In Continuum.

The Blower's Daughter Part Two

This has got to die
This has got to stop
This has got to lie down
Someone else on top

You can keep me pinned
It's easier to tease
But you can't paint an elephant
Quite as good as she

And she may cry like a baby
And she may drive me crazy
Cause I'm lately lonely

So why d'you have to lie?
I take it I'm your crutch
The pillow in your pillow case
It's easier to touch

And when you think you've sinned
As you fall upon your knees
Living in your picture
Still forget the breeze

And she may rise
If I sing you down
And she may wisely
Cling to the ground
Cause I'm lately horny

So why would she take me only...

This has got to die
This has got to stop
This has got to lie down
Someone else on top...

3/4, 1/4 and 0

I think it was from a magazine,where i read about this a long time ago.A simple test can be conducted,by simply asking a mere question,in order to determine the nature of a person,if he or she is pessimistic or optimistic towards life,and everything within it.

Like the chicken-and-egg question,it is one of those questions that has the potential to go on forever and always,and it really depends on the views of the person asked to make this never ending chain of answers come to an end.

To determine the nature of his view on life,simply ask a person the question with a cup of water,half filled.You sit at the bar table,and before you is a cup of water,half filled with water.Exactly half.Now,you ask the person,if he or she thinks that the glass is half full or half empty.

If the answer is half full,then the person would automatically be deemed to be a rather optimistic person.It need not be in every aspect of life,but the fact that he or she chose this over the other,gives people an impression or sense that he or she has hope within oneself,the way he or she convinces him or herself that there is still water left in the glass,that there's still something left to enjoy before the end.

In contrary,if one were to choose the option "half empty",vice versa,the person would be deemed to be pessimistic in nature.It's like saying "Oh my God,it's ALREADY half empty!" Imagine a man with his right leg being eaten away by leprocy.He amputated his leg,and what's left of his right leg is the thighs,ending with a sudden knot in the skin,like the end of a string of sausages.An optimistic person would naturally go "Well,i still have my left leg".A pessimistic person would go,"Damn,i havent got a right leg".I know it is quite a different situation,but in a way they are in fact quite similar to one another.Half empty,half a pair of legs.

Walking through the midnight crowd at Bugis was a rather interesting experience.As the shops closed in on themselves,as they pulled the shutters down,neon lights going off one by one,and the clinging sound of wine glasses against one another as the waiter washed them under the running tap.The ending of a long day's work,the ending of a whole day,the beginning the night,the end of reality,of life.

Bugis doesnt seem to have any time to breathe at all,with the crowd still lingering around the corridors of the mall,like fans after a rock concert,awaiting the encore.Despite the closed doors,the dark shops and the lonely shopkeeper packing up her stores,there will always be people hanging around the mall,breathing in the scent of population,of life left over by the day only hours before.

With half the mall empty,and the other populated by aimless wanderers like myself,Bugis Junction never seemed lonelier.The fountain seized to spurt out beautiful jets of water,crashing into each other and setting off breathtaking display of crystal droplets.By the Starbucks i sat,on the uncomfortable green chairs around the metal table.The lights around the fountain was still on,and it no longer made the spurting water glow,but only alluminating the air around it.I remember that afternoon,when a malay kid wearing a cute green swimsuit,ran through the jets of water with her little brother,and taking a shot of that water right in her face.It was adorable,she was beautiful,as we watched with our chins in our palms,with two cups of ice-blend before us,one empty,one merely a quarter drank,reluctantly.

I drummed my fingers on the table top,and my sight angled towards the chair before me,where you sat more than half a year ago.Has it really been that long?I cant even recall the time,only the time that we had.Till now,i still wonder if you really wanted the ice-blend,or merely bought it before i wanted it for myself.You didnt have to force yourself to it you know,forcing it down and making it a little past the quarter mark.Or was it 3/4 full,in truth?A quarter empty,perhaps?

It's funny,how a cup of ice-blend can in so many ways tell your personality.It's pathetic in a way i know,to judge your own character based on something made up of coffee and whip cream.But then again,sometimes,you just want to rely on such trivial implications,hoping they would mean something,anything.

It troubles me,if the cup was a quarter empty or half full.Was i optimistic about anything that followed,or pessimistic about the future.You set out then,right before the trip around your head all optimistic,all fearless and courageous.You are willing to take on any risks,throw yourself at any opportunities out there like a wanna-be rocker at a record deal.Guess it seemed 3/4 full back then,the ice-blend you forced down your throat after the meal at Swensen's.Back then,it was almost full,and i was almost complete,the broken picture was for an instant,just an instant,me.

Nine months ago,nine months now,as i looked upon the picture in my phone,it suddenly seems to me that the cup wasnt 3/4 full,nor was it 1/4 empty,but really it was own cup that personified my feelings the best.It was empty,like me.It was drank,drained like myself.It was finished,like the way my thoughts are constantly draining away down into this black emotional black hole.

It doesnt matter now,that if the cup was 1/4 empty or 3/4 full,if i was in any way optimistic or pessimistic about so many things.What mattered,what matters now,is the fact that the empty cup actually meant something,something i overlooked before.It's empty,it's zero.It's what's left of me,just dew drops on the outside of the cup,and nothing else inside but leftovers of the sweetness before,thoughts and emotions,dreams and longings.Just a cup all empty,and not full.Is there a difference,anyway?

Ginger Dumb Men

Just imagine up above in the clouds,somewhere between the stratosphere and the infinite vacuum,a place few humans visited before,save for astronauts in or(unfortunately,at times)out of their spaceships,a place with angels flying around with worker hats and gloves,making humans and fixing DNA structures through an assembly line.At one end of this big machine,a bunch of angels worked on newly moulded humans,and as the DNA structures get pieced together,they go through the main part of this machine,that sort of puts everything together like a blender.Out comes these newly made humans,ready to be born into this world like Barbie dolls or Barney the Dinosaur soft toys.

Of course,in a situation whereby there is a large amount of production,in anything,there will of course be defacts.Products that arent exactly up to standard,so to speak.Let's just compare them with a bunch of overbaked ginger bread man.But instead of having melted mouth or a broken arm,you have brain the size of peas or IQ level beneath sea level,with the sky being the normal human standard.

There are a lot of such people lurking around our lives these days.Im not sure if it is just me,but while Ahmad attracts people to ask him for directions(strangely enough),i seem to attract the dumbest or the most idiotic life-forms in this world.I have an issue with stupidity,and i guess in a way i am allergic to it.There is a hidden volcano,a raging inferno building up like a compressed spring,ready to ignite or explode once it crosses the threshold.I dont sneeze,but roll my eyes in disgust as these defective products cross my path.It pains me,to converse,to interact,to even be in the vicinity of these people.I know,it might sound mean to say such things,but let me tell you the rationale behind my evil sayings.

It was book out night,and for some reason instead of a nicely cooked dinner from my mother,i wanted to get a Mac instead.It's the craving for chicken wings i reckon,fried ones of course.She parked the car by the side of the road and flicked on the temporary parking lights,while i leaped off the car with the fifty dollar note between my fingers.

The McDonalds was packed,and by the time it was my turn to take order it already took a little more than five minutes.It was a guy behind the counter,probably in his twenties.I figured,due to previous experiences,older employees at fast food joints are usually the ones who are more prone to mistakes.A burger without the piece of meat,or fries that arent actually fried at all,mistakes like these.Anyway,so i got into the queue with this younger dude,and from his accent he sounded like he was either from the Philipines or perhaps Indonesia.He spoke with a strong accent,though not the likes of a Malay accent.It was more exotic i guess,and from the way he mistook my order twice,i knew he was probably foreign.

McWings took a little while to actually get onto the tray.He took the order from the guy behind first,while i stood by the counter and waited.I shook my head with utter disgust,at the way he actually prepared the stuff for that poor dude behind me.Three packs of fries were all he asked for,and the three packs were tumbling all over one another in the plastic bag.The drinks he ordered,was actually horizonally placed in the bag,which meant that by the time that poor customer reaches home,half the coke wouldve been gone from the cup.

I waited,and i waited somemore.I left my iPod in the car,and the Gallery in my handphone was boring me out.Still,that maybe-Filipino-Indonesian guy was taking his time asking for the McWings from the back.Finally a box of it came sliding down,and he grabbed it.I thought to myself,"Finally!" as i prepared the money.But to my astonishment he opened the box and kept looking into it,as if the wings werent well cooked and he was using his laser eyes to make them hot again.

He came to me with the box opened,and then with that smile on his face he asked,"These are McWings,right?"

I had the urge to tell him,"No,those are quarter pounder burgers with coleslaw".Because seriously,there arent a lot of options in McDonalds,not a lot of food you could choose from really.Yet,you couldnt even remember what's actually sold.Hell,at least know what a chicken wing look like,right.Im sure they have those in Indonesia/Philippines,right?

Second incident happened to me today,as i desperately tried to rush back to camp on time.I was turned out,and by 1130am i was already downstairs with my bag,all dressed up and cursing under my breath the luck that i was 'enjoying'.I think it is rather safe to say that my house is probably the worst place to call for a taxi,if you are unwilling to actually pay for booking.Seriously,every single bloody taxi just go pass you without stopping,sometimes even without any passengers.Fifty metres away you see the light at the top flashing "Taxi".As it closes in to twenty metres he suddenly changes it to "Hired",and flies pass you with lightning speed,hoping you wouldnt notice his car place number to complain about him,and in turn get him fired from the job.

