In Continuum.

The Jem Enchantment

Once again,i am here to introduce unknown singers to you guys.I dont reckon you guys have heard of Jem.Like Bjork,her songs are very experimental,but not nearly as inaccessible as Bjork's.Her album has this very nice blend of rock,pop,jazz and electric tunes.A very unique singer altogether,with songs you can bang your head to and at the same time,smile.;)



Recommendations:

1)Wish I
2)Just a Ride
3)24
4)Flying High
5)Save Me
6)Maybe I'm Amazed

Sick

Is it a tradition?For me to fall sick on Chinese New Years.I remember last year's Chinese New Year,the lot of us were so eager to book out from Tekong i swear if a stranger wandered onto the island he mightve thought Jessica Alba was tanning nude on the beach i swear.

But anyway,i got home and had my reunion dinner.Didnt feel too well afterwards and had my temperature checked.Get a hold of this,40.6 degrees.Yes,ladies and gentlemen,i was the human torch from Fantastic Four that day.I swear,i had the impression that i was going to suffer from Spontaneous Body Combustion,i was that hot.

That was last year,and this year my fever came a little late.Two days,to be precise.During lunch i had this empty feeling in my stomach,but it was not caused by hunger or whatever.It was like those...empty feeling?Like there was a void rolling around in your stomach,that kind of discomfort.I couldnt finish my lunch,and soon after i fell into a deep sleep,dreaming about myself and this unknown caucasian girl at this five star hotel,meeting Coldplay in their suite.Then they left,and soon afterwards a few indians budged in and said that the room belonged to them.

I woke up hugging my stomach in pain,and felt as if somebody tied a bag of sand to my head.I couldnt keep it up,and i knew at that instant that i had fever.Let's just say,i am pretty experienced when it comes to fever.I remember last year's BMT period,i dont remember a single day without my temperature soaring to a daunting 39 degrees.Oh well,guess the island didnt like me all that much.

So here i am now,running a low fever and my head feeling like crap.My back is killing me,and dont be surprised if halfway through this entry you see a string of gibberish.That might be because of my head slamming against the keyboard.

Speaking of being sick,i am sick not just physically but mentally for a lot of things as well.I bet this anger inside of me is some disease,that i contracted sometime between the present and enlistment.Sometimes i cant keep my temper down,which might have led to the angry posts below this one.I dont know,you can say it's some kind of emotional explosion of some sort,but im not like that in real life.Really.Im merely a book reading nerdball,who plays the guitar and enjoys good music.Im not going to rip at anybody's throat anytime soon.I hope.

Im sick of also,this expectation i set for myself.This problem of confidence,you know?Like,sometimes in life you encounter this...problem.This thing that stands in your way,an obstacle.You tell yourself,"This is nothing,peanuts.I can overcome this no problem",then just as you are about to walk over this obstacle you trip and fall,flat on your face.Ha.Ha,not funny.

That's what i have been experiencing,this self-incurred confidence problem.The standards i set for myself are sometimes so high,it is almost impossible to attain.I knew i could do it,a few days ago during live firing.I knew my detail could get marksmanship,i knew it.But i just couldnt do it,when sweat covered my eyes at night and everything became a blur.I just couldnt do it,and after the shoot i felt like shit.About myself.

Im sick,in every possible way i think.This disease is eating me up inside,something that i cannot control.You know how it is,when you think you can do something,when you are so sure you can attain it,then at the end of the day you find our you are simply,not good enough.That frustration,that irritating feeling.It's so frustrating.Just...pisses me off.

Of course,there are other things in mind.Things i dont necessarily want to talk about.You know how you hate yourself sometimes,when you become to grumpy?When you just cannot stop saying something,or complaining about something,the inner-self is begging for you to shut up.Oh well,just go download this song by John Mayer,it kind of says it all.

Back to you
It always comes around
Back to you
Doesnt it piss you off
Your will is not as strong
As it used to be...

I'm swimming in a sea of faces
Trying to float my way to you
But it's no use
In a crowded room
Where everybody wants you...

"Back to You" by John Mayer.

The Yamagata Charm

Ive made up my mind to share some of the music with you guys,music that are not necessarily mainstream here in Singapore.Basically,let's just say i am sick and tired of whatever they are playing on the radio,and that i am diverting my attention to other under-rating artists.So here's one of them,Rachael Yamagata.I love her music,very chill out and perhaps little blues/jazz/pop elements to them all.I cant get enough of her deep raspy voice,and her intensity on stage is just...woah.Besides,she's a singer/songwriter who plays the guitar and piano,im a sucker for those.So here she is,charmed.



Recommendations:

1)Worn me Down
2)I'll Find a Way
3)Paper Doll
4)Meet me By the Water
5)Letter Read

Everybody's cleared the room
And they'll dress you up
Stand you in all the right places
Words like honey
They smile as they change your faces
With no regard to you at all
And you find they treat you like a paper doll...


"Paper Doll" by Rachael Yamagata.

Digame

I dont understand we humans,how we can say things for the sake of saying things.I cant say that i am totally innocent when it comes to that aspect,but it's just in us sometimes,how we say things for the sake of saying it and not thinking the meaning behind it,or how the "meaninglessness" can hurt people sometimes.People here,actually refers to a person: Me.

Before i elaborate any further,let's talk about words or phrase people actually use recklessly,in our every day lives.Here are some examples i thought of a while ago,so here they are.

"I am never ever going to be with that girl,no way in hell."

"I will do anything for you,anything and everything."

"This is it,i am never going to speak to you,ever again.Forever."

"I hate you."

(The most commonly misunderstood and misused)

"I love you."

We hear such phrase all the time,but we dont really ponder over them all so often.I remember blogging about this in my old blog,how people use big words like "Hate" or "Love" like punctuations in a sentence.Like,they are supposed to be there or something.Do people actually mean it when they say such things?Do you know how much it actually hurts to know that you never really meant it,and that you said it because at that moment in time,it just sounded right.

When you say "I will do anything for you",are you physically going to block a bullet for her,kill yourself for her,or get the stars in the sky for her?Let's admit it,it's all too poetic to be true.It sounds romantic,yes when you are at the beach with your girl staring up into the sky looking for constellations,and you tell her that you get one for her someday.Are you going to,really?Someday,never.Unless you never meant it literally,or else you might want to consider getting yourself employed at NASA and fly to the moon.

Or when you argue with your boyfriend,and you tell him our of pure frustration and anger that you never want to see him again.Forever,and ever and ever.Did you really mean that?How would you know that,sometimes in life,when you really need that somebody to talk to,that you wouldnt want to see him again even in that devastated state of mind?

The truth is ladies and gentlemen,is that people dont think about the stuff they say anymore.I guess that's something that has been a crime,committed ages ago at the beginning of time.It's not something that came out of a generation,but a species i think.It just hurts,you know?To realise that what somebody said to you never really meant anything.

Back to my story,i was talking to you.I dont know why,i apologise.I know we had an agreement never to talk to each other,but i cant help it.This silence isnt working for me,perhaps better for you.I cant stand the fact that you are online on my contact list,while i am there staring blankly at a conversation window,with a cursor flashing for the past half an hour.I.Cant.Do.It.

"I have to go downstairs now,talk to you soon?"

Or,are you?

Seriously,you are never going to do that anytime soon.When was the last time you messaged me out of...nothing?When you just wanted to talk,like we used to.When was the last time you felt bored and wanted to talk to me,for nostalgia's sake?Never.Never since that fateful day in camp on my bed,when i cried soft in my covers.Really,i did.And you know what hurts more?Hurt itself.

Hurt hurts.It really does.

I dont know why i am feeling so emotional over a single phrase you said.Perhaps you never meant it to be so...meaningless.So empty in a way.So unpromising.I dont want to hear such words or phrases ever again,i am just so tired of them.How they never will come true.You will never talk to me,like you mentioned.It's always me,talking to you.Never the other way round.This is not one of those chemical reactions,no vice versa going on here.This is a one way trip,and i am doing all the walking.

Tell me things,things that are...real.Things that will actually come true.In fact,i think i will feel much better if you had said,"Hey,i got to go now.Message me when you want to talk again,okay?"

Sure,that wouldve been nice.At least the decision to talk lies on me,and that you are not making any empty promises whatever.Tell me,there are still possibilities,or nothing at all.Dont give me this,hope.This possibility,this promise that will never come true.You know,and i know that it will never be.So why the hell still talk the way you do,all wistful and cheerful.Am i asking for too much,though.Just say something real,for once.For just that pathetic once.

Digame.Digame.Digame.

On the ground
With my world
Upside down
I got a vision of your face
And I must get me out
For so many memories we've yet to make
God don't send to me your angels
I just wanna hear you say again

Forever love
Say you'll love
Digame, Digame
Tell me so
I can hold you in my soul
If I go
I'll know

"Forever Love(Digame)" by Anna Nalick

Same Time Last Year

The tradition of Chinese New Year has evolved over the years,from the attack of that "Nian" beast a long long time ago,in some forgotten pronvince of China,to a season of family reunions and gatherings,to a holiday of relaxations,then ultimately to what it is now:Money.Let's admit it,Chinese New Year no longer has that "Oh,i love my family" feeling,not really strong,anyway.

Every year i get to spend Chinese New Year,happily.Alone.Unlike Valentine's Day i prefer to spend this one alone,because i simply hate the standard questions my relatives threw/will throw at me whenever i see them.The "Hey,grown taller?" or "How's NS?" or "Hey,handsome." type of bullshit.Im just glad that i get to spend it at home,in the comfort of my room,perhaps reading a good book or jamming on my newly fixed guitar while the rest of my social circle visits their relatives,predominantly with dread.My own relatives are across the South China Sea in homeland Taiwan,and the packets still come in despite being that far away.

God bless airplanes.

Ive gotten down to some new year resolutions.Or rather,things i aim to do this year.Something ive learnt from the past new year resolutions is the fact that they were made for the sake of making them.It's like those registry forms you have to fill up when you take some driving tests,or register for an email address.You know,the standard questions you got to fill up.Under the "Chinese New Year" registry there is a "Resolutions" category,supposedly mandatory.

