Disclaimer: I’m NOT turning into some uncontrollable wild child/ah lian!!! Plus my parents are (kinda) ok with the drinking. PLUS I was with the responsible sihui, PLUS we had her sister (who‘s of legal age..21/22) to chaperone us :p

I can’t believe I actually got into this tworks internship thingy cos of moe. (!!!) they’d probably flip once they got to know what the interns do there…

brief summary:
Learned to roll tobacco in flimsy paper today (ie diy cigarette), thanks to corrupters alan and Cynthia. Dawn apparently took a puff of alan’s pipe the other day… horrors! I then stupidly took a puff of alan’s cig, which tasted absolutely disgusting. But I’m quite glad I did that, cos now I know never to smoke… ever. It stinks up your breath like nobody’s business, and I started hacking away, quite in trepidation over discoloring of teeth… but if there’s ever a plus side, alan’s cig didn’t contain tar… impt trivia: every stick of cigarette you smoke shortens your (already damn short) life by FIVE MINS. (!!!)

Public service msg of the day: Don’t Smoke!
***brief reminder to self: drugs are reallllly bad !!!


Ok, anyway, have yet to settle down to do any serious studying, been pushing back pinter essay and integration hmwk for a few weeks now.. feel evil. Which reminds me of the fact that possible holiday in 546535 years could be cancelled due to shortage of tickets..why?!?!? *whine*


Hm, scares me how my mood changes so drastically from week to week…two weeks ago(internship with law firm), I was in wannabe- bigshot- lawyer-so-don’t-mess-with-me mood, then last mon was self-indulging in poetic outburst after meeting with hopohfun, then last week (LD camp for newtown pri sch kids)was in maternal awww-kiddies-come-here-and-eat-now mode, this week, have descended to theaterworks-is-a-coolshit-place-where-I-might-potentially-pick-up-bad-habits abyss. Ack.

I mean, I’m actually proud of the fact that I hold my alcohol quite well :) unlike in sec 2 when I fell sick (for a week, lol) after 2 glasses of crap wine. I didn’t even suffer from a hangover this time. :D

Alright. has occurred to me that I sound like a pathetic deprived teen let loose on a booze rampage. Haha. Booze is (occasionally) good…I volunteer to provide some when we next meet ppl! ok, will revert back to mugger status and (attempt to) finish up ghastly pinter essay.

[edit] will like to make brief insertion: zouk is really not that fun, damn smoky (awkward and completely useless fog which did not contribute to ambience one bit, mixed with fatal amounts of second hand smoke) and obstructive speakerboxes everywhere blocking your view. techno music sucks (sorry..but it's true) the light and sound technicians there ought to be fired. the popcorn machine guy should also be fired. the popcorn machine itself should be dismantled and sent back to china/thailand/vietnam/taiwan. "free flow of popcorn" ended after ONE miserable cup. ugly bouncers should also be sent back to their chinatown "buy three get one free" tailor. cos their psuedo tough-bodyguard suits were appalling and were a hazard to the already pathetic public like myself. plus they had b.o., and were stingy about the beer..humpf, refused to let us bring the beer out, cos it was "against the management's policy" (i think zouk management only follows their own rules selectively..e.g. big bouncer smoking next to "smoking:fine $500" sign. e.g. unknown c-grade celebrity taking pictures of/with herself despite the ""no cameras allowed sign). people should stop guaranteeing "free-flow" if they're gonna be sooo anal. poser z-grade celebrities should stop wearing sunglasses at 10 pm at night...for pete's sake..carrie chong..who?? (haha, apparently some sad ass perfect 10 dj...)(why am i being so bitchy today??!!) electrico was good though, will check out their website sometime, since i couldn't hear half their lyrics.

ok, enough bitching...night!

10/12/04

Really tired, but I want to record this down. Had a long day at tworks yesterday, the whole show at nafa only ended at 4 am, but grace sent us home early (12 am) on account that we were only 17...haha. Anyway, surprise, surprise, attendence was actually quite good, even though it was only mostly the artists and their friends. Will start from beginning, right when I got to meet alan; flamboyant lights & sound technician (not v sure abt his sexual orientation); scott; another semi-gay technician (saw him at zouk just now…but more abt that later on); siling; ex-crescentian from 4g2;grace; really stressed up stage manager (I received an sms from her at 4 plus! It‘s weird to know that she was thinking abt me at that hour…); Natalie; another really stressed up sm; Vivian; ditto; Janice; sm/pm


Janice: got to ride on her motorbike when she drove us to nafa…it was a cool ride with the night wind and all that. Could (almost) feel my hair billowing somewhat under my helmet, though it was probably the few stray bits sticking out of the helmet that caught the breeze. But whatever, at least there was some amt of billowing going on. Though it would be scary when she made turns, from what I see on the roads (tsk, a few motorists tarnish the whole image), with all the dangerous bends and the bike leaning at ridiculously precarious angles. All in all, love her bike, love her too, though am not going to get one for myself anytime soon though (the bike, not janice).


Sharon: voluptuous foodie. Never knew that arranging food was such an intricate art. “presentation is very important!” bread can and should be arranged Italian style whatever that is. Pate rocks in a bowl on its own (will try and get ts to make some crab and lemon pate, it kicks ass :D) cheese platters stink at first, but once get them, they’re really not bad, or maybe it’s just the thrill of slipping them into your mouth when you think no one’s looking. J



11/12/04 Zouk!

Hmmm, not as exciting as I expected, but still, it was a great night out with sihui and her sis, who’s (thankfully) of legal age, and could chaperone us..haha.. Surprisingly, no one asked to check our ids, so that was good…J bummed around inside and finished up 2 bottles of tiger beer on my own…*hic* can feel a headache coming up, I’m going to be so dead tmr. Wow, I’m surprised I can actually type, though my grammar’s a tad shaky and I know no other synonym for “surprised”. oh well. Desperately need the bed, night.

ugh, don't know what i signed up for..FCP (flying circus project) sounds like a total nightmare. no pay; no food; no cip hours; no rest. seriously, the job at famous amos had better conditions, at least i got to da pao unsold cookies, on top of getting paid!!!! i mean, i don't reaaallly have a "passion" for theatre, especially not this sort of experimental types.. pose in awkward positions for 30 mins and call it art?!?! i might as well go peek through the glass at california fitness centre when they conduct yoga classes. the strangest thing is, some of the "performances" are scheduled at 2.00 am(?!?!) wth's coming?!?! oh well, i'm being mean here, and belittling what some of these artists have been working for a major proportion of their adult lives. ack, but i'm only 17, i can't work 25 hour days...mugging for promos just about killed me already.

BUT, will attempt to see the good side of this... some of the palestinian artists will probably be performing about homeland issues, i heard the performances are going to be abt terrorism and other Big Issues. So, that will probably make me feel alot better abt the world right now.

excerpt from theatreworks writeup:

Theatreworks asks, What is Asian in this age of globalisation, internationalization, modernisation and urbanisation? Its work exists on the tension between modernity and tradition; local and global. It hopes to rethink what is Western, what is Eastern, what is first world and what is third world: Do these dichotomies continue to make sense in the new millennium? Representing the continuum between tradition and contemporary, the work is unafraid to be exotic and yet conceptual. Theatreworks' aesthetics projects the hybrid identity of the modern Asian and embrace the multiple realities.

Apart from intercultural concerns, Theatreworks' recent works have challenged accepted history through a genre of docu-performance. Such works question the process of documentation itself. It points to the slippage when translation occurs: linguistic translation, translation from fact into history into myth into performance. These works, the latest being 'The Continuum: Beyond the Killing Fields', ultimately deal with the realm of myth making in modern societies.


ommmm...will go off to Meditate and attain Artistic Nirvana

Been busy with the law firm attachment for the past 2 weeks, met at ton (ok, really, actually 6, generously speaking…) of wonderful ppl.minor fan girl syndrome kicked in when I got to know Mr. Chandra K Nair Mohan, PBM. Senior counsel, NMP, part of (hellishly evil, at times hopelessly incompetent, but still…) MOE team. (PW?!?!?), proud father of 2 children (one especially gorgeous acjc rugby team captain I‘ve never seen before, but believe to possess aforementioned characteristic, if he‘s anything like his dad..haha, I‘m disgusting.) anyway, being the shallow cheapskate who’s easily bought over with copious amounts of food, I have formulated the very profound opinion that all people who contribute to the Feed Tong Wei Scheme are Good People. :D Learnt loads, and am bugging mr mohan to let us (stacy hcjc, arika vjc and me) to tail him for another 2 additional days. Can’t wait to see him in action, defending for this partially blind guy who “accidentally” molested some girls on a bus. Rena (temasek poly attachee) picked out some loopholes in his case eg

Blind man: no one helps me!!
Blind man again: I’m v independent! I take public transport on my own everyday!
Blind man yet again: I’m partially blind !!
Mohan: where’s your medical cert?
Blind Man once more, getting slightly irritating n irritated: dun haf.

Eeps. Not v convincing right? Though I was initially on his side, cos the plaintiff sounded like an overzealous LV toting piece of shit, complaining about someone brushing past your behind on a crowed bus… then, discovered that that there were many more plaintiffs (gasp!) sueing him as well.

Right, so that seems pretty interesting. ugh, quite disgusted by voyeuristic tendencies (being molested and traumatised isn't something you want everyone to know), but i can't help it...

Anyway. Film soc’s first full fledge short film is finally completed!!! Yay!!! Horrifying number of crises cropped up eg no camera, kena scolded by ah peks for being disrespectful to the gods when filming near a temple, no money, no tape, never save movie properly, looming possibility of being sued by wong kar wai for flouting copyright rules (but, you see, legitimate reason: the 2046 soundtrack covers flaws in the film by distracting pple..lol) etc etc. oh well, but I guess it turned out ok. Highly impossible that we’ll win anything though, cos the whole film has completely NO dialogue. It could account for itself to be one of those motions that speak through the silence (v Pintersque) communicating the oppression of jaded city dwellers in some artistically warped fashion reflecting the film makers' depravity. No, not really… but whatever, am starting to crap. haha, happy we got sth done at last.

