Long time coming writing commuting
its been a long time since ive written a blog entry. Most the these writerly shit has been transferred to my little diary, but nevertheless, nothing still beats the feeeling of shitting on my keyboards seeing everything all on a computer screen.
ok let's talk about music. Im now listening to Entrance's prayer of death which is kiiicckk ass. Ok that's where the talk about music ends. One good well placed statement, just like conan's well placed broadsword CHOP.
i got bored of writing, with age comes this new Attention deficit problem with a whole different criteria.
Thursday, March 1, 2007 02:51 a.m.
Screw your New Year
Happy new year. You should really know how reluctant i am to write a new entry for this blog for 2007 really. The early part of januray was fraught with an endless bombardment both internally and externally, this stench of the future. It's not a future that i'll enjoy, as much as the Jetsons or the new star wars, let alone one as fucked up as corporation slimed Giger drenched Aliens. And so, we open the new year with yet another continuing war, reminding us that the war in the middle east is still on.
I've taken a loving hobby out of mapping out the decline of something that holds dear to me. The past few days have been spent, talking to people and gathering little morsels of information, eventually, and most surely amounting to just another universal FUCK UP. Interesting enough, a dim gleam of hope still sees itself as far as the Jetson's travelators going to the nearest seven eleven.
With all these trinkets, i have opened up yet another set of memories, and with that the applied tasteless emotions that binds them together. I take them on my back, while whistling down yellow brick road. Little munchkins cant swallow the fact that ive gathered so much. I must admit that i must be wierd, out of place, but far more less reserved then the small titted dorothy who had went down that same road, when i was 12 or something.
And then there's this purdi story about stiffy, the dog that wanted to eat too much. Admist pyschomobile laser shows, that penetrate your solus plexus, Stiffy the dog was yelping while i was busy proving dangerous industrial sediments in Asahi beer. Stiffy was yelping, to the rhythm of another listless pearl jam track (from Vs., the album after TEN), about the caustic effects of the little tea like flakes in the beer. I brushed Stiffy away, feigning drunkedness. Getting up from my chair, i made my way outside Stiffy's apartment, and was greeted by D. D was busy swinging lightsticks with so much terrible grace, that when i closed my eyes, i could still feel the ghostly lines of light, burned into sub retina sleepiness.
And then there was the tale about Oklahoma. No greater romance could've ever materialize based on the circumstances, much more then whatever sensory wankery. Digicameras filled every scene i was in, little electronic irises and electronic impulses made the environment so much like space. Everything, the subjects including my travel mates seemed to look like the black obelisk in 2001 space odyssey. Ghosts, that need a digi camera to keep living in another ghostly world.
my romance, started just like any other romance. I showed great interest, then i set up little psychic dioramas and then watch it go. In all its arabesque glory, i watched as these ghosts, turned into falling leaves, snow falling, roadside fast food restaurants. With all these ghosts, along with myself, more and more through the month of december, the sky seemed denser, the blue hues seemed so much closer and intimate. We were so removed from that digicamera into digi-now.
Digi now was fun, acting as struts and as scaffolding for our selves. In different occasions, we all fell in love without knowing that we did. We fell in love with each other in winter. And as ghosts we found ourselves our favourite hell, cold and very much warm.
>
many at times, these few days, in my bed. Dorothy in her smalll titted glory, would visit me in my dreams. She would tell me about how ive walked down the yellow brick road, and that the travelators to 7-eleven are nearer then i think. Sometimes dorothy would be called laura. Sometimes in dreams, u know who the person u see is without even asking. Sometimes laura would be in a black dress, and we would run off before communion at mass, to have our own celebration at 7-eleven, tearing pages from our diaries and telling everyone that their dim sum is ready.
This romance drifted past christmas. It was over, when i realised it. The ringing coda came, when i recieved an email, and then more then those digicameras that record digidrama and digismells, those ghosts were reincarnated into beings, more real then celluiloid gossip on E! channel. There was no indication for a reply, a reply was strange. My decision was somewhat about closure, but to what?
As the constellation Solar plexus started to fade into the new dawn of 2007, my double chin has never felt so suffocating. Sometimes i dream so intensely, that i cannot sleep after i have awaken, i start to drift through bed sheets and soft pillows into that romance. That romance has always been empty, just like the laser show and listless pearl jam songs. Ive lost a busload of faith in stiffy, and have avoided stiffy since.
Friday, January 12, 2007 03:40 a.m.
sky shower
the other day, C was asking me what's with all the "emo" msn avatar pics. They were just pictures that were taken on me in different places, and i cropped it so that my face was evenly shown. In some sense following the "rule of thirds" rule, that i have habitual forced myself to follow in pictures. After he told me that, i look at my own avatar pic on the left bar of my msn. C then told me that i was "trying" hard to look and take that picture.
Days ago at the graduation, something happened that befuddled, pricked at my thoughts. At the ceremony, a class mate who was chinese, was called with a different surname, it was "corelli". Before the graduation, we were given little yellow cards to write the name as we would be called to recieve the diploma on stage. Its not so much why she wrote her name that way, but more so why did i react in such a way. It was one of those moments where u just, raise an eyebrow.
Just before V left, I was at the steps of one of houses nearby. A and V were at the steps drinking alcohol and talking. I was in my shirt that i kept on after the graduation, and right through a hockey match. RIght there at the steps, i was offered a drink and i took it.
One peculiar thing that's been bugging me, is how i am unable to be certain to my friends back in singapore, is when i will be back. For some days, i told them it was wednesday, then i'll think about it again, and then it'd be thursday, and then maybe friday. I take this as a unconcious need to really, get back home, so much so that i am unable to reconcile time and tide. Well the waves have reached full bloom, its cold again outside. I looked at myself in the mirror awhile ago and i realised how much i look like my dad. Too much like, much more then i have ever seen. Suddenly i am also so aware of the change in him, before and after the heartattack. Do i need a fulcrum, under this plank of a life i walk to get me changing?
I admit that ive been disappointed with myself for most of the majority of the trip. That inevitably, even in the land of the free i am still a depedent variable in relation to who im with. This african american guy, i met explained his loud conversations and being american, that he is proud to be american and he must be outspoken. I then strangely have take whatever singaporean pride after national service and translated it to silence? False content, and above all, an impotent exuberence with stepping out the door of the room i am in.
it is important to note, how, after been here for a month, that so much of what i used to do, with is what i am, has been nothing but little passing clouds. The surroundings therefore not only contain us, but we contain the surroundings as well, and i have taken in so much of oklahoma.
Monday, December 18, 2006 04:44 p.m.
happy happy joy joy
i was supposed to go out to penn square with the rest of my room mates and the guys from the other classes. I watched K approach me in his brazilia flip flops and R in his glasses taking a drag on his cigarette. I was just outside the bus, waiting for S. R and K started to talk about clubbing and having a class dinner. Seriously i couldnt help but feel the filter on my cigarette eating into my lips, and then i heard the word "celebration" ooze out of K's voice with such weight. It was then i really didnt want to go to penn square.
the course has already ended and will be returning to singapore in a few days time. A few weeks ago, while i was in class, i realised how much my classmates have changed over the past 2 years. In a space of 5 minutes i tried to map out what ever that was different, and the only way to do that, is to remember all the things that i did with them. It wasnt so much, the usually she's gotten skinner and she's put on weight. There was this strange stirring in all of them, like mixing milk in coffee really slow. Then u see how the whites in the black coffe start forming little clouds, Slowly and ever so surely.
i looked around the classroom, and i saw them all talking and joking, listening to my ipod i could only see mimes of the conversation. It was a very beautiful thing really. I looked left and there they are and i looked right and there they were. It was an end to an experience. Its interesting where people placed different end notes to an experience.
walking up on the whicita mountains, on mount scott, my classmates were all on the edge at the top of the rocks. They were all excited about the view, which was nothing but pure, deep endless sky all sinking into a horizon that i never thought existed. It was so beautiful to see all of them, all getting into threes and fours and ones and twos, taking photos. It may seem that just looking at the photos at another time is wonderful, but as i noticed the whole process of taking that certain photo, it is just as important, if not more. The rocks were large and were difficult to walk on, my classmates walked on them, eager to steal some moment from the sunset that was going on behind them. I was watching them, taking their positions and posing, it was so wonderful. In that moment something snapped.
The mountains were beautiful really, suddenly u tear off the back drop of buildings, and there u are, you are the typeface on and white backgrond on a page from a novel. You are compelled nevertheless to see, read, and understand what you are.