But nobody ever follows them close.You might say,"I want to exercise and shed some weight",and six months into the new year you are still as fat as before.Or you want to save up some cash just to get that cool bike after you ORD,half a year into it and you are still as broke as you were six months before.Doesnt it piss you off that your will is not as strong as you wish it to be?

So,ive came up with a few resolutions myself,reasonable ones i deemed,easy to follow through.

1)Tastes as many as possible,all the Tiramisu in Singapore.
2)Learn more songs on my six string.
3)Survive NS till the end of this year.
4)Read more books,and more books,and then even more of those.

Easily attainable,realistic,requires minimal deterination and involves a whole lot of interest.Of course,with the exception of point number three,but it's not like i can do anything about that,right?

Anyway,so there i was on Orchard yesterday walking down the sidewalk.I love that feeling,with the music plugged in and pacing myself to the beat of the songs.It's sort of like catwalk,in a way.I dont know,the feeling is great.

Before i elaborate on anything else,it is funny how people do not recognise signs of ignorance.For example,in our daily lives.When somebody is curled up in a corner,staring into deep space for an hour or two,you know better not to disturb that person,right?Now,for me,my sign of ignorance is when my earpieces are in my ear and i am walking down the sidewalk with a stern face.It means,literally,"Go away,i dont want to talk to you,just let me through".People dont get that,and a short distance from Takashimaya to Wheelock's place i encountered about three school children asking for donations.I know you guys are doing for the greater good,but seriously,i wasnt in the charitable state of mind.

Anyhow,you ever had the feeling when you are looking back at yourself through the mirror?Or rather,imagine yourself staring through a special mirror,a mirror that time travels.You are then,looking at yourself from a year,maybe two,or even a decade from where you are now.Do you feel stupid looking at yourself?I do,when i look back at myself same time last year.It's funny how a single year can do to you,how much you mature.I was just minding my own business when i came across a bunch of youngsters,clearing straight out of school and hadnt tasted the reality of life yet.They still smelled like KLIM,and i just hated the sight of them.Posers,you might call them.Then i start to wonder if i was like that when i was their age,when reality never seemed too close to touch or realise.Oh well,sadly to my enlightenment,yes.I guess i probably was like that at their age.

Funny thing is how when you are fifty,and looking back at yourself at maybe...forty.The change wouldnt be that great,in terms of mental age and maturity.But when you are my age,nineteen and going on twenty,things become very complicated,because of the way things speed pass you like streetlamps outside of your car,the fleeting world.A single year,or even months can make a whole lot of difference.If i existed in 2001,i wouldve murdered myself with a baton.But then again,wouldnt that be like the Grandpa-effect?I would seize to exist afterwards.

I wonder if half of the people carrying guitars on the streets actually KNOWS how to play them.Perhaps they were like me,learning a single song and try to conquer the world with it.I remember that beach boy Barney,Ahmad and I saw at the guitar shop in Bras Basah.We were there on a guitar hunt,and we stumbled upon this guy in the store,strumming to a simple chord song,singing to his girlfriend,who was at that time staring at him with utmost admiration.He was the typical poser type,we all figured.Imagine,spiked hair,tanned skin,3/4 shorts and a t-shirt with some supposedly threatening phrases printed across.We couldnt take it anymore,so the three of us each took a guitar off the shelves and started playing "No Such Thing" by John Mayer.Halfway into the song and chorus,that guy left the store.

Triumph.

I guess a year from now that guy is going to feel very stupid of himself.Of course,i do not doubt,that a year from now i am going to feel very stupid of myself,too.The truth is,people are ever changing,always evolving into something better,hopefully anyway.A year from now i am probably going to think that whatever i did to that poor beach boy was mean,and that perhaps i shouldnt have done whatever i did.

But oh well,for now i am going to convince myself this one thing.

Stupidity is temporary,glory is forever.

Peace out.Happy Chinese New Year.And no,my house is not opened for visiting.

The Importance of Kleenex

Dont want to hear folks chatter
'Cause I know you cheat
Right or wrong,don't matter
When I'm with you,sweet.

Hush now,don't explain
You know you're my joy and you're my pain
My life's yours,love
Don't explain...

"Dont Explain" by Herbie Hancock feat. Damien Rice and Lisa Hannigan

First and foremost,happy chinese new year to you guys.To avoid the festive bullshit like i mentioned earlier i took refuge in Orchard shopping for books as well as picking up my six string,which by the way is so bloody nice to play now i swear i can go on through the night playing "St. Patrick's Day" over and over.So sister,watch out.

Only the first day of Chinese New Year and ive already spent nearly three hundred dollars.Lovely(Not nearly as crazy as Ahmad,who spent $235 on a guitar,alone).

1)Guitar action fixed: $150
2)Green Apple favoured Slurpee: $1.50
3)Pastamania: $10+
4)"Wicked" by Gregory Maguire: $29.28
5)"The Shadow of the Wind" by Carlos Ruiz Zafon: $18.85
6)"Gilead" by Marilynne Robinson: $17.33
7)Tiramisu Al Cafe + Mocha Vanilla: $10+

Holy.Shit.

Anyway,so i had a wonderful afternoon with Ahmad and Valerie,so thank you guys for the great company yeah?Too bad we forgot to film Valerie's little venture with the Turkish Delight.That wouldve been an instant classic,truly.

Anyway,before i met up with Ahmad at City Hall i had some time to flip through the books i just bought and today's Today(You know,the newspaper).Ahmad was late,but that was fine with me because i had my Ipod with me and books,so i sat on the staircase next to the escalators to kill time.

As i read i couldnt help but notice on the other side of the railing was a couple,talking loudly to each other.I mean,i had my earpiece on and you guys should know how loud i listen to Coldplay("Politik was on,i couldnt help it).Yeah,it was that loud.I didnt dare to look,so from the corner of my eyes i stared at what the hell the fuss was all about.

The girl was in pink and white,and her hair was neatly tied back.She looked like an average teenager,and from her accent i figured she's chinese.Not just chinese,but chinese from China,you know what i mean.Her boyfriend too,was a chinese from China,but horrendously dressed.I mean,he had a simple T-Shirt,a cargo pants and slippers.Yeah,slippers in the middle of City Hall MRT station.I mean,im not a very fashionable kinda person,but seriously,slippers?

So there they were,talking.But as i remained longer i realised they werent talking,they were arguing about something.I couldnt hear even if i wanted to,because of my music and their accent was heavy.All i caught was "So it is my fault?" from the girl,as she looked through her handbag for something i didnt see.The guy was clearly over twenty,and kept grabbing the girl's arms,spinning her around to look at him.She kept resisting,and he kept pulling.Soon enough,the girl had her head between her knees,and she kept her gaze upon the floor looking into nothingness.The guy kept saying something,but the girl wouldnt listen,and soon enough he lost patience and walked off.

The girl sat alone there,still looking at the ground and there i was listening to Coldplay and reading Today.Okay,i admit.By that time i wasnt really listening to the music,or reading anymore.Perhaps i was a little stunned by what i just witnessed,but oh well.Just to clarify,i was totally innocent when i sat down next to them.I was just a guy killing time with music,waiting for a friend,running late.That is all,i swear.

So she sat there,alone.And after a while she started crying,softly at first then louder.I couldnt see her face,since she kept her head between her knees and her hair fell over her face.I wanted to say something,but i thought that wouldnt have been appropriate.I didnt want to seem nosy,you know?So i thought,perhaps i should give her a pack of Kleenex,to cheer her up somehow?

That's the problem.I didnt have Kleenex.

That wouldve been a perfect moment,you know?A stranger,seeing you crying alone in the crowd,hands you a pack of Kleenex and walks off.

Wow,how bloody poetic would that be?I mean,im not trying to be the hero or anything.But i just felt her pain,i guess.I hated the way the guy just walked off on her like that,the way he kept grabbing her,forcing her to look at him.I just couldnt take the sight of it,i guess.

Oh well,call me busybody or nosy,but i thought that wouldve been a right thing to do.But i didnt,because of a bloody pack of Kleenex that wasnt anywhere to be found at that moment.

Ive learnt two lessons today,from this incident alone:

1)Always bring a pack of Kleenex with you when you go out,because you never know when the air-conditioning is going to screw up and drop to unbearable-Artic-like temperature,and also a crying girl who needs some understanding.

2)Chinese Men are insensitive bastards and have bad fashion sense.Thank God im not a chinese.Im a Taiwanese,and proud of it.

Here and Now

A friend of mine,we've been talking lately about her relationship.It's funny,the way she sees it.The way she keeps telling me that the relationship is not going to last,that this boyfriend will not be her last,that they will never get married,stuff like that.Stuff,that an ordinary "In-a-relationship" person wouldnt normally say.I mean,you are in it now,right?So why think about the end of this journey when you only just started?She said she's being realistic,and that being so she wouldnt have any expectations,then in turn not have any disappointments,always happy.True,but i guess there is a thin line between being realistic and being disgustingly pessimistic,and here's the example,perfect one at that.

Having a relationship is not a trip around the globe,i think.You dont start on a journey thinking about the end of the line,especially when your sails are high and the wind is soothing,smooth sailing through the Pacific.It doesnt work that way,i guess.

Here's a part of A.S. Byatt's book,Possession that i found relevant to her situation.So here it is,enjoy.

"What is it? My dear?"
"Ah, how can we bear it?"
"Bear what?"
"This. For so short a time. How can we sleep this time away?"
"We can be quiet together, and pretend --- since it is only the beginning --- that we have all the time in the world."
"And every day we shall have less. And then none."
"Would you rather, therefore, have had nothing at all?"
"No. This is where I have always been coming to. Since my time began. And when I go away from here, this will be the mid-point, to which everything ran, before, and from which everything will run. But now, my love, we are here, we are now, and those other times are running elsewhere."

--- A.S. Byatt, Possession

Monkey Business

Yeah we walk through the doors, so accusing their eyes
Like they have any right at all to criticize,
Hypocrites. You're all here for the very same reason

Breathe(2am) by Anna Nalick

I strongly believe,that every human being needs to have something special to promote about themselves.It might seem very superficial to think that we are judged by these "Self-Advertising Qualities",but sad to say,its true.

