In Continuum.

Notebook

Nope,i havent read Nicholas Sparks' "The Notebook".In fact,i have given up on his books.I mean,they are good sure.But i just hate the cliche of it all,how "A Walk to Remember" ended totally as ive expected.Even the disease Jamie contracted was the same.What are the odds?

Seriously,Nicholas.I know you are a romantic writer and all,but if you want to get more books sold,one more bought by me anyway,you better improve on the pattern of your writing,because i am getting sick of knowing the ending simply by guessing it.

Anyway,the "notenbook" here refers to this notebook i got since the very beginning of my army life.It's this notebook they gave to me,this little black notebook that has been with me through the very thickest and the very thinnest,i guess.

I remember waking up late at night,scribbling gibberish on the pages.Poems,song lyrics and the likes.Now,more than a year on and the notebook is still with me.Sadly though,some of the pages were torn out one reason or another,but most of the pages are still intact.I was just reading through the pages this afternoon,and found it a pretty pleasent and interesting experience,in terms of discovery,even for me.

Anyway,i consider the stuff i write in my notebook to be pretty private.And the fact that i am sharing with you guys here,proves that you guys are very important in my life,even though you guys might be just strangers,passing by my life.

1)Big stylised "Bullshit" written over the "The SAF Declaration" page.Haha.
2)An arrow pointing to the phease "Care for Soldiers",saying "Hahaha!".
3)My rifle number,serial number,and my rifle's technical details.
4)Lyrics for "Tracing".
5)Pencil sketch of the overview of my bedroom.
6)Field camp briefing.Something about sanitary,hygiene,first aid and stuff.
7)Field camp timetable,with the first few days crossed out.Part of these pages were smudged,because of sweat and water.Haha.
8)Calendar,with the whole of 2005 cancelled out,day by day.And 2006 has about 250++ days left for me till ORD.I've been keeping track,of course.
9)Various tabulations of dates,such as "373 Days as of 1st Dec 2005","730 days since the Start","288 days as of 23rd Jan 2006".
10)Picture of a skaterboy with a "57" jersey,pointing a victory sign going "Peace".
11)Half drawn guitar.
12)"You will suffer me!"
13)Lyrics for "Not Myself".
14)Lyrics to "3X5".
15)A BMT song we were forced to learn back then.Moronic lyrics,so i wont elaborate.
16)A mathematical evidence of the wastage of resources,done by me:

1 company - 200 Recruits
21 companies - 4200 Recruits
1 meal for 1 person - $5.00
4200 Recruits - $21000
3 meals a day - $63000
1 week - $441000
1 month - $1764000
1 year - $24 million

Nearly 2 million dollars a month!Imagine the amount of tax used.The opportunity cost of spending 24 million dollars on meals a year.

17)My wishlist.It includes Dvds,John Mayer song books,Clothes,handphone and CDs.
18)CNY 2005 Plans.
19)A little poem i wrote.Very bad,actually.Not worth sharing at all.
20)Lyrics for "Daughters".
21)Lyrics for "Quiet".
22)Lyrics for "Message in a Bottle".
23)To Kill List.With names of sergeants and officers,and stars beside those names indicating the amount of hatred i have for them.A picture of a flame with legs and hands,burning off a page on a calendar that says "June 4th".
24)A picture of Eugene with a Samurai sword.
25)Matador lecture notes.
26)More,lyrics for "Daughters".
27)Poem:

In your eyes a mystical divine
A beauty from the world you alone divide
These sparkling eyes,a real-life guide
Under these skin,the angel hides.

Beneath those hair,a pair of wings
Letting off a scent like fresh summer breeze
When you speak,the noise will seize
Behold!A voice beyond belief.

A gift from Heaven you must be
The rising sun beyond the sea
Here i shall wait alone to see
Those beautiful eyes again before me

28)More,poem.

A mere memory of the distant past
The forgotten existence of the future
And in the present i am no one
No more than a flower in the gutter

A space to fill in the growing fissure
Times I've tried,still getting greating
And now i am enstrangled within with no one
No aid comes but my doom to suffer

Sailing upon the sea and the ocean vast
A heart of holes,bruised and punctured
And in the void i am no one
Through the abyss,echoes of my mocking laughter

29)Strange anime-like drawings of characters.
30)Field pack checklist.
31)SOP Box checklist.
32)A half written chinese song i attempted to write.
33)Picture of an asshole(Dont ask).
34)Chapters of my novel.
35)A blog entry,titled "The Broken Violist".
36)One of the first few blog entries,indicating how i felt that the camp is similar to a prison and a hospital.
37)Vulgarities.Hahaha.A picture of Dexter and my new name "Weilien the Bald".
38)Lyrics for "Comfortable".
39)Lyrics for "Why Georgia".
40)Lyrics for "Bigger Than my Body".
41)Picture of a stickman in a box,with "SAF" written big and bold at the side.The stickman holds his head,crying with the box catching fire.
42)A cool guy jammin' on his electric.
43)Random scribble of "Holy Shit" and "Oh my God!",with partial lyrics for "Green Eyes".
44)Lyrics for "Cannonball".
45)Lyrics for "Stitched Up".
46)Books to get,and this includes "1941" by George Orwell,"To Kill a Mocking Bird" by Harper Lee.
47)Lyrics to "Gravity".
48)Lyrics to "Who Did you Think I Was?"
49)Partial lyrics for "Another Kind of Green".
50)Lyrics to "Talk".
51)An overview of the interesting events that happened in India.Something i jotted down back there,fearing that i might forget the details when i blog about them.
52)A poem by Homer.
53)A poem by Derek Walcott.
54)Lyrics for "Even So".
55)RCO lecture notes.
56)Partial lyrics to "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" and "Time of your Life".
57)Chorus of "Fix You".
58)A stupid song i wrote for the water parade in BMTC.
59)Signatures.A whole lot of them.
60)"Z Man"!
61)Half written song,wrote it in the dark.

Serenade,under the pepper-stray of stars
Awaits you,standing here a lonely guy
Running away from all my lies
A part of me died,the rest just cried
Hard,so much...

(I was possibly drunk here)


62)Partial lyrics for "You Weren't There".
63)Lyrics to "Sad Song Part 2",something i wrote during my insomnia days.
64)India stuff checklist,with a sketch of the logo of "Saw II".Yeah,i drew the fingers too.
65)John Abtu!

Raining Coffee

Tuedays and Thursdays,two of the more sorted after days of the week.Not particularly because of the timetable and stuff,but rather the supposed Night Off on those two days.Usually i would take a cab back home and check my emails,eat some snacks and stuff till book in time.But on Tuesday i headed out with Martin and See Hwee to Lot 1 to check out some Dvds and food.

Anyway,after wandering around the mall for a little over an hour and a half,we decided to head back to camp.Martin promised QinYou to grab a cup of ice-blend outside the MRT station before we return,so we stopped by that famous stall to grab one before it officially closes.

Anyhow,five seconds into the queue this Malay woman before us in blue flared up at the lady at the counter.She said something about her trying to tell the lady something,but she wouldnt pay attention to her.Then,without any warnings whatsoever,she swung the cup of coffee ice-blend in her hands and threw it into the stall and onto the shopkeepers inside.

The coffee splattered all over the place,on their aprons and the floor of the stall.The three of us were behind the Malay lady,and as she swung the cup over her head the lid came off and whatever was in it formed a little rainbow over her head as they went airborne.I ducked quickly enough,and jumped out of the raining coffee in time.Martin however,wasnt so lucky.

He was air-raided by coffee across the chest.You could see the coffee on his collar and all the way across his white polo t-shirt.What a day for him,really.

Anyway,the crazy Malay lady stormed off right afterwards,still cursing under her breath.The lady behind the counter,probably in her late thirties,was in shock as she wiped coffee off her apron and shirt.The rest of the customers just looked blankly at the mess the crazed Malay woman just made at the scene.

"Oh,sorry about that." said the lady,as Martin made his order.

"Dont worry," i said. "Just charge him half the price."

Well,instead of charing it half the price,the lady charged Martin free.Totally.What an angel,really.But still,she kept complaining about the crazed swine that ran away from the crime scene.And damn,i couldve done something right then,but was too stunned to do anything whatsoever.

I mean,let's break the situation down shall we?I dont know what the hell happened there,before we came.But apparently,according to the lady,the mad Malay mofo was unhappy with the quality of the coffee ice-blend,saying that it tasted artificial whatsoever.Well,first of all,what do you expect from a coffee ice-blend that cost merely two dollars?You didnt expect coffee brewed from Brazillian,Jamaican or Ethiopian coffee beans did you?So what the hell was up with you,tossing the coffee ice-blend at the lady for?

Second of all,if you want to throw at the lady,go ahead.You have all the right to do so.But please,consider the innocent citizens behind you when you throw it,at least take an aimed shot or something.Dont just throw the bloody cup without actually noticing the people behind you,because seriously if i have gotten around fast enough you wouldve been pounded up so bad you wouldnt be able to tell yourself apart from a pulp.

Third of all,maybe it was the lady at the counter's fault.Perhaps she was too busy clearing up the last bit of stuff before the stall closes,and ignored your complaints.That,i understand.However,did you seriously think by throwing your coffee at the lady,she is going to listen to you afterwards?This world does not work like John Doe's world in Se7en,whereby you have to throw a sledge hammer at somebody's head to catch that person's attention.You happen to live in Singapore,a country with the lowest crime rates in the world.So spare of your public display of stupidity and bring it home with you.

Oh,and one last thing.I know,for somebody with such low intellects,you are probably never going to surf the net,let alone find my blog.In the events that you do,you'd probably not understand a single word i typed.Well,if i grabbed your arm just then i wouldve forced you to apologise to Martin for his shirt.I know,Martin doesnt have a great sense of style when it comes to fashion,but your tips concerning a splatter of coffee across his chest didnt help,at all.

So you can go screw yourself,next time you decide to toss whatever you decide to throw at whoever you are pissed off with.Just pray that you dont meet me the next time,because i swear whatever you throw at me my words will bring you down to a point whereby you'd feel like a worm,and then wave a sign with your tail for all the birds to swoop down and tear you up into worm pulp,because i will kill you with my words,then my punch if the birds dont appear.

Bitch.