Probably will be busy with theaterworks internship next month (The Flying Circus Project). Come watch! Then it’s mugging for next yr. Sigh.

I can’t believe j1’s over.

Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note -
Amiri Baraka

Lately, I've become accustomed to the way
The ground opens up and envelopes me
Each time I go out to walk the dog.
Or the broad edged silly music the wind
Makes when I run for a bus...

Things have come to that.
And now, each night I count the stars.
And each night I get the same number.
And when they will not come to be counted,
I count the holes they leave.
Nobody sings anymore.
And then last night I tiptoed up
To my daughter's room and heard her
Talking to someone, and when I opened
The door, there was no one there...
Only she on her knees,
peeking into
Her own clasped hands

***********************************
haha, oh well, not really suicidal, just bummed about promos and sucky results. two more to collect. argh..going crazy.

The Three Oddest Words


When I pronounce the word Future,
the first syllable already belongs to the past.
When I pronounce the word Silence,
I destroy it.
When I pronounce the word Nothing,
I make something no non-being can hold.


Wislawa Szymborska (1996 Noble Literature Laureate)

yay! in my opinion, she's way better than this year's nobel literature laureate. i mean, "The Piano Teacher" is kinda high class porn....what with sex for violent gratification, self mutilation of your genitals (?!!!?)..right....


in other news, i finally found a job with famous amos selling their cookies. working hours are on weekends from 6pm-11pm. yep, it's quite late, so my mum's a bit worried that i might not be able to cope, and i'm starting to see some sense in her reasoning. i should probably get another job in queenstown (anchorage...) that has earlier working hours. qing, what did your parents say abt the job?

am relatively happy, though still mugging for chinese ao. lao shi is so friggin nice that if i don't do well, i'll most probably kill myself out of guilt.love lao shi....hmmm, we should all work hard since it's her last year of teaching (scandal: she can't stand the hod,so she's quitting in protest..BUT she'll forfeit 30 yrs worth of govt pension for civil servants.*gasp*)

oh, by the way, will join in the unanimous chorus:

pw sucks!!!!!

an island emerges, and the future peeks out

promos are over, therefore, am temporarily (very) happy. went to bedok jetty in east coast with friends (i never want to forget, so, : huizhen,shuki,xy,nurul,penny,peck,ruimin,faith,anthony)

took alot of pics, with various people standing by the sea, holding their catch. even though it drizzled for a while and the sunset disappeared before we noticed, fishing was still wonderful. i had imagined that all of us would be standing in the magnificent backdrop of a placidly setting sun, but it was grey by the time we got there (around 6). somehow, the diminished sky was not reflected on our moods, the wind thrashing the paper plates , the satay (love nurul), the coconuts. perhaps it was due to the weather, but the waves seemed exceptionally loud, crashing and receding.

i was just taking a look at the pictures, they were beautiful. we were beautiful.
not in a supermodel milla jovovich way, but in our own youth at seventeen, the glamour was/is overpowering. yes, we were all stinky and sweaty, zhen's hands stank from handling the fishes, but we were, or at least i was, happy. stupidly, dastardly happy posing beside our 10 cm long fishes no one would normally eat. (in our defence, they were small, but we caught quite a few) (haha, they were an awkward size, too big to be eaten as ikan bilis, but far too small to make a decent meal)

an unknown virtual thanks to them (the people, not so much the fishies) for making the first thing i do after promos so enjoyable, esp zhen (for suggesting it, for sending us back, and for general "zhenness"..haha couldn't be more accurate, if translated to chinese); nurul (for providing satay for all us bums, we love you because of that, and so much more);anthony (for bringing the rods, without which we wouldn't be able to fish....duh)

good grief, i sound like i'm writing an eulogy. it is, in a way, i think, a fitting way to commemorate the night. i hope that's not the peak, cos then it would mean there's only downhill to go.

right, bottom line is, i'm in love with fishing! not so much the activity perhaps, but the company one has.cheers to the 04a15 peeps.(:

to the chemmers: (it's quite entertaining)

http://www.enzine.cyborgcow.net/exam/

Five Ways To Kill A Man
Edwin Brock


There are many cumbersome ways to kill a man.
You can make him carry a plank of wood
to the top of a hill and nail him to it. To do this
properly you require a crowd of people
wearing sandals, a cock that crows, a cloak
to dissect, a sponge, some vinegar and one
man to hammer the nails home.


Or you can take a length of steel,
shaped and chased in a traditional way,
and attempt to pierce the metal cage he wears.
But for this you need white horses,
English trees, men with bows and arrows,
at least two flags, a prince, and a
castle to hold your banquet in.


Dispensing with nobility, you may, if the wind
allows, blow gas at him. But then you need
a mile of mud sliced through with ditches,
not to mention black boots, bomb craters,
more mud, a plague of rats, a dozen songs
and some round hats made of steel.


In an age of aeroplanes, you may fly
miles above your victim and dispose of him by
pressing one small switch. All you then
require is an ocean to separate you, two
systems of government, a nation's scientists,
several factories, a psychopath and
land that no-one needs for several years.
These are, as I began, cumbersome ways
to kill a man. Simpler, direct, and much more neat
is to see that he is living somewhere in the middle
of the twentieth century, and leave him there.

*********************************************

haha, or leave her/him in mugger hell. perdition or what you will.(; good luck for promos pple!

Fragmentation
Harriet McCulloch


That summer words came broken to their lips,
falling in pieces, their mouths unheard, sly -
or else choked by the sprouting freckles, shy
colour in the down of their forearms.
Eclipsedby the glance of a hand on the sheet, the
moths and the white noise hum of heat in the air,
aching and battering the light: bare,
beaten, drumming down the sun. Persistently,
the air hung closer, insidious, sweet,
pinning arms to sides, clothes clinging, sheened.
Drowsy wasps murmured, jolted, gleaned
from the air, falling sacrificial at their feet.


From the air, falling, sacrificial at their feet
drowsy wasps, murmured, jolted, gleaned.
Pinning arms to sides, clothes clinging, sheened -
the air hung closer, insidious, sweet,
bare,beaten, drumming down the sun. Persistently
aching and battering the light: bare
moths and the white noise hum of heat in the air.
By the glance of a hand on the sheet, the
colour in the down of their forearms eclipsed,
or else choked by the sprouting freckles, shy.
Falling in pieces, their mouths unheard, sly -
that summer, words came broken to their lips.

***************************************************
what the hell, how did she do that?!?!?!
humph, jealous.

her·pes sim·plex Pronunciation: -'sim-"pleksFunction: nounEtymology: New Latin, literally, simple herpes: either of two diseases caused by herpesviruses (genus Simplexvirus) and marked in one case by groups of watery blisters on the skin or mucous membranes (as of the mouth and lips) above the waist and in the other by such blisters on the genitals. Usually sexually transmitted.


Right.
Well, guess what, I've been diagnosed with Herpes.
On my Forehead. What the hell does this entail?!?!
To top this whole thing off, my doctor just happens to be my next door neighbor. I can practically imagine the pleasantries he'll be exchanging with my parents in the morning:
" So, your daughter 16/17 already hor? She very sexually active ah? Aiyoh, hwachong so havoc meh?"

To which my parents’ reply will take on a very Pintersque nature- cue the nanosecond of silence before said "information" registers in my father's brain and he faints from the exertion of picturing me with some lewd guy in XXX Hotel.

Tong Si and Jun Yong have taken to calling me "Herpes Girl", which does, admittedly have a striking twang. I can just imagine those hardworking taxi drivers at their quarterly hour break at Soon Kee Kopitiam at 11.23 pm, going "Tiger ger down dere, Carlsberg zharbo here, eh, where the Herpes ger ah?"

Clarification: No I did not engage in any unlawful promiscuous activity during the miserable one week holiday, Thank You Very Much. The doctor postulates that the virus was transmitted to me when I stupidly wiped my face with a dirty towel/let my dog lick it etc. Furthermore, if this infection were to be sexually transmitted, that would have to mean…..which is entirely ridiculous. Not that I would know anyway, since the karma sutra is rumored to be very radical, for all you know, it may be stance 69 or something. BUT, this completely detracts from my point.

Anyway, the ghastly cloister of red bumps had better disappear in time for MAF. Would very much NOT like to spend the moon-gazing season with everyone staring at my forehead instead.
Interestingly, the blotch has taken on a highly symbolic shape (weird mutated/deformed flower/lightning/post-intergalactic implosion/explosion star etc , which seems to tickle my mother and various other individuals highly. This morning, she (mom) took one look at me in the rearview mirror of the car and started in this grotesque hacking laughter, pointing her index at my reflection. As you can probably picture, that was an extremely compromising position, and an even more precarious stance to adopt when Driving One’s Precious Children To School. That bizarre act was either the manifestation of a premature onslaught of menopause (wait, I thought they were supposed to be moody….), or she choked on her saliva etc, because my pain is not to be giggled at. Humph.

Distasteful humor has never been so cringed at, with the influx of Harry Potter/ GuanYin/Bao Qing Tian jokes. Seriously, Yang Gui Fei’s exquisite tattoo on her forehead probably took the tattoo artist the whole of a staggering 15 minutes, however, my blotch has taken 72 hours to form, with the inclusion of stimulus action (dirty towel episode), viral incubation period, cream applying effort, pill-guzzling and waiting at the doctor’s (thankfully there weren’t many patients around at that time). And I haven’t even included into the calculations all my whining and moaning.

The wonderful cream has set me back by $30, so it had better not leave any scarring. Otherwise, it will be Tremendously Difficult for my neighbour to continue his practice thereafter.

Argh, will stop bitching and go mug. Being ugly and therefore disadvantageous in society does not entitle one to brownie points with the tutors during the promos.
On the bright side, (Yes! Tw is eternally optimistic!!) I probably could use this emotionally trying time as a stepping stone to spur me on to greater heights! Gain a foothold in the world of Anti-discrimination Against the Ugly activism, become chairman of FAT!SO?Society (alliteration! haha) And include it my testimonial to be sent out to Various Universities.