I was being turned out,crunch time.I needed to get back asap,and with the clock ticking towards 1230 i was panicking,and sweating under the blazing hot sun.I decided to give Comfort taxi a call,but for some strange reason all the lines were engaged.Lunchtime,i thought to myself.They must be having lunch right now,fuck.I tried about a trillion times,and all the phones were engaged.I decided to try my hands on Silvercab instead,but i forgot their number.Called Singtel Service line at 100,and they too were engaged due to lunch.GREAT,now i was running late for turn out under the blazing hot late May afternoon sun.Brilliant,just so fucking brilliant.

A sudden change of luck,or so it seemed,a cab pulled up at the side of me as i waved desperatly with my left hand,while the right was holding the handphone still trying to get through to the bloody lines.He rolled down his window,and leaned over the passenger seat and shouted over the noise of the traffic beside us.

"Where are you going?"
"Keat Hong Camp,Old Choa Chu Kang Road?"
"Oh,sorry.No time."
"But i am being activated.I am in NS,i am being called back."
"Sorry,no time."

With that,he rolled up his window,stepped on the gas and sped off into the blinding traffic.NO TIME?JUST WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?I am using my foreign life,putting it in the front lines of your bloody country,defending this piece of land which doesnt rightfully belong to me,and you are telling me that you havent got the TIME to fetch me back to camp?I almost threw my shoes at the bloody cab and hopefully smash the windscreen.I was that pissed,as i cursed aloud over the sound of the oncoming traffic.I was frustrated,and the heat of the afternoon didnt help at all.

So there,my experiences with idiots in just two days.Thank God i met up with my old friends from Maris Stella today,a bunch of brainiacs and intellectuals.It reminds me that there are still people in this country,in this world who are actually sensible enough.Because seriously,if those angels up there are going to continue with their work like that,coming up with bad quality products,i am seriously going to erupt like a bloody volcano and make sure the ashes will bury those idiots from Comfort Cab and McDonalds like the residence of Pompeii.

The Great Gatsby

"...And as i sat there brooding on the old, unknown world, I thought of Gatsby's wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy's dock.He had come a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter - tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms further... And one fine morning -

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past..."

--- "The Great Gatsby" by F.Scott. Fitzgerald


I remember reading about this Fitzgerald guy somewhere in one of my books.They are overflowing on my cupboard,and i havent got place to put them by the way.That is definitely a problem i have to remedy soon,topping my list of things-to-do-when-im-free.Get a bloody cupboard from Ikea and get the books all arranged.

Anyway,as ive mentioned i remember reading about this Fitzgerald guy somewhere.I recall one of his passages being quoted in "The Time Traveler's Wife" by Audrey Niffenegger,but i wasnt sure.I loved the quotation,and upon reading about one of his works "The Great Gatsby",i jumped at the chance at buying it.

It turned out,that the guy from "The Time Traveler's Wife" is actually Robert Fitzgerald,while this guy is actually F.Scott Fitzgerald.Im not sure if they are in any way,related.Fitzgerald is not exactly a very common name,but it sure was a good bet to grab the book off the shelves at Kino.

I finished the book in less than two days,and it was an astounding experience for me.Great books relate,between characters and the readers,the way it transports you into those pages with mere words.This book did it for me,in the most unexpected way(especially after reading the snore inducing "The Shipping News" by Annie Proulx).Like the comment made by Sunday Times on the cover,it truly is "Exquisite" in every possible way.

For a man like Jay Gatsby,he lacks nothing and has everything.Everybody who is anybody is seen at his parties,thrown every Saturday,furnished with wine,food,Jazz and women.Lots of women,in his Long Island mansion.For Gatsby,who is handsome,charming and most of all,rich,seems to be a lonely host of sorts.Always alone in the crowds,listening to murmurs and the music,looking at his guests(invited and uninvited)collapsing into the arms of strangers after glasses of alcohol.He is always standing,always watching,always looking out for something that nobody really knew what it was.

There's a secret that he hides,never revealed to anybody but the ones that mattered.He has all but one thing in the word,this one thing so precious it kills him at night that it is within his grasp,but fail to clench his fingers.Out across the bay,is Daisy's house,where she lives with her married husband Tom.He thinks about her everyday for five years,always about the time they spent together,that brief summer together before the great war.It was then,just Gatsby and Daisy,together and only them.

It is possible,it seems,to have your dreams and longing to spell a certain disaster in your life.It is not what the future holds that might potentially destroy everything you have so carefully constructed,but the toll the past has on you,the way they take you in its leash and never lets go.What kills,what torments,really is the memory that bugs you at night,controls your life and hands as your desperately tries to place everything together.

It spelled disaster for Gatsby,as he witnessed the crashing down of his life.Daisy's love for him and Tom,his lasting love for her,who once was,and the complications in between.Everything and everything,all amounting to the destruction of the kingdom build by Gatsby,a kingdom of music,happiness and parties,though always shimmering bright on the surfacing but painfully hollow underneath.

I related to Gatsby,in a way i did not expect myself to.Of course i never threw parties for friends,or friends of friends,or friends of friends of friends.I dont have a hydroplane,or a yellow automobile to suit the pink suit that he wears.Hell,i dont even think i am ever going to go to Oxford like he did,or win medals in war and become a major.But i guess in a way,both of us are living exquisite lives,lucky to most people and fortunate.To the others,i guess we are the really lucky ones,or "bastards" like some would address us as.The mansion,the lawn,the hydroplane.The iPods,the handphones,the guitars.Really,we arent very much different.But underneath those materialistic things,those tangible items of life,there is this gap desperately in need of feeling,though always in sight but out of our reach.Like sand flowling through the gaps of our fingers,always squeezing tighter,always flowing away faster.

Longings and dreams,the hollowness at the heart of a dream,the way this wave of destruction forces the both of us to realise,to unravel.Are we destined,are we both doomed to be fools in this game of love,spiraling down an endless staircase that doesnt seem to lead to anywhere?Are we all going to die,next to the swimming pool,shot through the chest and drowning in our own blood?Am i going to be destroyed by my longings,my dreams,my hope,you?

At the end of the day,when the dust settles and the party-goers leave,all that is left is a messed up hallway and a trampled lawn.Swimming pools with wine glasses at the bottom,with leftover food flowing over the brink of bins.What's left,in this empty life so filled with hollow chatters and laughter?What's left of this dream,what can be redeemed of this dream,by obtaining it would be the absolute vanguish of it in the first place.It's ironic,and in a way contradictory.The willingness to take the risk,the risk of being killed in the process,to be destroyed,why are we the fools of oneself,ourself?

At least in life,Gatsby old sport.You had the wealth,the life,the green light across the bay upon the dock.What i have,what i have left are messages and memories.Lingering thoughts and utter disappointments.I havent got a green light across the bay for me to follow,to grab hold of in the middle of the night,in sight of your friendly neighbour.There isnt a yellow automobile i have,to drive to your place and invite you over for tea and cakes.I have...trivial things now.And does it matter,if i have anything at all,if it isnt you?

Something's Missing

"...I think the God that was making the Indian people was having some sort of practical joke with other Gods.I think he was showing off or something,we were like some sort of experiment.'Hey,hey guys watch this!Watch this!Okay,these people here,and i'll put them in the hottest place in the world.And just for fun,i'll cover them with hair.'Because we're a hairy race man,and that's a shitty shitty deal man!It's hot as hell and we're hairy.How the how can you trade off that,it's bad enough that being hot and then you have to add hair..."

--- Russell Peters

Something was amiss,i told myself.Something was missing from the horizon,the way every day things disappear all so suddenly and quietly,you lose your ability to put your finger on it.It was there,at the same window at the end of the corridor back in camp,when i noticed that little difference in the horizon.

It was raining again,and as i looked out into the misty world i cursed under my breath the way the weather of Singapore is so screwed up all the time.I miss India's weather,India's sun.Despite the poverty,everything in India seems to be so much better than the way Singapore is.I know it's probably that human nature thing working up on me again,the longing for better things,things aside from your everyday mundane life.I cant help it,i just couldnt.But then again,what can we do about it,really.

Anyway,it mustve been the sunset,i concluded.It was a bad storm,with the western sky dominated by rain clouds,the threatening ones with flashing of lightning hidden behind veils of fluffy grey clouds,like looking at streetlamps through a raindrop dotted window.Yeah,i told myself.It was the sunset.It was nowhere to be seen today,as i looked at the horizon with Sarah Mclachlan's "Dirty Little Secret" going through my ears.

Everything is amiss these days,isnt it?I remember the time when i lost my wallet back in Primary One.It was a blue wallet with Power Rangers printed at the front.It had a little less than a dollar then,and that kind of money was a fortune to us Primary School kids back then.It meant five fish balls or two chicken wings.It meant lunch,it meant snacks,it meant food,it meant everything.I cried,as i pulled on Mrs. Raj's sleeves,and telling her that i lost merely a dollar.She dismissed me back to my seat,and asked me to keep quiet and stop whining about the dollar.I couldnt stop crying,and sobbed through the rest of her lesson,and Mrs. Raj i remember,was obviously displeased.

Everybody blame somebody when something is missing,something is gone.I think God is perhaps the most misunderstood person in the world,however often i tend to disagree with some of his works.I mean,we humans love to blame dont we.Anything that goes wrong,anything that's missing,we point to fate or God.We seldom look at ourselves,or other reasons that something happened.It's always God and his practical jokes,his little fun with us humans,his creations.But then again,as i thought about it over the week,some jokes are just more cruel than the others,just too real and coincidental to be mere...fate?