That 5 minutes, i realised how much people change, all getting mixed up inside. Like some cocktail with all those colors and all, intoxicating right up to my eyeballs. Its something that u can never touch. It's also something that has happened before, but each time u learn what to look out for.
I remember going to walmart, into the aisles and all, looking for what i needed to survive here. Sometimes you bump into other classmates who were there as well, and you are forced to see that person in a totally different light. Whatever that person has or says, has no connection to their surroundings. Just like the disembodied voices on my MSN messenger. It all starts changing, suddenly every thing changes place. What if the white clouds in the coffee were actually ghosts, ghosts of these strange stirrings.
so here i am, im alone in the room at the marriot residence inn. My fave movie is playing in the other room, Groundhog day. Bill connors is having difficuly with the insurance man. I really love this place, not because its a blank canvas that i have painted on, but because it is a painting that has painted me, like a coloring book, im all black and white, we are all black and white.
the other day i told E that i really missed everyone. E then told me that it impossible to just miss everyone equally, so who did i miss the most. I then told E that i seriously just missed everyone, then E kept maintaining that there is definately only one person that i miss the most, i cannot just miss everyone. I was frustrated with the conversation, and i was certain that i didnt just miss one person. Then i tried to think about one person that i miss. Frankly speaking, i miss pinky, my dog alot. What does that have to say about me?
Saturday, December 16, 2006 03:07 p.m.
i am in usa
im now in the computer lab. Just a few minutes ago we were told to some excercise on some stupid health and wellness shit. So im taking this time. just 5 minutes of my precious time. To do a fast blog entry. Just a fast entry like a machine gun. At this point after i typed "machine gun". i will start.
5 4 3 2 1
ok here it goes. Im now in the computer lab. Im in the USA, i cant imagine this i am in the usa. I am in the USA I am in the USA and im using windows here. Im breathing american Air i am in the USA i am in USA i Am in The USA . IN front of me there are a pair of birds brids brids rbsiidibsd. Just figured out a while a go that i am vulnerable to stress. I have immense fun and carthatic feeling. so good. when i type on PC keyboard its so funny ahhah..
it isnt so private anymore isnt it. it isnt as private as gomer pyle so fun bang bang fun. Goose pimples that u cant sqyeeze and even if u do u cant get anything out. so then like buns on white bread, its so fun. Christmas is coming and i can imagine all the echoes like how its what's happneing infront. Bibble pibble hibble scribble. Wibble. Shingles. No lessons on shingles.
the best thing about it hear are the roads. Its about the roads. Last nite i slept lookga;ds l;ksdkl m
Thursday, December 7, 2006 05:02 p.m.
day 4: operation humilty
needless to say that a few moments ago i had just re read an old entry concerning my classmates and all. I noticed how fondly i used to u know tell them stuff and, especially in my fits of ecastsy. Seriously, i really hate the feeling of my synapses snapping, reacting at the wrong things, especially about shitting at where you eat. It gets me very tired, like you've just finished a marathon of crossword puzzles and all. I guess it doesnt change the fact that no matter how honest you are to people, it still isnt going to change anything and all. Most probably, the receiving end doesnt even get anything. Worse than the case of having high resolution HD images being downgraded to low pixel count ipod videos, the possibility of the right image like a rose or a flower or such can be totally distorted. Honestly, once during the start of this course, then 2002, i was hiding in the toilet for the dhoby ghaut mrt. I was fully consicious of the significance if stupid things like that. Underline: sitting on a closed toilet bowl. It takes me back to the idea that, if u try to stick yourself out and make yourself seem real, nothing beats being just a guy on a toilet bowl. At least ur somewhere, and when someone asks what were u thinking, you can answer, "i was thinking of shit". Its a very cruel joke with entertainment value that's been kept at the bottom of my back of tricks, until i played it in a somewhat abridged form, for the American market. Fantastic. And then the rocket queens launch themselves into another terrific orbit part of their voyage to womanhood.
And then you think of your own experiences in National Service and other notable social building instituitional phases in your life, and then you could wonder if u actually made any sense. Since my time here, i have to say this, that i have never ever, written anything concerning whatever about my roomies here. Well, being a scatterbrain fuck head like myself constantly writing in a journal, its simple to know that whatever comes out, does in fact comes out, despite whatever stupid mental filtration device that comes out. Its impertinent to understand now at this point, for myself, that the world is yin yang and i cannot escape its dualistic nature. I still havent learnt at this point in my life that these two sides do exist and do co-exist to a point of harmony. Harmony is when two notes, side by side, produce a certain tone or twang or such. Sad to say, that in lifetime, reinforced by army, the idea of universality. Vulgar, as it is, being a christian hasnt been very much a form of cartharsis at all. Carry your balls, u carry mine. Lan pa pa lan. LPPL. Its cold, its harsh its militaristic.
Needless to say just a few moments ago, as cold as abbrieviations and as the cold penguin novel chill of the evening wind, (im making it so romantic isnt it). That whatever universality has gone into the drain really, in to some wierd soup that's made up with other ideas: Polygamy, Sex with hot wild girls (this one's been gone since i was 16), Actually falling in love (lost this a year ago) and so forth and so forth. I kinda highlighted these things, because of the subject matter. So are there different levels to this vast stupid childish idea of universality or is it just me trying to save the world. what world?
all thanks to my nice beautiful childhood that ive developed all these near perfect fluffy ideas. Ive been imposing these ideas as such, the same way that im unsure of my own personal efforts. One thing could mean another. Could this whole calamity be caused by the strange mysterious remote control for the living remote control. Could it because of the change of cigarette brands? Could it because that my phone can't work, unable to call anyone at all? Could be that i am slow, unthinking and that i am an absolute sloth? Could be that ive been more interested in myself more than others, an unconsicious narcissist? Could it the lack of a proper asian meal, i havent eaten rice in a quite a few days already? Could it be the dry air and the various strangely familiar scents and ordours that the wind brings? Could it be the lack of conversation with another guy? Could i be of widening chasms of differences? Most probably its because of my own irrelevance to whatever circumstances that i've created for myself. I can so feel, and live in this vulgarity of reasoning locked in my head, flashing and blinking, like christmas decorations. Oh yea we totally forgot about christmastime, but really who gives a shit.
merrily merrily life is just a dream. Posing like lame mannequins. its never difficult to see who's face you've just fucking messed up. All you have to do is to dream harder. You were thought in school to dream, dream for education and education will dream for you. Your motives are irrelevant as well, what u get out of it quicker than the other posuers who didnt follow that edict, is a firm wholesome sense of individuality. How wonderful can that be? It will be.
After you've dreamt of education. You can then sleep to the sounds of nice waterfalls of faint voices. Your mother told u when u were 6 that u were smart. all the way the little rivers of memory, down to the little rivers made by those words.
and then i feel tired again. Nevertheless, i am a enuch and i have llistened to too much Beachboys. And like Joey, in the special thanksgiving episode re-run shown yesterday.
I am Shaun
I am disgusting
what i did was because I am Shaun.
so much for personal identity and the such. Amazing!! Optimistm does come really when ur tired. One moment ur thinking about shitting in your pants and the next u are thinking of shitting on the floor after u pull down your pants. Hurrah hurrah. Baked and nice. and then we are two, and one is never enough. take your time.
Saturday, November 25, 2006 05:43 p.m.
Oklahoma Day#1 (actually day 2)
Diane, its 9 am here. I just had a breakfast which was really great which consisted of nothing but delicious sausages,, eggs and shit. Totally a wetdream for macdonald's big breakfast addicts, best part's that its free flow. Picked up the local newsie and USA today.
its thanksgiving today, at the hotel lobby, a television was showing the thanksgiving carnival at new york. With that, alot of commercials were shown.
Thursday, November 23, 2006 09:28 a.m.
November spawned a slacker, a dreamer and a consensual wanker.
Im going to start by saying this isnt going to be one of those pseudo train of cock-ciousness kind of stuff that isnt going do anything much but, just make readers think of stuff that they dont really intend to. Anyway, just to say that i had my reasons for the previous entries anyhow.
and now on to the more conventional blog entry.
anyhow, i'll be leaving for the US next wedneday, which marks the end of my course in mass communications at MDIS. It was a very strange trip, very much like sitting through resident's night at a Community Centre and realising that ur the guest of honor.