May they be converted. (shouldn’t be too difficult, considering the fact that most of them identify with my cause.) Lol…

To my mother(,with resignation and determination):

The Years

To-night I close my eyes and see
A strange procession passing me--
The years before I saw your face
Go by me with a wistful grace;
They pass, the sensitive, shy years,
As one who strives to dance, half blind with tears.
The years went by and never knew
That each one brought me nearer you;
Their path was narrow and apart
And yet it led me to your heart--
Oh, sensitive, shy years, oh, lonely years,
That strove to sing with voices drowned in tears.

Sara Teasdale


To my mugging (,with hope):

Conversation Among the Ruins

Through portico of my elegant house you stalk
With your wild furies, disturbing garlands of fruit
And the fabulous lutes and peacocks, rending the net
Of all decorum which holds the whirlwind back.
Now, rich order of walls is fallen; rooks croak
Above the appalling ruin; in bleak light
Of your stormy eye, magic takes flight
Like a daunted witch, quitting castle when real days break.
Fractured pillars frame prospects of rock;
While you stand heroic in coat and tie, I sit
Composed in Grecian tunic and psyche-knot,
Rooted to your black look, the play turned tragic:
Which such blight wrought on our bankrupt estate,
What ceremony of words can patch the havoc?

Sylvia Plath

To my Dog (, with love):


The Dog

The truth I do not stretch or shove
When I state that the dog is full of love.
I've also found, by actual test,
A wet dog is the lovingest.

Ogden Nash

it's 2.06 am and i'm still not asleep yet.

it's one thirty and i'm still not asleep yet. the coffee doesn't usually work this well. i stood against the railing for a full 20 secs. it's a really long time if you do it alone in the middle of the night. the smell of cigarette smoke intertwined with black, sugarless coffee swirled up the stairwell. i do wish he wouln'd smoke that much. i didn't dare to go disturb him just now, when he was still awake, still downstairs. i could hear mahjong tiles colliding against one another. it's a beautiful, lyrical sound to hear when 3743584 friends are over at your house. it just occured to me that i don't know how to play mahjong, neither does my family own a game set. i must sound insane, rambling on about non-existent mahjong sets.

i want to go up to the extension on the third floor, but i'm afraid. you have to climb over the window sill to get to that little slab of whitewashed cement there. i always fantasized about sitting up there, reading by the moonlight or doing some painfully cliched thing and still enjoying myself. it would be my guilty indulgence, going up to the faux rooftop.

but getting there is difficult, and the moon isn't very bright. i would have to switch on the stair lights to find my way up. everyone knows that light isn't supposed to desecrate something as holy and spontaneous as this. well, not electric lights anyway.

i can just imagine the emerald sky, a few hours before dawn, there wouldn't be any birds, so late that even the crickets have silenced. the infallible bridge of darkness is not the least bit forbidding, instead, it provides stolid, staunch security. it is during this month that the nights are most magical. the long gone friends, relatives, brushing shoulders with chang e and the jade rabbit, with you right in the middle of all of them, singing your weird mantra, a mesh of getai favourites and traditional moon hymns.

you (yes, now it is no longer i, for the magical, transient transcendence does not concern itself with physical entities, even if this stasis is only momentarily). you would be thinking about lunchtime love on a schoolbus, the ariel who offers you the milky side of an oreo cookie.
sheeps fly about with their wolly wings, and the luckylass who catches some of their shedded fleece becomes the most popular girl in school, at least for the next few hours. the golden flecks stick onto her skin like diamonds. (no, not glitter, how could you possibly be thinking about glitter.)

then the matron would rev up the engine and send all the kids home, right up to their front doors, where mothers left out baskets for the deposition of their children. lawns were an unnecessary wastage. yes, school ends after lunchtime.

the matron then returns to her old but grandiosely furnished office in school. a coffee stain on her book forms a warm, indelible bookmark. nobody sees her using 12 different keys to unlock her labyrinth cupboard, carrying out the glistening golden girl, unconscious but still beautiful. at least for the next few hours.

too lazy to write an entry, so copy and pasted from various sites

from One-Way Street by Walter BenjaminThe Writer's Technique in Thirteen Theses

I. Anyone intending to embark on a major work should be lenient with himself and, having completed a stint, deny himself nothing that will not prejudice the next.

II. Talk about what you have written, by all means, but do not read from it while the work is in progress. Every gratification procured in this way will slacken your tempo. If this regime is followed, the growing desire to communicate will become in the end a motor for completion.

III. In your working conditions avoid everyday mediocrity. Semi-relaxation, to a background of insipid sounds, is degrading. On the other hand, accompaniment by an etude or a cacophony of voices can become as significant for work as the perceptible silence of the night. If the latter sharpens the inner ear, the former acts as a touchstone for a diction ample enough to bury even the most wayward sounds.

IV. Avoid haphazard writing materials. A pedantic adherence to certain papers, pens, inks is beneficial. No luxury, but an abundance of these utensils is indispensable.

V. Let no thought pass incognito, and keep your notebook as strictly as the authorities keep their register of aliens.

VI. Keep your pen aloof from inspiration, which it will then attract with magnetic power. The more circumspectly you delay writing down an idea, the more maturely developed it will be on surrendering itself. Speech conquers thought, but writing commands it.

VII. Never stop writing because you have run out of ideas. Literary honour requires that one break off only at an appointed moment (a mealtime, a meeting) or at the end of the work.

VIII. Fill the lacunae of inspiration by tidily copying out what is already written. Intuition will awaken in the process. IX. Nulla dies sine linea -- but there may well be weeks.

X. Consider no work perfect over which you have not once sat from evening to broad daylight.

XI. Do not write the conclusion of a work in your familiar study. You would not find the necessary courage there.

XII. Stages of composition: idea -- style -- writing. The value of the fair copy is that in producing it you confine attention to calligraphy. The idea kills inspiration, style fetters the idea, writing pays off style.

XIII. The work is the death mask of its conception.

ok, nice lit stuff is over. cue bloody politics :) (much of it i don't really understand...:/)

Let the hundred flowers bloom
What follows is an extract from the recent National Day Rally Speech in which Lee Junior actually refers to a policy introduced by Chairman Mao, which eventually led to a crackdown on political dissenters in China.

"The second thing we are going to do is to open up the Speakers'Corner where you can go and make any speech you like and we are going to say, 'Well, if you want to go there and have an exhibition, go ahead.'

Once in a while, Think Centre says they want to go to the Speakers' Corner and they want to plant 100 flowers there,let the hundred flowers bloom.Well, I think go ahead. They want to water the flowers, go ahead. They want to turn the flowers down, go ahead.I mean, free expression as long as you don't get into race and religion and don't start a riot.It's a signal that speak, speak your voice, be heard, take responsibility for your views and opinions. "Of all the quotations in the "Little Red Book", by Chairman Mao, none is more inspiring or chilling than this. It comes from a brief period of reform in the fifties known as the "Hundred Flowers Campaign" during which Mao encouraged complete freedom of thought, including criticism of the Party.

The result was much more vigorous debate than Mao had expected and the period ended with an abrupt crackdown against those who had raised their voices in opposition. It could stand as a critique of the failures of the Cultural Revolution itself, which tried to settle ideological questions by force under the guise of debate.

You have been warned.



oooooh.....

edition of letter i wrote with the intention of "di sheng xia qi", but which i couldn't resist inserting some of my sincerest feeings:

Dear Sir,
My sincerest aplogies for any inconvenience caused. Since we are unable to reach a consensus on the meeting time, I request that we conduct the interview via email, in which case we will mail you the questions, and you mailing back your answers. Any further queries will be mailed to you after we have analysed your response.

This system of communication seems to be the most effective in light of this situation, as shown by your great efficiency in bitching.

Since you love checking your mail so much, i'm sure we'll receive the answers in no time.You are free to answer the questions in your own time (that is, of course, within a logical and viable time period).

We do not think that this mode of communication would compromise the quality of your answers in anyway. unless, of course, your answers are lousy in the first place.


Yours Sincerely

Ooi Tong Wei

*****************

cleaned up version of what i eventually sent out:


Dear Sir,

My sincerest aplogies for any inconvenience caused. Due to over-extended school hours and limited availability of internet excess, I am unable to check my email as frequently as I might desire.

Since we are unable to reach a consensus on the meeting time, I request that we conduct the interview via email, in which case we will mail you the questions, and you would then mail back your answers. Any further queries will be mailed to you after we have analysed your response.

This system of communication seems to be the most effective in light of this situation.

You may then answer the questions in your free time, subsequently sending us your reply within the next week or so. (If you have problems in meeting this projected deadline, please feel free to inform us.)

Please indicate your consent to this form of interviewing.

Thank you for your help regarding this matter, it is much appreciated. Once again, we are sorry for any inconveniences.

Yours Sincerely
Ooi Tong Wei
Hwa Chong Junior College

*************

sigh,the things i do for my education.

excerpts from email messages between Tong Wei and YEW PENG SOH

*****************


Dear Sir/Mdm,

My name is Ooi Tong Wei and I am a JC1 student from Hwa Chong JuniorCollege. I am currently involved in Project Work (PW), part of the required"A" Level syllabus.My group is doing a project on Advertising Trends, and we would like to schedule an interview with an expert in this field.We understand that your hectic schedule may not make allowances for other activities, but we would greatly appreciate it if you could kindly spare us15-30 minutes of your time to answer a few questions pertaining to thetopicof advertising and the media.The interview would ideally be scheduled in the late afternoon (preferablysometime within the next week - 23rd - 28th Aug 2004) to accommodate yourwork schedule. My group members are also willing to make a trip down to thePolytechnic so as to save you the hassle of traveling. Please kindly reply soon to indicate your consent for granting us an interview.