Admirable People

All right,i admit.Finally,after 78 entries i am out of things to talk about.It's sort of like those mental blocks writers get halfway through their novels i guess.I mean,you cant expect me to have something to talk about throughout the course of my life,right.I can talk about the army,sure.But that'd make Blogger.com out of business and would need more pages than the paper needed for the Koran and Bible combined.Oh yes,and i need another book,the size of the whole "Dark Towers" series by Stephen King summed up for complains alone.

Anyway,so here is a random post,a spontaneous one.I was just looking through my iTunes a while ago,looking through the songs i have downloaded over the years.Then i thought to myself,that these are really REALLY talented people,or rather very admirable ones too.

Come to think about it,it is so hard to really be famous in the states.Just look at their talents,what they are capable of.Then you look at yourself,with total shame.Okay,maybe not shame.But it's just the relativity between you and them,it's just a thousand miles apart.

I dont want to be pessimistic,or in any way think about the impossibilities of the future.I dont want to end up like Virginia Woolf,in a way.I mean,the fact that she left what she thought was a lie,and pursued what she really wanted was admirable,yes.But i dont think i have the guts,or rather i have the sense,to not fill my coat pocket with rocks and take a stroll into the river.I mean,she couldve just left her husband and left for London,right?Perhaps,the hours of thinking before her ink and pen took a toll on her power of judgement.

So,here's a list of people i find particularly worthy of mentioning.I guess in a way,if i could,i might just make a check list out of them,and make sure i meet all of them before i die.Wouldnt that be quite an interest goal?


John Mayer Trio


Coldplay


Norah Jones


Rachael Yamagata


Oasis


Foo Fighters


Goo Goo Dolls


Sarah Mclachlan

The Hours

I remember wanting to see this film when it was released in late 2002.However,due to some forgotten reasons i wasnt able to catch it.Moreover,now that i think about it,if i had the time to watch it i wouldnt have been able to appreciate the film half as much as i do now.Kudos to Channel 5,which showed the movie just now at 10pm,despite the obvious editing done to the film.So what if Julianne Moore decides to kiss Toni Collette?So what if Nicole Kidman decides to kiss Miranda Richardson?Seriously,in view of the existence of homosexuality,i dont see why those scenes were edited out.But oh well,nonetheless,it did not decrease my experience with the film,to any degree.

When asked about what a perfect movie-going experience would be,i'd probably say that it is not what you experience in the theatre that counts,but what you bring home with you after the film.Because truly,The Hours is one of those films,that truly reaches into the heart and digs out the dirt,then when you are sitting comfortably in your sofa at home,you start to examine these dirts,and you realise how beautiful,they actually are and what you have been missing out on life itself.

It was such an extraordinary piece of film-making,in my opinion.I downloaded it back in J1,actually.But i never finished watching it.Back then i was a little confused over Laura Brown's kiss to her neighbour Kitty,and whatever that was going on in Clarissa Vaughan's head.But i watched with my mother and sister just now,and the story just blew me away at the end.

It was a movie that made you think,about the choices you make in life.Whether it is for the better or for the worse,how things might seem perfect on a skin-deep level but at a closer examination,turn out to be a living prison.Choices we have to make,to release us from such prisons,to be unravelled.To run away,and to be free.Choices,this movie emphasises,is a right that we have,even if it means that we have to let go of our loved ones,of whatever we hold dear,even our lives.

This film sort of reminded me of Magnolia,but in a better way of course.How everybody's life is sort of connected one way or another(Which proves my point that i am definitely in a way,related to Dalai Lama,Corinna!).The action of oneself,might be the cause of someone else's action in the future,even if it means suicide.

After the movie ended a little after midnight,my mother and i just sat there and discussed about the movie,while my sister sat on the floor,confused.She didnt understand the movie,at all.But then again,she was doing some of her art project at the same time,so i dont blame her.But damn,the movie was great in every possible way.Amazing.

Virginia Woolf,"This is my right; it is the right of every human being. I choose not the suffocating anesthetic of the suburbs, but the violent jolt of the Capital, that is my choice. The meanest patient, yes, even the very lowest is allowed some say in the matter of her own prescription. Thereby she defines her humanity. I wish, for your sake, Leonard, I could be happy in this quietness.But if it is a choice between Richmond and death, I choose death."

Virginia Woolf,"You cannot find peace by avoiding life,Leonard."

Clarissa Vaughn,"That is what we do. That is what people do. They stay alive for each other."

Virginia Woolf,"Dear Leonard. To look life in the face, always, to look life in the face and to know it for what it is. At last to know it, to love it for what it is, and then, to put it away. Leonard, always the years between us, always the years. Always the love. Always the hours."

Laura Brown,"It would be wonderful to say you regretted it. It would be easy. But what does it mean? What does it mean to regret when you have no choice?"

Clarissa Vaughn,"I remember one morning getting up at dawn, there was such a sense of possibility. You know, that feeling? And I remember thinking to myself: So, this is the beginning of happiness. This is where it starts. And of course there will always be more. It never occurred to me it wasn't the beginning. It was happiness. It was the moment. Right then."

Virginia Woolf,"Did it matter, then, she asked herself, walking toward Bond Street. Did it matter that she must inevitably cease, completely. All this must go on without her. Did she resent it? Or did it not become consoling to believe that death ended absolutely? It is possible to die. It is possible to die."

The time to hide is over.The time to regret is gone.The time to live is now.

Numbers and Names

1. Myself
2. Ahmad
3. Krishna
4. Corinna
5. John Mayer
6. Chris Martin
7. Valerie
8. Sam
9. Samuel
10. Rachael Yamagata
11. Lynette
12. JiaYing
13. RuiYi
14. Sister
15. Norah Jones
16. QinYou
17. Martin
18. Invis
19. Benjamin
20. Siang Hong

How did you first meet 13:
1st 3 months SRJC orientation.We were both in Auriga,and i remember her cute SHSS skirt.Nothing to do with the length,but the design was just really cute,with the dots and all.

What would you do if you had never met 5:
I wouldnt have started learning the guitar.I wouldnt have played in those gigs.I wouldnt have had the passion in song-writing.Music wouldve been truly boring without this musical genius.

What do you honestly think of 10:
She plays the piano,she plays the guitar.I know she smokes,but to hell with that.She is HOT.

Would 19 and 20 go out:
Hey,if they go Brokeback why not.They were from the same JC afterall.Brokeback College,that'd be nice.But 19's too tall for 20.Ha.

Have you ever liked 9:
I love him as a friend,but we dont go Brokeback like 19 and 20.No way in hell.

If number 1 dies tomorrow, what is the one thing u need the person to know:
I would want him to know that he lived a great life,with people who loved him and...though some never loved him back,he still appreciated everybody's mere existence.Really.

Would 2 and 11 make a good couple:
Hahahaha.2's face was tomato red when he first met 11.I dont think the relationship will blossom into anything more than a hi-bye kinda thing.Besides,11 is attached and 2 is gay.Hahaha.

Who is 16 going out with:
One of his Silkroad Online characters.He get orgasmic whenever he level-ups.

Describe 7 in 3 words:
John.Mayer.Fan.

Do you think 2 is hot:
I am hotter,so it doesnt matter.

Would 1 and 17 make a good couple:
Oh my fucking God.If i am gay i wouldnt even consider 17.No offence Martin,but that wouldve been quite a disturbing sight.

What do you think of when you see 8:
One of the most interesting individual to come into my life.Yeah,we need more of such people in this world.

What's 20's fave colour:
Blue,i think.Actually,im not too sure about that.

On a scale of 1-10, how cute is 15:
20.Her name itself is sexy.

What language does 19 speak:
English and Chinese.Hokkien at times,and vulgarities most of the time.Hahaha.

Who is 14 going out with:
Some member of Energy,or some Japanese Drama.

Is 19 a boy or girl:
A man.I hope.Ha.

Would 18 and 4 make a good couple:
4,you might want to turn lesbian for 18.You really should consider this.I mean,REALLY.

What year is 17 in:
2006,for now.He was born in my year,but his mental age remains back in 1999.

When was the last time u talked to 12:
Hmm.A week ago online.We were talking about how much blood i coughed.Ha.

What is 6's fave band:
His own,Coldplay.Haha.

Does 14 have any siblings:
Yeah,just one.Me.

Would you ever date 3:
Again,i am so straight i make Brad Pitt look gay.So no,never.

Is 15 single:
Actually,im not too sure.But who cares,really.If she is,she's probably married to her piano or guitar.A perfect match,in my opinion.

Have you ever taken advantage of 11 while he or she had passed out:
Haha.I was never there to witness it.Besides,she is usually the one carrying the drunkards out of clubs.So no,never.

If 13 and 6 were forced to fight to the death, who would you put your money on:
6,definitely.He does push-ups and runs up and down the stadium stairs before his concerts.What do you think.No offence,13.But this dude is strong,physically and vocally.

Who will age better - 2 or 5:
That's kinda hard to say.5's almost 30 and he still looks like when he first came out with his first album.2 too,but with his current job he is probably going to look ten years older by the time he ORDs.

Broken Record Player

"Take care
I've been hurt before
Too much time spend on closing doors
You may hate me, but I'll remember to love you
Goodbye
Don't cry
You know why
And it'll be just as quiet when I leave
As it was when I first got here
I don't expect anything...
I don't expect anything..."

I remember my mother telling me about a record player.You know,the logo of HMV with that cute dog by the side of it,or those little golden ones you see annually on the Grammys.She used to tell me that back in her days,her father(My grandfather)used to have one.I think a record player's so mysterious and sexy,for some reason.I dont have a fetish over it,but i guess it'd be a good antique to have as part of my collection of...well,weird things.

Anyway,you know how a broken record player goes.When the needle jumps and the same line goes over and over again.That's kinda how DJs earn their money but,in a way it can be quite annoying.That's the state of my head,personified in a way.Like a broken record player the same old things have been repeating over and over.Well,at least i am not suffering from insomnias anymore,though i kind of miss the melancholic feeling i get every morning when i wake up from a sleepless night.It's a sadistic thing to love,that feeling of sleeplessness.But then again,i am positively pessimistic,and all-so sadistic in a healthy way.So sue me for being bad to myself.