Just now while shitting, i took an old journal that i had. I have this odd habit of randomly picking out any of my own personal journals that i keep lying around in my room. When i sat on the toilet bowl and proceeded to relax my bowels, i thumbed throught the journal i had with me. It was dated 18 OCT '04, when i first started the course.
Suddenly i didnt really think much of the pleasure of excreting the remains of Pizza hut and mum's anti oxidant pills.
The journal was brown, and had yellow binding at the spine. Inside the cover, written in different handwriting and pen ink, were the names, emails and phone numbers of the different classmates. Thanks to my social skills, i was able to wring from them, thankfully. Stapled to the top left corner, was one of those lucky draw tickets that u get from donating to those people on the streets, this one was for a muslim organisation.
The journal wasn't that much of a journal, i had copied down notes and thoughts and whatever caricatures i could draw of things, that u think of when you're bored during lessons. I noticed this page, with the blue lines neatly skimming across the yellow paper, written in pencil "CAN YOU TELL ME WHAT ***'s FRIEND NAME IS?", and then and the bottom, was a large "THANK YOU".
This 2 years was a wierd one, that on hindsight, reminded me of the strange effect that going to school has on myself. That time has stood still, really. I do not feel a change in me, nor in my mental faculties, should i ask for my money back from MDIS? More than that the only thing that has actually bent out of shape, is really how i feel about what's outside of school. It sad that at the end of this course, that this course despite all its work load, still remains a haven from the obscure waves of change, where u must immediately apply your stupid vulnerable self.
It would be criminal not to include my classmates, in this haven, other than the fact that they're all GIRLS, they are still good friends. By chance, i ended up being the only Guy in class because of changes in the cohort (the only guy.. haha a more PC way of saying it.) I must also insist that, this peculiar sadness has crawled all the way to my frontal lobes, burnt into these old pimple scars.
One other thing that i must say, is this strange idea of crushes. After your 21, u really start to find suitable synonyms with this heart racing cross visual phenomena, really. I once had this idea of replacing "having a crush" with, "i am tight with so and so."
I guess these two years, alot of these words that we use are subjected to this realignment, gradually shades of adolescent flavoured words are replaced by other words. The images that attach themselves to these trinkets change their orbit, and are replaced by a different view of the universe.
The scary thing is that, some of these magical orbital views, are maintained by man made satellites. Its hard, really to keep track and understand, that many of these little wonders we have lost, no more connection. Losing a view of the galaxy.
Im just using this crush shit as an example, im sure another word that's been replaced most notably would be, "TAKING A SHIT" with "USING THE TOILET". So hooray that my manners are better, outside of this entry, because i said "take a shit" earlier on.
I will never forget, all the times i went for lessons and then going home after the lessons. There was a electrifying excitement, of having learnt something new. For the first time in life, i went home, and actually had something worth saying to my parents. After a while in the future all that will die really, seriously. Not to mention the crush i had on this girl in class, which has brought me endless savage chides from my closer friends. I mean, that's what crushes are, a bottomless pit of resistance only makes the diamond all the more perfect. Still, not enough for me to get out of my teenage shyness, that the magnitude of flawless desire induces in me. And then i vomit uncontrollably.
The long walks along orchard road, carrying school books while the girls all shopped alot. I found it fresh and intriguing to be asked along while girls shop. Not to mention actually lying most of the time that i wasnt tired and i could continue, must be my subconscious alpha male doing it. I guess, i learnt more about people during these outings. One nice thing, about the classmates that i was with, is that, in some strange language we all understood that whatever we were doing is not going to last. Which explains why, i am feeling this morbid end of days thing, all this while i didnt realise this.
So what has ended other than school, its pretty obvious to put it in a cliche way, a new chapter in life is going to start. Am i attempting to write a foreword to this chapter? Or a series or paragraphs to be used in footnotes to explain my actions later on. For example, Shaun screws up a potential romance by saying "TAKE A SHIT" instead of "GOING TO THE TOILET". Which seems pretty likely. I have to admit that im pretty aware of my constant allusions to ROMANCE, CRUSHES, GIRLS And all that hollywood bull, but its a really simple point of reference really. no matter what song u listen to there's going to be a tune.
after i had taken that shit, i threw the journal on my bed along with the feeling of nostalgic indifference down the toilet bowl.
i remember how this time, during the short month long break from school, i started running so that i could lost weight and impress some girl in my class. Its a pretty lame thing to do i admit, but come to think of it, it was really the last time i'd actually revel in that innocence. Even if I would have to try and impress a girl like that, i wouldnt with that kind of certainty that by buffing up i would get closer to someone. I'd prefer and use whatever innate charm to do it, its alot easier and less musky.
i would be writing more entires up till the trip maybe write more boring introspective bullshit.
i am so getting more and more boring.
Thursday, November 16, 2006 02:17 a.m.
my mouth is open and i have a mouth
sleep u stinky little bitch just sleep!- tossing and turning on the sofa, Sheila notices that the televsion is switched on. Cable television, has, indeed changed so much during these past months. The new family plan is beneficial to the well being of the family, as in its name. Family planning has crumbled around Shelia, as Shelia E drums away while Prince looks on in purple rain.
My hands, they are quite small and orange- Her thoughts meander around the snakes of her unseen mind, and dribble down to her modest cleavage, that saved her from sexual androgny. My feet are yellow and are going to hell- Shelia walked towards takashimaya in cool virgin blue to the newstand, to pick up a copy of 8 days. With magazine under her armpit she motioned for the staff at the cafe for a seat. Ordering a plate of yellow noodle things and red bloody sauce, she felt satisfied at where she is.
POOOT- Shelia farted. Wet and magnificent, and it reminded her of Shelia E's performance earlier on that she saw on TV, with Prine dressed in purple rain. By pure flatulent divinity, her food was brought to her table. The sight of the plate, as seen from outerspace would not be seen at all, even herself. The thought of such then lead her to realise, that she was insignificant.
Under the late evening sun, and the thick mist of cigarrette smoke and outdoor air conditioning clouds, Shelia ran along orchard road. She was barefooted, like a horse, galloping, stretching her step as far as hey legs could with her skirt. As she was running, she caught little looks at people shaving their legs, picking their toes, smelling their feet, dislocating their fingers. All these she saw beyond her field of vision.
when she reached the junction, she was stopped by road traffic. Then she collapsed, with a thud, like the coda of Shelia E's exhausting but entrancing percussive work outs.
and then Benjamin was at home, trying to put his head into the rubbish bin in his ktichen. he couldnt competely fit his watermelon of a head in the small bin that meausured 50 centremetres in diameter. There was already a swelling at forehead, where a reddish line formed on his temple. On his knees and bent over the bin, he had both his hands at the base of the steel bin, forcing his head into the bin. He could smell shelia's sweat from the sofa and the yellow noodles, the more he could smell it the more he felt the need for the top of his head, to touch the base of the bin.
shelia appearing from behind him at the entrance of the kitchen, kicked him in the back. Benjamin felt her barefoot connecting with his back. Taking out his wallet, he paid her a total of 30 singapore dollars to her. Shelia obliged perfectly, like how he imagined she would respond.
after that, both Shelia and Benjamin sat down on the sofa, where earlier on she was tossing and turning, to watch shelia E bang her drums while Prince dressed in the purple rain grinned. Shelia got up and started gyrating to the music, and started smiling until her cheeks started bleeding. It seemed that her jaw was faling apart. The faster the shook her hips to the beat, the more her cheeks bled profusely. Benjamin just sat in his seat, staring at her.
oh how wonderful, shelia, for you to honor our love, like shelia E and prince. take my hands in marriage and i will promise u a lifetime of loving comfort from me.- Benjamin whispered as her started stuffing disposable chopsticks in to his mouth. when the 20th pair of chopsticks was forced into his mouth, in a simultaneous bloody tear, both shelia and his jaw was loosened from the skull.
falling through the fall, and to the voiddecks. The descent had slowly peeled away layers of plaque and toothpaste from the pair of jaws. It landed on a pillow with the words "meet me in USA. It laid on the pillows with so much grandeur, and so much glitter, and so much beauty. so much, that shelia awoke on the sofa.
shelia put on her favourite t-shirt, she knew she was late for school. Her mother was already shouting from the living room that she was late for the bus. After one last. long, drag of a cigarette, she grabbed her school bag and rushed out of her house. Her mother was still shouting for her to hurry. The lift doors opened, and out came shelia rushing to the bus hired by the school for students around the estate. At the entrance of the bus, she was greeted by her classmates, and they all smiled at her, happy to see her.
the bus left for the school, after every passenger has been seated. A distance from where the bus had stopped to pick up shelia, the wheels fell off at the sides. The engine started to emit a high pitch shriek, and ended after the vehilce exploded.
benjamin walked past the wreckage examining the pieces of metal, he was sure that the cable channels were different this time. A number of his favourite channels were not there again., not that he coudl remember the exact name of the channles, but the programs that he would latch onto after channel surfing were nowhere to be found.