Thank You for your attention.

Yours Sincerely
Ooi Tong Wei
04A15
Hwa Chong Junior College
22nd Aug 2004
3.30 pm

***************

Dear Sir
I am terribly apologetic, but my group members and I will not be able to conduct the interview tomorrow, due to school activities. (sorry!) However, if you are free either this Friday (27 Aug 2004) from 4 pm onwards, or on Saturday (28 Aug 2004) from 8-9 am or after 2 pm, we could conduct the interview then.
Thank You for your help, it is much appreciated.

Yours Sincerely
Ooi Tong Wei
04A15
Hwa Chong Junior

****************


Tong Wei,

To be frank, it's very "unprofessional" or poor time management on yourpart.Please re-read your request below:
"The interview would ideally be scheduled in the late afternoon (preferably sometime within the next week - 23rd - 28th Aug 2004) to accommodate your work schedule." When I re-arranged my schedule to conform to your request, I do not expect you to have other "scheduled activities". After all, I followed your time-table.On one hand, you claimed to have understood our busy schedule, but on the other, you took close to 12 hrs to reply this e-mail and asked for a change of meeting time at the last minute!!! This means I have to re-schedule my appointments again!

Tell me, how should I react?

YEW PENG SOH

*****************

Dear Mr Yew Peng Soh (your name is indeed befitting your great brilliance),

Please understand that I had to liaise on behalf of all my fking lazy pw group members who don't give a damn about anything, all of whom have varying schedules. I would also like to to note that I checked my e-mail the moment I got home yesterday night (yes, i reached home at 9.00 pm). Prior to that, I had to reconfirm the meeting time with all my group members. I would also like to take the time to point out that you sent out your mail at 2.49 am. Do you expect my life to revolve around securing a PW interview with you, you sad fking anal piece of shit with zero sex life.

I understand that this shit is no business of yours, but if you could just be a tiny bit more understanding and considerate abt this matter, it would greatly alter your bitch rating.

You Bitch.

Look what you've done, you've ruined the night for me, in addition to everybody else's, including yours. I would now have to transfer your bitch energy down the chain. And unlike nature's norms, energy doesn't decrease as it's being transferred down the chain, contrarily, it friggin quadraples. Do I have to teach you sociology/biology you imbecelic ignoramus.

Plus the new date I very politely requested stuck to my original schedule I sent to you. For Pete's sake, I devoted the whole Saturday to you. Tell me, which decent, sane-minded girl has done that for you in your 40 odd years of virginal existence. I positively let you choose the friggin dates, so why the hell are you being irritating?!?!?!

I would seriously suggest that you don't stay up too late to surf porn, instead, generate your excess energy to comply with innocent students' requests, otherwise please channel your potency (I hope the irony is sorely unmissed) towards fking yourself you sad loser.

Thank You for your kind attention regarding this matter.

Please rest assured that you will be accurately quoted for our project, after which a copy of our analysis of your insightful speech will be sent to MOE and circulated among its staff.

Yours with Great Pleasure,

Ooi Tong Wei
04A15
Hwa Chong Junior College

got the cap mentorship, so i went to moe headquarters in orchard to check out details. found out that my mentor is ..........ho poh fun.

yes, she may sound alien, but let me bring you back to about a year or so ago, when this very wonderful lady got embroiled in a typhoon of media scandals. apparently, her venerable status at rjc as one of the most hated teachers led to a (v brilliant n tech savvy) student to film her (secretly) tearing up some homework, throwing the sheets onto the floor etc, basically, behaving like uber bitch. anyway, the video somehow got leaked out and the media stirred up this big brouhaha abt it. i remember mdm kuan spent a whole lesson discussing the philosophical n societal implications of conflicts between innocent students n bitchy teachers. yep, that is the clandestine ms ho's claim to fame. except now that the poor camera man has already graduated, she'll have to direct her energy (ies) toward terrorizing us. have been thinking on how not to thread on her toes. she apparently(note the constant usage of this word, cos what i've heard abt her--ALOT-- have all come from ppl whom she has been an ass to...so it's not a v nice pic.) is still an old virgin, so maybe nudging her to indulge in some luurve (preferably with a consental male partner) would better her temper.

things she's apparently against:

-homosexuality
-writing about homosexuality
-hinting about homosexuality (i don't know how this is going to work out... she censored someone's "grass swaying in the wind", cos it was too erotic...i mean like huh???!!?! a poem which goes "happy bobbin birds, happily gay and bobbin together" must be FULL of innuendo to her.)
-sex
-writing about sex
-hinting about sex ("i sucked and sucked the juice all night" is NOT going to work with her)

-she likes cutting..( no, not that sort).. censoring whole chunks out. "pls delete stanzas 1-3"

so there's gonna be nurul, jy (vjc guy) and me under her charge. we're gonna have SO much fun. really.
*insert irrelevant pt here* qing! your animal welfare friend got in too...her name's grace. ing a bell?

*plus another irrelevant piece of gossip here.* vivian(from vjc...aiyoh, the girls down there all so wild one ah? lol:p) flashed han during cap. she did it a la sharon stone in basic intinct, crossing and uncrossing her legs really...um...bigly (perfect word to describe it)..um obviously/sensually/disgustingly etc to reveal her "kinky underwear". haha, cldn't stop laughing when i heard abt it. apparently the stupid ass han turned his head at the wrong time and missed the whole show. unfortunately, others at the v crowded table got an eyeful (wahlau, be more subtle can? at least go to some corner lar..tsk tsk)

anyway, have decided to give her (ms ho, not the v sexy vivian..hello, am relatively straight k..anyway, i'm out of her (vivian) league, even if i do say so myself.haha, kidding lar) a chance. maybe her reputation precedes her real personality. she's probably an old, lonely spinster yearnin for some sweet lovin (ooooh...that was bad:p). deep down all she really wants is to see her mentees ...um, i dunno, be able to hold a pen/breathe in her presence/do both at the same time etc? yep, anyway, if anything should go wrong (ohgodihopenotcosiwannabealiveaftercap) i'll just pretend to be her long lost niece/lesbian admirer(i figure she'll settle for anything)/plain sucker/bootlicker. umm, yup. or i could dedicate all poems to her or sth: ode to ms ho. elegy to fun (haha).

meeting her next sat for "mentorship tea session". i hope food's provided.

Where


Oh Dog, if you should
Die one day,
Please don’t do it in the house.
for the stink of your beautiful carcass
would never leave my nostrils.


Don’t Do It in the garden either,
because then I would be arrested
by foolish American utopian-suburb romanticisms,
and decide to bury you there.
How gruesome to have you lying there
beside the spinach patch
for all eternity.


Don’t Do It within a 2.4 km radius of my house
because walking home,
back from some
Gothic heaven
would be even more disappointing than it already is.
You have taken away
my sorcerer’s stone of poetry,
of idyllic days and idle nights.
I would have to face your bridle presence,
knowing that you are somewhere better,


But without your blanket.


Oh Dog, this seems to leave the vet’s as the last option.
but you must think that cold black table
much too harsh for your baby navel.
It occurs to me that I would have to
schedule an appointment with the Doctor.
Mengele has awoken from the grave of Auschwitz,
and arrived at Clementi.


Together with my
wellpaidharlotaccomplice
I will tenderly plot,
over the phone, the
timedatevenue
of your Swan song,
Dog song,
Morning song,
Death song,

Or whatever it is you like to call your final bark.
My howl is that of a dishonored samurai,
Accompanying your lissome whine.


Then doggie bone to ashes,
after we have all
Done It Together,
You would be plucked,

gently,

flake

by

flake

and placed in my pencil box,
for you are more important than poetry.
Perhaps you would eventually fossilize
in that cuboidal domain,
Finally, then, can I truly write and love with you.

My bedroom provides the ideal conditions,
there, your scent can diffuse,
continue to mingle with my
Food, Clothes, books, hair, tongue, heart.
At least crystallization takes place within my lifetime.


I will cradle you in the sweet gutter of my bloodied arms,
mangled and tainted,
but still loving.
My fingers will wrap around,
licking the angular urn
tracing out your name.


Aren’t these hands familiar dear dog?
It wasn’t the bitter needle that you last felt,
But these very hands.
I cradled you then as I do now.
Oh dog, you died at home.

feel like i'm being buried under all the work. some oxonians (apparently, that's what those good folks call themselves there at oxford) came by today to show off there academic achievements/ promote their stinking university(ok, fine, i'm being bitterly sour here). anyway, found out that the too cheery female promoter is our grand-grand senior from 01a15....starting teasing us abt barnard in mock earnestness. argh. irritated. wanted to ask if she was on a scholarship, but was afraid to do so, lest it provoked the wrong reaction ie. the govt rejected her and daddy had to pay for everything.

unfortunately, that is very well how i may end up, and perhaps even that is an over-positive forecast. nus law fac is not such a breeze to get into either. according to mdm kwan (sec 4 chinese teacher, whose beauty pagaent contestant daughter is currently studying there) only 200 friggin ppl get in, amongst millions (ok, maybe nus isn't THAT hot) of applicants.....

smu....possible option. sigh. ahwellwhatevernonotreallybutstill.

http://www.petitiononline.com/hwachong/petition.html

hmmm..came across a chan brothers advertisement to promote "investigational tours" of auschwitz. am simultaneously revulsed and curious. the package costs =$2-3000...

next in the series of exciting heritage sites!: polpot's execution chambers. touch the very guns he used to kill millions!!!