You know how so many rock stars only become famous after their deaths?Not just rock stars,though.A lot of famous people have their names written in history only after their death,especially if those occur in a poetic and dramatic way.John Lennon was shot by a crazed fan outside his apartment,Jimi Hendrix had a drug overdose and choked to death on his own vomit(WHY?),Kurt Cobain killed himself with a shotgun,Socrates was executed before Jesus was born because he had different views from the government,and they were afraid that he might wrongly influence the youth in Athens.

It's the departure of people that makes an impact on others i guess.It's that human nature of not appreciating,taking things for granted that caused us to have this strange emotion to people who leaves our lives.It's a bad habit,but something we can never shed like smoking or doping.The truth is,we are all sinners when it comes to taking something for granted.

Only when she's gone,then i realised the emptiness.A broken record player i am,once more.Time and time again,all over again.I hate to repeat,and i shouldnt.Not ever again.I'll briefly touch on it,then leave it as that.After all,they are just memories,right.

I was just discussing with myself,the difference between you-then and you-now.I dont suppose a few months on the calendar wouldve made much physical change,save for those brown hair you got yourself after the exams.I dont like you-now,i really dont.It's not one of those self-denial things,i am not trying to convince myself anything.Because i am certain of it,true to my heart,that i dont.What bugs me,what troubles me really is you-then,in the back of my head where the parking lot was saved for you so long ago.I remember those "Monsters in my Pocket" toys that i had,with all the different colour monsters,small enough to fit inside your palms.I loved the orange series of monsters that i had,and i remember whenever i group the different colours i would always save a space for the orange ones.I love the dragon monster,the one with scales and those wings.I love the dragon,and it always had a place in my toy box.Always.

You-now,doesnt talk to me.You pretend to be hanging around,not noticing but always watching.You-now,is with another guy.That nincompoop.Oh,get it fixed.This broken record player,it is annoying the hell out of me.

I dreamnt of you the other day.You broke up,what a joy it was for me.For some reason your break up was on television,and you were with this other bloke,this other schmuck.I woke up to Martin shaking me,asking me to fall in downstairs in ten minutes.Then i realised my theory about dreams the other time,how they are always the opposite,negative image of reality.

"You didnt hate me in my dreams",i thought."Why cant you just hate me?"

So whatever happened to our promised coffee at 40,you-then?What happened to the mudcakes,too?What happened to the overnight chat you promised,you-then.You never lied,i know you dont.But why now,why now.

"...So he grabbed the machine and screamed.He screamed so loud,his voice went out.The machine stared back blankly,lifeless.The music was still playing in the background,over and over.The melody pierced the man's head,and he tried desperately to shake it out of his head as he banged the machine againes the wall.It banged and he banged somemore until the top came off.Parts of the machine strewned all over the ground,and the music finally stopped.He was panting now,and his heart was beating fast.There was an odd silence that followed,an unnatural peace around him that in that instant,he felt uncomfortable with.Something he was so used to,so accustomed to all this while,now gone with the muting of the music..."

"All the waves of blame arrange as broken scenery
As they steal your best memories away
What if I was someone different in your only history?
Would you feel the same
As I walk out the door
Never to see your face again...
Never to see your face again..."

Norah

As I sit and watch the snow
Fallin' down
I don't miss you at all
I hear children playin' laughin' so loud
I don't think of your smile

So if you never come to me
You'll stay a distant memory
Out my window I see light doing dark
Your dark eyes don't haunt me

And then I wonder who I am
Without the warm touch of your hand

And then I wonder who I am
Without the warm tough of your hand
As I sit and watch the snow
Fallin' down

I don't miss you at all...
I don't miss you at all...
I don't miss you at all...

Crash

Recently,while having a business trip in China,my dad was involved in quite a nasty car accident on the freeway.My mother kinda told me that one fine after while i was surfing the net,and she just dropped the bombshell.My dad is fine,yes.I mean,he came back yesterday and looked absolutely healthy,and the same old jolly-old-man.For some reason,although i didnt show it,i mustve taken the ordeal a little more seriously than they thought.

So my dad and his business partners were in this BMW,cruising along a freeway in China when a truck in front did a U-turn in the middle of it.Yeah,that bloody truck actually did a U-turn in the middle of the highway,where cars travel at 100km/h.And you thought women are the worst drivers in the world.China truck drivers are,really.

Anyway,so the BMW which belonged to my dad's friend crashed into the side of the truck and was wrecked,thoroughly.There were four guys in the car then,and most of them only suffered bruised arms and legs,perhaps a cut or two here and there.My dad was the only person with all of the above,plus a bloody nose and a blood-soaked shirt.

The driver,on the other hand,disappeared off the highway and was lost.That was the only sensible thing he did on that day,i guess.I mean,in China i think it is better to throw away your current job and take up another in a month's time,than to pay for the loss of the BMW,plus the medical fees of the casualties.

Anyway,my father is fine.In fact i just witnessed him gobble down a whole bowl of my mother's home-made noodles.He's still the same as before,and was showing off to me this cut he has on his leg,speaking as if it was such a cool thing he was involved in a car crash.Well,i must admit.If i was involved in the same accident and survived it,it wouldve been a good story to tell my friends.After all,i had my close encounter with death in India,the incident with the Hyenas and all.Oh,and how Martin drove our vehicle into a dried river and how it almost overturned.

I'm just glad that my dad's all right,i guess.I dont usually tell my father how i feel about certain things.To say that i know my father really well,wouldve been a lie.We are completely different people,inside out.I am into music,he isnt.I am into arts,and he is into the art of money-making.He likes to play golf,i happen to think that instead of slimming people down like most sports do,it puts weight on those who plays it on a regular basis.Because after years of playing golf,i've never seen a significant change in the size of my father's stomach.He wears "E" size pants,"E" for equator.He is not THAT fat,actually.I just like to make fun of him.Ha.What a great son,huh?

So this whole BMW-crashed-into-a-truck/near-death-experience of my father sort of taught me how vulnerable we are,as humans in this life.How a stupid mistake made by somebody might just cause the lives of others,and then misery of those related to them.I could be crossing the road to the bus stop tomorrow morning,and some fucking schmuck might just drive into me without noticing my existence at all.Which is also why,i am stressing on the existence of such dotards and idiots in our society nowadays.I mean,accidents are inevitable,yes.But U-turning on a fucking highway is just plain dumb.That dude probably bought his license or something,off the streets from some other dude who bought his own license to sell things.

I know,dad,that having a cut on your leg and a near death experience is a big deal,and i do appreciate the fact that you lived to tell about it.However,you dont need to come into my room whenever i book out just to stress on the fact that you almost died,had the BMW been a little smaller(Or,as i like to put it,if he was a little thinner).I am thankful for the fact that you are alive,but seriously,i dont need a close up look at your wound.

Oh,and lose those new spectacles.I know they are temporary,but they are bloody ridiculous.

Dotards

For this ill-informed,"Dotard" is yet another word ive discovered over the years,one of those classy curses you can throw at people with the lack of enough cursing vocabularies in their minds.

Anyway,"Dotard" merely means a person in a state of dotage,which also means a person esperiencing a deterioration of mental faculties.Going mad,becoming stupid,retard.Basically.

Anyway,it is a strange word indeed,to use as the topic of this entry.However,i must stress that the usage of such a word is totally justified,in today's context.

"In today's context?",you must be asking.Oh well,let me begin my explanation with a little story.

So,i was having lunch in camp with my friends as the television blared above our heads.Usually,i wouldnt take too much attention on whatever they show,since it is most of the time Channel 8 trash,or Channel U waste.Anyway,so my eyes came upon an advertisement for some show on that night,right?And it was some talent show(What a surprise),with the contestants who got kicked out in the first round,coming back for a second chance.Why?Because they were just too dam awful,and that the guys at mediacorp just wants to make as much money out of these schmucks as possible.But anyway,so the advertisement had the usual funny scenes,which included horrendous people singing horrendous songs,horrendously.Or,some joker dancing to stupid music worst than the sound of finger nails over chalkboards.What a surprise,it was for me to see Steven Lim being one of those losers dancing away in a strange superhero like outfit and a lame-ass dance move.

Okay,so here's what i had in mind the moment the advertisement ended.

So just what the fuck were you guys thinking?

Seriously,look at yourself on television.Look again,then again with some sense.Now,what do you think about your performance.Was it really worthy of you,taking a cab,MRT,a car down to the audition to waste the judge's time,to waste everybody's bloody time?

Look,by presenting yourself on television you have a responsibilty.The whole nation is watching your every move,listening to your every word,and most of all judging you as a person.You dont present yourself on the national stage and make a fool out of yourself by dancing hysterically,singing absolutely out of tune,saying something extremely stupid just to make your fifteen minutes of fame.Yes,the studios are probably going to bring you back on one of those "Specials" shows.But if you think about it,they are making use of you to make more money,to make fun of you because you looked so damn fucking stupid on television.So where the fuck was your pride when you went up in front of those judges and...well,did whatever you've done?

I wanted to smash the television then.I really did.I saw Steven Lim once on Orchard,and he was in a tight pink top and jeans.For some reason he was distributing flyers outside of Tangs,and at that time he was just a lunatic.Now,he is a stripping,and stupid lunatic.If you happen to read this Steven,my words are never going get past those muscles,those thick skin and most of all,the thick skull of yours.Perhaps my words are too sophisticated for you,or perhaps the word "Swine" or "Dotard" doesnt ring a bell.To make things a hell lot easier for you,i shall just sum up my thoughts in one single phrase,involving an internationally recognised word.

Go fuck yourself.

Goodnight,and good luck with your ever growing fame in stupidity.Loser.

The Needle Girl

I was lost in the woods,on my way out of town.
Met that old lady,who gave me a frown.
She told me this short cut around the mount,
That hill where the snow kept falling down.

It was snowing when i came upon
The only house without a lawn
It was just a little after dawn
When the sunlight came and then was gone.

On the rooftop of the house sat a girl
She was crying in the wind that swirled and whirled
Down came the tears like little pearls
Which landed upon her blood soaked heels.

Her shoes were soaked with dark red blood
That hung upon a string next to the dark
Window under her feet,which were covered with marks
Needles they were,and deeply they sunk.

"Where are your parents?" i shouted at her
They left her there,since last September
Blood stained the carpets,and there was anger
In father's eyes.That only and no other.