Riding down Upper Thomson Road was a friend of a friend.Let's call him A,and the common friend between us is B.B is an out-spoken person in my platoon,always the quick one to laugh,the one to retort,the one to make funny remarks.You can call him the clown of the platoon,though the word "clown" hardly fits anyway.He had his way of conveying his jokes across,that even though it is not funny,it makes your sides ache with pain of laughter.A is a friend of his,and at 2.45am one morning he was riding down the expressway to attend a friend's funeral on his bike.While negotiating a sharp turn,he lost control of his bike and crashed into the sign post at the side of the road.His body was smashed,sprawled on the edge of the busy street with blood all over,killed instantly by the bike he meant to sell a week later.

How ironic,how big a joke this mustve been to my friend,B,upon reading the news in the newspaper,with his friend's picture at the top of it all.I wonder what went through his head,if his family is holding out okay,if it was true or real at all,if it was all a cruel practical joke pulled by God himself.

He took leave on Monday,and returned on Thursday night.A drastic change was in him,and like the sunset in the horzion on this rainy day,something was missing in him.Something amiss.He was quiet,almost too quiet,as he sat in the corner under the shade as we tossed dummy grenades across the soccer field.I observed him,as he played with his toes,and drew imaginary circles on the ground with his slippers.Some tried to cheer him up,massaging him on the shoulders and the thighs.He gave a forceful smile,almost too fake to be sincere or thankful.To me,i could almost feel the pain of losing something,the way it all seemed like a bloody joke from up above.

Perhaps it was a joke,a practical one.Perhaps it was all fate,the cruelness of it all.It didnt happen to him,but sometimes the way things happen to you without a reason at all,can be troubling.Thinking about the reason,and then at myself,perhaps made me just a tad bit guilty i guess.I mean,for so many times i have blamed God for making her leave me.I've told myself numerous times,that i dont mind the fact that she's with someone else,but the fact that she's not here with me anymore was the painful part.I blamed him,i blamed her,and i blamed God.Despite having not a religion in my mind,i still blamed him.Because i was angry,because i was pissed off,because i just needed something at the tip of my index finger.

But compare to B,compared to this friend of mine,God seems to have played a bigger practical joke.Taking a friend away from his life,like a chess piece off the board.The way the king tumbles off the board after a checkmate.Just like that,perhaps with a tip of a finger,and he is gone.Like that,gone.Isnt that a greater practical joke,as compared to mine,if it was a practical joke at all?It was like a seven-course meal to a plate of peanuts,the way the joke fell upon his shoulders and the way the joke fell on mine.Mine suddenly becomes so trivial,in the shadow of his pain,his anguish.

We should laugh it off sometimes,we should pat the dirt off our knees at times.But right here,right now,there are just some jokes that bares too deep into the bones,too deep into our minds,and we feel like a bathtub of water draining out into the gutter,as the stopper is being pulled out.Slowly and gradually,we dive into ourself,deep into our souls and forget about the rest of the world.The red water sinks in,swirls and disappears into this hole until what is left,what is really left afterwards,just emptiness and thoughts bouncing off the sides of the lonely tub.

Silent Speaking

It was one of those humid afternoons,the ones you never wish to be caught in the middle of.Under the overhead bridge the cars drove on by,as the drivers busied themselves with their minds bent on their destinations.I was walking on the overhead bridge then,avoiding on coming traffic of old couples and young kids,as i mumbled to myself,"Go away...go away".

It is the rhythem that irritates me,the way the noise and sound of the world pulsates through your head as you take notice of it.The worst sort of background music ever,when you pretend not to notice it.I try my best,each time i take my stroll on the streets.The blasting iPod,perhaps is just a way for me to elude things,to run away.The sound,the noise,of life and reality.

Would you please meet me by the water, baby?
We'll have a really good time
Would you please meet me by the water, baby?
'Cause I can't get you off of my mind

It was her again,ringing in my head.It's that melancholic,smokey voice of Rachael that always gets to me,anytime anywhere.To think that i saw her on the Music Junction sales shelf was rather saddenly and frustrating to me.I felt like buying all of them,then kill the shopkeepers,telling them what a gem they've missed.

That couple,with their backs to me at the bus stop as i sat behind them.They were speaking under their breaths,and even with my earpieces off i couldnt hear them proper.They laughed,at one point,and the guy's back banged into mind softly,like a tap on the back.She had somebody to talk to,and he had someone to speak to.

An old couple at the end of the bus stop,and the lady was carrying a bag of groceries i think.The man seemed to be troubled,frowning as he conversed with the lady.They both looked across the road then,at the MRT station where the crowd came in and out.They spoke quietly,always under the noise of the road,the sound of the horns,the notes of the song.

I've been thinking everyday about you
Don't fit anywhere into my life, but that's okay
'Cause I think I might be right for you
And because of that, I'm not scared at all
And everyone says I'm crazy
And everyone says I'm a fool
Would you meet me by the water tonight?
'Cause I'm ready to break all the rules


It was an empty bus,unlike the one i took in the morning.It was peak hour,and i wondered about the emptiness of the bus,if it was actually normal.The old couple was at the front of the bus,still speaking between themselves.Another couple,a fatter and younger one before me,silent and solemn in a strange way.But at least she had him,and he had her.They were there,despite the silence,it was screaming out loud the word "company",which myself and the Indian worker guy at the back didnt have.

Getting late,the sun was setting.The sunlight glided across the side of the bus like soap over a bath tub.The glare in my eyes,and at that moment the headache came back again.It felt like my brain shrank,and the skull was too big for it.Like a size four feet in a pair of size eight shoes.It bounced around in my head like a jelly,and everytime the bus made a turn it banged against the side,sending a sharp pain through the temples.

I hooked out my handphone,and surfing through the messages brought me to the folders.For some reason,the two messages that seem to be the remnants of the past.Despite all the breakthroughs,despite all the thresholds i crossed,there's always the messages,the ones that you sent me long ago.I think,perhaps in due time i might be able to let go,to delete these like rest of the stuff.But for now,my right thumb shook over the "C" button,or the "Cancel" button.It hovered,unwilling to press down,desperate to let go.

Please don't leave me standing with my heart in my hand
I can't last here
I'm breaking down, and no one understands why I got here
But I knew from the very first moment that I met you
You'd be the one

The young couple behind me at the bus stop.The old couple at the front of the bus.The fat couple across the aisle.All of them,had one another.One another...I opened the messages,a million times already.Once more,i told myself.Just once more,one more time before i delete it once and for all.I lied.I mean,i always tell myself that,but end up not doing so.Too much of a coward,too much of a wimp,too much of a loser.

This is it,i thought.This is all that is left right now.Like wreckage after a cash,rubble after a crumble,flood after a storm.The message,these messages,are all that is left of you,your voice.Like the voice in your head as you read a book,a newspaper,a magazine.Like a narrator it speaks to you,but never louder than absolute silence.This is all that is left of the words,my only way of speaking with you,however quiet we both get whenever we talk now.The portal to you,those few lines and little words,all that ive got,in my hands as they shivered and trembled.

This is,as good as it gets.This is,as far as it gets.This is,as pain as it gets.This is,as lonely as it gets.This is,it.

Would you meet me by the water tonight?
Would you please fall asleep holding my hand?
'Cause I've got everything in store for you, baby
If you'll be my man

The Guitarists

So it was as planned,at 12nn i got prepared to meet the club at City Hall MRT.It's true the last time we spoke about this,that we havent had a real gathering of the club for a long time.As XinYu mentioned,it's true that in a way we all miss the club a lot,no matter if we want to show it or not.I guess for me personally,it reminds me of what i used to have,the company of people that i hung around me,who made a difference to my schooling life,who are now still here to remind me that i HAD such a piece of history that is actually worth remembering.

Anyway,so i took the bus down to Toa Payoh MRT,which by the way was a pretty bad experience in a way,considering how the auntie cornered me while we were standing at the front of the bus,hangs clinging onto the handles above.You know how old people always have this strange smell,especially older men.Now,aside from the cornering auntie there was this old man,this guy who came up the bus with her.He was standing less than perhaps sixty centimetres away from my nose and the smell was bloody excruciating.You can imagine how relieved i actually was when i got off the bus,with the Mission Impossible theme ringing in my head,one of my top "Walking Songs" right now.

We met at the control,XinYu Ahmad and I at first.Choon Guan,Jingliang and Grace later on.We were headed for this cafe called the Mrs. Daisy...something.I cant remember what XinYu told me,but considering the weather and the fact that the ladies were wearing heels,i suggested that we might as well finish off lunch at Raffles City itself.

Japanese sushi was on my mind,and the fact that Raffles City had Sushi Tei was almost God sent.We ordered a hell lot of food,and the waitress mustve been pleasently stunned,with the orders we took and the way the food stacked up as they were served and finished.The sushi and the dons were great,and we had a great time catching up with each other.

It's nice to know that everybody seems to be getting along with their lives pretty well,especially the ladies.Of course,when you are a guy in NS there isnt really much to talk about concerning "life".It is a rather dead subject,after all.XinYu seems to be the same,still drooling and worshipping Lee Hom the way she did in the schooling days.Grace is going to Japan for this mission trip organised by her church,for a full month or so.That's pretty cool,and i wouldve jumped at the opportunity.We tested her on a couple of useful Japanese words,and i taught her "Hen-no O-Ji-San".Im not exactly sure about the spelling,but i pointed at Ahmad when i was saying that.It actually means "Perverted Old Man".

Debbie joined us a little later,due to the fact that she had a late night clubbing thing last night,and woke up a little over 12nn.She too seems to be in a rather cool life,studying some computer engineering thing in NTU.She's going to San Franciso for some Macintosh organised course actually,which is really cool.I wonder if they'd get to visit the Golden Gate,or even Alcatraz,though the latter is highly unlikely.