The two of them were married last christmas in a pagoda, they were both blinded by chopsticks and had their underwear stolen while they were studying for their examinations. It is inevitable that their hands had rotten to the extent that brushing their teeth was impossible. Armed with a stethescope, Benjamin checked the minute rythmic qualities of shelia E's drumming, down to the quaver and down to the pillow where both their Jaws lived happily,
Wednesday, October 18, 2006 02:31 a.m.
buddha
night will fall and already fallen
i am bare and i am scared, well i try to
i feel my shoulders and i feel my back
at the base where my spine is
my body feels foreign
as far away from where i was
where i walk, concrete bleeds
and when i talk words become make believe
like snakes my fingers wrap themselves
around little like snake pieces
behind closed eyes.
little neon green
flickering and squirming
dots leaving trails that fade
in the darkness of my closed eyes
i cannot focus on them.
within my make believe vision
i rear make believe creatures.
behind my eyes
i trip every so softly
on my toys i leave around my room
pressing my fingers against my temple
i have fallen down the tip of your nose
and onto the base of your chin
and the neon snakes are swimming
behind my eyes.
-for laura
Thursday, September 14, 2006 03:47 a.m.
rubbish.. shh....
its been another long time since i've written an entry in this blog. Should i condense what has happened, or rather use this oppourtunity to use this blog the way some people do: Blogs, used by most singaporeans as a means to vent out their frustrations and other modern psychosis into mincemeat sentences and shit.
in the past month, alot has happened really. a friend getting married, baybeats, going for reservist, getting my plane tickets for oklahoma pilgrimage, a friend's relationship change, totally freedom to do what i want and also more gigs.
above all, one thing that cannot be ignored, and has gotten as tiresome as reprints and re-editions of the bible, is this deep sense of longing. This time its alot different, it has no target and no conclusion. i imagine that this the longing that a monk or one in celibate catholic orders do experience at times. This emptiness that is what christianity strives to save us, longing for something that is displaced as easy as a toiletbowl's water by others with fiona xie and other nice delectable pieces of wisdom, like zoe tay's swallowing.
and then again, it all started with the wedding.
and then i wasnt afraid again of weddings i have to admit that im afraid of weddings. how i got there made it worse, i mean how i got to not been afraid.
u knwo what diana. i cant write anymore.
my head is like a zipper that got stuck. A jeans zipper on some polytechnic boy. Loose, but still stuck. Stuck at where? stuck at his habitual needs to hold hands with his hot female classmates.
and then i could write a haiku to make this terrible horrible longing culpable to other people. longing. Its another sexual connatation, a residue of teenage secondary school sexual curiousity of how the longer ur penis is, the more impressed the opposite sex is. Longer the better. Does it cover more distance?
and here's a story that i feel like writing. in an anway how way:
and then this boy realises that he is alone on a island, looking much like the islands that he sees on bintan pamplets. On this island, he walks around and is naked. He has come to this island because he was with his friends, swimming. This boy, is dressed in boardshorts. His hair is all short but gracefully wild at the ends. His jawline is aquiline, meeting at his chin, where a niec cleft is at. His back is smooth with little curves that remind me of sand dunes, these strange curves that are so mysterious and shift with every step. At the base of his back i might long to hold maybe.
laura oh laura where have u gone.
Saturday, September 2, 2006 01:42 a.m.
i am bunch of loser
just awhile ago. I was playing Kingdom hearts: Chain of memories on my nintendo DS, along to This mortal coils' filigree and shadow (i love listening to these depressing albums while playing games). Just as i was beating the boss for the hercules stage. I realised that my little outing with laura was more than i treated it.
i cant help but feel stupid really, terribly dumb arsed. There were reasons of course for why, i acted so, Dumb arsed, possibly. Firstly, i had just before that bought 3 cds that i was excited about; Melvin's houdini, Replicants' self titled and Sugar's beaster. I was really exctied about the Replicant's one, the group's made up of Ken Andrews (!!!GENIUS!!), Greg edwards and Paul damour (TOOL ex bassist!). ITs made up of Covers and has maynard keenan singing a song as well. I mean... WHO WOULDNT BE EXCITED. Here i have.. Three albums with the best guitar SOunds. From bob mould's EAR PIERCING Chord MAshing! TO MELVINS wrecking BAll LAVA EXPLOSION to Ken ANdrew's FUzzed out Wavesss of Synths and guitarssss.
speaking of which, here i am wide awake not only at 5am, but also at the fact that i had let a chance to be with someone that i really care for pass like that. Still, thinking back about 7hours after the meeting, it was still nice. really nice. But seriously, it looks like all this getting old and shit, leveling up my character stats and all, i forgot to invest some serious experience points in basic social skills with the opposite sex. DAMNIT WHERE's THE LOAD/SAVE menu!
oh laura. what have i done!
Thursday, August 17, 2006 04:47 a.m.
little funny bunny
did u challenge urself today? made an effort not to think about spending money exorbitantly, or to think about that boy/girl that your head over heels about. Challenged yourself to playing 3 stages of Castlevania, or even making sure you've taken a shit today. Channel your challenges through yourself next thing you know it you're as shiny as steel.
so im back and out, from in camp training. There's a wedding to attend this week and a gig to play next week. Weekend entertainment never fails to make me think alot.
As usual, the challenge of keeping my contendment with things at status quo has been shaken. The wild ride was put on hold when i was having my Reservist training, and today, the whole entire i cannot relate to things shit is in play, again.
once in awhile im put into these extremely sticky social situations that really, just, challenges me to do strange wierd things. These strange things act themselves out involuntarily, and reveal alot more about myself. I guess i i have to admit that there's this narcisstic element, about this idea that i am a pretty interesting boring person.
I just watched the first disc for jerry bruckheimer's chick dream fantasy Coyote ugly. After which i went to take a walk to 711 to satisfy a chocolate craving and here i am, ready to start on disc two. many at times, during the first part of the film, i was thinking "THIS SHIT IS FUCKING BULLSHIT" all the way from Violet's friend giving her a roll of cash willingly to finding an australian hotboy at a bar. well, it was bullshit until.... tyra banks gyrating with the two other coyotes in a diner. They were at some table counting their money from work. Greenbacks all rusty at the corners on the tables and in their hands, taking bets on some centerfold model's favourtie movie.
the whole sexy girl thing started from then, all the way to the scenes of Coyotes dacing on table top with a drunk enthusiatic crowd-finger fucking the air for wet moist alcohol to take.
i have to admit that i felt very conscious of the sudden shift in how less bullshit everything was in the movie, after Violet and her environment started to get all skin and bare midriffs.
Does sex actually make fantasies like that all so believable? makes urself easier to convinced? I have to admit that i was quite certain that the whole high (crap) tech changing room that barberella had was possible in the future., after seeing her silohuette of her stripping. Technology and sex: imagine all these nerdy paper fed engineers working for the cure for an incurable disease, unconciously dreaming of saving a out of the blue jessica alba in blue bikini if she had one.
Relationships, love with ur significant other, isn't as real, without doing some really sexy. i dont mean kissing and shit, but some tit or some ass u know what i mean.
in camp, all the talk about sex and all, made homesickness less real. Remember the pictures of FHM models pasted inside ur bunk mates drawer.
The whole fragility of being contended with where u are, or to make dreams possible, can be punctured by a something sexy.
which might explain singapore's sudden media explosion, where many more hopefuls are turned on by Fiona Xie's orchard bikini run. That whole co-relation sparks the imagination into working hard, into a dry orgasm of achieving something.
IS it the safest way out? really?
ok now on to disc two.
