderful. It happens when your muscles can't take any more lactic acid from respiration, and then your body releases it's natural drugs, similar to morphine. But you do get a sort of hangover, your legs after that will feel like jelly and you can't walk for a while. How fun.

First impressions count for much, but they are wrong occasionally. For example, a certain someone I met recently seemed like a nice and warm person, but turned out to be sly and wily, the form of a desperate housewife. In fact, the bloody witch casted a spell on me and now I am incapable of burping my alphabets I'm wary now.

And I'm wearing a tinfoil hat from now on too.

2006-08-04T22:50:00.000+08:00

A boy tries hard to be a man.
His mother takes him by his hand.
If he stops to think why,
Oh why, Does he start to cry.

His dreams will never be fulfilled.
Rushing away like water spilled.
If he stops to think why,
Oh why, Does he start to cry.

He thinks that he's no special guy,
But he's only convincing himself of this lie.
Love flashes through his mind,
But in reality, he's gone blind.