Andrew is still pretty much obsessed with Diet Coke.Im not sure,but i remember him being this way ever since Secondary School.While everybody else ordered Green Tea,i remember the glee in his face and the glimmer in his eyes when he stared dearly at the waitress(who was really nice in a very professional way)and said,"May i have Diet Coke please?" It was hilarious to me then,and i still kinda chuckle over it.

Jingliang shared with us this disturbing story about a male friend of his who got molested by ANOTHER guy in the Yishun MRT toilet,as we were speaking about the topic of molestation.I know it is perhaps kinda strange to be speaking of such subjects over lunch in such a public place,but then again considering the fact that the girls were living in halls in their schools and the fact that a couple of girls were harrassed and even raped happened only this year,i guess it is a rather relevant topic.

Basically a friend of his visited the toilet and was setting his hair when the guy next to him at the urinal minutes earlier came up behind him,and then reached down towards his groin area and gave it a soft but stern pat.After that he went,"Wow,very big eh?" His friend freaked and dashed out of the toilet that very moment.It was a hilarious and disturbing story all at once,and got me looking at the Orchard MRT toilet in a totally different way as i made a U-Turn from the toilet.Great,now i am paranoid about MRT toilets.Thanks,Jingliang.

I had a great time with my fellow guitarists.Thanks for the great lunch and hope to see you guys again real soon.And yes,no more gatherings in town.Get a bloody chalet next time XinYu,and we shall stay up all night like the way we did the last time and catch the sunrise.We shall catch the sunrise as promised,okay?;)

Flying Woes

So i was in camp doing absolutely nothing today.According to some of the guys,getting paid for sleeping in camp all day long can be a rather enjoyable job,but personally i'd prefer to enjoy the luxury of free income from the comfort of my home,and not rot in camp with no commanders around,just the men staring at each other,as if the book out timing is written on each others' foreheads.

The whole place was quiet today,which was nice in my opinion.No stupid sergeants yelling orders from downstairs,no fall in timing and no one urging you to go for dinner and the importance of scanning your damn cards.No one,just us and the silence.Thus,i allowed myself to a little moment of thoughts,as i looked out at the parade square with half the battalion already gone home(Yeah,once again we were the last company to leave,maintaining the bloody standard as the most fucked company in terms of achievement recognition).

Earlier this morning i recieved a message from Corinna,who was then at the airport about to board the plane to New York.Yeah,New York.THE New York,the one with Madison Square Gardens and Broadway.I know i am probably going to travel to more places after my term in jai...i mean,camp.But allow me to whine and sulk for now,please.

Anyway,i called her up as she was on the plane itself,and we talked in the wee hours of the morning at 6am after my breakfast.Apparantly that crazy woman went to club before the flight and hadnt slept at all.I know the flight to New York via Tokyo is a bloody long flight(In fact,if you have a giant satay stick and you poke that through the middle of Singapore,say Ang Mo Kio,you'd probably drill a hole straight through to New York.After all,it is on the other side of the bloody globe).But drinking and clubbing right before a flight is definitely something out of the norms.This girl seriously has a scheduling disorder thing going on.

As we were speaking on the phone,about ten minutes into the conversation the old woman beside her(which needed ironing),could be heard over the phone asking her to speak elsewhere if she wanted to talk on the phone,and that she was having a headache.There,our conversation was cut short because some woman decided that it was unpleasent for a girl to talk on the phone with a guy on a 6am flight to New York,and came up with a wonderful plan that perhaps she could go to somewhere else and talk.

First of all,i know it is perhaps not entirely right to speak of the phone before the plane takes off.You might screw up the system on the plane and ten seconds into the flight you might just end up on Tekong Island with tail section of the plane long gone.Also,with the way she was speaking on the phone(Not particularly loud,but it had the terms like "bitch" and "slut" in the sentences),i dont think it was the most pleasent thing to be overheard by.But then again,you have to understand that she was going away for a bloody long time,and if she decide to speak on the phone for that little while,just that little while before the pilot decides to take off,go ahead!

Besides,i know lady,that you have a headache.Well my friend there beside you at that time clubbed the whole night and still managed to board the plan,without actually complaining about headaches of any form and sorts.You didnt hear her complaining about her issues with rotting humans like you,did she?And if you decide to give an alternative as to where she could talk on the phone without disturbing the peace of other fellow passengers,you might want to consider the fact that you guys were on the plane,and that it was virtually impossible to actually get to somewhere without passengers and talk on the phone,or get off your seat for that matter since the plane was actually about to take off.So the next time you decide to screw the passenger next to you by giving him or her an advice or two about public courtesy,consider your words and your advices because they might just not be the brightest or smartest idea in the world,and might in turn make you sound like an old grump,swine.

That's one,stupid fellow passengers who are sarcastic,stupid enough to give you indirect hints.I mean,what is so hard to say,"Excuse me,are you going to finish soon?The plane is going to take off"?Seriously,it isnt very hard.On flights like those,long ass ones potentially lethal to your ass,the existence of passengers like yourself might be the bane of others.Here is a list of other flying woes,according to my own experiences:

Kids
Never ever being a children under the age of five onto a plane,ever.I know i was five when i came to Singapore,but then again it's not like my mother had much of a choice.I bet she wouldve placed me under the plane with the cargos if she had the choice,but then again i think it was against policies.Anyway,kids are a definite no-no on planes.You dont take them on it,and if you are forced to do so make sure they fall asleep within five minutes of boarding because if you dont they are going to terrorise fellow passengers the way Al Qaeda terrorists might have done to United 93 passengers on 9/11,or worse.

They will whine about the boredom(which is to me really thea beauty of travelling alone)of the flight itself.They will start crying for food,or perhaps the pain in their ears due to the change in the pressure.They will start thumping and kicking the seats of the passengers in front and if you dont react to the kicking and the punching they will start to see evil faces from the latest episode of Power Rangers on the back of your chair and start punching harder and harder,imitating the likes of Ali.Really,you dont want kids to start poking their heads over your seat and ask if you'd like a piece of their candy or sweet,because if you accept their offer you are officially labelled as "Friend" and they will start to bug you for the rest of the bloody trip.

Fat Passengers
They dont usually appear,these bunch of flying woes.I mean plump passengers are obviously unavoidable,considering the population of those people in our country,and any other country.I am talking about the gigantic ones,the ones that would remind you of an elephant from a circus train,or perhaps an air-pump stuck to a person's ass and left unremoved.I am talking about the kind of fat people who actually have to buy two tickets just to board a single plane,because one ticket is for their left ass cheek while the other is for their right ass cheek.

I was sittig next to one of these individual ones,and common courtesy for these people would be to book the aisle seat,at least your exit and enter would be much easier.But no,he had to take the middle seats,and when he wanted to head for the lavatory he had to squeeze past me,and his huge ass scrapped passed the tip of my nose.He was wearing one of those huge jeans,and the back pocket had like rectangular stitches on them?I can still picture those two big rectangles hovering past my face as the ass squeezed past me.

So,here concludes the possible flying woes you might encounter.Of course,i was on a flight from Singapore to Taiwan,so you can imagine how little i actually suffered compared to Corinna,who actually had to sit with the same raisin woman for about twenty hours i suppose.Good night,and good luck on that girl.Bring me some rust fromt he Statue of Liberty,and if you are caught on CNN attempting to damage national property by the NYPD,dont mention my name.Just,dont.

Moments with Sarah

A C A# A G

A C A# A G

C F E F D C

C F E G F...


I never figured out why Rachael Yamagata has a song on her album "Happenstance",that is a minute long with no vocals,just a simple cello playing.Im not sure if it was her playing or not,but still the title of the song "Moments with Oliver" just never really made any sense to me.The tune is beautiful,when i tried to tab out above.But before this week i never really figured out why,until i sort of realised it.

It's just a guess,the way you interpret certain meaning in stanzas.I see it as part of the song "Quiet" by her as well.It seems like the moments with Oliver,her moments with Oliver,seem to be speechless and quiet.No words,no sound,just a mood or feeling in the background,like the way the cello played softly in the song.No words could describe that feeling,that moment,just music and the notes that comes along with it.It's such a beautiful moment,it's such a saddening moment,it's such an emotional moment,everything poured in together.

Just simple moments of silence,just quiet between the both of us now,right now.Is it depressing,is it saddening?Does it remind you of anything?This moment,is it a happy moment,a nostalgic one,or a tormenting one?Beyond language and beyond words,is this how you describe the moments we have right now,speechless and wordless,through notes of a cello and the quiet between you and i?

I dont know,perhaps it is beyond me now.I never considered moments whereby i'd be out of words to actually describe it.I mean,you know how these moments seize you by the throat,strangles you by the heart,and squeezes the life out of you.You dont really know how to describe them,the words slip into gutters like dirt water.Just notes,plain notes,the way the convey so many different messages and emotions at once.

I still feel that you are reading this,or at least i hope you are,still.I still hope that at times when you are bored,or when you are hopefully thinking about that sort period of time,the way you completed me,you might drop by here for a visit check out on me,like how i check out on you,still.

You needed somebody,the other time in one of your posts.You needed somebody to talk to then,desperately it sounded and awfully depressing.You can imagine how hard it was,to be sitting in front of the computer,knowing that you are with yourself suffering away while i am here,reaching out only at the empty monitor screen.

