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!!