Sunday, August 6, 2006 02:40 a.m.
update redate
ok. so here it goes. this has happened and always have happened.
but the shittiest thing is that i have reservists next week.
its not very me to suddenly write a blog entry concerning things like that, other than the usual meta-bullshit.
but this is worse. IPPT... i havent done a single ippt in two years! make that two and something more years.
i was trying to sleep awhile ago, but the palpitations that come from reading the training program for next week's ICT were louder than whatever sleep waves i was trying to hear. I had to get up and do something, i chose to update this blog since it hasnt been for awhile.
this whole ippt thing, im pretty nervous about it. I cant help but think of the reasons why a moment ago. Im pretty screwed when it comes to the pullups and the situps, ive tried to discipline myself to do some one in awhile. Running, im ok, just imagine that i have no lungs, and keep thinking im a slayer song. Standing broadjump's ok. But... the ultimate feeling of FAILURE, in front of older, comrade in arms in my unit, ultimately.. STRANGERS. it just totally echoes the feelings i had during my NS, about all these PHYSICAL tests and all.
i just cant cut it in realworld really, but i have to believe so. Since i've had my first call-up, i just realised how i am not as socialble as i think i am. Really. I feel terribly alone. Come to think it, it felt like this year's baybeats. With this eternal feedback drone of people, left to right horizontal strips of bodies. I cant really connect with people like i was in secondary school.
partly, its because im 25, and still defiant somewhat about growing up, and accepting that everybody just cant .. well... be friends. Instead of the usual, growing up idea, that there are two types of people around you, "friends" and "dont-friends". It has developed into this whole entire stack of FRIENDS, yea everybody is a friend. Within that stack, you've got, music friends, neighborhood friends, ex girlfriend friends, church friends etc etc.. and oh yea.. that stack of friends that u look into alot when your single, "the girls that are nice and are potential partners in life" stack.
unfortunately, in this whole new developed stack, it seems increasingly difficult to find, the same "Friends" that u had when u were a wee little primary school kid holding a box full of international flag erasers to play eraser wrestling with. Is it under the music friends stack? is it under the.. whatever stack...
maybe the reason why i cant relate much to people like how i do, is because of how im stacking them. maybe there's this other stack that ive been holding off, ignoring. Or maybe a good relabelling of everything would work out fine.
a friend of mine, once told me how much a fucker i am. She said that i treat my friends like shit, and that im a fucker and should go to hell based on the way i treat my friends. Now i wonder what category of her stack im in. Oh sure, it hurts like hell when someone says something like that, and then i get paranoid, that maybe.. ALL my FRIENDS all are just playing along, that they are aware of what a fucker i am, and are in it being friends with me because im stupid.
i was quite affected by what that person said, i still am, honestly, but then i thought about whether the people that i had neatly categorized in my "Friend stack", do have me in a category equilvalent in theirs. Music friend could have me as Soccer friend in his stack.
another wierd comment a friend made to me the other day. He told me that he understood why im stuck in 90's "indie" rock sounds and shit, it was because i had not fully embraced the new "indie" sound. At first i was defensive, falling back on the idea that 90's indie rock sounds ARE the backbone of the new INDIE sound. Basically, to make it short, why listen to anything new when everything's trying to sound old. Well, we didnt really define what 90's and new indie sounds are, but.. i sure as hell wasnt counting on comparing gun n roses to velvet revolver, or cheap trick to click five.
after awhile, i realised its true, i havent fully embraced the new generic indie sound of the present.
ok so i loved interpol's first album, but hated Antics. Liked the stills' first album but really think that the followup's crap. Liked mineral but had to come to terms with the gloria records self indulgence. Liked bjork's post more than medulla.
i guess confining music to a certain present sound is important. If alan freed hadnt discovered the NOW sounds of black music in the 60's, we'd still be listening to Pat boone and cliff richard. How about the future NOW sounds of orbital, lionrock, chemical brothers... it would be wierd really.
So what are the now sounds of indie music really? the now sound is really about low bitrate, shitty, downloaded non profit musicians, who have day jobs, who love THEN music and want to make music. the now sound of indie, is about technology, about the speed at which music lovers are exposed to more music with LAST FM, myspace, bitchfork media and all the millions of music blogs. Rock music (now used with much more mainstream acts) isnt indie because its a traditional package meal. NOW indie music, bought at stores sound like it was made a micro fraction of the exorbitant prices that u might have paid at HMV. INdie music now, is not about now or then, it has transended ur playlist, ur left to right reading habit, ur ear drums. With the internet and all these meaningless connectivity, indie music is a misnomer.
hey hey my my, its better to burn out then to fade away. In the NOW, u cant really burn out in cyberspace, u cant fade away (unless uve closed ur website). Whatever happened to the great futurists like William gibson!!?
thanks to the new now music thing. im getting my kitchens of distinction album soon from ebay, just finished listening to Friends in the mountains' EP which totally wrecks mogwai's supposed post rock "legacy" that just seems to just irritate me, just listened to more music on MORR records site, just heard some great new music from Chrome Vanadium, and ... i just whined to my dear friend about my reservist nervousness.
somehow, i really think that i should really stop listening to music too much. Just as i have written before, i havent really had, a secure group of friends with traditions and shit.
i feel incredibly lonely now. Thank you loneliness, what would i be without you.
suddenly i feel that this are the exact same thoughts that i will have the night before i take my IPPT at clementi camp. trying to console myself, that failing isnt that bad really, as long as u've got a little help from your friends.
Thursday, July 27, 2006 03:01 a.m.
evaluating promises
as it has been for the past two years. Again im writing another entry to get used to typing in huge volumes of rubbish, to make up a paper for my examinations.
from then to now, i realise a certain pattern that has existed leading up to the completed product:
a week before, i will tell myself that i must start doing the paper. Which means that i will get down to writing it, a week after. During which that week, i will lie to myself that i am doing, inconscious work. As i am going out, and meeting people, my mind is slowly building up the words and outline of my eventual paper.
i will also suddenly have a sudden obsession with a particular genre in music, for instance, this time, i have began listening to Pulp again. the albums that im not listening to are mainly, the holy Three of Pulp's mainstream success. Common people, this is hardcore and we love life are truly forgotten masterpieces. I have also being overly excited about asobi seksu's new album citrus. Boy i cant get enought of that japanese girl in the red and white biker jacket.
ok so here i am. infront of my computer, and i still havent opened microsoft word. I've been taking shits reading the maggie Q issue of female. I realise that flipping thru a ladies magazines has a profound effect on me. In the past, during the hormonal hyperactivity of yore. The effect was quite certain, i was very very turned on by the beautiful women in the glossy pages. Now in my twentysomethings, these beautiful women still look the same, making them look more like cultural chameleons that change to look to same. This same notion in female, herworld and such has extended to male magazines as well. With male models in place, and instead of walkways u have .. well.. u know what it is.
i used to really enjoy reading the music reviews in FHM, because its straight forward and has this boyish "this album sucks" kind of readiness. Recently, things have changed and.. i guess its interesting that this whole mentality of questioning what u listen has died alot.
after my previous entry i have to admit that im sorry if ive offended anybody, i did it in a fit of a total galaxy crash in head space.
one thing that i admire these bangkok fest go-ers is how they have developed a community around the music they listen. I think that should be the most important thing. Even if its franz ferdinand, korn, taking back bumday and TSOL, i really am envious of all these groups that have supported each other. I mean, i would never feel what's it like to go to a Grey Daturas concert with hot girls, and good dude friends and take a photo with the words "rockers" in the caption. I might be closing opportunties for myself now.. but ahah what the hell.
Singaporeans who went to bangkok fest and watched the bands and all, went there not for the music, but also to celebrate their lives as well. imagine, working off the unstable job, getting comfortable, new friends (esp. new friends that like the same music) and getting out of singapore and travelling to bangkok to watch old time heroes Placebo. I truly admire that.
i find it admirable that these people have managed to push the music into some mental background that goes pretty well with what they are doing. For me i have a problem and music seems to take a more active role, and im not talking about performance. Over the past few weeks, i am beginning to feel more like a geek. Real geeks like me, connect music and playing music to having fun. buying a cd and all, i guess seriously at this moment, its not really working out.