I wanted to know what's wrong,if i could be of any help to you.But i cant,because we are so silent now.We are so quiet now.We are in this moment,this "Moment with Oliver",speechless and wordless moment,with our own cello playing in the background.Do we reach out over the notes,the sound and over the obstacles back to each other again?Or do we continue to watch each other,do i continue to watch you suffer alone,quiet and lonely?I cant help,i cant help but worry.But i am stuck,we are both stuck in this moment,this moment with you,this moment with Oliver...

Why go, I asked?
You know, and I 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

Take care
I've been hurt before
Too much time spent 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

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

Wise Up

It's not
What you thought
When you first began it
You got
What you want
Now you can hardly stand it though,
By now you know
It's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
'Til you wise up

You're sure
There's a cure
And you have finally found it
You think
One drink
Will shrink you 'til you're underground
And living down
But it's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
'Til you wise up

Prepare a list of what you need
Before you sign away the deed
'Cause it's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
'Til you wise up
No, it's not going to stop
'Til you wise up
No, it's not going to stop
So just
Give up...

Automated Defence Mechanism Part II: Erasure

Im pretty sure at this point,all readers are probably cursing the last entry,and then me for confusing the living ability to rationalise things out of them.Well,i shall apologize for that now,but you'd know my motive for a two part special this time.

I sort of came up with the last entry after sitting on the throne.By throne i am refering to the you-know-what.Anyway,i was thinking about the dream in the morning,and the impact in had on me.Of course,most people would dismiss it,and say that it is merely a dream.I guess like the more morbid of humans who are fascinated by death,i am in my own way fascinated by dreams,and it's indications in our daily lives.

I was thinking,about the line being blurred between the life you have in a dream and the life you have in reality.Picture it this way,you exist in two worlds.The world you are living in right now,reading this blog entry from the comfort of your home and probably a cup of hot chocolate next to you.The other life refers to the life you have in your head,the one that goes on mysterious adventures around your imaginations and unknown realms.Between these two lives,between these two worlds,is a line that divides the worlds from each other called "The Line of Rationality".

We first have to examine the difference between the world as we know we,and the world as we imagine it.The main difference,or rather the only difference is the fact that we can rationalise things in reality,but not in the dream world.Leaping off a building to escape from a crazed mad man with a knife is probably not the best idea to escape in real life,but in the dream world without the ability to rationalise things you take a jump off the ledge and you see the mad man grow smaller and smaller and finally,you are on the ground,safe and sound.

That is the main difference between the life we know,and the life we imagine.The rational ability we have in real life,is really what divides the two from each other.The above mentioned "Automated Defence Mechanism" is what keeps "The Line of Rationality" in check.The "Automated Defence Mechanism",or ADM in short,is what tells you real from fake.You wake up from a bloody nightmare,and you know that whatever happened in your brain wasnt real because ADM was being activated.You are now capable of rationalising real from fake,and you know that no hooded man chased you down a dark alley,or the fact that your sister didnt take a leap off the edge of your window sill.

Imagine your life without ADM,though.You'd wake up in bed,thinking that you were in fact,chased by a hooded man down a dark alley and start to scream hysterically,and uncontrollably.You'd think that your sister really did leap off your window sill,and you'd be searching the streets below for blood and body parts.ADM doesnt just work in dreams,but in real life as well.When a person snatches your purse,when you see a guy scratching your newly painted car,when you see a person in the monsoon drain drowning fast.ADM activates,you do whatever is necessary.

I was just thinking about how blind this system is.I mean,however beneficial this system is in our real life,there are things that happens in our dreams that sometimes,we just want to keep it that way,to cherish it.You know?

Naturally,waking up from a dream,your head tells you that whatever happened back then was a dream,they werent real.However much you want to keep that memory,your senses tell you that it was merely a dream,and it is as good as it gets.What if we have the ability to choose what kind of dream we want to keep,and what to be erased though.Wouldnt that be a dream come true,in a way?Literally?If we have the ability,if we have the capability to do so,to choose what is real and what isnt,then wouldnt all good dreams come into life,be real?

The system is blind,the way it erases and dismisses all dreams as...things that never happened in reality.If i could choose,between what to erase from my brain as being a dream,and what not to be erased and convince myself that that actually happened,then in a way wouldnt i have a whole new set of memories,added into my life?Wouldnt that be amazing?

I would keep the dream i had in the morning,and convince myself that it actually happened.That the system didnt delete it,dismiss it as a dream.It actually,happened.And we'd be happier,i'd be happier in real life,even if it was just an illusion,a bloody lie i live with.The willing to be stupid,the willingness to sacrifise for little happiness like that.That's me,and sue me for it.

Automated Defence Mechanism Part I: The Activation

(The below is a fictional interpretation of what happens in one's brain as a person falls asleep,and slowly drifts into a nightmare then out of it.Pure fictional work,really)

All stations standing by for body shutdown,awaiting clearance.
Clearance granted.
Proceeding with body shutdown in T minus five.Four.Three.Two.One.Deactivate.
Body shutdown,clear!
All stations standing by now for the activation of the brain to dreaming mode,awaiting clearance.
Clearance granted.
Proceeding with dreaming mode,all stations prepare for sub-conscious visual activation.
SCA activated,uploading dream.
Uploading complete.Dream will start in T minus five.Four.Three.Two.One.Activate.

I am in a field,it seems.The field is surrounded by woods,and it was all quiet.I could hear the birds in the distance,and the moon is bright and soft,in a pale shade of yellow hanging in the starless sky.A rustle,i heard in the bushes.I could hear it now,to my right the bush next to the pine tree,it quivered and shook.I stepped back,a step or two,then took off.Whatever was in the bushes leaped out of it,and growled in a low-pitched voice.It was monstrous,it was hideous,as i stared back.I couldnt see what it was,but it had red eyes,bloody red eyes and a shadowy body.I couldnt see what it was,but it was like a mass of blackness,moving with gaining speed.

I started running,running faster.The beast chased after me,and i could feel its breath behind me,with its teeth snapping at my shirt.I could feel its drool on my back now,and there was blood.There was blood!I fell,and my face hit the rock hard.I spunned around,and the beast was above me now.It bared its teeth,and its fangs dug deep into my chest.I couldnt breathe,i couldnt breathe under his crushing weight,and i stared up into its bloody eyes,as it pierced through mine was absolute death.I was going to die,i thought.I was going to parish.

All stations stand by for defence mechanism activation.Awaiting clearance.
Clearance granted.
Proceeding with self-defence mechanism in T minus five.Four.Three.Two.One.Activate.
All stations stand by for dream deactivation,awaiting clearance.
Clearance granted.
Proceeding with dream deactivation,stage one in process.Deleting current dream.
Proceed with stage two,regaining consciousness.
All stations stand by for full-body reactivation.
Reactivation in T minus five.Four.Three.Two.One.

Wake.

A Visit in the Night

'Accept the file.'
'Teitur?'
'No,it's not.'
'Strange that we are talking again.I thought you blocked me from your contacts at one point.'
'I did.'
'Why dont we talk anymore?'
'No.'
'No?'
'I dont know.'
'I missed you,you know?'
'I know.'
'I missed the time we used to talk to each other into the night,until you are so tired you had to leave.'
'Haha,yeah.I remember that.'
'Do you remember the playground?'
'I never forgot about it.'
'Is it still there?'
'It's always here.'
'Are you going to stay?'
'I have to leave.'
'Will i ever see you again?Or at least hear from you?'
'No.'
'Why?'
'I dont know.'
'So this is it,you are not going to talk to me anymore?'
'No...i dont know.'
'Back to our lives before this,pretending that we never met,that things never happened?'
'Maybe.'
'When are you coming back again,back to me?'
'Never.'
'Are you sure?'
'I dont know.'
'What do you know,then?'
'That i have to leave.'
'Why did you message me,why are we talking again?'
'I just wanted to send you the song.'
'And what for?'
'I just wanted to.'
'Is this a dream?'
'Yes,it is.'
'Is that why you have to leave?'
'It is because you have to wake up.'
'But i dont want to wake.'
'It is not up to you to decide,is it?'
'I can try,at least.'
'Haha,dont be silly.'
'Haha.Well,you know me.'
'Yeah,i knew you.'
'And i knew,you.'
'Yes,it is.'
'Why are things so different now?Why are we so different now?'
'We are not different,just not the same.'
'Will i dream about you again?'
'Maybe,it's hard to say.'
'Do you dream about me as well?'
'At times,i hope.'
'You still sound the same.'
'I do?'
'How are you?'
'Complicated.'
'Strange,i was just thinking about that.'
'That's because you are dreaming.'
'Oh yes,that's right.It just seems too real,you know?'
'Yes,i know.'
'Is it time to wake up?'
'Almost,any time now i suppose.'
'Where will you be in the morning.'
'Right here.'
'Can i come back here?'
'No you can't.'
'Can you come to me,then?'
'In real life?'
'In real life.'
'I'll tell her that when she comes here then.To go to you.'
'Thanks.'
'You are welcome.'
'I think i feel it.'
'What?'
'Consciousness.'
'It's morning already.'
'Late?'
'Pretty.You should wake up.'
'I dont want to,can i stay here with you?'
'I told you,you cant.'
'But its been so long.'
'I know.'
'Ive gotten over you,you know.And here you are,in my head,in the middle of the night.'
'I'm sorry.'
'It's too much for me.'
'You are waking up.'
'I'm sorry for everything i did,the stuff i said to you on my blog,about you.'
'I know you didnt mean those.'
'Are you saying it because you mean it,or because i hope you mean it?'
'A bit of both,perhaps.'
'Will you forgive me?'
'I never hated you for it.'
'Am i waking now?'
'Almost.Yes,you are.'
'It was nice.'
'What was?'
'You,here.In my dreams,in my head.'
'Oh,well.It was nice of you too.'
'It's nice to see you again.Us,talking.'
'Hush now.'
'What?'
'Hush now,you are waking...'
'...'
'Shh.Wake up...Wake up...'
'...'
'Wake up...'