When i brought her down she softly cried
"Dont worry" i said."I wont bite"
But it wasnt me who made her affright
But the pain in her feet that troubled her at night.

She couldnt run,and she couldnt walk
All she could do was to prone and crawl
I carried her on my back,as she snored
Softly away,as we headed slowly North.

It was snowing when i came upon
The only house without a lawn
Where i met a girl a little after dawn
Shortly after our meeting,and we were gone.

Reminder

"Princess is very sleepy and hence will just have tuition tonight.Ah,so nice.Rain reminds me of you.Goodnight again!"

--- 1347,16102005

"I'm so sorry.You like me?"

--- 2335,07122005


"Maybe we should stop talking for some time."

--- 1016,08122005

You breathed infinity into my world
And time was lost up in a cloud and in a whirl.
We dug a hole in the cool grey earth and lay there for the night.
Then you said, "wait for me we'll fly the wind,
We'll grow old and you'll be stronger without him" but oh,
Now my world is at your feet. I was lost and I was found,
But I was alive and now I've drowned.
So now I will be waiting for the world to hear my song
So they can tell me I was wrong...

But they weren't there beneath your stare,
And they weren't stripped 'till they were bare of
Any bindings from the world outside that room.
And they weren't taken by the hand
And led through fields of naked land
Where any pre-conceived ideas were blown away...
So I couldn't say "No".

Rain Dance

"Do you like the rain?" she asked.

"Yes," i replied."Very much,in fact."

"Would you like to join me?"

"Join you in what?"

She held my hand,and pulled me down the stairs onto the field.We were in the rain,and she released her grip of my hand and ran towards the centre.There,she held out her arms,no widespread like wings.Her head held up towards the sky,now darkened by the clouds above.

It kept raining,and she was smiling.I watched,and held out my right hand into the wind.A small puddle of water collected in the centre,and i let them flow through between the gaps of my fingers.She looked at me,and i at her.She laughed,and sounded happy.She sounded free.

"Would you like to see me dance?"

"Dance?"

"Tap dance," she replied over the rain. "My father taught me when i was young."

She lift her skirt from the sides with her hands,and kicked off her rain-soaked shoes.I squatted down,with my chin between my knees now.Before me was her,but not quite.She was somewhat different from before,perhaps it was the rain doing the trick.But then i realised,that it wasnt so at all.She was herself,and so much more then,as she danced barefooted on the rain washed field.

So there we were,alone in the middle of nowhere.The rain continued to pour,and the world retreating into the blurry horizon around us.It was perfect,and it was right.

I could die right now,i thought.I am just...happy.This is exactly where i want to be.

Where i want to be...

So what if you catch me,
Where would we land?
In somebody's life
Forsaking his hands.
Sing to me hope as she's
Thrown on the sand.
All of our works
get rated again.
Where to go?

2.06

"...Woohoo it's raining!So nice and windy,just the right time.I get to sleep well..."

--- 2.06am,17092005

Ode To

No thanks
No more
No love

I'm done
I've had enough

You're going off with her
and I wish I was
but there's another can be
just because

All right
be on your way
the kindest thing to say
is not that you have fallen for me say
you'll come back to my arms again someday

Baby, write
some words about
how you can't shut me out
how you must find a way
to see me one more time

One more time

And please call up all your friends and tell them it can't end
you don't know what you'd do
if you lost her

And lost me too

That's fine
That's good
That's nice

I understand the price
The cost of craving dark
instead of light
I flip a coin to see if you still care tonight

My blood
My hand
My soul

I've thrown them onto you without control
The things I freely give
you stole
And now I'm left in pieces

Baby tell
the world about me
the way you won me over
in a city you can't remember
You think it was September
sweet September

Oh baby
Oh it's all right
I know she needs you more than I do
And I wouldn't win this fight
But there is one thing
that you've gotta do,
you've gotta tell the world about a
girl you once knew
Oh she
wasn't meant to be

but you
fell so very deeply
in love

With me

To all the girls he's loved
To all the girls he's loved

Outstanding Normality

Once again,ladies and gentlemen.Yet another oxymoronic entry title.Yet another apology from me to those,who are just sick of reading such complicated,desperate effort to follow after the footsteps of Dr. Mardy Grothe.Oh well,im trying.I really am.

Anyway,i've been speaking to a friend just now online,Valerie.It concerned the future of me,and herself too.First and foremost,moving to the States is a big deal,and takes a whole lot of balls to do so as well.Considering the fact that you have none,literally,it is pretty admirable to face it with such optimism and remain ever so wistful about it.Kudos to you on that,my hat is off.

Anyway,when asked about my future's blueprint,the book i read over the week popped into my head.It's a career guide book actually,that sort of introduces different careers,what educational qualifications you need and what are required of you on the job itself.I found the job of being a research writer particularly interesting,as it involved the research of certain events,happening in the world and writing up about it.I might just aim for that to happen.Who knows,maybe i might sprout from there to later become a columnist,or a writer?The future is endlessly unpredictable,and that makes it so interesting and fearful all at once.

This is what i plan to do,or rather what i hope would come true.SIM might be an option,since they do offer Mass Comm.,and money is not an issue.Then from there,i will go find a job at SPH,working as an assistant if possible,working my way to becoming a research writer,then a columnist,or maybe an author at the very same time.Im not sure if i can manage,but i sure welcome the challenge.

Valerie then commented,that i should stick to SPH,working for them or whatever.She has big dreams,dreams perhaps too big to be qualified as anything remotely close to normal.I mean,thinking about being a writer for National Geographic is just preposterous.But then again,if you think about it,what is so unrealistic about it in the first place?Oh well,i dont know.It is pretty confusing,the future.

Anyway,SPH is never going to be where i make my nest.Well,i will earn some bucks from them to build my nest sure,but not forever.I described to her,like SPH is the zero metre mark.I have the whole field before me to dash upon.So watch me fly,because i am not going to remain at the zero metre mark for ever.

Suddenly,and strangely,i am sounding so hopeful about everything.That is in fact,in contrast to the previous few entries that i have written.It is kinda strange,though,now that i think of it.The fact that she is out of town,all the way in the land of the rising sun,and i am feeling better about myself,my life and everything that is happening.I mean,i hardly remember when was the last time i had such a good time,having a conversation over dinner with a couple of friends,like tonight at Swensen's.Besides the company,beyond the conversations,there was something more i guess.Something exceptionally different about everything,and it feels good.In a way.Perhaps it is good sometimes,just sometimes,to make a detour from my self-destructive pattern and just...let loose.

Anyway,so Valerie and i were discussing about the word "Bollocks".Heard that quite a bit in V for Vendetta today,a very British way of saying "Bullshit" actually.Anyway,so i kind of got addicted to it,and told her about my other "classy" ways of cursing people.

Look,here is the way i see it.Instead of calling people bastards,bitches,idiots,retards,losers,i think we should add some spice to such curses.I mean,they are just very childish to begin with."Oh you idiot" just doesnt have the vibe,the power to bring that other person down to the lowest point of self-dignity.In fact,it is almost laughable,when said to the face.So,i have recently armed myself with words that goes right through the heart,piercing insults or curses that gets my point across and at the same time,remain it's elegance and class.

Words like "Schmuck","Swine","Bollocks" and "Dotard" are my favourites for now.I mean,they are like swearing in French.Despite being some vulgarities,the person being sworn to wouldnt even know he was being cursed at.It's like a headshot or something.The person wouldnt even know what just hit him in the right temple when a bullet goes through his head,because he doesnt even feel it.Like the bullet,these words are like,really classy way of insulting people.They wouldnt even understand what the hell you just said,because they are too ill-informed to know the meanings of such words,and in turn might just thank you for it.

Funny how such words are so practical these days,as i walk down the streets of Singapore.I addressed my anger to Valerie,how i feel like i lose my tempter more easily as of late.I mean,it pisses me off to see stupid people everywhere.That bunch of girls today,screaming their heads off in the middle of the sidewalk.

I mean,comon'.You are not terribly attractive or even remotely good looking.So why scream your head off like a bloody Hyena and attract all the attention?Even if you never intended to do so,for God's sake why the hell did you attract my attention in the process?Destroy somebody else's intellect but not mine,do not corrupt me with your stupidity because i do not want to bring myself anywhere close to the level of your absolute ignorance and retardness.So the next time you decide to scream your head off at apparently,nothing,think again before you do so.There might just be some intellectually more advanced humans around you that might just be offended by your mere stupidity.So shut up,schmuck.

I was telling Valerie,how i sometimes think that either i am advancing too fast on a mental level or are people simply degrading.In a way,i think the media has got to be blamed for the latter explanation for my anger to the general public.But anyway,that aside,she said that perhaps i advanced and people remained stagnant.

I didnt like that explanation myself.I prefer to be anonymous,you know.I hate to be outstanding,to be anywhere near exceptional.I dont ask for much,but all i want is to be exceptionally normal,you know.I dont want to stand out like the way that crazy Hyena girl stood out in the crowd,but subtle and powerful.

Like V.Oh,V.

Haha.Okay,Corinna.Stop your nonsense about V's voice and stuff.You are influencing me .

V for Vendetta

"Remember,remember,the fifth of November.
Gunpowder treason and plot.
I see no reason why the gunpowder treason,
Should ever be forgot..."

--- "V"

I am now going to proclaim my love for someone else now.Or rather,my utmost admiration.I cannot help it,nor was Corinna able to resist the temptation to love him.Are you ready for the name?

Drumroll.

And man,the one and only.

V.

Seriously man,if you watched the movie,you would understand why i have so much respect for this comic book character.In fact,right after the movie i went to Kinokuniya to pick up the original graphic novel for V for Vendetta.It was great,absolutely brilliant.

Two scenes in particular,i found particularly awesome.At the beginning,Natalie Portman's character,Evey,stayed out on the street after a curfew.Unfortunately,she ran into some police of some kind,and was about to be violated when a masked man came to the rescue.It was V,the masked hero of the movie.After whacking a couple of guys and throwing them against the walls,one of them made a run for it.V caught him by the collar and pulled him to his face.Scared,he uttered under his breath,"Oh please,mercy!"

Then V,with his oh-so-sexy voice replied.

"Oh,not tonight."