I just had a chat with mel (yes that ex-gf whom u will read alot of in the archives), and she was talking about knowing what life is all about, and.. its interesting how we live life, trying unravel everydamn mystery.
on mystery i am trying to solve now, is the mystery of the advertising paper. how to start it, and how to finish it. i realised that all this while, what a retard i am. Staring at a picture of giselle bunchen at takashimaya and my mind a blank. Staring at this convent girl who's a year older than me (who has appeared in GO! magazine) at toa payoh central and my mind's a blank. im the kind of person who just enjoys, being soaked in numerious question marks. I could be the riddler for all i care.
ok back to the paper.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006 02:08 p.m.
me memorial memory method
Thing's are pretty different again, the best part of being Singaporean is really getting to feel this velocity of change here. It rocks really. Like on of those characters in William Gibson books, u can spot the patterns that are appearing every so obviously. Once again another bookmark in this cultural road has been made by the bangkok rock festival. Ive seen a few a blogs here and there of their photos, and never without one photo of their contingent who have gone their pilgrimage to bangkok. In addition to that, the captions for these photos, include "rockers", "rockstars" and "rock rocks"
to these people. i am certainly happy for you, that u have made urself at last after listening to great music and getting ahead of life without people like me.
Seriously, i cant imagine myself going to this rock fest seriously. The photos, permeate with shades of Sir edmund's climb up mount everest. Who could not forget him appearing in the advertisement for the Singapore Zoo, where he plays with Ah meng.
Fraz Ferdinand, the band that most people will forget has having won the mercury award. Placebo and all played and all. I am in some way very glad that singaporeans have taken that journey up to bangkok to ROCK out. it seems that my comrades have seen thru the fog of being, delievered the ROCK and just fucking ignoring it or just fucking saying.. im sorry im got my fucking job to fucking fuck like a whore and shit.
complete with sunglassses and ROCK hand signals, the whole landing strip for Singaporean ROCKERS at the Bangkok fest made it like an airport. With the bands playing ona control tower, and the my fellow singporeans bumping and grinding or whatever dance moves they've associated with rock music since blur unleashed "song 2" and hence thus, INDIE ROCK is BORN!
back to the normal everyday things.
i have discovered a terrible psychological fuck up. I seem to have thoroughly degenerated, mentally, to that of a secondary 2 Singaporean student. I smell of sweat most of the time, and its pretty rough behind the ears. Everytime i wake up, there's this ghost of a pen i feel in my right hand, and my fingers feel numb from habitually picking of my nostrils and ears.
its amazing. having been involved in a group that furthers needs me to be socialble, has instead made me crawl back into some degenerative state.
now im refree, for what i think is right, and for what i think is wrong.
oh yea back to bangkok fest. I've had difficulty trying to make this feeling, culpable. Its this, i have to admit, certain jealousy, that i couldnt be there. ( i usually go for many concerts.. i went for WET WET WET when they came to singapore.. come on.. julia says.. is one of the bettter Beatles song rewrites to be heard on radio at that time. ha) Its just this uneasiness u know, all the stupid people that u hated and got u to spending time and effort ripping them apart are eating the saem stuff that u once ate. And above all that.. they are having it AT A FUCKING CHEAPER PRICE.
time and time.. this whole "indie" word's been thrown around like phelgm from an ah pek's throat.. or WORSE.. a juvenile smoker who just played 3hours of voiddeck soccer. u know what indie is .. indie is CHEAP MUSIC now
cHEAP CHEAP CHEAP. u want pared down RAWWwwwkk buy indie music. None of that over produced earth wind and fire or.. stupid Ronan keating bleeps and sqeeekkksss sensitivity... or that.. light shiny glaze of lussshh Bossa latino EXotica... CHEAP MUSIC
how about some jack johnson let's put him beside Nick drake. Oh yea i used to listen to nick drake. yea.. let's put jamie cullum and howie day, melt my heart song people to Bob dylan and art and garfunkel. its cheaper.
u know what's cheap.
Rock is cheap.
and how did rock come cheap
Rock and roll was fucked too many times.
worse than Grace quek.
At least she knew when to quit.
rock on friends of ferdinand.
Monday, June 19, 2006 03:45 a.m.
spacemen containment facility #1
I felt my tongue tracing the edge of metal sliver endlessly. Every little nerve of my pinky slug feels the glimmer and smooth like an MRT train. Never stopping, air between tongue and metal, non-existent. The cruel groups of electrons excited to give the train its motion, i felt my tongue tracing the edge of metal silver ceaselessly.
So, i find myself finding the letters, on a print out of what i had written suddenly get fuzzy. I was conscious of how tight the sleeves on my shirt was, which i had folded at mid arm. Feeling slightly disorientated, i reached out my left hand into fuzziness. My hand then met my table, with my printouts and stationery. I think its my table. My fingers could feel the cold metal of the table, or could it be the rungs in handicapped public toilets. It could be the railing that i held while in queue entering bus 410.
with minute detail, i could see that i was swimming in some sea. I was moving or swimming in this sea. Each stroke seemed to be weightless and deliberate. The deliberation in the way i stroked, was how i would use the index and middles finger of my right hand to mime a catwalk model.
I dreamt about my wife. About how she made feeling not painful at all. I thought that i was able to show the world, that it wasnt painful. My friends, they would celebrate with my painlessness. My wife, she shows me all the time with her smile that mine was bullshit. I watched her as she noted down what i needed for my stay at the spaceman containment facility.
I heard the wheels under my head, while i was swimming in numerous streams of blogging entries. Entries moving fast and combining binary code into letters, for the linguist in us to our heart. All these little like little deltas, converging into a river, and that river cuts into my head. My index finger lands on an little island in this sea, i cant see what's on it. The tip covers the area of the island entirely.
The island that i have my finger on, is my son's. He is talking about my wife, and about how i am swimming in a sea. The entries that i could make out, were about my wife, his mother. His website has an archive of 4 entires. They wrote about my wife and my life as he had imagined it.
As far away as those imaginations are, i cant help but feel like a primary school boy reading Dan Dare comics. That what the future is: already past, already here, even if it looks like its not here its actually here like it always has been.
I open my painful eyes, to find myself in a hospital bed, covered in a blanket that was too thin to soak up my piss. As the fuzziness cleared, i saw the face of my wife, my children. Like they had seen the future, eyes all large and round. I noticed my daugther's mouth, turning into a smile, and my wife's folded arms, turing into a painless embrace. As she kissed my on the cheek, i felt her forehead on my forehead, and i felt the centre of my skull ache, pulsating and wiggling.
The train never travels far in singapore. It remains here and never goes away always on the same tracks. Never stopping, air between tongue and metal, non-existent. The cruel groups of electrons excited to give the train its motion, i felt my tongue tracing the edge of metal silver ceaselessly.
a plastic bag that has lost its way from some shopping centre. I recieve objects like shrink wrapped meat, long missles of soft drinks, little farts of sweets and everything. In a arabesque backward dance of defecation, i recieve these things and more, into my asshole on the top.
as soon as i am filled to the asshole brim. I am moved inside another asshole, that they call a car boot. It seems more like an asshole, because it is located in the back of the mechanical beast of burden. Therefore, i am placed in the asshole of a beast of burden.
In my current rectal surroundings, i rock back and forth. I can feel the bumps and grooves of the asshole that this beast of burden is inside. I guess that its not at the asshole yet, but rather, in the complex snaking intestinal roads of a speeding highway.
as we are travelling, i can feel the "things" inside my asshole, inside me because i am bag. With an asshole on the top.
After more rocking back and forth. The asshole im in stops.
The car boot opens producing a suction of light and air inwards, like a multidemensional fart. I bask in its glory, and wish that i could use my asshole to give the same sensation to those in my own asshole.
i am brought along another intestinal snake, to another asshole. This asshole released a fart of, detergent wine, athelete's foot colonge and moist wood.
Placed upon a table in a asshole of a kitchen. I recall what i have seen: An asshole with stalks or roses, an asshole which faces you and produces colorful sights of machine gun farts, a "half" asshole so that u can sit on, and a chest full of assholes that u can put "feet into them", appliances to help put things into your asshole.
i wouldnt have seen these things if i had not left my old asshole.
soon after being buried in the rectum of my thoughts as a bag, it was time for me excrete my asshole of things. It was taken out of me, as i felt myself, being emptied to nothing but a thin film, an outline, or an what i had in my asshole.
i was soon taken and placed in a dark place.
in that dark place, i then walked over to the counter and asked for a cheeseburger meal. the salesgirl then asked if i wanted an upsize, i said no, and i paid. After i recieved my change and whisked away hungrily to a seat, i farted loudly in my jeans.
the sound of tearing paper and deep ardous smells, made many people in the dark place turn and look at me.
and i sat down, acting oblivious and carried on filling myself with cheeseburger. My flatulence has never been so timed perfectly.
because i am a bag.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006 10:18 p.m.
wet hair
hand in mouth. Its amazing how everything now permeates in retro meglomaniac in every darn pore that's on my face. Lest the pimples have no space to germinate and grow its white-yellow seed.
its hard to tell what's now and what's then now at gigs these days really. bodies all thrown all over the place. Head in chest, hand in mouth. Epileptic riffs and sledgehammar fists all play out this wierd tribute to what's then and not now. Which is pretty wierd. Where is the now in these gigs now?
where's the darn now now the present where's it. I turn to my side of my table its then. Old dust. Dust. Where's the clean arse jetsons future.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006 03:25 a.m.
eternal sunshine of the pumpkin filled mind
The other day at the wmushop, this guy told me how he totally hated Smashing Pumpkins' Machina. I was totally pissed off, i then went on to tell him that he sucks and that he should really start getting his head checked. He went on saying that based on the terrible album that machina is, the new pumpkins album is going to suck as well.