I opened my eyes,and the morning sun is hidden behind the morning clouds.It's kinda strange,the way it's already 10am and yet,the world still looked like it's only half past seven.The fan whirled,and my head still aches.I sat up in my bed,and rubbed my eyes gently with the back of my hands.I checked the clock again,it was late morning.It's time for me to get up,i thought.And damn,i was hungry.

I had a weird dream last night,i remember.I couldnt recall,just bits and pieces of it.Meeting an ugly girl after a phone call at the bottom of my apartment.Who the hell was she?She said something over the phone with my mother,what was it?I cant remember,i cant recall.There was something else,wasnt there?There was,as i stared at myself in the mirror.That rugged and disarryed self.Oh yes,and there was her.I dreamed about her again,didnt i?Was it good,or was it bad.I had my hands on the edge of the sink then,just leaning forward and thinking.Just thinking.Still thinking.About how nice our little conversation was in my head.I mean,if you think about it.If i convinced myself that it was real,then it actually happened.Right?Right?

Damn,i missed those.They were nice.Very nice.Damn,i have to stop saying that.If our conversations are going to continue in the middle of the night,if this is all i have got left,if this is as good as it gets,i wish it to come more often.I guess,in a way,i cannot ask for more can i?It was nice of you to visit,it was really nice.Damn,i really have to stop saying that...

X Marks the Spot

Welcome to lesson #190 ladies and gentlemen.Now,before you guys decide to enjoy a trouble-free day down at the beach with a couple of friends from work,school,or even with your family members,hitting a couple of volleyballs,throwing frisbees and perhaps have a nice cold cup of lemon tea under the palm tree,please take a minute and give your full attention to the rest of this lesson,for i assure you by the end of this briefing,you will learn something that is of utmost importance to your survival on the beach.

As you know,Singapore is merely a couple of degrees north of the Equator,which makes it a bloody hot country to be in if you happen to have ancestors from say,Greenland for example and you are used to wearing seal skin and covered with fur all over.Anyway,going to the beach is perhaps one of the many leisure activities you might decide to engage in on a nice sunny weekend,or perhaps a public holiday after your examinations,like my sister decided to do with her classmates.Now,before you head down to the beach in your nice swim wear,you should always take note of some of the things you have in that nice beacj bag of yours.

First,the important thing about sun screens and sun blocks.Well,actually they are really the same damn thing,it's just that they have different names for whatever reason.Anyway,you have to have that in your bag especially for the ladies.You dont want to head down to the beach looking like you walked out from a skin whitening advertisement on television,and walking out of the beach looking like Halle Berry at the end of the end.You dont want that to happen,trust me.

What are the consequences of NOT bringing sun screens or sun blocks to the beach you ask?Well,let's take a moment and check out this case study we have on my sister here.After a long day at the beacj involving volleyballs and frisbees,my sister came back home red all over.Part of the consequence of not bringing sun screens or sun blocks is of course,sun burn.Now,if you have sun burn,not only do you have to tolerate the pain and perhaps the redish look all over,you'd have to brace yourself for the comments and nicknames that will inevitably follow after your arrival back home.

"Prawn","Crab","Roasty",are just some of the nicknames you might get the moment you step into the house and meet your family.Of course,if one of them decide to give you a encouraging pat on the back,do remind them that you have sun burn and that by doing so you might slap that person back in the face due to natural reflexes.Also,do take note that when a person is coming towards you with an index finger stretched out,either run away from the scene or break that person's finger,because more than likely he or she is going to rub that tip of the finger on your red skin,and it is going to hurt like a burning match stick in your eyeball.

We come to next part of our lesson now.Tan lines,they can be sexy and cute if you have them in the right place and have the correct skin tone.We all know that tan lines depend on the wardrobe you decide to wear on that day.If you decide to wear a tube,then more than likely you are not going to get a tan line,simply because you'd get a pretty even out tanning on the upper part of your body.In contrary,if you decide to wear a t-shirt for example,you are not going get any of those as well because your body would be pretty much covered.

Do not,i repeat,do not wear tops with cross straps at the back,and head on down into the sun to try to soak it up.Because by doing so,by the end of the day you'd have a big ass X written across your back,and if somebody who has seen the movie "Saw",he or she might just take a little knife and jab it into the spot,since X marks the spot in the movie.Oh,and before i go on,add "X-Man" to the list of nicknames you are likely to get from friends and family.You cant blame them,because after all you are the one with the big X on the back.

The process of sun burn is quite simple.After a long day in the sun without sun screen,your skin will turn red at first,and it might burn and hurt really badly.You might want to apply some Aloe Vera,or have a brother at hand who loves to be in an air-conditioned room,with his hands as cold as ice to stand by.Anyway,after the reddening process,your skin will start to turn dark,and you will get your desired skin tone afterwards.But just as you are about to celebrate your newly acquired skin tone,you'd find that your skin is extremely dry and desperately in need of moisturizer.Those wouldnt work,because your skin is probably dead all over,and adding moisture to dead skin wouldnt exactly work.

Afterwards,you'd start to feel the itch.You start to scratch all over the place,and before you know you see white stuff coming out of your skin.No,those are not dirt from your table or under it,those are you skin coming off.You'd be considered fortunate if your skin peels on the back,but if you are having a serious case of sun burn on your face then good luck to you while you are walking on the street.You might want to get your hands on a mask,or simply a nice plastic bag for difficulty in recognition.

I hope that this lesson in sun burns and sun screens helped you in many unimaginable ways.Also,i hope this lesson benefited your day down at the beach with your friends,family,or maybe even yourself.Always remember,sun screens,Aloe Vera,and my sister as a case study.Thank you,and goodbye.

Straight Rain

I remember a scene from Forrest Gump which never failed to amuse me.It's the scene when Forrest explains the different sorts of rain as he tracks through the terrains of Vietnam during the war.I cant seem to find the quotes over at imdb.com,but i briefly remember the scene anyway.I recall slanted rains,straight rains,big drops,small hairy drops,the ones that comes and goes in an instant,and the ones that seem to fall from the bottom up.The latter,of course,he was refering to the swamp water when it rains,as the droplets hit the surface and it bounces back up,and it looks like the rain is falling upwards.

Anyway,so i was reminded of that this afternoon as the rain clouds gathered.I was surfing the net then,and was busy reading some article when i heard the soft splatter of raindrops on my window sill.I rolled over on my chair and was just about to close the window when i realised that the rain were...well,straight.As my mother would call it.I just sat there for awhile,just admiring the gray world outside my window,as the estates around my house slowly disappeared and taken over by the hue.

I believe that a couple of posts before i mentioned the love for Indian women.Well,most of them anyway.Dont get me started on the inter-racial thing,because i dont see it as a problem really.Anyway,i shall now confess my love for the rain as well.I guess it is the excuse it gives you to not do anything at all,just laze around on your bed,with your blanket tucked all the way up to your chin,and as the rain splatter onto the window panes,you fall softly asleep to the rhythem of it.

I was sitting on the balcony reading Kazuo Ishiguro's "Never Let Me Go".I remember when i was in primary school i believe,or was it Secondary school.My mother placed one of those bamboo chairs on the balcony,just so my parents can have a good cup of coffee in the morning and watch the world light up to dawn.I remember sleeping there once,with my blanket and all,as the rain came down over the world.Yeah,i did crazy things like that,but that was quite an memorable memory for me i guess.

It came to me that i hadnt done something like that in the balcony.I recall calling my balcony one of the favourite hang outs.I dont know,but i guess in a way sitting on the balcony and thinking about things,gives you a sort of theraputic effect i guess.You dont need any reason to sit at the balcony,because you just want to do it.

And i wonder if the rain reminds you of me,like the way it reminds me of you.Or rather,it reminds me of you,being reminded of me.Does that even make sense at all?I always picture you in a church somehow,or some place quiet with a couple of your friends.Your friend,perhaps Rachel or something,taps you on the shoulder and tells you that it is raining.I wonder what goes through you mind right then,even now,as you look out into the streets.You probably dont think about me anymore,do you?Probably about how your pretty clothes will get drenched as you try to make your way home,or the fact that it's gonna be such a hassle to take a bus later on.Or maybe walk through the rain,like the time when you did so.I stil laugh about it,i really do.Not because of how ridiculous it sounded,but how i did the same thing before.

It still surprises me,how you remind me of me.But why dont we feel in any way,the same?Stop playing guessing games,i told myself.Just stop doing it.It's not going to get you anywhere,really.

I Don't Trust Myself

No,im not the man i used to be lately
See you met me at an interesting time
And if my past is any sign of your future
You should be warned before i let you inside

I will beg myself into your garden
Then I'll break my way out when it rains
Just to get back to the place where i started
So i can want you back all over again

Who do you love?
Who do you love?
Who do you love?
Me or the thought of me...?
Me or the thought of me...?

Hold on to whatever you find baby
Hold on to whatever will get you through
Hold on to whatever you find baby
I dont trust myself with lovin' you...

Press Freedom

Surfing through the net aimlessly has become a rather enjoyable,and at the same time fruitful activity every afternoon for me.I mean,you would expect such things to be pretty mundane,and requires minimal amount of brainpower.Well yes,if you are surfing through it and scanning the texts without actually processing it.But ive came across some pretty interesting information,some of them actually surprised me a little bit,while others merely proved my point about certain things.Well,here's a little something i discovered over at wikipedia.org today,and it's right out of the oven and still warm.