When me met his first disciples at Benares after his enlightenment, the Buddha outlines his system, which was based on one essential fact: all existence was dukkha. It consisted entirely of suffering; life was wholly awry. Things come and go in meaningless flux. Nothing has permanent significance. Religion starts with the perception that something is wrong. […] The Buddha taught that is was possible to gain release from dukkha by living a life of compassion for all living beings, speaking and behaving gently, kindly and accurately, and refraining from anything like drugs or intoxicants that cloud the mind.- A History of God; Armstrong, p. 32

hmm, been thinking alot lately about religion/what i "Believe" in.
but it's so presumptous to come right out and say that i'm a devout ______, well, simply for the unaffected reason that i'm not. i don't go to church, i don't visit the temple, i don't pray at the mosque every friday. the closest thing that springs to mind when i think about God is the silver grey monster i kowtow to every evening. indeed, life is not one damn thing after another, it's one damn thing over and over. once again, been hearing/reading/seeing everyone around gushing about universities and educational paths. gahhh, am barely getting through school these days, i try my darnest to get out of school before the sun sets, on the pretext of going home to study, but i always falter. (that's the most wrenching thing - that i seem to "study" so much, but i don't have the results to show for it).yes, i do get home before my mother, but the minute i finish my daily dosage of worthless gossip from the newspapers, i flop into bed and promptly indulge in sleep until 7 pm, which is the time i get up to eat my dinner and watch tv. good grief, this does seem like a banal existence, because there's nothing to look forward to. i've not really looked forward to anything for a really long time. something that hits me with such an impact that i drown under it's enormity. i've not been out on a really refreshing event (the carnival misses that by a few notches) or read a wham-hityousmackinthemiddle book in _____. the time period's irrelevant, it's just the ebbing away of all that is spontaneous, that's perhaps what's slowly killing me.

the elddfs party is going to be this sat, but i doubt that anything revolutionary is going to come out of that. hopefully the science people will turn up and we can all mingle in a pretense of friendship and fellowship. "make the society more coherent and bonded". bah. i hate that word - "bonded". but maybe i'm being too difficult on things, that's why i'm permanently in a horrible mood. expecting great transforming and life-altering events to occur every other week seems to be the only way to extricate me from this vapid, pedestrian life. i wish someone would come up to me and convince me, indoctrinate in me the dogma of the modern capitalistic society. stop being a whimisical, lyrical, romantic, astral and foolish dreamer. strive for the free market ideal of perfect competition. perfect competition isperfect, isperfect, isperfect. and you ask yourself where do all these dreams go. or, if you have already been converted into a jaded, cynical city dweller, rephrase the question in another tense - "where did all those dreams go". but i digress.

whoever that person may be, or maybe i'm the already the one assuming that role, only without my inherent knowledge, perhaps that's why i always sit uneasily by myself with too much time (uninvested in more pressing matters), maybe that's why i'm always at odds with myself. self-annihilation irks me. i do know/think i love myself. i am sensible, right? right, maybe in retrospect, that's the problem, i love myself too much. u know of how some lovers always complain about being suffocated and drowned by their over-possesive partners, that could be applied to me, depending on which perspective one chooses to adopt. grapelling with what i want, what i should want, and how i intend to obtain them sucks. i look around the room, and the table is perhaps a reflection of things. it's supposed to be a paradigm of rectangular, clinical neatness. that's how it's shown in all the ikea catalogues.but there're all these .....horrible, disgusting stuff that's cluttering the table. but who's to say that this tender mess is not what characterises the table. sure, it lends individuality and all that crap, but it's ultimately not a table i would show to guests. perhaps a more cursory arrangement of things? ultimately, i'll just have to make do with this table, since buying another one is not an option.

HC Carnival

had a really great time yesterday, even though i was apprehensive abt it at first, cos of all the advertising propaganda being shovelled down our throats, and even on the morning itself, cos it was raining, and i didn't think anyone would want to come. but thankfully, things picked up, cos pple actually patronised our stall. it was a mad rush at the end especially, and all of us slashed prices outrageously. but i had alot of fun anyway, we should have one every year, though i'm quite reserved about the plannning for it. it should be one on a smaller scale, and not too "commemorative", just a day where everyone can chill and have fun. qing and sher came, and i chuffed selling walletsandbags! for a while (ok, abt 1 1/2 hrs:p) to play host. lol, sorry if i wasn't a very good one..! but they seemed content to package flowers in the room with sen.lol. anyway, we took pictures and generally stuffed our faces before those two decided to take off and head for orchard *am offended, how can orchard road possibly be more exciting then hwa chong?!?" :p

elddfs stall did quite well too, ppl actually pay to shoot ping pong balls in the water ( water soccer, with water guns used to propel the balls into the goal net). played with the guns for a while, madly shooting tok.gahhh. but it was fun, so what the heck.

some ex guide juniors came trooping along, and i showed them around (i'm a very lousy guide - in the showing them around hc sense, not in the "i promise to do my very best to serve God etc" sense.-) anyway, they were really sweet n we took pics and were generally happy.


at this point, i wanna refute qing's point abt vj not having any cute guys. saw one with conan (also from vj, but not topic of cute guy expose). looked vaguely like edison chen, some eurasian thing going on. anyway, cant really remember how he looks like now. bah.what's my point.
yep, nothing really, except that we have no sch tmr!!!so yay!

argh, can't stop thinking abt what wld happen if blogspot erased all my entries. it would have stolen all my memories, my writing. my human brain is severely limited, and without some place concrete ( lol, the internet is anything but concrete) to store everything, i can't remember stuff. important things.
i think i would cry, if my blog was erased.
i won't be able to look back at all my old entries and laugh along with myself or cringe at my naivety, but at the same time, feeling strangely protective, as if toward a younger sister.
i won't be able to savour the good pieces of writng i ripped off from others, some of the poetry really rocks, especially "Song" by Joel. and slashers by cassie claire.
I won't be able to reflect, in retrospect, on my own writing. How i came to write it, why i wrote it. even, trite as this sounds, how i felt.
I won't be able to recall all the tremendous fun i had this past yr. hwachongrocks.
I won't be able to.

hmm, wonder what would happen if blogspot crashed and erased all my entries.

 
anyway. not in school now, cos lessons have been cancelled due to 3/4 of the class having to go for some seminar. but whatever, promised to write out my econs notes in preparation of next week's test. lol, obviously am not doing that. reading tony harrison now, don't really get him, cos he's too euro-centric. the lingo he uses, eg ARV, fannies,desert rats,loiner. what the hell are those...sigh, too lazy to find out from mr perry, plus, he'll probably have to end up explaining the whole friggin book. suffice to say it's something abt war, i think...or sex, but the 2 are often confused.

The Bedbug

"Comrade, with your finger on the playback switch,
listen carefully to each love-moan,
and enter in the file which cry is real, and which
a mere performance for your microphone."

Tony Harrison

argh, am irritated with jonny. but i will try and maintain my position as one of the last few people who have not screamed at him. nuff of small irritants, everybody come for hcjc homecoming carnival!! have only manage to sell $5 worth if tix to qing. hopefully, brian can come and thus in doing so contribute to the "save ooitw's" money movement.
yay! hope the carnival will be a blast, though, arguably, the sch's not tt psyched up for it, not my class anyway. everyone's complaining abt how stupid it is, how the admin sux blah blah blah. seriously, why can't everyone just be enthusiastic abt it, since we keep complaining tt e sch's boring. major problem with some ppl is that when u give them what they ask for, they complain.

choosy.

want to write abt how certain ppl are bitching abt the new geog teacher, which is  absolutely disgusting thing (the bitching, not the teacher, surprisingly). it sounds petty in words, but those ppl are seriously kinda two-faced, esp ruimin (whom i've been (yay!) (brackets within brackets are damn funky! ok, sorry, digression)successfully trying to tolerate since jan) who's all funny and teasing during lessons, but bitches like ______(can't find a suitably acerbic simile - you get the point) when dear miss lim steps out. give her a break, she's doing her best, and it's not that bad anyway. though i might be speaking too early, since i have yet to be tested on anything she's taught us.

the full blow of how lousy my block tests results has finally hit me, after i received my lit results. miserly B (why?!?! am i condemned to B status forever?!?!) gahh. econs results are shit. math was shit too. geog, lol, duh, was shit too (damned physical geog).

overheard some seniors talking to barnard abt applying to study ppe/law/art/eng lit/other esoteric forms of academia usually unapplicable to a pragmatic life (except perhaps law n econs)  etc in cambridge/oxford/king;s college/london sch of econs (LSE)/brown's => uk
                        harvard/stanford/yale/nyu/usc/mit/columbia/cornell => us

evil clever ppl!!argh!! my parents have specified that if i can't get a scholarship overseas, then i'm not going...will have to suffer in NUS. not that it's sub-standard or anything academically speaking, to be fair,, it's just that it's going to be so boring..can u imagine, i'll be in s'pore forever. i know i wanna be in s'pore eventually n ultimately, but i wanna taste the otherside (whatever that is). can't belive i'm still figuring out trigo 3D. how the hell ami supposed to win a friggin scholarship if i'm struggling with such a puerile subject like maths?!?! lol, i have abt 9 more wks to redeem myself. sigh.

i always picture myself studying in some cool uk university (with victorian clock towers in the background, slightly ominously grey skies, juxtaposed against green lawns, my aging but still superbly brilliant and caustic professor beside my with a group of like-minded friends, all of us wrapped up in coats and other whatnots, we'll be planning to visit the graveyard at westminister abbey after classes, we'll ride our bikes there,and rest them by the tombstones of some long dead but not forgotten general and _____)

either the utopia above or this:

whirling fans in my small room at nus, where a lizard will be irritating me every night, i'll attend lectures held by 50  yr olds with unbelievably bad sense of humour, or in worse cases, none at all. there will be no wind, no lush lawns. i will arrange to meet my friends at the same old olace we go everyday -orchard road. we'll walk down the same streets that are changing every month, but bringing nothing new. our most exciting haunt will be some sad place like zouk. let's face it, we're geographically deprived. ah well, better prepare myself for nus.

horrors! it has suddenly struck me that nus is difficult to get into too!!!what the friggin hell would happen if i can't get in there?!?! omg, i think i'll just follow zarine's plan and spend all my money on cosmetic surgery and a one way ticket to harvard, where i'll hopefully meet some rich kid, marry him, kill him, inherit his money and repeat procedure with rich 99 yr old man.

gaahhhhh.what the hell am i talking about.
i'm gonna stop worrying and occupy myself with nice 16/17 yr old stuff.
i'm planning to dye my hair black! hurrah for this satorical revolution!!