Every day of our lives,we are judge by people we know,and the ones that we dont.A single look in another person's eyes can speak a whole lot about you.The way you dress,speaks volumes about your personality.The way you speak,the music you like,your hobbies or even the books you read,such things tell others a lot about you.

In a world of "Judgmentation",we have to have something to promote about,something to sell.Something you can confidently tell people,"Hey,i can do this." and know that you will be recognised,to impress,to fascinate,to interest,to be liked for.

Ive come to know a friend of mine,however,who has none of the above quality.And that is,a speciality.Something to promote himself with.And i guess it is in a way,shameful and sad,all at once.

He is my platoonmate,whom the lot of us addresses him as Mao Mao,Chimp,Commando Chimp,Mao Ge,or even Velcro,whatever.Any nicknames you can possibily think of that has got something to do with hairy objects,have been used upon him before.He is hairy all over,in nature of course.It's not even in the genes,so i guess in a way we are all confused somehow.He is a nice guy,really.Underneath those layers of hair is a kind heart,yes.But its getting hard to penetrate through with his oddities.

He has got to be one of the most disorganised person,in terms of everything.His stuff are not organised in his cupboard at all,and he is always losing things,blaming others of stealing.He cannot organise his thoughts properly,always being fickle-minded about every little thing,or during arguments when he tries to come up with some retaliative insult,but ends up being the one being laughed at.It's funny how sometimes he tries to fight back with words without a stable footing.

Then there's those little things he does,the way he scratches his ass half naked,or the way he makes funny noises at you when you are talking bad about him.For example,if you go,"Hey man,i think you should really stop playing those computer games.They are eating you up inside".He would then go,"#$#@%@%$#@#$33%$...".In and out,he is a smart dude.I mean,getting straight As in school is not a easy task,but he lacks a lot of EQ,and a lot of maturity in certain things.He gives up always so easily outfield,telling sergeants that he cannot make it anymore,blaming the pain in his knees or eyes.His ability to switch off completely when he is exhausted,shutting out orders or even words from fellow platoonmates,just the overall ease of giving up,frustrates me.

I was in the vehicle once with him last week,and it rained like mad in the afternoon.At night while we parked at the side of the road due to some machinary malfunction,he was soaking wet from head to toe like a bloody rat.So i asked how he was feeling and he said he was all right.I offered to lend him my jacket,which may i add,he forgot to bring outfield.He declined.Then i told him to rub his hands together to keep warm,or at least stop shivering like some rat.He said okay,but continued shivering.So i felt his forehead,and told him to take some Panadols before he passes out.He told me not to worry,but i replied,"Out here in the field,if i dont worry for you then who would?Yourself?I cant take care of you all the time.Im feeling ashamed for you,how do you even live with yourself?"

So there,i said it.The incompetence of my friend,Chimp.He is overly obsessed with computer games,as if his life revolves around it(Maybe it does).Everything about book out is about gaming,and whatever that comes out from his mouth is about it too.He's dream in camp is to spread his gaming influence to as many people as possible,how "Immaturely" ambitious is that?Hats off to the stupidity,dude.

Jonathon,Martin and I were sitting around on Martin's bed one day,just talking away.So here's what i said,concerning our dear friend Chimp.

Me,"I think everybody needs to have a quality,which can impress people you know?Like,something to sell.Like,Ah Teo(Jonathon)knows how to play guitar.So he can go up to a girl and go,"Hey girl,i can play the six string" and totally mesmerize the girl.You Martin,you can play the piano.That's cool,and you can play a Richard Clayderman on the keys to sell yourself.I can sell the stories i write,right?I can write songs,poems while singing a song on my guitar to somebody,anybody.Now,Chimp cant do it.At the most,he can only go,"Hey girl,i will chiong the game this weekend to get this certain item for you." Wow,sexy."

I know it's mean to say it,but seriously man.If you know you are screwed up in some ways,change.You dont sit there and go,"I think i am screwed up because i play too much games" and do shit about it.It's as good as saying,"Damn im fat" while eating a tub of Chocolate Malt ice-cream.It doesnt work like that Chimp,and although i know you are never going to read this entry,i just wish you the best with the ladies,and evolve dude.Evolve,like the chimps did millions of years ago.Please,for yours and Heaven's sake.

Powder Blue You

You - enter you
Your cheeks a shade of pink
And the rest of you
In powder blue...

St. Patrick's Day by John Mayer

I dreamt of you the other day,worn out and lying on my bed.I have no idea why,but despite of the nap i had in the afternoon,i booked in to camp light-headed.I collapsed onto my bed soon after,then everything went black.

I was back in school,and i was wandering through the school compound for some reason.I guess i miss school too much,the way things follows a certain fascinating routine everyday.Of course,the novelty of school always end on a low note:Exams.Oh well,i never hated school,just the exams.The way it dominates the minds of the weak-minded and the teachers,making us think that grades and exams are everything.If you screw it up you are going to end up like one of those beggers on the streets,playing guitar and asking for money.Screw that,i say.

Anyway,so there i was in the middle of this courtyard of colourful tiles,and around me was the school itself.It was a university,i remember.How dreams always reveal the opposite to reality is a mystery to me,but i guess in a way it was mocking me,the way i was ditched by both the universities i applied for.

Oh well,so there i was walking through the courtyard,aimless.The sky started to drizzle,and i made my way up a long flight of staircase which led to a high gate,towering above me.Through that,i came to another courtyard,and this one had the same colourful tiles as the one before,but surrounded by trees and flowers.It was as if i was in the middle of a meadow,and the rain continued to fall.

Below the stairs stood a person,a girl.She was in a powder blue top,and she was walking across the courtyard below without an umbrella.I looked hard,really hard.And it was you,down the stairs staring back at me.

I pretended not to look,i dont know why.I shunned away,hoping you wouldnt recognise me.But you did,and flashed me that smile of yours.That beautiful smile of yours.For some reason you werent wet at all,and the powder blue top you were wearing turned into that wardrobe you wore,the last time i saw you as the cab drove me away home.

I remember that day,vivid.I was walking up the little hill towards your house,and at the end of the road a girl crossed the street with a black sweater,a white top and a jeans at the bottom.I messaged you to ask if that was you,and you said yes.We met,and said hi to your brother.We exchanged presents,and had lunch at the cafe down the street from yours,and it tasted so so great.

You walked me down to the road at the bottom of the hill,and hailed a cab for me.You smiled,and waved through the window.I waved too,and as the cab did a U-turn i saw the back of you,walking back up the slope whence you came from.That was the last time i saw you...

You came up to the top of the stairs,and you were in those spectacles of yours,with your hair tied back with a band.You were with a guy,that guy.And we were introduced to each other.I felt awkward,i remember.I smiled to him,and he shook my hand.We talked somemore,and the world around us vanished.The meadow,the gate,the stairs,the boy.It was just us,it was in that moment,it was now...

Then i woke up,and Henry turned on the bunk lights.531am on the clock,and it was time to wake up.I rubbed my eyes and yawned loudly.Dont you just hate it,to be woken up halfway through a good dream.

I brushed my teeth,and stared into my drowsy self through the reflection.How tired and worn out i looked altogether,then smiled at the absurdity of it all.How dreams reflect the opposite of realities.How the powder blue you in my dreams,will never be dreamed into life by me.How i wish somehow,that you hated me in my dreams,that you despised me,that you would kill me at the mere sight of me.

Then maybe,in real life.Maybe in reality,just maybe,we can start all over again.

Oh,my life is changing everyday,
In every possible way.
And oh, my dreams, it's never quiet as it seems,
Never quiet as it seems.

I know I've felt like this before, but now I'm feeling it even more,
Because it came from you.
And then I open up and see the person falling here is me,
A different way to be.

*

And oh, my dreams,
It's never quiet as it seems,
'Cause you're a dream to me,
Dream to me...

Dreams by The Cranberries.

Festive Bullshit

So Saturday was my little breakaway from my usual routine life.I headed down to town with Ahmad for lunch,and at the same time get my wife* fixed.She had a problem in the neck apparently,and the paycheck amounted up to a stunning $150,but i guess its worth it.The dude's name is Kelvin Ho or something,and he said something about heating up her neck and then filing the bridge section...something like that.He seemed professional enough i guess,i trusted him with my wife,for a week.Which also means i am going to be stuck with my first wife**,but that's okay with me as well.Got to go back to your roots,right?

Dont you just hate festive seasons in Singapore?Not just festive seasons in particular but,holidays that involve mass celebrations.Christmas,New Year and Chinese New Year,and the likes of those.I know i am peculiar to say this,but i seriously hate those days.I mean,i like the idea of taking a break from life of course.The fact that you can sit on your bed with the air-conditioning turned on without a speck of guilt whatsoever is liberating.However,i hate going out on those days,and here are some of the reasons.

1)The crowd makes you pity sardines.
2)Horrendous festive music everywhere,you think 5566's Chopin.
3)Ugly decorations everywhere,you start to appreciate graffiti.
4)Overall happy aura.
5)Exploitation.
6)Crazy foam-straying teenagers.
7)Fat shoppers.

Those were just some of the things i hate about festive seasons.Of course,there are other problems,but i shall not begin to elaborate.So there we were at Bugis shopping,and i realised the similarity between younger generations of teenagers nowadays.Okay,that statement just made me sound incredibly old,but im only turning twenty this year,really.I mean,really.Is it just me,or are they all wearing the same,with the same hairstyle,and carrying the same type of handbags?I guess in a way,you cant really blame them because there are only so many places selling clothes and stuff in Singapore.Another reason why Singa-bore is such a...as the name suggests,a boring place.I mean,the girls werent bad looking or anything,it's just this standard image of them everywhere.It's like there is an imaginary P.A system overhead telling everybody,"If you want to look good,dress like that".

We headed down to an Italian restaurant down at Parco called Sketcher's.It's a great great restaurant,and what a pity that Tracy wasnt working on that day.You get to customize your pastas and stuff,and the Tiramisu was the best i have ever tasted.Ever.I remember digging my spoon into it and taking a bite out of it and stared at Ahmad,"Holy shit...",then cradled my head in my hands.It was that good,really.