This incident started me thinking about pumpkins and corgan and their whole body of music and why it has effected me for most of my life. Why each album carries this amazing emotional consistency, yet each is seperate in its sonic statements.
I am now listening to a bootleg from darby, which is from 1998, just after adore, where they were moving away from the largely acoustic live shows to sombre roots rock, and neo-noise freakout treatments to their old material. The amount of power of these recordings are amazing, i feel somewhat sad that these live recordings will never be released to the public. Listening to their 15 minute plus, version for martha, the amount of sensitivity and perspective that the pumpkins had is truly amazing. Moving away from the lollapoolza rock stadium raves, to truly beautiful "mosaic" art jazz jam sessions. Its a wonder why no one can beat them.
I spend all night after that wondering why i was so defensive about people's critiscm towards pumpkins material. I talked to a friend about it and he told me its because, its all in my head. Maybe instead of wanting to be corgan, iha or any part of the pumpkins, i am already them. which is amazing, and it attests to this strange power of music, that many like me have grown to hate and love.
Recording the Sky in euphoria ep was quite interesting really, its amazing how, after u play live for a band, and when u hear the recording that's when u know how u really sound. Im pretty excited for people to hear the recording because, i believe its really fresh stuff, and its a strong set of songs that, is quite different from the usual new metalcore kind of thing.
Im really satisfied with how, myself, being the shit fucked up guitar player i am i seem to have added something more. For that, i feel incredibly sad, because it gives this feeling of how still, i am able to connect to others. Yet, after that, strange short lived connection, we all but seperate people. Sometimes, it hard to believe that u are part of something else. When u are, i mean, when i am, i wish that it could last forever really.
the Ep will be out june maybe, and im waiting, and hoping that the music that we play will not just unite people that are into hardcore and all, but the skronk and smash of the music will get people attuned to this common person in all of us really. I dont care if people dont mosh really, but i care if people will listen to the record and then feel that despite "genre" complexities and culture deficient attention span, that they will feeel that they are part some greater world, that is all but alive and well and eternal.
A secret that i want to share with people, and dont say it out is that, when i wake up in the morning and i take a bus down to school, all i want to say is that truly love the world, its this big album that everybody's playing in and the song remains the same. I also thank God that, i can see this and feel this much really, its not about stupid economics or shite faced prostitutes, but the life and times of a waking life.
Oh yea, i watched brokeback mountain.
twice
ok so i havent updated this blog in a long time.
i'll be brief the reason is because i saw this other blog that's really traumatizing.
and no i havent watched brokeback mountain
im graduating this year.
in case u might be interested, especially people who actually might just care about what i listen to.
im listening to Adrian Belew's side one and side 2.
Acrimony's Tumuli Shroomaboom
Maritime's glass house
Scorn's collossus
Ennio morricone's Crime and dissonance
sky in euphoria will be playing a gig this saturday and will be attempting to record a mini ep at the end of this month.
i have not bought a new guitar
i have not gotten over my obession with rufus wainwright
i am still trying to read finish phillip k dick reader.
i am still still looking to purchasing a line 6 DL4
i am still wearing the same clothes in secondary school
i still havent watch brokeback mountain.
Monday, March 6, 2006 07:14 p.m.
digging to inspire
i met up with laura, along with her friend sharon. It's nice meeting them really, especially laura. Im sick of talking to her on the internet and all really, its pretty dead cold when u just have these conversations on the internet. Its like, its coming from a source that's suppose to be human and really breathing and all.
i met laura at starbucks, at wheelock place. She was meeting Sharon to watch a movie at lido so, she decided that we should meet for awhile before she does. In a this pastel yellow dress, she certainly looked really kooky hhaa, nice and all. I have to admit i was at a loss for words momentarily, took me her usual greeting which consisted of "You look terrible like shit" or something like " u stink of smoke", to bring me back to orchard road. It takes a lot of charm and wit to make comments that would pulverise my pride to shreds, seem, cosy and warm.
We sat among all these Sunday slackers, beating off the evening rain. The waft of exotic coffee blends tempted me into a cup of mocha, she settled for some new fruity cold drink. Wasnt it already cold enough? As we settled down, it didnt take trained eyes to see her standout from the drab rainy washes of color all around, her yellow dress made her hair all the more jet black and her eyes more attentive. Following that thought she did say something about me having "lecherous, mischievious eyes" driving me to this guilty self awareness that didnt seem too convincing.
For about half an hour we talked about stuff, the usual how are you's and all. During the conversation i resisted urges to smoke, i mean, i didnt want to smoke not just because i was concerned about maintaining a healthy impression to her, but, consciously, i didnt want to spoil whatever invisible aura that was pouring into every word she was saying. Halfway through a negative comment that i had about the coming kings of convenience concert, she started thinning her already small eyes, as if concentrating or anticipating how i was going to end my sentence. I let the last vowel drift off, and there she was, with these half closed eyes and this smirk.
Sharon come up from behind her, and startled her, the way convent girls seem to do all their lives despite their age. I sat up straight and squeezed whatever polite greetings to sharon in the midst of their explosive female bonding.. sounds like lesbian porn haha.
After we were done with our drinks proper, Laura and Sharon got up from their chairs. I noticed that Laura's dress wasnt even creased, and i also realised, this is the first time i saw a girl wear a yellow dress.
i walked away from the traffic lights and got on 167 home, cause i was meeting my mom for mass and dinner at church. While listening to Rufus wainwright on my ipod and watching cars and more cars go pass along the way, i dreamt of what i would be doing if i hadnt met up with Laura:
i would be at home, napping to the exact same rufus wainwright disc. I would go to mass, and see people that i dont want. Those people would be a thorn in my eye during the whole duration of mass, and i wouldnt feel good at all. After which, i would take a lonesome trip by myself to HMV to buy a cd which i wouldnt listen to long after. Afterwhich, i would top up my ez link card, and take a bus ride home, smoking cigarette after cigarette. letting the smoke choke me or something. Upon entering my room, i would check my mail, and there would be no mail except for music mass mail updates, and i would tell the same people the same thing on my msn that i had a boring day.
i would just open message window after window trying to extricate a conversation by saying hi to everyone online on my contact list. trying to contact some.. Laura if i havent ever met her before.
its good to have met Laura.
if i didnt, i wouldnt have seen the first yellow dress in my life.
Monday, January 23, 2006 01:27 a.m.
figuring out fire
I just told Laura that i love her, in simple fragments of carefully encrypted words and vocals inflections over the telephone. In some sense while i heard her breathing in between sentences, some strange divine universality hung over the air. Some ambiguous natural truth that erases the "you" and "I", while i make no sense even to myself. All the conversations all left hanging in some phonebooth, by the speed of cars and other mobile objects, sweeping away any sight of them, with dust and fraggle rocks.
a few minutes i find myself face down in a bowl of cereal cornflakes, feeling cold fresh refrigerator milk burning my sinuses. Next i find myself looking out of the windows at the night sky over bishan park, comteplating possible designs for my o levels art project. Heavenwards is upwards, then is the truth out of our reach?
Figuring out fire with Laura is the best things that's ever happened, talking about the flickering flames and the heat emanating. She blinks as the flame from a lighter flickers, and shadows make cell bars for the room. "turn around count to ten, if you eat hawker food, dont tell me that you will love me again." ----- "turn around count to ten, if u look at me and say im pretty again, you will not have anything to gain" -----"turn around and count to ten, jabez u are not, be contended with being friends."