Then,at the very end of the movie,V was surrounded by a bunch of cops.He challenged the cops,saying that he would let them fire all the rounds in their magazines till they are gone.Then,by the time they reload he wouldve killed all of them.So,upon command the cops fired upon V with a wave of bullets.V took all of them,and staggered at the very end of it.

Then,with a soft chuckled he stood up,and replied.

"My turn."

Two knives shot out from his right hand,and out they flew towards two cops and sliced their throats.

HOLY SHIT,that was BRILLIANT!

Anyway,the story is really about revolutions,the spirit and power of ideas being immortal and invincible.After the film,you really start to question a lot of things.Like,if our government are hiding anything from us,beyond this big bubble created by them,perhaps there is a darker side of things hidden to us.Or,if terrorism is not exactly an act of terror,but merely a perspective?

Just questions,that i thought of on the way home while i flipped through the comic.Very impressive movie i must say,and Natalie Portman was hot as usual,even though she was bald half the time.Oh well,she is one of those actor/actresses who still can look great without their hair.Another actor is the dude who plays Lex Luther in Smallville.I think he looks great without hair,and also Andre Agassi.I know he is not an actor but,ive seen him with hair and hell,he looked like crap.

Anyway,met up with Ahmad and Lynette after the movie.We introduced ourselves as Sharon and Raul,alias Ramon or simply as "W".Corinna and I planned on a scheme to plant TNTs under the foundations of NYJC,then blowing it up into oblivion.We even wanted to set fireworks that would explode into capital "C" and "W" in the sky.

How bloody poetic would that be,eh?

Had dinner at Swensens,and that was great.We did more talking than we actually ate,and Ahmad was particular quiet today.Probably because of the presence of Lynette.Haha.That is my guess,anyway.We drank a hell lot of water,and started laughing hysterically afterwards.We figured there mustve been something added to the water that made the customers laugh uncontrollably.But oh well,we had a good time.Thanks for the company.

And freedom forever!

Purple Hyacinth

"...Forgive the unforgivable
Leave behind all the sorrows
So easy it is for you to say so
With those words that you borrowed..."

The lift rose,and i was nervous.My palms were sweaty,and i thought i felt my legs quiver just a little bit.In my hands,a bouquet of purple hyacinth.The scent of it filled the elevator,but all i could smell were my regrets,my guilt and my fears.

The wind was strong,as i rode down Route 77.It was my first day on my new bike,a cool new Baird ZX636.The sound of the engine roared as i sped on faster and faster.It felt good,liberating,almost as if i was flying.I found myself smiling to the freedom that i controlled,the fate that was in my hands.The feeling of absolute control over your life was exhilarating,and at that moment i shared it with my love.The love,Jennifer.

She held on tight behind my back,with her hands tight around my chest.With her chest on my back,i thought i felt her heartbeat beating faster as we made our way between trucks and cars,missing them by an inch or two every time.

"You sure this is okay?" Jennifer shouted over the roaring wind.

"Don't worry!" I yelled."I rode my brother's bike a couple of times,we're going to fine.Just enjoy the ride!"

Jennifer nodded,and rested her head back on my back.She adjusted in the seat,and for a moment there there were no cars,no trucks,no road at all.Just the two of us,in the moment together,as two individuals and one all at the same time.It was magical,as the world disappeared around us in a blur.


I reached the top,and the door opened.The corridor was brightly lid,a monotonous shade of taupe.Nurses paced up and down with clipboards in their hands,minding their own businesses.A man walked by,with a cart in his hands.He stared at me for a moment,and looked away when i spotted him.I dont know why,but at that moment i almost thought he looked right through me,the same feeling i had so many months ago when i woke up in the same hospital,and looked through the mirror for the first time.The bandaged face and the swollen lips,the broken arm and the bruised knee.I saw,beyond those,a wound within about to split open so wide,i swore at that moment that i wouldnt be able to live with myself ever again,ever the same.

We went around a bent,and barely missed an eighteen wheeler.Jennifer grasped onto my waist,as the truck blew it's horn right past our ears.I laughed,and she slapped me on my back.

"Dont do that again!" she yelled,and gave me another knock on my helmet.

"Comon',it's fun!Want to see me do it with no hands?"

"No it's not!And dont do that,please." Jennifer pleaded."Can we go back now?"

From the corner of my eyes i looked at her through the helmet.Her eyes were sad,and i thought i saw a hint of tears that glittered in the passing wind.I smiled,and reached back with my left hand and touched her smooth long hair.

"Okay,sure.Let's go back."


Room 408,the number tag on the door read.My hand reached for the knob,and hestitated.Behind the door,i thought.My everlasting guilt and regret laid.It was a simple task,to just push open the door and apologise.But that motion,that simple action to open that door and look at her straight in the eye,was even harder than climbing Everest.I felt weak,almost helpless as i stood alone in the doorway.The knob felt cold,too cold for my comfort.My nose felt sour,and i rubbed it away with the back of my hand.I trembled,and with a deep breath taken i opened the door.

Upon the bed,laid Jennifer.Oh,my Jennifer.She was in her most beautiful summer dress,the one her mother bought for her for her sixteenth birthday,i remember.The dress hung loosely upon her shoulder,and her neck glittered under the morning sun that was streaming in through the window.She was sound asleep,and from where i was i could hear her soft breathing.She looked peaceful,different from the last time i saw her.Scared,devastated,and most of all,the way her eyes pierced mine.That anger and that hate.

An Opel pulled up in front of us,driven by an old lady probably three times my own age.She was hunched before the wheel,all eyes upon the road before her.She was going at merely 40 miles an hour,and the road ahead was clearer than the skies above.I got irritated,and decided to go around her to the opposite lane.Just then,a car out of nowhere turned into the road and i was going too fast to brake.The car made an effort to swerve out of the way,but after a loud screech and a long blow of the car horn,i felt myself airborne.

What happened after the horn was a blur,but i felt myself flying through the air with the road beneath me.The glass of the car shattered,and i landed across the road into a bush after crashing through the tree.The rock at the foot of it knocked me out,and before i fell out of consciousness i looked in the direction of my bike,it was destroyed and smoking in the engines.Jennifer was nowhere to be seen,and as my eyes desperately looked for her around the clearing,everything turned into a blur,then black.


I walked up to her bed,unnoticed.Her bandages were gone,and her wounds healed over the months.I smiled,for she still looked so pretty,so beautiful.I wanted to touch her,but my heart held me back.I held my breath,afraid that my breath would wake her up.I was tensed,as i placed the bouquet of hyacinth on the table at the foot of the bed.

Just then,Jennifer opened her eyes.She groaned,and shielded her eyes to the morning sun.She turned her head,and saw me standing before her.My heart stopped,and my breath withdrawn.She looked hard,then harder,and for a moment i saw no expression whatsoever upon her face.Then,she spoke.

"Why are you here?"

"I am...here to see you,and apologise."

"Apologise?" she asked.

"Yes...i mean,i dont know..." i replied.

"You want to...apologise?" Jennifer said,almost whispering.

"I am sorry,Jen.I am so so sorry for what i have..."

Jennifer broke down right then.Her eyes welled up with tears,and they streamed down her cheeks.They glimmered in the morning sun,like her eyes as she looked upon me,the man she hated for so long.She choked,and with much effort she sat up in her bed.

"Get the fuck out of here.Now."

"But,Jen..." i replied.

"Get the fuck out of here right now!You fuck!Dont you fucking call me Jen,you piece of shit.Fuck off!" she yelled.

Jennifer reached for me,and grabbed hold of my jacket.She tugged it so hard that i almost fell towards her on the bed.I pulled myself back,and tried to pull her hands away.She reached for me again,but this time i was too far away.She leaned forward,and the weight of her body shifted off the side of the bed.Bang,and she sprawled on the floor with the blanket tangled up between her legs.Her hair now all over the place,and she wept softly on the floor.

"Get out...get out..." she repeated.

"Jen..." i said."Where is Jen?" i asked,as i grabbed the nurse by her collar.I stumbled as i walked,and the nurse kept holding me up.She wasnt answering my question,and i was desperate to get some.

"I need to find Jen!" i shouted,with guilt and desperation as it echoed down the corridor.


Jennifer sat up on the floor,and her hair was covering her face.Under those hair,she was crying so hard.Ever sob hit my heart like a sledge hammer,and i wanted so bad to wipe the tears off her face.But i knew,i knew that i shouldnt.But i wanted...i was in a dilemma.I felt so helpless,so fucking shameful.

Finally,Jennifer stopped crying.It was all quiet for a moment,and all we heard were the chirping of birds outside the window.I was silent,and she too was quiet.Then,she grabbed the arm of the chair by her side,and pulled with all her might.She groaned softly,using so much effort to do so at the same time.She lost her grip then,and she slipped back onto the floor.I went over to help her up,but she slapped my hands away.

"I said fuck...fuck...Why?Why did you have to appear again?Why did you...why are you so cruel,so evil?"

"I just.I just..." i stammered."I was just hoping that...maybe if i did something,if i do something right now,it might help you get on with your life..."

"Life?" Jennifer interrupted."What life are you talking about?Do you see me having a LIFE?I am lifeless,i am FUCKING CRIPPLED!What life are you talking about?"

I looked,ashamed and beaten up by her words.The words that rang through my head,and the same questions too that echoed around the walls of my room,the windows in my car,and even the coffee smelled like guilt and blood.For four months,i had to live with that,always under the dark grey clouds,hovering over my piece of sky.And now,before Jennifer in the hospital room,it started raining.

"Jen...i mean,Jennifer..." i said.

"Dont say my name.Dont you say my name."

"Okay,okay.If this is what you want.You can hate me,you can kill me a hundred times if you have to.You can drive a knife through my heart for all i care,but before you do so i need...i want to tell you.I never meant to do you wrong,i never wanted to harm you in any way.It was so long ago,and i figured if i remained at home,the way i did.If i never said the words that i want to tell you,it is going to threaten the life that it belongs to.The life,that shouldve been taken away on that fateful day.I regret and i beat myself up,every single minute of every single day,over that stupid mistake that i made.I hate myself,and i hate what i did.I am in a constant state of self-destruction,and i tell myself i she would just forgive me...forgive me for what i did to her,maybe it will be good again.Maybe my clouds were scatter,and there will be sun again."