Anyway,back to the festive bullshit.We crossed this stage put up for some Chinese New Year performance thing while on the way from Bugis to Sim Lim.It was horrendous,and they were blasting crazy chinese new year music everywhere.I mean,why cant traditional chinese new year songs be like...Christmas songs or some Christian songs?At least they have some variety in terms of the genre.Chinese New Year music is just...the lowest of all music.I mean,seriously.Instead of feeling the mood of the on-coming holiday you feel like skipping it altogether and put a nail to your eardrums.

Then there's red.Not here or there,but everywhere.Comon',there was no monster back in the ancient days to eat villagers,and which kind of monsters are afraid of the colour red and not afraid to chew up a 80 year old woman?That latter sounding terribly disgusting,seriously.

Its not that Christmas is better than Chinese New Year though,its just that it's worse than Christmas that's all.I remember last year's Christmas when i was unfortunately stuck on Orchard,and there were this bunch of teenagers straying each other with foam.All right,so i was already fuming from the heat of the crowd and the speed they were moving at.I swear,if i leopard crawled from HMV to Shaw Tower it wouldnt have made a difference in terms of speed.Anyhow,so there they were threatening to destroy my carefully set hair and shirt.One dude with face all covered in foam was dashing towards me at one point,and he had this "Oh you are so going to be covered in this shit" look.So i pointed a finger(Not the one but,just the index)and went,"Hey,fuck off." He stopped in his tracks and was stunned,then went on back to spray other poor shoppers.

Bloody lunatic.

At least during Chinese New Year i get money for all those shit.Crap music,or rather noise.At least i get that,right?I guess in a way i am way more fortunate than ordinary Singaporeans,in the sense that they have to pay visits to their relatives and tolerate hypocritical conversations.Oh Lord,thank god i am 4000km away from my relatives.I wouldve demanded for more money though,and maybe at the same time an extra orange or two.

So there we go,festive bullshit.And it's a week to Chinese New Year mind you,and i am already feeling it.Oh well,i guess i will stay at home over the weekend watching Dvds.Garden State was such a great great movie in my opinion.Natalie Portman's so cute.Hahaha.

Andrew Largeman,"You know, this necklace makes me think of this totally random memory of my mother. I was a little kid, and I was crying for one reason or another. And she was cradling me, rocking me back and forth, and I can just remember the silver balls rolling around. And there was like snot running down my nose. And she offered me her sleeve and told me to blow my nose into it. And I can remember, even as a little kid, thinking to myself, this is love... this is love."

Sam,"If you can't laugh at yourself, life's gonna seem a whole lot longer than you like."

Sam,"He is my knight in shiny armour."
Andrew Largeman,"Don't talk about knights around Mark,it's a sore subject."
Mark,"Im gonna kill that motherfucker."
Andrew Largeman,"Pun intended?"

Sam,"Here comes the lipstick."


*My wife being my guitar,Martin.

**My first wife being my guitar,Yamaha.

Ride

The thought of being a ghost in the crowd never crossed my mind as a very encouraging one.The thought of death was and still is a fear in me i guess,more or less.I remember when i was a kid,a really young kid,i used to sneak up into my parents' room and ask my mother about death.How much i am afraid of it,the thought of an endless sleep(Though that sounds seamlessly appealing right now),the thought of your loved ones left behind,or myself being left behind.My mother always had her ways around things,and i remember late one night in her sheets,i asked in my kiddy voice,"What am i going to do,since life is going to end?" I couldnt see her face,but under her soft and sleepy voice she whispered,"Enjoy it."

Where i am now,i find the idea of being a ghost in the crowd pretty interesting,or enjoyable even.Of course,the literal idea of it still seems a little daunting to me,but i guess sometimes in life people have to take things a little figuratively.I love the anonymity of life sometimes,how you throw yourself into a nameless crowd and nobody gives a shit about you.That feeling of anonymity's so...liberating.

I remember a month or two ago i was taking a bus to a friend's house,and to be honest i havent a clue how to get there.I mean,i had directions but nobody was completely sure about them.They were not clearer than a guy on the street telling you,"Oh,it's right around the corner".Vague,yes.But then again,nobody was sure.

So i remember that late morning,i was on the bus with a directory in my hand.My Ipod plucked into my ears and banging my head to Groove Armada's "Hands of Time".Nobody on the bus knew me im sure,and i bet half of them were wondering if this kid at the back of the bus was on drugs,because nobody head bangs like he did.So there i was,drowning out the world with the volume on my Ipod,and i found myself totally anonymous on the bus to nowhere.

Im not sure if i am the only one,but i love bus rides to nowhere.The thought of not knowing where the bus takes you,is just like life sometimes isnt it?People just come and go,and sometimes they collide with you.Crash,even.But the bus has got its route to take,schedule to meet,day to end.Things move on...right?They move on.

Sometimes im so afraid to take this ride,you know.I mean,there's the cold aura between people.How people stare at you when they board the bus.How they always keep a safe distance from you,despite the most innocent of intentions.How they always retreat into the corner on a crowd train or bus.People are just so cold sometimes,and sometimes it gets freezing even on a hot day,my cold days in the sun.But that's part of the ride isnt it?You want to taste the adrenaline rush of the rollercoaster when it plunges from fifty metres,you have to make the slow agonizing climb to the top first.

On the bus ride to nowhere,sometimes it gets cold.Sometimes it's daunting,to know not what lies ahead.But the fact that you dont know anybody on the bus,how they are anonymous to you,and you to them,and you being anonymous to yourself too,makes you feel like you are in a safe place.I dont know how to explain it,i guess it is a more peaceful way of...how people cut themselves?Im just too big a chicken to do such things i guess.When i feel like disconnecting,i take an anonymous bus ride to nowhere.To know that you are not known,what a senseless thing to do huh?

Life, it's ever so strange
It's so full of change
Think that you've worked it out
then BANG
Right out of the blue
Something happens to you
To throw you off course
and then you

Breakdown
Yeah you breakdown
Well don't you breakdown
Listen to me
Because

It's just a ride, it's just a ride
no need to run, no need to hide
It'll take you round and round
Sometimes you're up
sometimes you're down
It's just a ride, it's just a ride
don't be scared
don't hide your eyes
It may feel so real inside
but don't forget it's just a ride


Just a Ride by Jem.

Talk

Power.Music.Playlist.Coldplay.Talk.Play.

"So you dont know where you're going and you wanna talk
And you feel like going where you've been before
You tell anyone who'll listen but you feel ignored
Nothing is really making any sense at all
Let's talk,let's talk...
Let's talk,let's talk..."

"Talk" by Coldplay

'Excuse me?'
'I'm sorry,are you talking to me?'
'Who else in this cafe is within applicable radius of the phrase "Excuse me"?'
'Well,I'm sorry i was reading and...'
'Yeah,i know.I tend to do that with my Ipod too.Just drowning the rest of the world away with the volume huh?'
'The rain outside's doing the job pretty well i'd say.'
'Haha,yeah.I guess so,yeah.'
'So...what is it?'
'What what?'
'You said "Excuse Me".Im assuming that meant that you needed my help.'
'Oh,that.Haha,sorry.That sort of slipped my mind there.Hi,I'm Faye.'
'Will.'
'Is that short for anything?'
'William,actually.But i always found that pretty...'
'Gay?'
'Haha,yeah.That,gay.'
'Yeah,like totally.Haha.'
'So...what is it that i can do for you,Faye?'
'I sort of...kind of waiting for somebody?'
'And he's awfully late,probably giving excuses that the rain's a pain in the ass,and he's stuck in traffic.'
'How did you...?'
'Im a red-blooded male.Too.'
'Ah.Haha.You've got a point there.'
'Dont you just hate it?'
'What,men?'
'Haha.Well,that too maybe.But,im talking about the excuse.It's as if every car's a convertible,as if the rain has got anything to do with him being stuck in a traffic on a rainy day.'
'Yeah,i hate that.He's...like that.I guess.I cant stand him sometimes.'
'So how long have you been waiting?'
'Almost an hour,and he just called to tell me he's gonna be late for another.'
'Punctuality is a virtue.'
'For women.'
'Especially,not women.'
'How do you explain my boyfriend then?'
'You've seen him with his pants down?'
'Erm,no.Why?'
'Well,then he's probably a tranny.That's my answer to that.'

*

'What you doing here in the cafe on a rainy day like that anyway,Will?'
'Just...things i guess.Things i want to get away from.'
'Annoying things?'
'Yeah,those.And more...i guess.'
'You know,they have a technical name for those.'
'Oh yeah?What is it?'
'"Life".'
'Ah,i've heard that before.What a bitch.'
'Want to talk about it?'
'Im not sure if you want to listen.'
'You're not sure if you are sure about that either,right?'
'What?Wait,you do this all the time huh?Talking to strangers in a cafe while waiting for your boyfriend?'
'No,not really no.This is the first i'd say.'
'How does it feel,for the first time?'
'That depends on the stranger i approached.'
'How am i doing then?'
'Nice.'

*

'It's my mom,actually.I'm actually in town for a couple of days only.For my father's funeral.'
'Im sorry.'
'Dont be,it's hard enough for one person to do that on his own.'
'Why do you say that?'
'Well,it's funny,really.I was standing there in my black suit;this suit,actually.And there they were,my relatives,my friends,and some faces which ive never seen before,or names i havent heard before?We were just there...paying our respect to this guy.This guy now cold and dead in this...wooden box.It was a wooden box,i could tell.It was the cheapest coffin i've ever seen i swear.So there my little cousin was singing,as we all listened through the cemetry trees.I stood there,and looked at my father and completely overwhelmed by an...emotion.'
'What was it?'
'Nothing!I felt...nothing at all.I mean,i was there and people were crying softly around me.They were telling me that everything was going to be all right,and that my dad's in a better place,you know.All that stuff.I was thinking to myself,that i should be crying too,right?I should be throwing myself on the coffin and banging on it,telling my father to wake up and talk to me like he used to.But i didnt,you know.I just stood there and stared at this face i hardly even recognise.'
'It's good that you just left it like that though.It wouldve been a little too...Shakespear.'
'I have...memories of my father,you know?Him smoking out of his pipe as he rocked on his armchair beside the window,and the afternoon sun streaming in.How he hated my dog Jelly inside the house,and how he used to stop paper boys because they threw the papers into the sprinklers,then give them a good half an hour of lecture and scolding.'
'Poor kid.'
'Exactly.I wouldve pissed my pants.'
'So why did you feel...the way you felt?Or,lack thereof.'
'I dont know.I guess in a way,people think they know somebody well,but not truly so?Like,you've grown so close to somebody,but yet when you think back on the memories you shared with that person,they are just mere memories somehow.They are no more than...Christmas presents with nothing in it.It's like an empty box with a cool wrapper,you know?How do you get to know,i mean really know somebody when you cannot fully comprehend yourself?Do you really know yourself?'
'Yeah...i guess so.I hope so,at least?'
'Comon',it's not like we've known ourselves for that long.'
'Oh well...'
'Im just feeling emotional...i guess.Emotional for not being emotional.Does that make any sense to you?'
'Sometimes,somethings dont need to make sense at all.'
'You think so?'
'I dont think so,i just believe so.It's more beautiful that way,isnt it?'