You look around the streets of Singapore,and it is not difficult to come up with a few things Singapore actually lacks.For example,we are in desperate need of land space,that is evident enough.We are also lack of cool weather,and that is of course not taking the monsoon season under consideration.Then there are the places to read a book,to study,to hang out with friends.Instead of saying the places,i think i should rephrase by saying,that there is a lack of the variety of places that people can actually go to hang out with each other over a cup of tea.There is the obvious lack of chewing gums,due to the banning of it a couple of years back.I still find that rather ridiculous,but the government doesnt seem to think that way.Then of course,the lack of sensible people on the streets.Dont get me wrong,Singapore does have it's share of smart,intelligent population.But they are rather rare here,in my opinion.

Every country lacks something,and you wouldnt expect a country like Singapore to lack this thing.This thing that i am talking about,ladies and gentlemen,is the existence of the freedom of press.

You see it all the time,the way the news always broadcasts yet another achievement made by the citizens.The biggest this,the longest that.The best airport and the most efficent harbour,whatever.The best in everything,number one in whatever things.You seldom hear them tell you how bad they are doing in certain aspects.Sometimes you even wonder if the things they tell you on the news are even true or not.

For example,the Ministry of ManPower was on the television giving an interview tonight,and i happen to chance upon it.He claimed that for every cohort of students in Singapore,statistically speaking,about 50% of those goes to University.Now that's just bullshit,because only about 20% goes to Junior College.Im not sure which part of his brain managed to calculate that 50% of the whole cohort actually goes to University.And if you do a little math on the number of people in the Universities,you'd know that that's just plain bullshit.

I wonder if people actually notices little things like that,the way they try to tell you that Singapore is such a advancing,forward moving country with great prospects.If you watch the news close enough,you'd notice that a lot of the news from around the news are pretty negative,or rather the majority of it.This country has a case of famine,that country is suffering from civil war,or the way the people of this country are killing each other just because they dont like their faces.Then they will bring the news back to Singapore,and you see a bunch of happy PAP members hugging babies and cheering on propaganda vans.

It's strange that i have decided to go all political on my blog,but as JiaYing said just last night,i think we are at the age where we should give a shit about what's happening in our bloody parliament.If you come from a family like me which subscribes to the morning papers,and reading a whole bunch of tabloids in camp,you'd notice the drastic difference in the content between the two.The morning papers are usually filled with happy faces,the way this school achieved a certain result for their examination,a certain bad guy who stole from a poor old lady in the elevator was caught and jailed for good.Economy of our country is on the rise and you see happy businessmen giving the cameraman a thumbs up and smiling,the widest grin you've ever seen in your life.

Turning to the tabloids you see death,death,raping and perhaps cheating of money.You start to wonder if they publish these kind of stuff in the morning paper at all,and why the morning paper readers are not allowed to read such issues.They are real,arent they?These things happening within our society,these stealing,these stealing,these raping,these killings?So why arent we informed about such thing,or are we supposed to believe that we live in big safe bubble blown by our government?

What i am saying is that,we should question the amount of press freedom that we actually have in our country.Of course,you can always argue that a country with absolute press freedom would eventually plunge into chaos and madness.That is true,however when you are beating countries at press freedom like Iran,Iraq and Pakistan,it is not something to be very proud of,my dear Singapore.

Press Freedom Ranking

The above is a little link to the wikipedia.org page i found.Check out where Singapore stands on the global press freedom list,and be surprised by exactly how restricted our media really is.Think about it,what is the use of our media.To spread messages,to tell people the truth about things,arent they?I mean,if not for media how are we then,to know the truth about things?What then,if the government has control over these information,doesnt that mean that they can bend it however they want to?

Numbers speak volumes,and you cannot deny that ranking at a pathetic 140 is something to be very proud of.I wonder if this little piece of information would ever find its way to the news on 5,or is it going to stay in the archives of wikipedia forever.

I met a neighbour of mine a couple of days ago in the lift,and when i asked who she voted for she placed a finger to her lips,and as she whispered through her teeth she said,"Cannot say!"

What,so now whoever you vote for,or rather didnt vote for,has CCTVs around the island to check out who did not vote for them?Dont worry dear neighbour,according to probabilities and statistics,it is highly unlikely that a person like you is going to be assassinated by government agents any time soon.You are one vote,and i dont think that vote holds any threat to the life of the country,believe me.

My mother was having a little conversation with a friend of hers,and he's sort of like a business partner/friend of my parents.So they were talking about the election the other day,and my mother asked him who he voted for.He said,without a doubt,PAP.When asked why,instead of claiming that he supports their idea,he mentioned that every vote that you collect at the voting booth has a certan serial number to them,and whoever claims those votes obviously has a serial number attached to them.In this case,every voter of a certain election is in a way,marked.The government will know voted for who,and who didnt vote for who.As a businessman,like himself,if he were to say ask the government for some sort of funding next time,or buy a house or whatever,if the government were to do a check on his past voting records,he is going to hit a wall fast and hard.

This is the world we are living in now,the way it seems safe and yet it is not.Should we stand here,and wait for somebody to blow up the parliament so that we will finally wake up from this illusion,that our country perfect and safe?Hell,im not even a bloody Singaporean and i am actually worried for YOU guys.Wake up people,the morning sun is baking your ass and everybody else is mocking at your burning ass.

What is Complicated?

Tell those tiny chemicals
The ones you hold responsible
They lost me
You lost me

But everything inside me tells me i should run to you
And throw my arms around you
Hold your steaming crying cheeks against my own
And tell you nothing's wrong

But wrong is what you were when you forgot
That we were going on
We were going on
We were going on


Imagine yourself sitting in a bar,with the dim lights and a soft blues music in the background.It's Thursday night,and the crowd's still nowhere to be seen,as you shook the glass of Whiskey Coke in your hands,watching the ice cubes tumbling over one another.A guy comes up to you in a suit,well dressed and tidy looking.There's nothing too attractive about him,but probably a shame to place him under the "Average Joe" category,in your opinion.

You guys strike up a chat,and within ten minutes you guys are having a good conversation about how the day sucked at the job.Then,the inevitable question comes,and however you hate to hear this question,you knew that it's going to come sooner or later,some time between the moment you start talking with this person and the end of the night.

"So,are you attached?",he asked.He hesitated for awhile,not too sure of what you are supposed to reply to such a question.Theoretically speaking there are only two possible answers out there,and there in front of you this guy waits patiently for your answer.Without giving a definite answer,playing the safe card and being neutral,you replied,"It's complicated".

So just what the hell is the complication?If you are currently attached,seeing a person on a daily,if not often basis every weekend or weekday,and you call him a name,nobody else around him seems to know,then you are obviously attached.If you are living alone,hanging out with friends and just friends every other weekends,calling them up to bitch about a certain aspect of your life then,you are clearly single.Two simple answers to a question,and yet some of us,so many of us,are at times troubled by the answer we should give.What if a couple is arguing over something,or perhaps a person likes somebody and is being liked in returned,just not officially attached yet.What do you classify them as?You take a stand in the middle of the two,being attached and being single,and somebody somewhere in this world came up with this brilliant way of classifying these bunch people,unsure of their status."It's complicated".How brilliant.

I wonder what the implications are,when a couple,a normal looking couple,has their status on Friendster saying "It's Complicated",instead of the "In a Relationship" like before.Are they in a fight,are they quarreling,or does being complicated mean something totally different?Like,perhaps one of them was being proposed to or something,and you are unsure if you want to marry this guy or not.Doesnt that mean,or rather,isnt it a sort of complication as well?

The purpose of this post,really is to tell myself that perhaps i shouldnt get too excited just yet.You dont know shit,what the hell is happening between those two person in the first place.Even if it is the more optimistic(or rather morbid)possibility,it is not as if you are ever going to come into the picture.After all,it was she who erased me from her life and her from mine.We sort of,made a silent agreement somewhere between now and the last word we ever spoken to each other,that perhaps we should just delete the existence of each other and live life,even if it crumbles without each other.

What is my complication,if you ask me.Why do i have "It's Complicated" under my profile as well.Well,actually i dont really know.I find the title,or rather status of "It's Complicated" rather appealing.It's not like "Single" or "In a Relationship",a little too direct and straightforward.It gives space for guessing,i guess.Mysterious feel to your relationship with somebody,or nobody at all.Could it be,that she is in a way thinking the same way as myself?

This complication is rather complicated,indeed.

Today of All Days

The throbbing headache still lingers,the way pain always do when they strike you at the most unexpected moments.So begins the start of my block leave.It's an under-statement,to call this chain of breaks a "block" leave anyway,since it is hardly blocky enough to be called that.It's more like a chip off a block,not nearly long enough but i guess that is all i can ask for.

I woke up to my sister laughing to something on television,which was strange because if i wake up to HER voice,there's got to be something wrong.Either she was going somewhere early,which is unnatural,or i am sleeping really late,which seldom happens.She was heading for Sentosa,and i suspect it is because of the fact that i kept making fun of the fact that the only two places she ever go to in Singapore is her school and our home.So armed with a spaghetti top and those beach bags she headed out with my parents,who were dropped her off at the MRT before heading for the airport.

I dont count myself lucky,for the fact that i am at home clearing leave while forty unlucky souls in my company are preparing for the 3rd Division Anniversary...parade thing.It's one of those cliche things,"To celebrate the pride and power of our army!" kinda bullshit,really.Standing under baking hot sun is not a joke,but at least they get to get offs afterwards.