"Jennifer...after that incident.After i got out of the hospital,i took my driving lessons.I passed,the very first time i tried.Remember that meadow i told you about?The one we were heading that day?It is still there,the birds and the trees.The river right next to it still flows from the hill in the distance,still cold and refreshing.At night,on the grass,you see a pepper-stray of stars,and every weekend i go there i want you too see them with me,so bad.So bad,Jennifer.And...i want you to see it with your own eyes..."

"You know my number,and here's my licence.I am not lying about it Jen,not this time.If you are ready,if you feel like it.Whenever you want,no matter how long it takes,give me a call on my number.I will be waiting,waiting for you as always.I will come back here and take you on that ride,the ride we never reached our destination.I promise,that when we reach the meadows,when i show you what i intended to show you,you can do whatever you want to me.But one thing,just one thing.Forgive me,Jen.Forgive me...I dont know how else to say it,but forgive me..."

Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are

I had to find you
Tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart

Tell me your secrets
And ask me your questions
Oh let's go back to the start

Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard

Oh take me back to the start...

Walking Songs

Last Sunday i went out with a friend,and when asked why the hell i prefered to take a longer route to our destination,well i gave a simple answer.

I like to walk.

I dont know why,but i just love the feeling of walking through the crowd with my music plugged in,with nobody around me actually knowing me whatsoever.It is a kind of liberty maybe,a freedom to do so.

Anyway,here's a couple of songs i recommend to you guys when you happen to be walking down the street anywhere,with music plugged into your ears.There are others,of course.But i cannot remember them,though.These are just some of the current favourites,so check them out.

Instrumental(Fast-paced)
1)$160 Million Dollar Chinese Man,from the Ocean's 11 Soundtrack.
2)Boobytrapping,from the Ocean's 11 Soundtrack
3)Ruben's In,(also)from the Ocean's 11 Soundtrack
4)Ready,Steady,Go by Paul Oakenfold
5)Briefcase by Tom Rothrock
6)Pompeii by E.S. Posthumus
7)Leave You Far Behind by Lunatic Calm

Instrumental(Slow-paced)
1)Road to Chicago,from the Road to Perdition soundtrack
2)Nara by E.S. Posthumus
3)Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence by Ryuichi Sakamoto(On a rainy day)

Happy head-banging.;)

Long Flight Home

The flight home,i remember,was like a cocktail mix of anxiety and exhaustion.In the waiting hall where the guys sat and waited for the bus to pick us up to the plane itself on the runway,some of us dozed off on the seats while others enjoyed a little bite on Subway sandwiches and games over the PSP.

I sat on my luggage and stared out into the runway.Beyond the horizon there was nothing,just the lights of the planes slowing manoeuvering their way across the field.I could hardly wait to get home then,fingering my way through the gifts i bought for my loved ones back home.My loved ones...

It was a long weary flight through the night,and most of us couldnt take the odd timing and fell asleep.I tried to do so,but found myself listening to my iPod while having a bottle of red wine.It was a small bottle,and it tasted cheap.But i guess i needed the dosage,to help me forget things.It was intoxicating,and soon enough i found myself leaning forward,my chin sinking into my neck,falling soundly asleep with the rest of the plane.

I was woken up by a jerk of the plane,it was the landing gear.I looked out,and there it was,civilisation.Singapore,was below our feets as we decended from thirty-thousand feet.My head started to ache so bad,from the difference in pressure.It felt like it was cracking,splitting apart.I groaned softly,and with an eye closed i stared out of the plane window to try to distract myself.An endless sea of lights before us,like diamonds strewn across a dark ocean.It was a little over 6am at that time,with the world just upon the verge of waking.Small white dots minding their own businesses,crusing along roads lined with yellow dots.They were like shooting stars,amongst other stars,only inverted.

That reminded me of that day when i was staring up into the night sky with my friends.The skies in India is amazing,truly.I mean,it's not like Singapore has it's very own sky,and that we do not share the same atmosphere or whatever.It's just the lack of light pollution in India that makes it so beautiful to admire in the middle of the night.I described to my mother,as pepper over the surface of soup.The stars were plenty out there,like spilled paint or bullet holes on a target board.They were astounding,gorgeous.

I saw Orion,big and proud.His arms outstretched,long bow drawn and the tip of the arrow shining brightly.Then my friend pointed out Sag,as well as Scorpio in the sky.Scorpio,i chuckled.Why are you everywhere,even in the skies?

I thought if there was a giant hammer,like the one in Greek mythology which belonged to Thor,that can smash down on the city lights of Singapore,it might create an impact hard enough to make the streetlights jump up and get stuck in the sky,making it look a little more like the India sky somehow.I just wanted you to see the sky for yourself,something which im sure you have never laid eyes upon.

I wonder what you would say,when you witness it for yourself.I never took pictures,though i tried.Can you imagine two horizons,one on your left and the other on your right?The ends of the piece of land you are standing on,stretching on and on forever into the end of the sky?Then imagine stars from that furthest point on the left horizon,stretching all the way to the furthest point in the right horizon.That how magnificent the stars were that night,when i saw them with my own eyes.

What would you say,princess?What would you say?Or perhaps,nothing at all?

My head was spinning,and the pain got worse as the airport came into view.We landed,and my head jerked forward and back,making the headache even more unbearable.I fell asleep again,just briefly,with those thoughts lingering in my head.The desire for you to see things for yourself,the way i saw them,was even more unbearable than the pain above my left eye.

Simon woke me up about ten minutes later,and i woke up from my daze feeling giddy.I never spoke to anybody afterwards,just hurried off out of the terminal.The pain still linger in my head,but some pains knocked harder than others.I was glad to be home,to be on the ride down the familiar road.But was i truly happy though,i asked.More questions,fuck.

Metaphor of Loneliness

"...I can think of no better metaphor for loneliness (or at least involuntary independence) than a photograph of a man with his arm extending out of the frame and his body leaning backwards, every muscle engaged, hoping to get the shot of himself he envisions in his head. A shot, by the way, that looks nothing like the man. This, of course, is why he chooses it as his portrait. It doesn't remind him of anything he knows so well. Maybe he likes to hold his lens to the mirror because the inverse of his image is just novel enough to satisfy him. Maybe the glare from the flash across the glass cheats the math. A fluke of physics for 1/400 of a second, proof that sometimes, when you shoot enough, the camera gets it right.

As time goes on, the best years of our lives will be remembered by photos we took of ourselves. We'll handle our own history, revising it as we go along, deleting the ones that don't look like our reflections anymore. All that will remain will be images of people that look nothing like us.

In 20 years it won't matter what our connection to us was. There will be nothing to learn from an image of ourselves, by ourselves. That's called life. The ongoing image of us, by us. It will only matter what the connection to others was like.

Those will matter.

That shot that girls take together, man - they know what they're doing. The flash hits so hard that everything behind their hair becomes arbitrary darkness, their environment suggested only by the cut of dress and color of beverage. That's your life. That's your self. When you hand the camera to someone else, you break that electrical circuit of hand to lens to eye to vanity. I've never seen any truth in that, and I never expect to..."

---John Mayer,from his myspace blog.

A Pink Letter

Why do the street lamps die
When you're passing by
Like a hand that won't stay on my shoulder tonight
If you held me close, would you laugh it away
Would you dare the glance that I steal to stay?

Dear You,

Life brings you some of the rarest surprises everyday,doesnt it?You of all people should know that,actually.The birds outside your room window,dark clouds over your house,your grandmother's fingernails,flowers in your backyard,moments of perfection captured with your pictures.You,of all people,should know what life brings everyday.

But for me,not all of those moments are welcoming,or friendly.Aside from the bigger misfortunes,i tend to have bigger emotional impacts on smaller things of life.Things that might seem trivial at first,but at a closer examination,they actually mean quite a whole lot to me on an emotional and spiritual level.

I was looking through my old messages,clearing them off one by one.Committing the same crime as do most lovers/ex-lovers,i saved up old messages from you to me,long ago.Then,i came upon the very last SMS conversation that we ever had.That was memorable,in a way.You were apologising for messaging me accidentally.How ironic,huh?It is one of those situations whereby,i havent got a clue whether i should laugh or cry,because it really was a conflicting moment back then,i remember.

Anyway,so here i am writing you a letter.A bright pink letter,on what happened to me since you've been gone.From me,from this life i know,the life i live,the one with me,and me only.

Since you've been gone,you've been called a lot of names.By me.And i apologise for that.I was angry,i was depressed,i was questioning myself.I dont know why i did it,called you names and all.I couldnt help it,but i guess in a way it was my way of dealing with it,dealing with the fact that i torn away four months worth of memory in my mental diary just to run away from reality,to do as you asked me to do,princess.Ms. Duplicity was a little harsh,i admit.If i hadnt wrote that down on paper and then as a poem on my blog it wouldve threatened my life,eating me from the inside.I never meant to do you wrong,just trying to deal with you,since you've been gone.

Since you've been gone,i've been having insomnias.Not every night,but more of it lately over the past two weeks.No matter how much i try,to get myself worn out and battered in the morning,to bore myself out with complicated Sudoku puzzles,i can never solve my own problems as i laid wide awake in bed every night till 2am.I thought of a lot of things,from what to buy this weekend,to a joke my friend cracked that morning,to the taste of some random Ramen,to some imaginary gig i might someday be doing,to...well,it drifts here and there.The past and the future,the memorable and the forgotten.From you to me,and me to you.From laugh to cries,much pain and die.I thought,and i thought so hard every night.Every single night,with you and that schmuck.I am sorry for name calling,but i just learnt that word,and it's just so addictive.Been saying that a lot too,since you've been gone.

Since you've been gone,ive been reading your blog more often now.That never changed,that remains the same.You are so busy with your life,so happy with where you are and where you are going to be.The pleasure of you in your job,in your gatherings with your friends,i am so happy for you.In a way,i tell myself that,that if she is happy then everything is fine.That everything will be okay,because afterall that is what i set out to do in the first place,right?And if it is not going to be coming from me,as long as you are happy then why not?I tell myself that,i lie to myself everyday to make myself a little happier,a little more contented with where i am today,and where i am going to be,unlike you.