*

'Sometimes i wonder if...Ryan's the right guy for me,you know?Are you with anybody?'
'No,not at the moment no.I was but...things got messed up and we sort of ended up...i mean,oh well...'
'Yeah,i know what you mean.We get that a lot,Ryan and i.'
'Get what?'
'Fights,you know.We argue over the smallest things.I know,ive read somewhere that happy couples lie to each other,and that arguments are only the natural part of a relationship,and that it's all...normal.But i dont know,i dont think what we argue about are realistically healthy.I mean,he gets pissed off when i talk to other guys,like close friends and stuff.He gets jealous easily,maybe too easy.Then he gets frustrated,and we will end up reaching for each other's throats at times.I hate it...i really do.'
'Im not insured,just so you know.'
'What?'
'Let's say he walks in before his scheduled time of delay,and sees you with this stranger in a cafe talking happily to each other,he's going to come after your throat,and then mine.Im not insured,just so you know.Again.'
'Haha,well dont worry.When he says he's gonna be here in another hour's time,i usually add another hour to that.He's not going to murder you anytime soon,no worries.'
'All right,go on.'
'Anyway,sometimes i feel so restrained.I feel like some prisoner in his cell or something,it's not like my world revolves around him,he doesnt own me like some stupid CDs,you know?He has his good parts,i know.Really,he does.He's really nice,and he loves his family and mine.But sometimes i question myself,you know.I ask myself,if i really made the right choice sometimes?What if,i made that wrong move on that chess board,and if it is too late to turn back.Checkmate?Im so afraid sometimes,so afraid of looking ahead,but at the same time the past too.What if there is that someone out there,someone perhaps better?I dont know...i'm just so confused...'
'Well dont be then,just relax.Dont think about it anymore.I bet your mother had her issues with your dad back when they got married.'
'Toilet seats.'
'What?'
'Toilet seats were an issue.'
'He never put them down?'
'She never lifted them up.'

*

'So what were you listening to there,before you came over and gave me a shock?'
'Oh,John Mayer.Heard of him?'
'Yeah,on radio and stuff.'
'He's brilliant.'
'Im not too into...Pop,stuff.'
'He's SO not what you call "Pop Stuff".It's this...Pop,Rock...Blues.Thing.'
'Right,mind if i listen?'
'Sure,here.That's the left earpiece.'
'Thanks.'

Searching all my days just to find you
I'm not sure who I'm looking for
I'll know it
When I see you
Until then, I'll hide in my bedroom
Staying up all night just to write
A love song for no one

I'm tired of being alone
So hurry up and get here
So tired of being alone
So hurry up and get here

I could have met you in a sandbox
I could have passed you on the sidewalk
Could I have missed my chance
And watched you walk away?




'Hmm.Catchy.'
'Isnt it?'
'Is that why you are troubled with your relationship?'
'What,the song?'
'Yeah,i mean he is clearly singing about possibilities of somebody out there...waiting.'
'Perhaps,yeah.Maybe.We are all writing our love songs for no one,arent we?'
'Yeah...Yeah,i guess we are.'
'Hey,hold on a sec.I think he's calling.'
'Sure.'

*

'He's waiting outside.I think i better get going.Hey,it's nice talking to you Will,William.'
'Dont call me that.You know i hate that.'
'Well,you go on with your music now.I wont disturb you any longer.'
'You are not disturbing,no.Definitely not.'
'Nice meeting you,wish i got to know you better.'
'Same to you.'
'I'll see you soon,i hope?'
'Yeah...yeah.I'll see you soon.'
'Goodbye...'
'Bye...Faye...'

In a bullet proof vest,
With the windows all closed,
I'll be doing my best,
I'll see you soon,
In a telescope lens,
And when all you want is friends,
I'll see you soon,
I'll see you soon...

Hyper Ballad

While i am not a fan of Bjork's music,i am however a fan of her lyrics.In particular,this song that i came across a few weeks ago.Melody-wise,let's just say it's not my cup of tea.It's kinda like,a cup of tea from outer space(Or rather,Iceland).But oh well,i love love love the lyrics,and i HAD to post it.

Hyper Ballad
Bjork



We live on a mountain
Right at the top
There's a beautiful view
From the top of the mountain
Every morning i walk towards the edge
And throw little things off
Like:Car-parts, bottles and cutlery
Or whatever i find lying around

It's become a habit
A way
To start the day

I go through this
Before you wake up
So i can feel happier
To be safe up here with you

It's real early morning
No one is awake
I'm back at my cliff
Still throwing things off
I listen to the sounds they make
On their way down
I follow with my eyes 'til they crash
Imagine what my body would sound like
Slamming against those rocks

And when it lands
Will my eyes
Be closed or open?

I'll go through all this
Before you wake up
So i can feel happier
To be safe up here with you...

Photograph

Every memory of looking out the back door
I had the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor
It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye...

"Photograph" by Nickelback

I hate Nickelback.But hate is probably not the right word to describe how much i despise them.Im sure Chad Kroeger is a nice chap,and they are a bunch of nice rockers(How oxymoronic that sounded,huh?),but damn Chad please get a new haircut.I swear you have the absolute worst haircut in the history of Rock.Or rather,music.No,even Mozart had a better do.Stop comparing.

I couldnt stop laughing at the video with them holding a concert at Portugal,and they were forced to stop playing a song halfway throwing because the audience was throwing rocks at them.Then there's the remix this dude did over the internet,mixing two of their songs together into one,and sounding exactly the same.The latter,being the chief reason why i dislike them so much,the lack of creativity and perhaps,originality too(We dont need another soft-rock band with bad dos,really).Besides,the story behind their band name's pretty laughable,too.

However,i do respect something about them though.Chad Kroeger reminds me of Rocky sometimes,how somebody sucker punches him in the face and he falls flat on the floor.He gets up,wipe that blood off his lips and say,"Well,okay.Let's continue fighting." And he does,and finally he comes up with a decent song which even my favourite John Mayer praised in one of his interviews."Photograph" is a pretty cool song indeed,and i love the chorus above in particular.One which i held close to heart as i surfed through Friendster this afternoon.

It's kinda funny sometimes,how you do the exact things you've sworn never to do ever again.You keep telling yourself that you are no longer a kid,and that such issues should be treated in a more...matured way,i suppose.But i just cant,sometimes,to bring myself to that level of acceptance.To just,willingly agree that this is it,that there is no control over your fate,c'est la vie.Sometimes,just sometimes,i still ponder over the past and get all frustrated over it.Get all pissed off about it,get all worked up about it,then depression and sadness sets in,and i feel like shit altogether.

I hate it,but the way i felt when i saw your photo with that other guy.Seriously,i felt like through my handphone right out of the window and take the bloody bus to your house.I thought about it,even in the rain out in the field.When i was drenched and soaked in the vehicle and mud-coated.Even when it was 4am in the morning and i had an ET blade in my hands,blister covered.Even when i bashed through the woods,slicing the back of my hand against the thorns,i kept thinking how things couldve been,perhaps just a little more effort,perhaps just one word or two more to make it to that extra mile.I never made it,and i remember myself,on Thursday morning in the middle of nowhere,hugging myself to the cold morning air and falling asleep to the morning dew which seemed like tears.

But,like the lyrics.I guess Chad Kroeger sang it right this time."It's hard to say it/Time to say it".It's goodbye,and please do forgive me.I know i told you that i'd get over you.That i will learn life all over again,the life without you around to talk to all the time.Where is Lacuna Inc. when you really need it,where you can erase painful memories,just tear pages of memories out of your mental diary.After all,technically it is brain damage.But it is just on par with a night of heavy drinking,nothing i'd miss.Right?

I remember we took a photograph once,and it took a few miserable tries upon the train.The sun was setting,i remember,and you leaned in close because the frame of my handphone is too damn small.You smiled,just the same in the photograph i saw.It's just funny how,in both photos you looked the same,but such a drastic difference in emotions for me,eh?I only wish you happiness,but fuck the fact that im not the one giving it to you.Seriously,it's tearing me up inside so bad,i dont recognise myself anymore.I dont,i really dont.I cant stop asking questions...So many,many questions...

What if there was no lie
Nothing wrong,nothing right?
What if there was no time
And no reason,or rhyme

What if you should decide
That you dont want me there by your side?
That you dont want me there in your life...

What if i got it wrong
And no poet or song
Could put right what i got wrong
Or make it feel i belong?

"What If?" by Coldplay


PS. Chris Martin is disgustingly brilliant.

Cleopatra and Me

People have the right to fly
Will when it gets compromised
Their hearts say,"Move along."
Their minds say,"Got your heart."

Let's move it along...

I remember what went through my head,only a little more than a year ago when i was at the airport,saying goodbye to my Secondary School buddy:Nothing.It was just blank,as i couldnt think of a possible emotion for that particular situation.I remember sitting on the MRT,as it made its way down the tracks.The scenary outside speeding by,all was a blur.Like the way the memories we shared,flashing by all so fast.He was about to leave Singapore for his studies,leaving the lot of us behind.

It's inevitable i guess,to leave old relationships to pursue your dreams,career,to get to your own destinations in life.But this time it was a little different than before.Usually,it's not hard to move on.It is not easy to just close your eyes,count to five,let your breath out and say,"I am going to move on now." and just take off.It is what you leave behind that makes up the burden of flight,and sometimes it weighs down on you so hard,you almost feel it inside as well.