Without You.Without you every morning would feel like going back to work after a holiday, Without you I couldn't stand the smell of the East Lancs Road, Without you ghost ferries would cross the Mersey manned by skeleton crews, Without you I'd probably feel happy and have more money and time and nothing to do with it, Without you I'd have to leave my stillborn poems on other people's doorsteps, wrapped in brown paper, Without you there'd never be sauce to put on sausage butties, Without you plastic flowers in shop windows would just be plastic flowers in shop windows, Without you I'd spend my summers picking morosley over the remains of train crashes, Without you white birds would wrench themselves free from my paintings and fly off dripping blood into the night, Without you green apples wouldn't taste greener, Without you Mothers wouldn't let their children play out after tea, Without you every musician in the world would forget how to play the blues, Without you Public Houses would be public again, Without you the Sunday Times colour suppliment would come out in black-and-white, Without you indifferent colonels would shrug their shoulders and press the button, Without you they's stop changing the flowers in Piccadilly Gardens, Without you Clark Kent would forget how to become Superman, Without you Sunshine Breakfast would only consist of Cornflakes, Without you there'd be no colour in Magic colouring books, Without you Mahler's 8th would only be performed by street musicians in derelict houses, Without you they'd forget to put the salt in every packet of crisps, Without you it would be an offence punishable by a fine of up to £200 or two months' imprisonment to be found in possession of curry powder, Without you riot police are massing in quiet sidestreets, Without you all streets would be one-way the other way, Without you there'd be no one to kiss goodnight when we quarrel, Without you the first martian to land would turn round and go away again, Without you they'd forget to change the weather, Without you blind men would sell unlucky heather, Without you there would beno landscapes/no stations/no housesno chipshops/no quiet villages/no seagullson beaches/no hopscotch on pavements/no night/no morning/there'd be no city no countryWithout you.

-adrian hendri

yay! something sweet and romantic....:P

damn stressed and tired out by the whole film thing. ok, time to (entitled to, anyway...humph, it IS my friggin blog) indulge in frivolous documentation of my current dermatological condition. face has erupted in pimples (2!!!) . this is an attestation to the pressure man! thank goodness it's not on my nose.  

anyway, saw fiona xie and this obscure boyband mamber yesterday. since both me n eric think she's chio, we followed her into the supermarket, until that pompous git of a guy (with token beng blonde mane and shades that were, ahem.."metrosexual") stared at us as if we were some autograph hungry groupies.ok, so eric was kinda starstruck, but not me! (on the defensive) fiona xie's not that gdlooking afterall, sans makeup n booby-enhancing clothes. anyway, i seem to vaguely recall seeing the toro guy's pic in sher's n xq's wallet, lol. time to feel embarressed abt lousy celebrity crushes...everyone should just stick to edison chen.
 
saw the two c-list media whores holding hands while weaving through the aisles of cold storage. duh. hasn't anyone told them that wearing shades indoors draws even more attn to them, and is terrible poseur behaviour.ok, so that was like the highlight of sunday.
 
am bored. have no scandalous crush to gush over.argh, have a warped idea of what you're supposed to do at 17. go be an UN embassador.

absurdly pissed. lost my temper at just abt everyone in the family. have half a mind to kick out two thirds of film soc. argh, irresponsible people who promised to turn up, but didn't.after we spent all the hours contacting everyone. argh. will have a serious talk with the whole wing soon.would openly kicking out someone be too cruel?some of them haven't even attended a single meeting since the begining.wasting everyone's time. argh. at least attendence was good for guides.*tongwei in BAD mood*

"One Last Breath"

Please come now I think I'm falling
I'm holding to all I think is safe
It seems I found the road to nowhere
And I'm trying to escape
I yelled back when I heard thunder
But I'm down to one last breath
And with it let me say
Let me say

Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
That maybe six feet
Ain't so far down

I'm looking down now that it's over
Reflecting on all of my mistakes
I thought I found the road to somewhere
Somewhere in His grace
I cried out heaven save me
But I'm down to one last breath
And with it let me say
Let me say

Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
That maybe six feet
Ain't so far down

Sad eyes follow me
But I still believe there's somthing left for me
So please come stay with me
'Cause I still believe there's something left for you and me
For you and me
For you and me

Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking

Digital Delhi: Six Snapshots


1.

I give you truth, says the film-maker
At forty-four frames per second

The man on the pavement ignores him
It is not truth he is after — it is eternity

His delicate parrot steps across lines
Geometric patterns and numbers

In an abrupt flash, it finds the future
And hands it over to the film-maker

His face grows dark . . .



II.

On the next street, assiduous carpenters
Construct an elaborate cabinet of ebony

They work in the garden of a rich house
In the shade of a barren banana plant

A photograph of Rekha adorns the tree
The young men look up from time to time

At the fluttering actress and they know
It is not eternity they are after — it is love

The film-maker grins . . .



III.

When he goes back to Paris, he will buy
Brie and tangerines at the Arab store

He will bring a bottle up from the cellar
And after he has made a mess on the table

He will go down to the studio and call
Bernadette and as he hears her light voice

He will put his head down and cry
Because it is not love he wants — it is India

Her nakedness haunts him . . .



IV.

Most things happen in the open in India
Even if a professor chooses to tell you

About his project to calculate the weight
Of our galaxy, he does so walking through

Gardens where synthetic trouser-legs piss on
Kings, and the sky curves like a Lodi tomb

1044K is only the roughest estimate, he says
The dream of the perfect digit still lives on

In India, home of the zero . . .



V.

Nothing is hidden here — a woman bends
Over other people's clothing, exercising her

Breakable brown arms beside the solid bulk
Of a Maruti-Suzuki van whose golden sticker

Proclaims — Proud to be a Silicon Valley Indian!
Her antique steam-iron smooths every crease

As if her life depended on it — but it is not
The sheen of silk this woman craves — it is

A wide, wide, television set . . .



VI.

Just forty-fours hours in the threshold city 1
And the film-maker jettisons his camera

Because the truth flies in his face
Like that damned parrot! — Bernadette

Is no different from the woman armed
With a hot iron, and images collapse like

Galaxies in the urchin dust of Delhi's exposed
Alleyways — and it is not India that he has found

It is home . . .



prof nair is fantastic..really nice person. idiotic bernie was hogging her which resulted in my deprivation of alone time with her.argh. but nevermind, there's email. check out her orientation!hiaz, i've been wanting to go to india for really long now.should start planning, then can arrange a trip after A's. peeps, let's all go.

Keane - Can't Stop Now


I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
Busted tooth and a smile
And cigarette ashes in her drink
The kind that goes out and then sleeps for a week
The kind that goes out on her
To give me a reason, for well, I dunno
And maybe she'd take me to France
Or maybe to Spain and she'd ask me to dance
In a mansion on the top of a hill
She'd ash on the carpets
And slip me a pill
Then she'd get me pretty loaded on gin
And maybe she'd give me a bath
How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
And she and I would sleep on a boat
And swim in the sea without clothes
With rain falling fast on the sea
While she was swimming away, she'd be winking at me
Telling me it would all be okay
Out on the horizon and fading away
And I'd swim to the boat and I'd laugh
I gotta get me a Sylvia Plath
And maybe she'd take me to France
Or maybe to Spain and she'd ask me to dance
In a mansion on the top of a hill
She'd ash on the carpets
And slip me a pill
Then she'd get me pretty loaded on gin
And maybe she'd give me a bath
How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
I wish I had a Sylvia Plath

rright, postmortum visitations to long dead weirdos aside, my time is now split among film soc, sch work, reading, tv and the net, the last 2 of which i think i deserve copious amounts of. reading the unbearable lightness of being now, which is REALLY GOOD. once u unwrap it from its patina of eroticism(yeah, it's quite RA, even by my standards), you'll discover that kundera weaves so many things into his seemingly oblique narration of infidelity and the pointlessness of love. i love this:

"she yearned for the two of them to merge into a hermaphrodite. Then the other women's bodies would be their playthings."

is such intense jealousy possible? it transcends mere desire to cause the adultress physical hurt, but it invades and encroaches onto the most unexposed and personal arena. you only betray someone in order to betray someone else later on. let's say you betray A for B, but betraying B doesn't necessarily result in the appeasment of A.the point is betray everything, your friends, family, country...and if you've excelled enough and profitted sufficiently from all these past betrayals, you may reach the apex of nihilation, where you virtuously betray yourself and view it as a tour de force zenith of your life. do i have any idea of what i'm trying to say? not really,,,no...

spiderman/peter parker says that with great great power comes great responsibilty, and that sometimes, to do the right thing, you've got to give up the thing you want most, even your dream. what does it take for one to give up his dream? by dream, we define it here as most desireable ambition. can you replace your dream? if your dream stems from your ambition, and you are ambitious out of vanity, then your dream is nothing but a hedonistic onanism. clemency unto oneself ultimately destroys, or so that is what everyone says.

but what's wrong with loving yourself? nietzsche, ever the advocator of self-preservation, preaches that any reliogion founded on the concept of altruism (pity-put bluntly) is doomed. if one says that you have to love yourself before loving others, what is the impetus of loving urself?is it still not the desire to love others, that is, if you subscribe to this theology? therefore, do we forfeit self-gratification if we are to exist as caring human beings?