Laura oh Laura
Friday, January 20, 2006 03:09 a.m.
digging for fire is a waste of time
ok one of those long time then update entry. I am now listening to Earth's phase 3: thrones and dominons, and i feel seriously shit.
i guess i felt it was okay to write an entry and feel shit, after succumbing to reading other people's blogs (which i havent in a long time). An email, from friendster about friendster blog updates was in my mailbox, and i kinda looked at some of them links. Most of these blog entries were nothing but about feeling shit, more shit, feeling shit.. from freaking trivial shit to really wierd arsed haiku stink zen cut and paste shit, to cry girl cry boy fashionable scrawls; Blog entries of these sort notified by email to me.
so... after reading them, i am effectively de-sentisized myself to all that conscience and moral weight to deciding on blogging. Obiviously i have chosen not to, because i think that writing an entry about how shitty i feel, is not going to help.
so what? haha.. Brandon and me going out, feeling that we really suck. I just bough Bladerunner 2 the novel for $4 at thomson plaza, went thru the first few chapters and decided, that there is no value that i add to myself from reading the book. I guess its that time in your life, just like after o levels, where everything seems to just go somewhere but dont, the experience comes with blank plans like "im going to thailand" "im going to church" "im going to start working out" "im going to start quit smoking", and before January is over, i feel burnt out! FROM WHAT? FROM NOTHING!
sometimes in face most of the times, after u swim thru phillip k dick novels and issues of national geographic and pictures of supermodels, u just let go, in a totally stretched out moment of consciousness and just say seriously "all i want to do if f##k". The littlest and greatest death/end. It takes alot of sleeping to get over that i guess.
drone drone drone doom on. i have all three Reverend bizarre albums. ROCK
sometimes, u really think u need love. then it turns to u really need to fuck. then it turns to u need some coffee. then it turns to u need some more education. Then it turns in to more jesus wafer. then it turns to more friends. then it turns to more sun and then it all floats down a river.. really life is just a dream.. an overactive imagination that u think u have when u think back about last night dream about knobbing some hot chick in a theatre filled with pop corn popping fast times at ridgemont high extras, with a huang wenyong voiceover.. hanging over with its exquisite mandarin narrating a Harbin based cook show with spanish subs. downloadable in various formats ( hight, low, quicktime and windowmedia)
when u think uve got it, u lost it so u move along.
i admit i tried watching soccer. all the lovely excitement when the ball comes to kick and catch, and the boys scuttle and crackle across the screen in semitone ballet. HOLLER HOLLER
what am i dreaming of? i am dreaming in my bed now. the whole day is a lovely bed/blade. the other day my friend told me that her friend's cell group who was doing this talk on Depression and suicide, her friend asked the group about who had thoughts or struggled with such in their lives, and everyone put their hands up. Boo hoo hoo!
take the hair! tear it off! Like I dont care! nice and soft! -blah blah sir richard at-your-bird he jumps off from an tree in mac ritchie park on some unsuspecting jogger!
"ARRFFGGGGG"
"Get off of me!!! "
"STAY AWAY! jacqueline! jacqueline! give me three dollars for a hot plate of char kway teow soaked in sweet black soy sauce!"
Sir Richard take his time and stands over the bushes, mimicking a defecating monkey, complete with his shit licking spasms,
"oh.. *slurp* its hard to explain *slurp" I could reach mercury by plane or *slurp* peace and love and watching the "slurp* congregation in church like a movie... *slurp*"
Running away after he delivers his bold speech, Sir Richard runs away along the trail, each feet pushing away stones and mud, his fingers still wet from his fecal circus mime.
"AH ABOUT TIME!"
NEWS in shit licking dance
A 24 year old male, has been found buried mysteriously in a void deck in Shunfu Road. XXXXXXXX's body was discovered within the concrete floors on the HDB void deck by a by passer who saw a hand sticking out of the ground near the lift. Police immediately responded and was baffled by the scene of forearm protruding, near the hand was a can of green tea and a a torn spine from an enid blyton book. The body was extracted from the concrete floor by construction site workers working nearby, the body was buried lying down with in the floor. The body was identified by a big boobed cock faced woman who was a neighbour, she claims to have been a lover, so far no family members has come foward. Reasons speculated for the strange scene so far have range from the re-introduction of chewing gum (of the temporary tatto kind, with a cat on the front wrapping) and the discovery of magnesium under the tongues of infants in the estate.
im sorry i couldnt make it for the wake.
i truly know how weak i am.
sorry XXXX
Thursday, January 19, 2006 01:40 a.m.
new year kipple
this is the new year. Another loop, with the same familiar loops of january, febuary and march and etc etc, as denoted by the names of months, numbers. The reason why its always different, well the experience might be proof to the limitations of our memories. How did it feel like, a year ago at this time, let alone 6 months ago, 3 months ago? if there werent anything really that big happening ( as in big, i believe for many people, MOS' opening might be Godsend for them).
im having once again, study breaks. I'll be meeting up with my classmates on wednesday to work on the group project. I admit that even at the start of the new year, there are new things to do, other than the usual education distractions. Which is fun really.
these few days, i have been having dreams. It all started i guess when i made my self jog, because.. yea.. terrible really, i kena reservist remedial training which is terrible. So ive been jogging these days down to bishan park and back. The days have been super wet, so i have these nice cold winds and nice wet pavements along the way. I tend to jog late at night like after 12, because.. i look stupid in my running kit, really. With the short shorts, and white newly purchased brooks running shoes, which i just bought from my previous incamp training. Running late in the night reduces the chance of getting embarrassed from been seen. I wonder if that's why transvestites only come out in the night really.
the worst part's that i run without my spectacles. Something to do with me hating the weight i feel give on my head, makes it harder to run i guess. Im not exactly blind without my specs, but everything i see gets a little out of focus, which is good, allow the brain space to concentrate on getting my legs to move.
so here am i, starting into the jogging pathway in the inside of the park, after i had done my warmups. After a few metres in, the pathway snakes into darkness, and all i see are these long lamppost shadows stretched across grass. I feel alittle colder, and a little scarier. I wonder if its because im afraid of other people, who might see me in this embarrassing tranny get up or... maybe some trouble. I just keep running though looking at my new brooks shoes go up and down.
i havent been updating this blog because im a quite irritated with the bots firing my tagboard with silly messages and links to stupid websites.
school's over, i missed todays tutorial and im afraid that i might have pissed off my group mates. Last night i went to holland v, crystal jade to meet up with the guys. It's Sameer's last night and that didnt stop the indian jokes at him, i woke up feeling terrible guilty of joining in the the indian jokes. Today he's leaving for Texas, and its interesting how people are moving in and out of our consciousness every year.
all the best sameer, i'll never forget all the times we were pissing each other off, and uve grown a great deal since ive met you. other than growing, u've lost lots of weight (unlike me im putting it on) to become a lean, mean, emotional, rocking machine.
its amazing how a friend of mine, is just so damn excited about the new year. Its like being on the edge of something, of entering some new world like how every classic story even narnia starts: entering this whole new dimension or something. The usual words come to mind really like challenges, new people meeting and all, but this friend of mine doesnt use these words; she's just simply excited. I guess these words place some personal expectations on the new year, that may detract oneself from what really matters. Kinda like if ur going to jump of a bungee jump, u keep saying that its going to be exciting, its going to be scary and blah blah. U kinda kill tons of little nuances of the experience that may be much more valuable then the scary and exciting bungee jump. ok im sounding so incoherent.
i must admit that one thing that i find interesting this year, is hanging out with vertical rush (the band) on quite a regular basis. On one hand, it really is nice to look at a band from the inside and outside. I likened it to like, how in secondary school, i would just sit in some older kid's band and just listen time after time them jamming at old boon's. Well, call me a loser haha. I admit to having ideas about writing what i see and hear during this whole year about the members of vertical rush. Thinking back, the times with them i have concluded, is an example of the dynamicism of being in a band. One that many have read about in interviews blah blah. The amazing part of vertical rush is how they manage to upkeep and grow, in this little universe of their music and friendships and extend it to the audience (where ever they may be).
its good to know that on New year's eve, they will playing a show at the the esplanade. during one of their practices just a few days ago. They realised that the band's name was on some banner for the event, and they started to get really stressed cause they had to be big in some way to have their name there. Its nice to be in those little pockets of realisation when a group of people, realise shit like that suddenly. the air thickens, the veins up your neck start throbbing, and your brain releases some wierd chemical concoction that scientists havent yet discovered.
i guess i cant write anything yet about them nicely, because its all from memory, but i think that for the new year, i'll start keeping a notebook, to jot down stuff about them.