This time it wasnt the memories that we shared,or rather lack thereof.How much i regret not knowing somebody,perhaps a little better after so long.It is always before one's departure,when you realise that maybe you shouldve spent a little more time with somebody,or said something you never got the chance to say,or done something a long time ago.It's funny how we've known each other for a little over a year and still remained as acquaintances,only until recently when she got her hands on a webcam.Funny,isnt it.

She's leaving in February,to sunny O'Australia;To the outbacks.Wonder how it is going to be like alone there,starting all over.She's so not like my sister,who is also a Leo.My sister's absolutely petrified to even head to town alone.All right,fine.That's over-doing it isnt it?My sister can never fully survive on her own.She needs a shepherd to guide her way step by step,and she likes to feel secure and safe.But here we have,this friend of mine.All she asks for is a personal toilet and phone calls home.To that,i take off my hat.

It's not the fact that she's leaving,really.But the fact that i never got to know her better,or made it an effort to do so in the first place.I feel happy for her,i really do.It's admirable for somebody to pursue their own dreams,as gutsy as herself.And as for me,am i willing to take on the same road?Am i gutsy enough as well,to chase after my dreams?Dont you just hate insecurity,how it bugs all Cancerians im sure.Being insecured about being insecured,how strange?

Wish i had known you better,my queen.;)



Halloween,2004.

El Daba

El Daba,Egypt.
November 6th,1942.
Near the Mediterranean Coast.

"Only the dead have seen the end of war..." ---Plato

The land rovers cruised down the dirt road through the middle of the Sahara,The Burning Hell.All was silent,save for the sound of the wind,the roaring of the engines under our feet and the silent screams within the men.

I held my rifle tight against my chest,and leaned my head upon the side.Private McGregor was in front of me,puking his guts out.Private James was humming a tune,as he stared blankly into the horizon.He fingered his dog tag,and as he did so a single drop of tear rolled down the side of his cheeks.His hands were trembling now,and could hardly cock his weapon when Captain Mills ordered us to do so.Sergeant Gates was in the corner,drinking gulps of water from his bottle.He seemed confident enough,cheering the boys up with a tap on the shoulder and the mentioning of God.But in his eyes i could see,the same turmoil that was going through myself as well.Fear,and more fear gripped our hearts.We were doomed man,on a mission far away from our home,our family,our girlfriends,wives and daughters...

The sound of engines was soon taken over by airplanes soaring above our heads.The lot of us ducked as it swooped low above,dropping bombs upon us like rain.The convoy was badly hit,and the tank before us exploded into a burning rubble,as shapes of burning men dashed everywhere across the desert sand,screaming.Private James was sobbing now,and his whole body was trembling.He mumbled something to himself,and was no longer singing.Even before the first bullet soared passed his head,he already looked as good as dead in those eyes.The eyes of hopelessness and of the approaching doom:Death.

From my breast pocket i fingered out my wallet,already torn and tattered.There were no cash in it,just dirt and Henry's blood when he died a week or two ago.In war,time doesnt matter anymore.Seconds seemed like minutes,minutes seemed like hours,and hours seemed like eternity.And eternity is made even more infinite when i open the flap of my wallet every time,when i see my wife Michelle's photograph slotted in right before i went to war.Then there is Julia,our most beloved daughter,the gift from God,my pillar of strength.

In the distance the city came into view.The rovers made a sharp right turn towards the main gates of the outer wall.In the middle of the city was a mosque,with a tower in the middle carrying a crescent and a star at the top.The moment the rover passed through the gates,waves of bullets came flying through the air and into the rover.The lot of us leaped off the sides and dashed for cover.The MG gunner was firinng away somewhere from the top of the building across the square,and in the middle barricades were set up with barb wires stretched out across.The Germans were unleashing waves of bullets upon us,and our hearts sank as the others fell twisted on the ground.

I took cover behind a broken truck,and the sound of bullets were deafening.I couldnt hear my buddy's voice anymore,as he shouted something from across the road.Bullets penetrated the side of the car and passed my helmet.He stared in horror,as somebody at the back of me was shot through the eye.Blood spurted out of his sockets like fountain,and he laid sprawled on the floor in his own pool of blood.

Chaos,that's all there was on the field.Men were screaming orders to one another,while others just screaming for the mercy of God.Private McGregor was beside me now,huddled in the corner with a cross in his hand.He was mumbling a prayer now,and somewhere within that i thought i heard the word "Mama" once or twice.

"We need to flank those German buggers from the right!" Captain Mills shouted from across the Square."Move!Move!"

Some of the boys dashed out into the open while others gave coverage fire,but to no avail.The slower ones were shot in the legs and in the sides,one of them had his left arm blasted off by a 7.62.He screamed,as he sprawled on the floor waving desperately for a medic.His right arm reached out for help,and tears welled up in his eyes.The bullets found their way to his good arm too,then later the back of his head.

Silence.A sudden silence overwhelmed me.Everything was moving in a slow motion now.I could only hear my breath and my heart beating,faster and faster.McGregor was still beside me,but i could only see his mouth moving rapidly.A rain of blood showered over the both of us,and the raw taste of blood lingered upon my lips.I touched my right breast pocket and felt my wallet.It was warm,and for a moment i thought i heard Michelle and Julia calling out to me.Softly and ever so gently.Right then,i took a deep breath and dashed out across the square.

It only took mere seconds,but i seemed like minutes as sand exploded between my running legs.The sandbags before me seemed like a thousand metres away,but i made it anyway.Bullets continued to soar above our heads,and Captain Mills ordered three men to clear the building with the MG gunner,including myself.I swallowed hard,and made made a dash of faith.

We made it to the bottom of the stairs leading up to the balcony upstairs.I signaled to one of the men to clear the room on the left while i will clear the one on the right with the other.We made our ways up the stairs,praying so hard that the old staircase wouldnt fall apart under our weight.The Germans were above,and i heard their screaming and yelling.Slowly we made our way to the top,and with a sudden burst of energy we sprang into the rooms and shot the Germans in their backs.

The MG gunner looked back in fright as i pounced on him with my dagger and slashed his throat.He laid,limp as a fish on the floor of the balcony.Outside,the troops continued to scream orders to one another.I saw Captain Mills leading a group of men along the walls on the other side of the square just when a Tiger tank appeared from around the corner with a company of troops following closely behind.We were completely outnumbered,and in Captain Mills eyes,i saw only helplessness and hopelessness.He stood,with his arms wide opened,accepting his fate as his men ran for their lives.He was penetrated by so many shots his blood lingered in the air for a while,mingled with dust and the screams of his men dying after him.We were going to be surrounded,i thought.The German troops were too many,and there was no way out.

No way out...

Just then,Private McGregor came upstairs.In his hand was a little Arabic girl dressed in tattered dress.She mustnt have been more than ten years old,and her pink skirt hung loose upon her waist.She looked dreadfully starved,with her cheek sinking into her cheek bones.Her hair was a mess and covered in dust,and in her eyes all i saw was a blank.

"Where did you find her?" i asked McGregor.

"She was hiding in one of those baskets.I dont understand Arabic,but i think she's asking for food." he answered.

I squatted down,and placed my hands on her shoulders.She was shivering when i looked into her eyes,which were a beautiful display of crystal blue.It sparkled,and it almost reminded me of Julia.Oh,my Julia...

"We are surrounded man," the other guy said."The Germans are coming."

From below we heard the sound of German troops marching through the streets,screaming orders.The sound of tank rumbling past the house and the sound of boots upon sand.That was all we heard then,no American troops,no English,nothing.Just German,and we knew then that we were doomed men waiting to die.The little girl too,grabbed my pants and buried her face into them.She began to sob,and the way she did reminded me so much of Julia whenever she's done something wrong,and Michelle was her only form of refuge.I touched her hair,and for a split moment i thought i saw Julia hugging my legs.I collapsed to the ground,and buried my face into my palms.Helplessness and fear took over me,and i wept under the window as the other guys watched the Germans clearing house after house.

"Ante...Ante..." the girl said as she pulled my pants once again.I looked up,and in her hands a blood soaked handkerchief.She then pointed her index finger to her right eye,then moved it down her cheek.With her handkerchief she wiped the trail of her finger away,then handed it to me once more.

I reached out for it,and under my breath i kept saying Julia's name.I couldnt help but see my little girl in her eyes.I took it,and the handkercheif smelled of raw blood.But i didnt care,because i couldnt stop crying.I couldnt stop thinking about how far away i was from my wife and daughter,in El Daba.

McGregor and the other guy were below,and i heard them shouting something to each other.Suddenly,a round of fire roared through the air below.We covered our ears,and then there was silence.The Germans were in the house,and we heard boots running about on the floor below.I panicked,and pulled the little girl to my side.My heart pounded,and in my mind i kept telling myself this is it.This is it...

I opened a cupboard in the corner of the room and motioned for the girl to go in.She followed,and the sound of Germans were approaching.I gripped my rifle tight,and with whatever rounds that i had in my magazine i cocked my weapon.The footstep stopped,and then silence.It was then followed by more footsteps coming up the stairs,and i took a last glance at my right breast pocket with the wallet in it.I could hear the girl's heavy breathing inside the cupboard,and my own as i awaited my fate.

The swing door crashed opened,and the Germans came in.Rounds were fired,and i remember my finger never leaving the trigger as i fired at the Germans.They collapsed,one by one,and for a moment i thought everything was going to be all right after all.Then from the corner of my eyes,a shadow moved.A thud in my chest,and then it was black.I sprawled on the floor,with my hands grabbing at my chest.My uniform was blood soaked,and i could barely breathe.Every breath was like thousands of needles against my lungs,and i felt the life inside drain away as i remained there,helpless.The German stood over me,with his barrel still pointed on my head.

"Würfel..." he said,and smiled under his breath.

"La!",was all i heard when a shape came through the cupboard door and onto the German.He missed my head my an inch,and turn to look at the girl,who was then grabbing his thighs.

"Minfadlik,ante..." she said."Minfadlik..."

She was screaming,and she kept on doing so.That was all i heard,and my vision slowly became blurry.I thought i saw the German carrying the girl away,screaming and kicking."Ante!Ante!" she kept yelling,but my eyes were closing in.