"suicidal dew flys forth into the burning cauldron of morning"
kill yourself in order to experience rebirth.haha...

had cap reunion today, which ended up kinda lame, cos no activities were really planned. the councillors' excuse was that the cappers were supposed to "connect by themselves", whatever that means.went home with xuan to spend quality time with family, instead of going to burgerking with the babirussas. i love those people, but spin the bottle is not my thing. (i have nothing particularly juicy to share,unlike a certain...um..alcoholic drink..lol)
speaking of that, had a great time at cine yesterday. it's been a really long time since the bunch of us hung out together. even though our topics of interests often deviate from each other, i'm consoled by the fact that the comfort level has not decimated or anything.so, kudos to the wonderful peeps, you know who you are, (it's so mushy to list u guys out, and in what order?alphabetical?sen's gonna feel super indignant..lol,kidding lah)

really happy in a strangely nonsensical way. it's most probably cos blocks are over. no, i think it's definitely cos of that. i promise to refrain from squandering my time by watching crap tv. any alternate activity would surely be more constructive, even writing in this blog. i've been recently thinking about writing a poem for my grandkids every year, starting from this year. i'll hopefully have accumulated 50-60 pieces by the time i kick the bucket.it'll be interesting to see how i've changed. heck, it's interesting to read my past entries, and i've never ceased to be amazed by how much growing up, how much change can take place within 6 months.geez, i'm thinking about when i have to leave hc.don't know how i'll feel...but i'm definitely more emotionally attached to hc than i was to crescent. it was light and fluffy for all its worth, but...yeah, in retrospect, there are a few people i've met there whom i'm thankful for today (cue nudgenudgewinkwink), and if nothing, i got to study biology! ok, i don't know where that came from.

haven't posted anything for a long time, so, here goes (written after visiting the night safari, where i saw real elephants and statues of them):

Ivory Elephant

but there are no tusks,
only small flecks of crimson
showing scabs from elemental soup.
Such a strong leash offers no protection.
Your gaping heart is out and trunk-bordered.
But when I put my finger behind the hole,
your heart is flesh again.
If you ask real politely,
I could Jesus you up.

in the spirit of all things cap
i wrote a rap.
there's not much literary value
cos i'm really a sad sack
so ppl, pls don't go "oh, ewwww.."

i went to cap
i had a blast
there was some crap
but it didn't last.
so many cool new ppl
some hilariously lethal

conan the barbarian
with his head banging tendencies
and then there's brian
with his dumnass proclivities.
you see, he plays taiti,
with his cards for all to see.
audrey, who looked like lucy liu
was a ***damn bitch reminiscent of cleo.
but i think her her period soon ended,
cos then she was nice (pls don't get offended:)
alfian saat didn't give me his autograph.
supposedly too embarressed.
he said"i'll swing by to do it, my dearest"
but then he disappeared into the forest.

to be continued...

hey everybody!!!am bored but i don't feel like studying. been feeling that way the whole hol, so a bit fei hua.debating whether to drink hot/warm/lukewarm/ice-cold milo. will limit myself to another 5 more mins of personal milo crisis. will write a poem for y'all!!


eeks, writer's block. well, according to most strange ppl lauded by mass population, stringing a montage of strange metaphors with looney paragraphing makes a good poem. right. and i can't write stuff that rhymes. too difficult. could sound like twinkle twinkle little star if not handled properly. borrowed this book from library which seemed pretty cool at first glance.but it turned out to be a total dud. proof that you should never judge a book by its cover. the writer is apparently a music and theatre studies lecturer. he writes like he doesn't know what a woman looks like,the poor deprived goof, much less love/sex (interchangeable nowadays). the worse thing is, most of his stuff are about those topics which he doesn't seem to know much abt. the supposedly poignant stuff turn out funny... anyway, will stop being the failing literary critic. extremely bored now,listening to whitney houston scream "i will always love you".ok.
just read keiffy's blog.
oohmytian it's DISGUSTING. couldn't stop laughing.now in the mood to write crap love poetry

oh you are my heaven
oh my love
where art thou
muacks

there u go, mah opus...:) it's even got onomaetopia (however you spell that) the sound thing.oookkk...
should i bathe first?or drink milo?or listen to whitney? i downloaded 5 different versions of "i will always love you" it's amazing she does these strange vocal gymnastic thingys all the time. plus i got one in spanish. contrary to barcelonians, spanish is not that sexy anyway.

Song

Today on the bus home I heard a dangerous song.
It was venom, flowing into my ears and in my brain,
extemporaneous as a colourless surgical liquid.
It was warm and mellow, yet it quashed my insides,
fuming into descent and self rage, into an anchor in a cup of tears.
It was the slant eyed advocate, whispering in my ear lacy
Mutterings of self hate and hellish verse, and pinching my reddened
flesh to show how soft and crumbling it was.
It was the poetry of the sirens, each heartbreaking contralto
Rending the heart closer to the murderous rocks, each voiceful
quiver the slice of a nail--

Or, shall we say--
it was the soulful rhapsody on love,
curved like the body of the moon, silk thick with the blues
Of love and loss, of distance and stars, of nearness and breath,
and of the everlasting mystery of beauty, its welcome tragedy.
Every sentence an unobtainable rise or a fall, enough to dip my heart
in blood, and to sorely ache the frail dusty body which would henceforth
doubt its staunch disbelief forever after. And my bones nearly broke
themselves like monks in grief-- my body now near fatally astral and
vicarious, watching that unconquerable and hence unredeemable--


I survived, and now I am weak.
What of you churchgoer, visitor of the temple of man, the faith
of his mystery? (I know love and its convictions tingles in your limbs,
brands you like a slave.)

I think. I think I shall not tell you what the name of this
elegy of goddesses and mourn song of man is, lest its karma
one day be your irrevocable death.

joel tee

Experimenting

We don't need no safety net, we're out here on our own--

This is fledgling time:

Experiments in dusty attics
Count and do the mathematics
Free speech, free love, democratics--

And thus:

My muse, unloosed, just confuses
Perhaps the alcohol induces--


I.

We fumble in the dark:
Or you fumble, and I'm lying passive.
I'm lying now, when I say I love you.

And do you mean it, either?
Or were we just a pair of raging hormones--
You with the debonair flair
(And me, just there)
Conveniently, where
Hands in the dark meant nothing, just
Simulating stimulating
Groping and
(manipulating)

--Never you mind, now, dear.
Cup of tea?
Me? (Shall we?)
Fake your innocence: this is daylight; not the time to play with fire.
(Our situation isn't really
that dire--
we're too young
for desire.)

Liar.


II.

Number two was found in a fit of blue
But was unfortunately too straight to do anything with.

Nevertheless:
This was an unknowing inspiration; a summer waxed and waned
And passed me by, and was filled with memories of you.

I still remember the fragments, now, and the glass
pieces have been picked up and put into boxes and labelled safely
behind distant windows.

And wink at me, kindly, and I forget how they cut, then.


III.

The next was fully a year later.

Less intense; drifting incense of my passion burning it away
Keeping up the pretence (better this way)
That this
Was an unrhythmic uncyclical phase
(life's an irregular
chase,
anyway)

And I'm still caught up in this tangled web of roses
My prose's all about love, now, or lust--

And there's that song, you know, about how
The Girls: capitalised, italicised, romanticised in Italian and brought back down
Sharply
Precipitate a reaction that's not worth what you give it.

And dreams, now, and teasing behind the drapes
And familiar shapes in the half-dark of the room
(not the bedroom, you'd never be caught here with me:
Suspect me of date rape
whatever.)

Italicise me, romanticise me, remind me and mind me
And rewind your memories, when this is twenty years behind me
And Realise (yes, capitalised) that this is what binds me:
That I am a Girl.
--to you, and you were kind to me.


IV.

I never learn, do I.

Juggling two at once
Tuppence, I thought--it's experimental!
(and, of course, detrimental
to our mental health, but never mind)

So we promised to kiss.

We haven't yet.

kelly lai


ahhh.. in love with their writing. ok, somewhat intimidated now, what are we supposed to do together? he seems awfully worldly, hope i don't spontaneously combust once everyone discovers i'm dumb.i should stop saying that. so implusible. so fluctant. i never could stand those weak changelings. now i'm just another one.argh, i actually get nervous before calling han. what if he screams at me?what if he hangs up? [it's my phone dammit.]

right. haven't written anything for quite a while now, not in the mood for poetry. it seems so flippant next to econs. i love econs. sadly, love is unrequited, this is probably the only crush i'll ever have in jc - on a subject. yayzers.

but whatever.need to get in the mood before cap. will not be overtly concerned with how my poetry fares against mr joel poet laureate tee.can't stand it, i wished i wrote "song".hrmph.

ah well, just finished reading everybody's blogs...apparently no one is doing ANY studying..lol, wonder how much of that i should believe, anway, it's stupid, but somehow it makes me feel better, even though i know those toads have been MUGGING!!! econs tys open beside me now, i've been on the same page for the past five hours. i'm getting really good at economies of scale,lol...

argh, got into MAJOR trouble with parents for lack of fillial piety..dad was yelling abt how i spend time giving free tuition to ouutsiders but never bothering to help with the family's needs. i do!!i sweep, clean, cook..when i told him that he threatened to slap auntie millet "THEN WHY THE FUCKING HELL DO I HIRE HER FOR???!!!"
proceeded to swear at me for next 15 mins, which wasn't the worst bit. stupid sister, after returning from england, started behaving in her pom pous anglophillic way, and didn't even stand up for me. argh, n she's not that fillial either, u know.only avoided screaming session by pretending ot be asleep. she woke right up the minute dad went downstairs.argh, she still has the cheek to talk to me abt the royal shakespeare theatre. since when was sharkespeare royalty anyway?and the play wasn't even some blockbuster tragedy...it was "THE LION KING". apparently she now thinks it's the best work of literature ever.

honestly, i was just having a frank talk w my mom 3 days ago on how all her children suck, and that she had better not bequeth anything to us, keep some money for herself, in case her bastard children abandon her n she has problems with spousal infidelity or something. she smiled the wane smile of realising that i'm right (hey, at least i admit that i'm not a very good kid), but at the same time wanting me to shut up.seriously, i hope that i won't grow up to be like those money grubbing bitches on tv who dump their parents in weird homes with strange redlippedcurlyhairedfullboobied nurses. that's why the gov. should subsidising old folk's homes, it's so cheap now it's convenient to dump your parents there..tsk.

anyway, cos of my total lack of morality, my parents forbid me to go out, i'm missing the sentosa trip..but still...HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHERRY!!! u guys could send me some pics and i could probably super-impose my face next to qing. or something. argh, still have a few more days to mug before block tests, need to do well so that mr barnard won't think i'm stupid. and so that i won't think i'm stupid. ditto for all the people i know. so that THEY (no one in particular...just, um, EVERYBODY~!!!@@#$#) won't think i'm stupid. sigh, i refuse to be stuck in this cycle of mediocrity all my life, determined to get SOME kind of scholarship.

anyway, on to happier things...

lemme think...

i lost 100g
i have 5 chocolate bars at home.
there's buffy tonight.
yep, that's abt it..:)ahh.. in bliss.