Since you've been gone,ive been writing stuff in my notebook.You know,the one you wrote in with me while we were in the McDonald's,when we were there alone in the late afternoon,when we argued with each other via words,do you remember?That same,black and white,checkered notebook of mine,now scribbled with stuff in my head.Stupid stuff,mostly.Some about you,and whatever that is left of you in me,and whatever is left of me in you.I found i never wrote anything more than four lines,or anything in complete.I never found the determination,the urge to finish something i started.That'd be too agonizing,to painful in my opinion.To finally admit to defeat somehow,beaten down by your own guilt and all the sorrows mounted up like a bloody volcano.

Since you've been gone,the excitement of booking out is totally gone.I remember those days when we messaged each other right before i booked out,so excited and so innocent all at the same time.The wait of talking to each other online was simply agonizing,and i kept urging my mother to step on the gas so as to get home asap.Now,the feeling is gone.Booking out simply means,booking out.MSN alerts me of you coming online,and i click on your name.A window pops out,and from your display picture you looked so beautiful.So beautiful,as usual.Then there's the boy,that smile,that look,that schmuck.The cursor blinked.Once,twice,then over and over.Blank,i cannot bring myself to say anything.Not anymore.So i stare blankly into the monitor and collapsed before the keyboard.My head between my hands,palms pressed against my temples,cursing under my breath.My finger trembled while i hestitated.But i did it anyway,as i clicked on the little "X" on the top right hand corner of the window.A little routine whenever you come online,something ive been doing all the time,since you've been gone.

Since you've been gone,songs started to mean so much more.As i have listed on my blogs earlier,those songs means so much more to me now.Like a bunch of needles bunched against my face,the indications striking me over and over whenever i listen to those songs.Perhaps it is the human nature,a perhaps twisted side of us,mankind,to love the feeling of mental torture sometimes.To be a little bad,sadistic to ourselves.I do that,late at night when i am along in my room with nobody to talk to.I do that,when i am sitting on a long bus trip to nowhere,with the world around me fleeting away,when it is you being the most fleeting of all.I do that,when my mother drive me to camp,and the car passes the sign that leads off the expressway that reads "Diary Farm Road".I do that,when i am in my bed,way past midnight inside my bunk,dreaming of scenes in a little restaurant.I am there,upon a small stage with my guitar,and Ahmad next to me on a high chair.The lights were dim,and the mood was cozy.People stared,and waited for a song from me,and i was happy and glad.Then i laid eyes upon someone,somebody,you.You were there,with that guy,the schmuck.A spotlight shines,and you were in the centre of it all.I smiled,and whispered to Ahmad what i wanted to play then,and dedicated it to a nameless you that night in that little cozy restaurant.As i dreamed it,i fell asleep.Everyday,i dream it.Everyday,i think of it.And everyday,right before i lose control of my thoughts and my senses,i thought i tasted a pinch of salt on my mouth,or maybe it was just the tears that found it's way to my lips,the sour feeling in my nose,late at night in camp.

Since you've been gone,ive also started to write letters,letters like this.Spontanious ones,that seem to go on for ever.I dont intend to send them,or read them,or have them kept in any part of my room,the house,or my head.It is written down,out of my head,and that's that.You are never going to read this,and i know that for a fact.I know,that you are never going to care,if i do post it out and it happen to get to your place one fine day.You'd probably get excited for awhile,then nothing left inside it.Which is why,i am writing a letter to you,to me.Why i am also writing a letter for me,to you.

Since you've been gone,i've been a wreck.Embarking on a journey of self-destruction.A self-mutilating pattern,only in the mind.A featureless body,crumbled upon a hill of ash,dissolving into the passing wind and evaporating to the burning air.That is me,the one and only,the pissed and crazy,screaming and lonely.

Just some of my thoughts,since you've been gone.

Your's truly,
Me.

Midnight
Lock all the doors
And turn out the lights
Feels like the end of the world
This sunday night

There�s not a sound
Outside the snow's coming down
And somehow I can't seem to find
The quiet inside my mind

3:02
The space in this room
Has turned on me
And all my fears have cornered me here
Me and my tv screen

The volume's down
Blue lights are dancing around
And still, I can't seem to find
The quiet inside my mind

Daylight is climbing the walls
Cars start and feet walk the halls
The world awakes and now I am safe
At least by the light of day...

At least by the light of day...

Chinook



That little flying thing up here was exactly what i took yesterday for training.It was exciting,at least for me,to fly in a helicopter.Afterall,despite the numerous experiences that ive had over the years flying,what are the odds of ever flying in a helicopter in a live time?Well,if you are the wife of a terribly rich billionaire,whose main transport is a private jet then,a Chinook is somewhat like his bicycle.That is out of the question,definitely.

Anyway,so this is what was supposed to happen.The guys form up at the form-up point,and then the Chinook would land.We board the chopper,the ramp closes up and then we fly to our destination merely five minutes away.Upon landing,the ramp goes down,the guys run out and then prone out,forming a fan-shaped...thing.The chopper takes off,we head towards the RV-point,job well done.Easy,not as it seems.

First i was the backdraft of the chopper flying over our heads.The winds you see in movies,they were fake.Totally under-rated.As the chopper swooped down above our heads,we didnt feel a thing.Well,at first.Then it came,the wave of wind flew the boys off our feet,bringing along with it a wall of dust and leaves.Those came crashing down upon us and the lot of us took cover under our helmets and trees,which were of course,not of much use.

Then it came,the chopper landed.I was pumped,and i licked my lips with excitement and at the same time,tasted sand(That was disgusting).One of the crew came out of the lowered ramp,and signalled for us to dash for the chopper.Three,two,one,action.

We dashed across the gravel road,then upon the little field where the chopper was.The wind blew towards us like a F5 tornado,knocking some of us off our feet and into holes in the ground.Then as we got closer,it got even worse.It wasnt the heat that had us down on our knees,but the heat that blasted out of the twin engines at the side of the chopper.They were like two giant hairdryer,blasting at us like hair on the top of our heads.Our rifles were going everywhere,and i shielded my face to the heat,but was of no use.The heat was too strong,and i tripped over a couple of holes before reaching the ramp,with half my face feeling totally burnt and worn out.I felt like i just sat on the beach of Siloso for the past five hours or so,and my hair was all over the place.Or rather,what was left of it.

I was drained,and my face was still burning as the ramp went up.We buckled up for the ride,and i was really excited as i held my rifle tight.Then,it took off.

I swayed a little,then soon enough we found ourselves airborne.We took the chopper twice that day,once in the day and once in the night.The procedures were the same,but at night it was totally different.

In the morning,i could see the little beach Samuel,Krishna and I laid upon years ago while we had our kayaking days.I remember Sembawang Island was off limits to kayakers,and that we werent allowed to even step foot on that island.But we did anyway,and we had the time of our lives as we just sat on the beach like kings of the world,and that incident when we were attacked by a school of fishes.It was memorable,really.And seeing the beach from the chopper brought back some fond memories indeed.

Then at night,the view totally changed.In the distant,Malaysia's ports shone brightly and proudly.Then,it came.The grand view of the moon in it's full glory as it hung low in the evening sky.It was beautiful,as the chopper flew across the moon and the rays of moonlight came in through the windows.I admired at it for a while,and then it was gone.But it was in that moment,that split moment it left a lasting moment.I didnt have a camera then,but man what a picture that wouldve been.Incredible,indeed.

Beautiful Vandalism

I apologize for my overuse of oxymoronic sentences as my topics of late.Ive been reading this book called "Oxymoronica",and it's been great so far.So life changing quotes in there that raised an eyebrow for me,or made me smile despite my bunkmates staring.Because really,that's what great books do to you,they make the world around you vanish.

Anyway,regarding the topic of this entry.Ive been thinking for a very long time to do it already,ever since i saw the "Best of You" video by the Foo Fighters.In the video,there's a scene where Dave Grohl goes up and down this red corridor,with angry words scribbled all over and walls.Then there's another with the drummer before another wall,and the same words written in a circular shape,which i thought was kinda neat.

Then there was the time(THE time),when i went to her estate and had lunch at this cafe called "Gone Fishing".A great little cafe i'd say,with lots of scribbling on the walls everywhere.Apparently the owner of the cafe,allows the customers to write anything on the wall.It started with simple comments regarding the food,or the drinks and stuff.Then people started drawing and writing non-sensical stuff all over the place.I,as a avid fan of vandalism,wrote "Hey,dont vandalise" on one of the walls.Haha,i know the irony of it all.But it was all for the fun of it.

Anyway,i was kinda inspired to do the same with my wall,but was too afraid to simply write things on my wall.I mean,what if things go awfully wrong?I'd have to repaint the whole room myself,and that's a bloody hassel i cannot afford.

So ive decided to write stuff on boards,paper ones of course.Ive sliced them up and ive been writing stuff on them all afternoons.Song lyrics,mainly.And so far it's been looking great,getting all pumped and excited about it indeed.

So far ive written these songs:

1)Even So by Rachael Yamagata
2)Breathing by LifeHouse
3)Fix You by Coldplay
4)Gravity by John Mayer Trio
5)Life in Mono by Mono
6)Dirty Little Secrets by Sarah Mclachlan
7)Tiny Vessels by Deathcab Cutie
8)Foolish Games by Jewel
9)Name by Goo Goo Dolls
10)Delicate by Damien Rice
11)Blue by Chantal Kreviazuk
12)Caramel by Suzanne Vega
13)Across the Universe by Fiona Apple
14)Hang by Matchbox Twenty
15)This Year's Love by David Gray

Those songs left me with an aching back and sore fingers.But it's all going to be worth it once i get everything onto the wall.My ultimate art,the beautiful vandalism.

"First i dream my painting,then i paint my dream" --- Vincent van Gogh

"No artist is pleased...There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction,a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others." --- Martha Graham

Mystery Man

Lately i have been recieving complains from my friends,and probably from the angelic half of me as well.Come to think about it,they might just be right about me,something i havent had the time,or bothered to ponder about over the days.

A rather rude SMS from my friend calling me a "stupid bitch"(Haha),triggered this whole "Hmm,she might be right" thing inside.Come to think about it,i have been pretty closed up all my life,like this shadow in the corner.Yesterday night while having one of those Friday Night chats with a friend of mine,she too observed that im a rather secretive person.I have never considered myself one,not even close to being a mysterious person.