"Julia..." i managed to say."Dont take away my Julia..."

And then everything faded to black,for the last time.

Heartbreak Cafe

Love after Love

The time will come
when,with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door,in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say,sit here.Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine.Give bread.Give back your heart
to itself,to the stranger who has loved you

all your life,whom you ignored
for another,who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs,the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit.Feast on your life.

It's been raining all weekend,the longest in the boy's recent memories.He has a bittersweet relationship with the rainy weather,not because of the drenched clothes that come along with it most of the time,but the memories they bring.The smell of a approaching rainstorm,when your nose tingle to the salty air.The wind blows,and the cloud gathers.When the world darkens and all is in a shade of gray,the boy will think of the girl,and wonder if she is thinking the same somewhere under the same cloud...


Three hours into the book,and the boy couldnt put it down,neither has the rain relent on its wrath upon the town.People entered the cafe,all drenched and wet.Some cursed and swore,while others laughed it off over a cup of warm chocolate.It was a busy little cafe,fairly well-known to the locals.It's nothing like Starbucks,with branches everywhere across the country,but just a little family-owned business around the corner.The ones with memories lingering all around,even upon the walls where customers would leave their thoughts or comments,even random quotes or sketchings upon.It was a cozy little cafe,and the boy loved it.

On the table before him was a book,"The Time Traveller's Wife".A book by Audrey Niffenegger,and he loves it.He how twisted a love story this book has,how intensely moving the story is,and most of all how much he related to Henry and Clare.The smell of his Devil's Kiss Latte filled his nostril,as he took a long sip quietly in the corner of the cafe.The soft music played over the stereo above,and the boy was tired.He has been in that cafe for four hours straight,and three cups of coffee later he was still reluctant to leave.He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes a little.He took a look around the walls,with the beautiful graffitti all around.Quotes written by people he havent heard of all around,and it was a big mess in a beautiful sort of way."The door that squeaks gets the oil..." said one of the quotes,and that made the boy chuckle a little it reminded him of his mother's saying a long time ago.

A couple entered,and through the boy's blurry eyes all he could see were shapes.But the silhouette of the girl was unmistakable,the silhouette he has seen a dozen times;and most of all,that very last time.The last time...

He rubbed his eyes again,and put on his glasses.His heart skipped a beat,and then another,and then another,now faster.She was with another boy,a boy he hasnt seen before.They were hand in hand,and under the red umbrella they were laughing and joking,all happy.It was the girl,the boy thought.The girl who left him with a mountain of questions,a half-hearted kiss and most of all,a shattered heart so broken its been lost under the bed of memories for years and years.

The boy was dumbfounded,and waves of emotions washed over him.Memories he chose to forget started to come back to him,when the girl used to fall asleep in his arms.The time when she laughed till she cried to his awfully made brownies,and the time in the rain when he heard his heart shatter so loud inside,it was deafening.He heard it again,and as if the sound was real the girl spunned around and saw the boy looking at her too.Just then,from the stereo a soft song began to play.The boy heard it before,but couldnt put his finger on it.The girl heard it too,and her smile was all of a sudden,wiped away from her face.

If i gave you the sky
If i laid down my life
Would you believe me then?

The girl sat down with the other boy across the aisle from the boy.He didnt dare to look at the girl,nor did the girl dare to do the same.The sat quiet in their chairs and pretended not to be aware of each others' existence.The boy with her chattered away,something about his day at work and his dog named Elessar.The girl was uninterested,because she was nervous.Nervous because she had a secret;Nervous because she never told the new boy about this secret;Nervous because the boy was there,across the aisle;Nervous because a part of her memory now sat across the aisle,too.

If i promised to change
If i carried the blame
Would you believe me then?

The boy tried to read the book somemore,but he could not concentrate.He finished the Latte,and pretended to read.The rain continued to splatter on the tin roof outside of the cafe,the crowd chattered endlessly,but the sound of all that drowned by the boy's inner thoughts,the turmoil within his mind right now.He took a glance from the top of the book,and from the corner of his eyes he met hers,and there in the cafe on that fateful day,they loved once again.Her eyes sparkled like before,and she smiled a little,but was nervous before the other boy.The boy too,smiled under his breath.Across the aisle they conversed,but only in their eyes.Like a secret they both shared,now told again between their eyes and over the smell of brewing coffee.

Could you see it like me
And believe what i see
Could you listen and remember that i loved you
Only because i told you,because i told you so...

The girl looked away from the boy's gaze,because she was afraid the boy before her might suspect something.It was a painful memory for her,how she had to choose between the two at the very beginning.It all felt right at first,to have chosen this boy over the other.But now she regret to have made that choice,that maybe she mightve been better off the other way round.Perhaps back then,she was looking for Mr. Right Now instead of Mr. Right,and on that rainy day so many nights ago she missed out her chance on that perfect boy,that boy talked to her on the phone,in that playground upon the hill,and in her heart when all came crashing down.

If you told me you lied
If i stayed true and tried
Would you believe me then?


The boy thought of the past,when they were still together.How painful it was a choice for him to let her go,when his hand released his grasp of hers,when her lips left his on that rainy day,when his tears mingled with the rain and was lost.Despite the painful memories,he smiled at the imperfection of it all.The bittersweet memories that she gave to him.He smiled,because she was all he ever wanted.He smiled,because at one point of his life,he completed her life.Most of all,she completed his.

If your beauty was gone
But my love lingered on
Would you believe me then?

Could it be possible?The girl thought.That if she could turn back the hands of time?What if she chose the boy across the aisle over the one sitting in front of him now,going on and on about mindless stuff?What if...What if...she excused herself to the bathroom.And inside she wept quietly,for she didnt want anybody to see her.Her tears dropped one by one,into the sink and as they flowed into the sink she felt like her life was shrinking.Yet,she was hopeful,and she had faith.She loved the boy across the aisle.

Could you see it like me
And see it like me
Could you listen and remember that i loved you
Only because i told you,because i told you so...

The boy saw her leave,with tears welling in her eyes.In that moment,he thought he felt a sour feeling in his nose.He rubbed it off,but it was still there.Old memories,pricking at his emotions.He thought to himself,what if he had tried a little harder?Perhaps things wouldnt have turned out the way it did.What if he had just grabbed hold of her hand on that rainy night?When her kiss was still warm upon his lips,when all was not the end and not too late to take back?Then again,he snapped back to reality.It's all the past now,and the boy has moved on.His life,his career,his memories shall remain as memories no matter how sweet they were,or how painful they were and still are.It was a painful decision,but he made up his mind.He closed his book,and stood up from his seat.He took in a deep breath as he passed the girl's seat.Persian Rose,he thought it was.Her favourite perfume,and apparently still was.He opened his umbrella,and outside the cafe he looked back just one last time.With a sigh,he left.Forever,and promised to never look back.Ever.

You take the wheel for now
Im too tired to drive this one home anyhow,
For now.

The girl got out of the washroom,and saw that the boy was gone.She looked around for him,desperate.But he was nowhere in sight.He was gone,for real this time.The boy at the table asked her what was wrong,but she said she had a sore eye.She lied,for the hundredth time.Over the radio was that same soft song sang by a woman.She heard the last lines,and before that song was fully done she dashed out into the rain.The traffic was heavy,and so was the rain.It drew a veil over her eyes as she looked for the boy.But he was gone,forever.He promised never to look back,ever.

When you mention my name
Let this one thing remain
My love
Believe me now...

Special thanks to Derek Walcott and Jonatha Brooke...

The Whole 16 Kilometers

What a dread route marches are,especially when you have to book in early on a public holiday and march overnight in the middle of nowhere,with your mind somewhere in the same twillight realm.The truth is,this route march thing couldve been totally scraped,if the CO had a little more sense and forget about those "Bonding" thing he has in mind.Let's admit short fart,it's not going to happen.Ice-creams will never taste good with peas,so you can go kiss my epic ass about it.

While the rest of the world were in their warm beds indoors,or enjoying their newly bought storybook from Kino,drinking to a nice warm cup of Latte by the bed,the lot of us were at Sungei Gedong camp,staring up into the sky above which was then hidden behind towering rain clouds,threatening to unleash mother nature's power upon us.The lot of us prayed for rain,while others would rather finish the march dry and clean.They however,forgot the simple truth that there is no such thing as dry and clean in the army.Grow up,fools.

So it began,the long march through the lonely night.By the time we started it was already 1230am and half our eyes were already closed.We tried to cheer up,but exhaustion took over five meters into the march.I found myself straying towards my right everytime i try to walk straight,and Martin's silence sure wasnt helping.

There were four checkpoints in total,with the last being the destination;The final destination.We marched through the night,and through the rain at some point.Thankfully,God's wrath came in forms of drizzles and needle like raindrops,and those saved us a whole lot of trouble i must say(Gore-Tex must be the greatest invention in military history,period).I tried to cheer up,but we were all tired.Not because of the march,but it was the time we were actually marching.Marching through the night has all but one advantage:It's cooling.At least you dont have to overcome the heat of the morning/afternoon.The most you have to worry about is hyperthermia,but what are the odds of that happening in Singapore?Thats like having a bloody heatstroke in Antartica,are you kidding me?

Carrying a MG is no joke.All 14.5kgs on your shoulder,pulling you down as you try to catch up with the bastard walking in front is a dreadful experience for anybody.I carried that for the last leg of the march,and though it was the shortest of all the legs,mine involved a tedious uphill walk,with the slope at a ridiculous fifty degrees.All right,forty-five.

It was almost the end,and the boys were glad.However,happiness were hidden under hours of sleepless marching,as well as shirt-drenching sweat.By the time we were halfway up the slope,half the troops wanted to give it up and roll down the slope while the other half already died on the slope in their minds.I for one,just forced my already numbed legs on,with the MG still on my shoulder going against the gravity.

A little history behind this hill,they call the "Elephant Hill".To be honest,nobody knows why the hell they call it the "Elephant Hill".Probably because it's shaped like a big ass "E",or it has a steep-ass slope on one side like the trunk of an elephant.Whatever the morale behind the name of the god-damn hill is,the hill is where OCS boys would climb after their 24km march,and watch the sunrise.Sort of like a mini-ceremony,to signify their "Come-to-age" i guess,and to tell them how important our land is,how close Malaysia is,you know.All those propaganda bullshit.Suddenly farting sounds melodious.