*rudely interrupted by asshole named handoko*
he's the absolute bastard n he ranks up there with my brother on the list of pple who piss me off most. was so angry i almost cried. no classmate has ever made me cry since pri one when the stupid bitch stole my pink crayon.this F#@$#@ asshole hasn't returned me my phone, and his attitude about it was plain wrong. i mean he asked me to stop bugging him cos "he needed to study for his geog". wtf, as if our phone conversations ever last past 3 mins.then he promptly proceeded to HANG UP ON ME. being the alpha female who would not stand to be bullied, i called back to retaliate, but, guess what, he asked his maid to blow me off. "he nn nnooo in now". for pete's sake i could HEAR HIM SAY "tell her i'm out" in the background . fucking asshole. just talking abt it makes me so pissed.

then i called his mommy the next day.

gracious tongwei didn't bitch abt the bastard to his mommy, instead, i very politely requestred that my phone be procured as soon as possible. starting to regret tht i didn't use stronger language. he certainly didn't rein in on the profanities.argh.

pw is not going anywhere either, ocs it seems that only ruilin n me are doing the proiject. melvin is another asshole, i have yet to receive any work done by him at all, but peck tells me he's always online. why the hell are u not participating in pw if you have so much time to go online!?!?!?! u sad bastard, i'm not going to give you a good grade at the end of pw. but then again, melvin has gained a rep for being an asshole, so i guesss he's not expecting a v good grade either. life is ruled and ruined by various assholes all over the place.

"and i rise from the ash
with my red hair
and i eat men like air"

!@#@#@%$#@ to all the bastards out there.mess with someone else.humph.

ah well, getting nostalgic,realised i'm starting to miss crescecnt, even though the last two yrs weren't that great, but still fondly recall some 4c1 ppl.. shiwen,quiying,shrads,gek,tracey,wila,abby,terri,daphne, ppl sitting at the right side of the class, right by position, and right by character:)we had some fun times, i still remember the time when hui ee was convinced that our sub was actually a male masquerading as a female, she had an awkward bump SOMEWHERE, you see, it's all so stupid now, but it was hysterically funny then..the queer female sub is teaching at hc now, and she does have some weird underwear, which could prob explain the weird growth... anyways, just chatted w shrads online, hiaz miss them cute ppl w all eccentric habits "stand on my right!!!" (yashira)
yellow plate food stall's no. one fan.. etc, well, if it's any comfort, i still see some of them online:) guess you'll just be friends for as long as possible, then you'll part amicably, not out of choice, but ...(is this the right word?) out of convenience, this way, when you see each other on the streets, you'll wave and exchange a perfunctuary greeting..."oh, hey, she was my best friend in secondary sch. wait!!give me one second, i'm sure i can remember her name...ahh!mary!no..wait, lucy!!yes, that's it. hey!lucy!!!"

"lucy says": "oh my gaaawwwd!!!is that you?!?! wei tong!!"

30 seconds later...

drama production is FINALLY over!!! hope this post-production ecstasy will last through the next few months...production was damn tiring, but we had sooooo much fun!got to know so many science ppl i probably wouldn't have had the chance of coming into contact otherwise!bought chocs for them, but hope i will not finish the entire packet by myself before i next see them.good karma propagating within, everyone is getting better looking!with exception of HAN WHO STILL OWES ME MY PHONE.THE ASSHOLE WHO HAD THE CHEEK TO REFUSE ME MY COMPENSATION!?!?!WTH?!?!WILL MAKE HIM PAY FOR IAN'S PRESENT...WILL CALL HIS MUMMY ONE DAY TO COMPLAIN ABOUT HIM.HAN, THAT IS, NOT IAN.

anyway, had LD elections yesterday, which i kinda screwed up
(but what's new:)..mispronounced "similarly", finally gave up and said "likewise", which was really embarressing, but nevermind, will try not to screw up the interviews.

anyway, trying my best to finish up everything,ie writing new stuff for CAP;trying to impress no one in particular;hatching schemes to bribe cool singaporean gay poets to mentor me for CAP;finishing hol hmwk;cramming for 6 subjects in time for blocj tests next month;finish reading stack of books slowly piling up (i have no idea why i complusively borrow/buy somemore books even though i haven't finished the ones at home...argh);clean up room;spend more time with dog...and friends..lol,kidding, friends come first:);lose 2kg(that's not too difficult,right???:)

tiny bit of gossip i feel compelled to share(even though u guys might not care, but i HAVE to get it out)
it's really funny, voyueristic tendencies rearing and demanding for next visual feast..kl & cp & a are embroiled in some kind of torrid gut-wrenching triangle complex.it's hilarious(to me at least
) everything is SOOO cheesy it just makes you wanna slap them...qoute "I just want you to be happy with him.."*mournful look*lol, wth says that crap?!?!pointlessly hyterical..laughing to myself again.plus super humiliating and cringe-worthy spelling mistakes(online confessions splayed over person in subject's blog)!!!here's a teaser:
"Kisses are e norishments of life"
this is funnier:
"epitomy of saneness"

ok, will stop pruriently prying and gloating, it may not even be what it seems, cos there's some weird mention of JAS (strange new character i've never heard of, may be k's ex nanyang gf, who may not even be in hc, certainly not in humans though).okaaaay, mental apology to friends who don't deserve this ridiculing, but you know what, i can't help it, it's so funny.ianity.i must be too stressed out, either that, or too deprived, i mean even ch 8 drama serials have better scripts.
shut up and turn on the tv.

The blacklist was a time of evil. No one on either side who survived it came through untouched by evil. There was bad faith and good, honesty and dishonesty, courage and cowardice, selflessness and opportunism, wisdom and stupidity, good and bad on both sides. Failure felt very much like success.

Sylvia Plath,Edge

thank you God, whatever u are (Y.Martel changes your outlook:),for letting me get into CAP.thank you all non-bitchy friends whom i bugged with my sub-standard poems.thank you silence for exactly that.thank you, the triumvirate alliance who threatened to trample on my pride.thank you for doing as i requested (pleaded?)--to be gentle.
thank you Plath, for making me moody, because one needs to be screwed to up write.(now, isn't that true?:)

looking very much forward to attending CAP...Can't wait to find out who my mentor is..alfian sa'at, i hope.a screwed gay.does that explain itself?

"what do you tell the woman who believes her happiness lies at the other end of a Toto queue"
-alfian sa'at

anyway, com serve was (unusually)productive today. they were holding a party when i got there, to celebrate someone's birthday or something. something.don't they hate to be reminded of their birthdays?i think i may have spoilt uncle jaya.the nurses warned me abt doing tt, "girl
he'll ask u for thing,even if unecessary one"

strangely,(have been using this word too often for comfort)everyone was strangely hungry today.so that's good, right.the thing was, i kept cogitating if they knew that their time was nearing, so they might as well grab a last, full meal or something. i prefer something.

damn, this piece is good.(http://www.livejournal.com/users/epicyclical/174739.html#cutid1)
i'll never look at harry potter n gang in the sameway again.rowling would have flipped.
disclaimer:be open minded.strictly NOT for coservatives.cassie claire rocks. i posted her LOTR slasher a few months back. well, this is even better.

had com serve at alexandra hosipital(AH) yest.
quite awkward really, cos we were late and past the optimum timing.patients were drab and sullen, but u can't really hold them responsible or blame them.
a few interesting old ladies though, one of them particulary spritely, wonderfully energetic, but darren or whatshisname very rudely interuppted my conversation by tapping me on the shoulder to remind me to go home. Peggy (tt's her name) got...guarded and vulnerable suddenly.
"sorry, for wasting your time.u see, normally, i am at home alone, and only the stray cats come into my house.there's no one.i don't close the door, u see, so if i faint, then someone can help me." almost cried AGAIN (i still remember in sec 2, there was this visit to peace haven, n this lady called Dorothy told me to study hard and tt may God bless me..i started bawling after tt..so embarressing.mushroom had to spend like 1 hr comforting me..damn whatever happened to all my best friends...it's a curse, i tell u, but anyway,gross digression here..)
i didn't want to say tt i would visit her, because i most probably wouldn't, i didn't want to say tt i would see her again, because tt would mean she'ld have to be admitted into the hospital again.damn how do you say goodbye to someone you'll never see again?
the ladies there are .....
An obsure fascination with the serviettes provided by the hospital during mealtimes.they would save the pieces of serviettes, then tenderly fold them, affording the monogrammed wipers with the intricate care that one would bestow upon expensive origami paper(i still have the weird jap origami envelope thingy i forced sher to give me in sec 1)the serviettes would be smoothened, folded, not into any byzantine crane or whatnot, but a simple square. their existence, if you will, though it seems horribly undermining and apathetic to say tt, esp after Peggy's stories (too long, too many to write down here)they would then proceed to place these scraps of rubbish under their pillows or in their sea green pockets. wong fong ching.
i offered to throw away a horribly crumpled piece of tissue, she'd only allow me to do it after she had carressed it and gave it the once over..byebyedearnapkin.i gave her another one and she repeated the moribund cycle. i cldn't speak shanghainese, so i sat there smiling at her, smoothening her blanket.resmoothening them. i tried to get her to read the newspapers, but then it occurred to me tt she couldn't.
well, the next time i go there, i'm bringing along my chess set. or bridge anyone?