And today,of all days,it has to start raining.Not just raining,but the thunderstorm sort of rain.I remember the other time,long ago when i was at the Siloso with a bunch of my friends and it started raining non-stop.The beach is not the place you want to be at when it is raining,trust me.The wind from the sea doesnt stop blowing,and since you are half naked(In terms of the skin percentage to fabric percentage),you are cold all the time.And my sister HAD to go to Siloso today,of all days.Perhaps she shouldve consulted the Ouija board or something,that wouldve worked.

And today,of all days,it has to start raining while the boys are probably at Jurong Camp,getting ready for the parade.I mean,raining is fine sure.But if it stops,the parade has to go on,which means a delayed book out timing.Now that's a pain in the ass,and i wonder how the boys are right now,dry(hopefully)and bitching away about the weather.

And today,of all days,i had to do a spring cleaning on my Friendster mailboxes.This crazy woman called Yvonne actually sent me a message over Friendster last night,asking if i am interested to work part time or full-time at the company she is currently part-timing in.According to her,she read my profile and thought that i might be interested in her companies' stuff,some marketting...thing.I wonder which part of my profile that schmuck read,and made her derive in that kind of conclusion.

Anyway,i had to come across HER old messages to me,when we first started talking.You shouldve seen me rolling my eyes,asking myself why i forgot about that important aspect on my last spring cleaning.And of all days,on a rainy,THIS has to happen.Oh God,if you are showing me any form of signs,dont.Or at least choose a right date to do this sort of thing,because with the throbbing headache and the heart still in the mend i am not fit enough to be involved any emotional rollercoaster right now.So save me all that,not now.Please.

Ball in the Balls

"...This is a song about being fucked up,but coming out of it you know?When you're a kid,and you get a tennis ball in the nuts.It's one of the worst feelings in the world but it's...all men will tell you there is no better feeling when it stops hurting..."

--- John Mayer

A little introduction John Mayer did to his song "In Repair",which i found was hilarious,and at the same time true altogether.I mean,especially after such an ordeal i had today in camp.I didnt have a tennis ball in my nuts,no.I didnt get a sledge hammer land on my right index hammer,hell no.I simply,as simple as it sounds,passed my SOC.I know,to some it might not be too big a deal,but i guess in a way i am just glad that one more hurdle is gone,that i am in the stage of my own repair,that feeling of a tennis ball in the nuts is slowly fading.

SOC(Standard Obstacle Course),is like the worst nightmare of every NS guy.Okay,maybe not all of them need to go through this screwed up aspect of army life,but at least myself alongside with a lot of people other there has to,because we have the balls to.So to y'all clerks out there,you can go gay with each other(Haha).

I didnt start out today's SOC course with much hope.First of all,it was late and i hadnt have my dinner yet.I mean,for some reason the SOC was pushed back all the way till 6pm,and my stomach was aching with this emptiness,i was hugging it during the conducting brief.Second of all,the 9 minutes and 30 seconds timing is a killer.Not even the sergeants can do it,really.I passed last year,but i wasnt at all sure if i could do it or not.It's bad enough that i am suffering from a serious case of the lack of self-esteem,but the fact that it challenges my physical and mental strength was...terrible.

So the test started,and i didnt think much about it.I dont remember thinking much,anyway.I remember running down the road,trying to concentrate on the breathing.I remember MO running a couple of metres ahead of the pack,but dropping back even before we reached the low wall(The sound he made as he fell back was hilarious).I remember going through the obstacles with a void in my head.I dont remember making up my mind to do a certain obstacle,or try to overcome it.OC was just beside me yelling something away,i think it was the timing,but those never really got into my head.I remember jumping down the low wall and landing in the mount of sand,with some of it in my mouth as i tried to spit them out.

Ah Geng was with me all the way,with Sgt. Eddie next to Egg,and at the same time giving support to me.I mean,Egg was merely paces ahead of me so he might as well do it i guess.The rest of the run back to the finish line was a blur.The 600 metres of run was a blank,really.I remember them yelling at me,telling me about the amount of time that i have left.With two minutes left at the turn i thought i lost it,but in a way i wasnt too depressed about it.I mean,it's not like the first time ive failed anyway.

100 metres away and OC shouted,"Actual timing,20 seconds!"

And i thought to myself,wait there is an actual timing?So you were lying to me this whole time?I wanted to chase after him and whack the bloody butt of the rifle down on his head,but at the same time i just wanted to complete the grueling course in one piece.Egg was before me,and at this point my mind was blank,just...empty.

I dont even remember crossing the finish line very clearly.I mean,there were shouts,there were cheers.There was somebody asking for the timing,and somebody grabbing the back of my shirt and pulling me up.My legs were sore,and i couldnt exactly feel them the way i used to.They were limp,and i collapsed to the side of the road,panting hysterically.

Yiu came up and was shouting "ORD LOH!",the way he does to people who passed.I still wasnt sure if i passed,but i didnt care.Not right then,at the rate my heart was beating at the way my head was throbbing,i really didnt care if i passed or not.I felt my arms,my legs,and they were there.No matter how numb they were,at least they were there i thought to myself.Sgt. Eddie confirmed that i passed,with 9 minutes and 27 seconds on the clock.I JUST bloody made it,and the pain in the balls was gone.

So there it is,one hurdle down and a lot more to go.But it is one hell of a hurdle to be left aside,i must say.So fuck you SOC and go me!

PS.I swear this freedom that i newly acquired has a detrimental effect on my brain.I am having that same headache right now,and it doesnt seem to be fading away any time soon.Zen(Yeah,that's his name)the Medic said that it is the oxygen(or lack thereof)doing the trick.But whatever it is,i am probably on the verge of dying,even hours after the SOC.But i am,right now,at this moment,dying with a smile on my face.Haha,how poetic.

Continuum

Finally,ive gotten my hands on some(Maybe even all the songs)on John Mayer's new album,Continuum.It's not exactly the studio version,but recorded from a live show he did in April at Hotel Cafe.Unlike normal live recordings,this one has superb quality,with only John himself and Pino Palladino at the bass,one of those very intimate concerts,and im just GLAD that i finally got to hear the songs.

I Don't Trust Myself (With Loving You)
Waiting on the World To Change
Slow Dancing In A Burning Room
Vultures
Dreaming With A Broken Heart
Stop This Train
Good Love is on the Way
In Repair
The Heart Of Life
I'm Gonna Find Another You
Gravity

The bolded songs are the new songs,while the others we've heard it on the Try! album.After listening to the songs,my personaly favourites are Waiting on the World to Change,Slow Dancing in a Burning Room,Dreaming With a Broken Heart...okay,almost every one of his new songs anyway.It's a pity that he didnt play "The Hurt" though,but what the hell...everything else is still great.

Lyrically John has surpasses himself once again.I mean,check out these stuff:

"When you're dreamin with a broken heart
The wakin is the hardest part
You roll outta bed and down on your knees
And for a moment you can hardly breath

Wondering was she really here
Is she standin in my room
No she's not, cause she's
Gone gone gone gone gone..."

--- "Dreaming With a Broken Heart"

"It's hard to beat the system
When we're standing at a distance
So we keep waiting
Waiting on the world to change

Now if we had the power
To bring our neighbors home from war
They would have never missed a Christmas
No more ribbons on their door
And when you trust your television
What you get is what you got
Cause when they own the information, oh
They can bend it all they want..."

--- "Waiting on the World to Change"

"I hate to see you cry
Lying there in that position
There's things you need to hear
So turn off your tears
And listen

Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No it wont all go the way
It should
But I know the heart of life is good..."

--- "The Heart of Life"

John,you bloody talented mofo.Get your album out,damn it.

Ding Dong

I got the inspiration of this blog title from Jane's MSN nickname.Actually,i wouldve added her nickname to the entry below,the one about interesting/horribly boring nicknames.I mean,she never changed her nickname ever before,for the full three years that ive known her,but the way the sound accompanies her nickname(That Ding Dong sound)when she comes online,makes it pretty interesting.

It's the way you turn your head to the sound of a dog barking outside your house,thinking that it was your dead dog from months ago,who got crushed under a van as it dashed out of the lawn.It's the way the phone rings and you have that intuition about who is on the other side of the line.It's the way,the words spoken by somebody,reminds you of somebody else that is long gone,disappeared.

Blame it on natural reflexes,but as i was on the floor changing the strings to my guitar(Josephine has her new G-String),the sound of the MSN pop-up rang above the sound of the Radiohead song i was playing on the stereo at that time.I dont know why,but i still have that feeling when i hear that sound,that urge to look at the box that pops up at the bottom right of your monitor.I used to have the feeling if she is coming online,that sureness,the certainty that the nickname i am going to see in that box will be her.It hasnt been the case for a long time,and of course i havent seen her nickname in that box for that long a time as well.

Everytime i look into the box and it is not her,i tend to laugh at myself and go,"Oh right,i deleted her contact".I always tend to forget such things,and even if i dont i'd always take a peek at the pop-up.Hoping that some day,one fine day,her name is going to appear again.Which is of course,impossible but you know how stupid one can get,however willingly.

Four million people in Singapore and you dont have psychic moments with every one of them.Remember those little psychic moments that we had,the way i went "I bet you are looking at the gap under your door now" and you went "How did you know?".Yeah,i remember those.You dont get that a lot,i tell you.Not with a lot of people anyway.I remember scoring about 6 or 7 out of 10,guessing that the person that comes online in the pop-up is going to be you.I just knew it,the way my feelings told me.I just knew it.

Creep

When you were here before
Couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry
You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so fucking special
But I 'm a creep
I 'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here...

I don't care if it hurts
I want to have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice
When I'm not around
You're so fucking special
I wish I was special...