So there we were,gathered on top of Elephant Hill at lovely 6am in the morning,with the morning air releasing it's full force upon us.Some of us were partially drenched,and the wind didnt help to blow us dry.We were freezing like winter monkeys,and i swear if i sneezed my saliva would freeze and stay in mid-air.I put on my jacket once more,and the lot of us just got ourselves(mildly)comfortable on the ground while we waited for breakfast to arrive.In my mind i was thinking,what if the tonner rolled down the slope halfway up?That wouldve been a sight,truly.

Bread with egg mayo spread,and hot milo was what we had that morning.Simple,but that was enough to cheer the lot of us up.Jonathan gobbled up nine of those sandwiches,and i wonder what PC would say about his IPPT if he saw it.I ate one,and comfortably squeezed myself between two platoon mates and stared up into the dawning sky.

It was beautiful,and far in the horizon the second link from Singapore to Malaysia.Funny how so many people commuted along that road,even in the wee hours of the morning.In the distance the little hills stretching out into the distance,and the mist still lingering around the hills like crowns upon a king's head.It was peaceful,and though the wind was painfully cold and the food was awfully disgusting,i found my moment of peace up there on the little hill with a stupid name.

I remember smiling,and falling asleep for a brief while.The stars lingered in the sky for a while,and i was hoping to see shooting stars like,the time during one of the numerous field camps.I breathed in deep,and felt alive."I survived..." i murmured,and closed my eyes.

PS.Missed the bloody sunrise though.Bummer.

29 Anderton Drive

It was routine,when the siren in the room of the men's restroom starts to wail.The boys would drop whatever they were doing and dash for the changing room to gear up.Under a minute and a half wasnt an easy task,not at the beginning at least.For old birds like us it was a walk in the park,and soon enough we found ourselves climbing onto the fire engine as it roared out of the station with half the doors still hanging opened and the siren wailing down the street towards yet another burning inferno.All in the day of a fireman,i thought to myself.

"29 Anderton Drive..." i murmured to myself,as the fire engine sped down the street and past red lights.The wind blew through the opened window and the papers in my hand fluttered.I struggled to read the rest of the 911 call,and in my mind something triggered an old memory.Something about that address meant something to me,but i couldnt put my finger on it,not at that time.It was not until later,when the smoke cleared and the ceiling dripped down water when i realised the significance of the address:Regret,remorse and shame.

It was a rundown neighbourhood,with most of the houses closely packed together and standing merely one storey high.Their front lawns littered with old bottles of beer,uncollected newspapers and unattended hedges lined most of the house.The house on fire could be spotted the moment we turned into the drive.A small crowd has gathered outside,with some friendly neighbours trying to put out the fire with their garden hoses,which was utterly stupid considering the extend at which the fire has already consumed the North side of the house.

The lot of us reached and the crowd gave way.Somebody shouted something to the crowd,while i started pulling out the hose.The back of the house was totally consumed,leaving the front bearly intact.Smoke poured out from all the windows and tiny explosions could be heard from the back as well.The crowd backed away,and in their eyes i saw fear,tears,and in some of the children a tad bit of excitement too.

"Where are the Smiths?" somebody yelled."Where are they?"

"Oh my god." Larry said,as he connected the hose to the hydrant."There's somebody in there..."

Nobody likes extra duties,especially if they happen to fall on public holidays.It is the first day of 2006,and i am already dreading the rest of the year.It felt like a bright sunny Sunday morning,and you are outside your house stretching to the morning sun.You smile,and the paper boy rides by shouting a greeting to you as he threw the papers.It's a perfect morning,and as you walk down the pavement barefooted to get the papers something under your feet felt soft,most and lukewarm.You stare down,and there it was.Under your feet,Charlie's crap was under your feet.So there goes your perfect Sunday morning,as you spend half the morning getting rid of the stain and the horrific smell.

That was how i felt,as i sat in the station alone with a few buddies on the first day of 2006,playing Poker and killing time.I was playing,but at the same time my mind was elsewhere.I was thinking about my daughter,Sarah.I was thinking about my wife Jessica,and our son due in about six month's time.I wanted so much to be home with them,to feel my wife's hair while she baked her apple pies while Sarah hopped around the kitchen singing songs to us.Instead,all i had in my hands were poker cards and a cigarette.On the table a couple of beers,despite strict rules of the station chief allowed a bottle or two since it was the new year and everybody felt like shit.

Of all the times,the siren had to sound when i was about to win.We threw the decks down and dashed down to the changing room as per routine.Chief was there too,and he gave us a description on the call.I didnt catch it,but all i heard was a number through the heavy helmet and suit.

Larry and I hacked the front door down with our axes and the rest ran into the burning house with the hose in their hands.It was a uncomfortably small house just by looking at it,and now instead of a usual ceiling it was covered with a layer of thick smoke coming from the end of the corridor.I couldnt see anything three feet before me,and as i crept closer towards the end of the house the heat inside the suit became unbearable.I was breathing hard,and a wave of dizziness swept over me as i opened the door to a room,now half consumed by fire.

Each of us took a room while the rest tried to put out the fire at the back.I was at the first room to the left,and apparently that was the master bedroom of some sort.The fire was put out,and i cleared the room of any survivors.Water dripped from the ceiling and the walls,which now had a gapping hole in the side leading to the next room.Burnt soft toys strewned on the floor,while on the charred cupboard photographs of the resident,twisted and melted due to the heat.But there was one picture i noticed,hanging upon the wall on the far side of the room unharmed.It was the picture of a woman and a man,with a little boy standing in the middle.They were smiling in the sun,with the boy's hands tightly wrapped around his parents thighs.They were happy,and suddenly it dawned on me.My eyes widened,and my head spinned n circles.I said a silent prayer,and dashed out of the room right into the back of the house screaming,in the helmet and deep inside my mind.

We arrived on the street,and half expected the usual sight.A crowd,police cars,thick smoke and fire.There were none of those,and the boys dropped off the fire engine and got to the house.To our surprise,a boy was standing at the front,panick strickened.He was about seven,or nine at the most.He wore a green shorts,which only reached halfway down his thights.Multi-coloured shirt and a messed up hair.He was screaming something in a language the boys and i didnt catch or understood.I tried to calm the boy down,but he didnt understand me nor the other way round.The boys wheeled to the back to give the house a thorough check,and in five minutes we found out what the boy was screaming about.

I dashed to the back of the house where the kitchen was.I smelled a burnt dinner,and on the stove was a frying pan with it's content burnt and disfigured.We were all in the kitchen by then,and in the middle of us the boy who was still screaming something hysterically.He was pointing to a room down the hall,and i followed.

Already my first day of 2006 was spent in the station playing poker cards with the boys,away from my beloved family.And now i have a crazy kid blabbering about something inside the room,calling the station because of some stupid fire on the stove.I wanted to axe the kid right then,i really did.The fire was put out,but inside the helmet i was fanning my own fire.Somebody better keep the hose close,because i was sure i was about to explode.


"David!David!" Anderson sounded,as he pulled my sleeves."Dont go in there yet!It's not cleared!"

"I have to see it!I have to see it!" i yelled,but to no avail.I was panting too hard and too fast for the boys to understand what the hell i just said.

The place was burning,and from the looks of it nothing survived the flame.Tables collapsed and the chairs stood on two legs,with the back on the floor.Despite the warning,i dashed inside the room and looked around for them.

"Dont be here,please dont be here..." i repeated over and over.I couldnt help it,because i was desperate.Desperate to see some kind of hope,or a miracle,or some sign that would make my guilt stop pounding it's ten-pound hammer against my temples.

Something crushed under my boots,and i looked down.It looked like one of the legs of the chair that broke off was under my feet now.But at a closer look,i saw that it belonged not to the chair but to a charred mass of twisted shapes in the corner of the room.It was then,that i screamed and screamed.Tears of horror came rolling down my cheeks,and then i saw it.Clearer than the lights of day,i knew what the address meant to me...

In the room,the boy lead me to the bed.Upon the bed laid a woman,frail and weak.She was about forty,but from the looks of her she couldve very well been sixty or more.Her skin sunk at her cheekbones,and her eyebags were darker than her pupils,now sunken deep into the sockets as well.Her hair had bits of white in it,untidy and strewned all over the yellow stained pillow.The room smelled like mould and urine,and beside the bed was a wheelchair.The boy continued explaining,but i couldnt take it anymore.

"Shut the fuck up kid." i said."I didnt spend my time away from my family,just to entertain yours,you motherfucking son of a bitch."

"But..." the kid uttered,his first English in ten minutes."Food,for mama.She no move,so i make.And then fire,i scared.Mama cant move,so i phone.I phone!"

"Too bad for your crippled bitch then." i said.

The kid looked stunned,and for a moment i thought i saw tears welling in his big eyeballs.It rolled around for a while,and finally fell down.The woman was still asleep,but i didnt care too much for that.

"Fuck this shit!" i yelled,and the rest of us cleared the house within ten minutes,leaving the kid on the porch,wiping his tears with his sleeves,alone.


I saw it,and it was undeniable.29 Anderton Drive,it cant be.What are the odds?But it was real,my fears were true.At the side of the wall,was a chair.A wheelchair.Beside the wheelchair were two bodies,both burnt beyond recognition.The body on top was bigger than the one below.The body below was curled up,with its arms covering its face.The body on top was all over the one below,as if it was protecting the body below from the burning fire.I didnt step on the leg of a chair,i realised.I stepped on the leg of the body on top,and because of the intensity of the fire it was crushed under my weight.

I lifted my legs away in horro,but it was too late.To damage was done,way before the fire even started.Way before any of us got the call on this fateful day.It was when the kid called us for the love of his mother,and i gave him a shoulder and asked him to fuck off.

I kneeled in the kitchen and wept.I dont know how long i did it,but i wept like i never did before.

"Forgive me," i managed to say."Forgive me..."

The bodies remained where they were,the mouth of the boy hanging opened and loose upon his black jaw.As if he was still screaming to the pain,making it stop.And i was there too,screaming for the pain to stop.For the guilt to sieze.Let me be rid of this tearful memory,please...