I asked her to rate from one to ten,how well she knows me.Ten being her boyfriend David,and one being Mr. Wong downstairs at the hawker who sells Rojak.She rated me at a six,and i wonder if that's a number worth celebrating.

Six is pretty damn pathetic,especially when you consider the person rating you a close friend.Then i started thinking,if i am really a bastard of a friend when it comes to sharing thoughts,feelings,secrets,all that stuff.It made me feel a little guilty,almost frustrated that i never thought about doing so for so long.

It is as if i owe my friends an apology,a sort of explanation about my close-up-ness.I dont know why,but i guess it's just in me.How i hate to talk about myself,my thoughts especially.I hate to repeat,despite my friend's assurance that it is okay to repeat like a broken recorder".You can say that now,but im sure one day,if i ever listen to your advice and start ranting limitlessly,you are going to stick your index and middle finger into my sockets and tear my eyeballs out.Because really,i have friends who are willing to pour their thoughts and emotions upon me like Tsunami over a 1km square island in the middle of the Indian Ocean,and it pisses me off when they do so.Not because i dont want to listen,but when they are repeating about the same old problems,same old woes,the same old bloody issues in their life it becomes seriously,absolutely,completely and utterly anger inducing.

So,putting myself in my friends' shoes,i decided to lock myself behind closed doors and digging a hole in the wall with a little hammer.To let the sun shine in once in a while and for me to check out the rest of the world.A comment made on Tom Cruise during an interview i saw online between Oprah and Letterman kinda suits my personality,i guess.Oprah commented on Tom that he tells you what he wants to tell you,and he hides from you what he wants to hide.And i guess,we both have our reasons to do so,however close we are to somebody,anybody.

I believe in a relationship,any relationship,you and a boy/girlfriend,you and your sister,brother or parents,or your neighbour.It always helps to have a secret or two to keep,something along the checklist of "About my Friend" that's still unchecked,a question mark.Just imagine yourself sitting by the beach,enjoying a cool night breeze with your boyfriend upon a bench.The moon is up,and above you a pepper-stray of stars.You turn around and look at your boyfriend,who was then staring out into the horizon blankly.You try to start a conversation,perhaps a romantic one.But you stumble,and you realise that you havent got anything to ask him because...you already know him inside out and upside down.

That's the end of the road,as far as verbal relationships go.

So,what i am saying is that if i reveal everything about myself to you,or vice versa,there will always be one point when we just shut down.When we havent got anything to say,to ask,to talk about to one another because you already know what he is going to say,what he is going to do,how he is going to react to your questions.What is the fun in that,or where is the surprise in a relationship like that.Isnt it kinda boring,in a way to know about somebody even before you are even closed to being a "happily married old couple"?I mean,happily married old couple have the right to say "Oh,i know about my significant other thorough".It wouldnt be senseless to say such a thing,because after all they've been together for a damn damn long time.

Ten points is the full mark,and i am four points short.But i am glad that i am merely a six in her mind.I am glad that,i have that four points still unrevealed,still questionable.By the time those four points are revealed,by the time she gets to know me better,i might have advanced to a fifteen or a twenty.All im saying is,i dont think there's any harm to keep things from friends,to let them know about things.You might be surprised,how much we can still talk about in five,ten years' time over a cup of coffee on a sunny Saturday afternoon.This is like a long-term investment of sorts,by not releasing too much information.

Despite those,i still feel a little guilty when i hide things,when i do not tell my friends certain things.It's almost as if i should tell them,when this urge inside tells me to just...SAY the god damn thing.But then again,i guess it feels good to keep a few secrets here and there,to keep my mouth shut about things.To be the mystery man in the crowd,who's there but not quite.

Did i just make myself sound like a bloody Marvel superhero?

There and Back Again Part VIII: Taj Mahal

The bus sped down the roads in the plains,and as we crossed the border of Agra we had lunch at a famous hotel in the region,called Ashok or something like that.It was a pretty grand hotel i must say,and the food was fabulous.Or perhaps,i was just starving my ass off.


Streets of Agra.


Dinner with the boys.

Anyway,we checked in to our hotel shortly after and checked out our rooms.The funny thing was,we were initially told that our hotel would be "Amor",though it sounded like the name of a cheap motel in the middle of Nevada desert,with blinking neon lights and a hot naked neon-made girl in the sign,it still sounded better than the actual hotel that we stayed at over the night."Amor" turned out to be "Amar",a typo error.That error along made our hearts sink as we pulled up at the hotel that afternoon.


Hotel Amo...i mean,Amar.

First of all,the hotel was under renovation,which reduced the size of the lobby to the size of a children's swimming pool.We were also doubtful of the pictures in the brochures,which showed swimming pools and a bar.We found the bar soon enough,but it was only a little bigger than my room.The swimming pool is hidden in a remote corner of the hotel,and none of us actually knew that it was there at all.

The room was bad,with the teleivision in bad condition.It had a hundred channels,but half of them had static all over the place,while the other half was pure Hindi stuff.Even the Cartoon Network was dubbed in Hindi,and that was just bad.Dexter sounded like a transexual and Dee Dee sounded hysterical.More,hysterical anyway.But anyhow,Jonathan and i shared the room,and we figured it wouldnt hurt to have a lousy room since we'd only be spending one night in it.


Indian Rambo on TV.

The water in the bathroom was...how should i call it.Unpredictable?I had trouble turning the water on,and when it was turned on it didnt have hot water.I had to keep it running for almost ten minutes for any hint of hot water.And when the hot water finally came the water started to drip out of the shower like a spoilt tap.That pissed me off,especially that night when i tried to bathe.The water was scorching hot,and halfway through the shower it blasted right into my face and i went screaming.And the water tasted salty,almost like sweat.It was as if the water was recycled from the floors above.Bad,very bad.

Anyway,that night we went around the town of Agra shopping,and that was interesting.At night we checked ourselves into the Pizza Hut near the hotel because of the ridiculous price it had on the menu.Six Singapore dollars for two person,completed with icecreams,garlic bread,drinks and two pizzas.

Hallelujah.


That's right.INR 150,only.Unbelievable indeed.

Anyway,we woke up bright and early for our trip to Taj Mahal.Due to the lack of sleep i had the previous night,i was particularly irritated by the morning call at 5am when the phone rang.It wasnt one of those normal ringtones,but sounded like a broken fire alarm for some reason.Jonathan woke up first,answered the call and moaned into the reciever.Slammed it down and continued to sleep.I was laughing so hard with my eyes half opened at his reaction to the phone call,he didnt even notice.

I was really excited to see the Taj Mahal,really.I was jumping around in the bus like a kid.I mean,it is one of the seven wonders of the world.Another reason was how much i have been looking forward to seeing it in India.I mean,let's face it.Im probably never going to visit India on my own accord.It's not a place that attracts me,period.Save for the Taj,of course.But anyway,visiting it has been on my mind throughout the whole India trip,and so i was particularly excited about everything.

After buying a few sourvenirs from the side of the buses we headed off to the Taj,which werent very far from the hotel we were at.We got off,and were immediately swamped by the locals selling identical sourvenirs at drastically different prices.Being the bargain king,i managed to get the lowest price for almost everything i bought.Boo-Hoo to CYS,who bought that handmade chess piece from that crying little kid for S$60.Sometimes you wonder where his brain actually grows,or if he flushed it down the toilet when he was a kid.Seriously,i know you are a christian and all,but that kid was clearly out there to trick your money.I bought the exact same chess set for INR 110,that is a little more than S$4.So seriously,you got conned.Genius.

We entered through the Western gate,according to the guide.The Taj Mahal was surrounded by low walls all around it made out of sandstone.Four gates,with the Northern gate leading to the Taj itself.We got through the Western gate and before us was the main square,with a bunch of tourists already swarming up the steps to the Northern gate.Around the gates it self were words carved into the marble,inscriptions from the Koran.On top of the Norhtern gate were twenty-two little domes,that signified the years it took to build the Taj Mahal.


After entering the Western Gate.Persian style towers at both sides.

A little back story to the Taj Mahal itself.They call it a tribute to beauty,and quite literally too.It was built buy this Muslim king called Shah Jahan,who built it for his second wife,Mumtaz Mahal,who died at child birth.She was the most favoured queen by the people,as well as Shah Jahan himself.And her death brought great grief to everybody.Therefore,Shah Jahan ordered builders from all over the world,which included India,China,France and Iran,to gather in Agra to build this palace in memory of his late wife.


The Northern Gate,or the Main Gate they call it.

Anyway,we entered through the Northern gate,and before was the beautiful and astounding Taj Mahal.It took my breath away then,when i first laid eyes upon the building.It was early in the morning then,and the air was misty.The morning sun cascaded down the side of the magnificient dome at the top,and the building shimmered softly in the morning sun.It was beautiful,and i honestly speaking im out of words to describe it.It was like a living being,music frozen in time,history before our eyes.


First sight of Taj Mahal,for me.


In full glory.


The Mosque at the edge of a cliff.


One of the four towers,leaning six inches outwards.So that when an Earthquake hits the area it would fall outwards,instead of inwards into the main building.Genius.


Front entrance.


Inscriptions from the Koran.

We took pictures,lots of it as i walked closer to the Taj Mahal itself.The four towers stood tall at each corner of the building.The amazing thing about Taj Mahal,besides its beauty,is the perfect symmetry of the whole place.Left to right,from any direction,it is a perfect symmetry.From the top of the dome,all the way down to the gardens that laid before our feet.One thing,however,that wasnt symmetrical was the tomb of the king and the queen in the middle of the palace.On the left laid the king,and the right laid the queen.This is the only non-symmetrical aspect of the whole place.Otherwise,it was perfect.In fact,due to this imperfection,it made the story a tad bit more mysterious and beautiful all at the same time.


Plastic covers for our shoes.

We were in awe,as we put on plastic bags around our shoes as we entered the place.Photographs were not allowed in the interior,which is why i never took any.But then again,the most beautiful aspect was the exterior anyway,so nothing you'd miss.

We had merely half an hour to tour the place,which was awfully short really.But it was truly an astounding place,and made the whole trip to India worthy of remembrance.


Picture perfect.


Music frozen in time.