Tsunami attacks in South Asia
26th Dec 2004


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One year from now, this is going to be reduced to a problematic statistic. 130 000 is a horrific number, but who remembers the 100 000 killed in an Iran earthquake exactly one year before? It seems horribly pretentious to be grieving for them. I don’t know anyone involved, I haven’t visited most of those areas, I haven’t even heard of some of those places before this (Khaw Luak ??) I can’t do anything substantial for them, or perhaps I’m too afraid, ignorant, lazy, uninspired to do so. It’s unbearable and out of my depth to think about the victims and perhaps, even worse off, the survivors of the attack. (it‘s weird to use the word “attack”, like when we say “terrorist attack”, but now mother nature herself is the culpable one.) It’s been raining for the past few days, and I’m cold here in Singapore. Wonder how it is for those in Aceh. You know, if this disaster could spark off some inroads to a peace agreement between the central Indonesian government and the Aceh rebels, perhaps there will be at least some good to come out of this catastrophe.

Perhaps it’s best not to think too much about the disaster in it’s whole monstrosity, but to focus on the micro aspects of it. Dive into volunteer work. No, I’m not talking about going to Sri Lanka to help dig mass graves or direct emergency aid. Someone told me this: if you don’t know what you’re going to do, don’t go cos you’ll just be wasting everybody’s time and resources. Stay in Singapore and help ring bells for the RC or help to pack and box donated items. Donating $10 could go a long way if everyone chipped in. Japan has donated US$500 million, the biggest single donation from a country, and it touches me because if you think about it, they weren’t very much affected, in terms of geographical location, they didn’t feel any tremors. Neither did they suffer many casualties in terms of Jap tourist deaths. That’s why Bush frickin pissed me off when he initially commissioned US$35 mil for foreign aid. (He later upped the donation to US$350 mil after being sworn and cursed at by majority of the world, but it‘s still way less then Japan‘s donation, esp if you consider the proportionate size of each country‘s economy). For the record, Singapore only donated US$3 mil, whereas South korea and Taiwan have each donated US$5 mil. Well, if we’ve been experiencing “robust growth”, where have all the excess money gone to. I’m normally blindly adoring the PAP, but it’s disgusting that they prefer to keep the money in order to dangle election goodies for the people. I mean, who else are we going to vote for anyway?

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Don’t feel guilty that you’re warm and alive while others are cold, in pain, too dead to even feel the pain, too in pain to even remember what pain is. There is no point to this guilt, and your energy would probably be more positively generated into doing actual work. Mere sympathy is not tangible, which translates into uselessness. The survivors won’t feel it, much less the deceased victims.

Tsunami attacks in South Asia
26th Dec 2004

.

One year from now, this is going to be reduced to a problematic statistic. 130 000 is a horrific number, but who remembers the 100 000 killed in an Iran earthquake exactly one year before? It seems horribly pretentious to be grieving for them. I don’t know anyone involved, I haven’t visited most of those areas, I haven’t even heard of some of those places before this (Khaw Luak ??) I can’t do anything substantial for them, or perhaps I’m too afraid, ignorant, lazy, uninspired to do so. It’s unbearable and out of my depth to think about the victims and perhaps, even worse off, the survivors of the attack. (it‘s weird to use the word “attack”, like when we say “terrorist attack”, but now mother nature herself is the culpable one.) It’s been raining for the past few days, and I’m cold here in Singapore. Wonder how it is for those in Aceh. You know, if this disaster could spark off some in roads to a peace agreement between the central Indonesian government and the Aceh rebels, perhaps there will be at least some good to come out of this catastrophe.

Perhaps it’s best not to think too much about the disaster in it’s whole monstrosity, but to focus on the icro aspects of it. Dive into volunteer work, no I’m not talking about going to Sri Lanka to help dig mass graves or direct emergency aid. Someone told me this: if you don’t know what you’re going to do, don’t gp cos you’ll just be wasting everybody’s time and resources. Stay in Singapore and help ring bells for the RC or help to pack and box donated items. Donating $10 could go a long way if everyone chipped in. Japan has donated US$500 million, the biggest single donation from a country, and it touches me because if you think about it, they weren’t very much affected, in terms of geographical location, they didn’t feel any tremors or suffer much casualties in terms of Jap tourist deaths. That’s why Bush frickin pissed me off when he initially commissioned US$35 mil. (He later upped the donation to US$350 mil, but it‘s still way less then Japan‘s donation, esp if you consider the proportionate size of each country‘s economy). For the record, Singapore only donated US$3 mil, whereas south korea and Taiwan have each donated US$5 mil. Well, if we’ve been experiencing “robust growth”, where have all the excess money gone to. I’m normally blindly adoring the PAP, but it’s disgusting that they prefer to keep the money in order to dangle election goodies for the people. I mean, who else are we going to vote for anyway?


.


Don’t feel guilty that you’re warm and alive while others are cold, in pain, too dead to even feel the pain, too in pain to even remember what pain is. There is no point to this guilt, and your energy would probably be more positively generated into doing actual work. Mere sympathy is not tangible, which translates into uselessness. The survivors won’t feel it, much less the deceased victims.

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