it is morning and i am awake.

everyday there will be a time when i drift off into an abyss where distance is abstract and all that others could make out is the gaze of emptiness in my eyes.

this is the moment of all moments where i wonder in endless wonderment of how, in good time and with the simplest of words can i tell you very dearly, and i've always wanted to be able to tell you, in all honesty, that i love you.

because i do. and this is what you do when you really do. though nothing seems to happen even when i truly do. the sun still rises while my darkness looms, i can't see where or what i am gazing at, and every tomorrow still dreams of where today wouldn't or couldn't go.

this is the moment when i wish your laughters that swirls me round the world come from you in real time, still carrying the warmth of your breath that makes my ears tingle with fuzzy delight; not the coughing river of endless memories.

every day.
i want to pick up my phone and tell you.

but your phone seldom works these days.

it is morning, the tomorrow of yesterday, and i would like to sleep now.

Did you hear me listening?

I know you had chicken chop because I didn't hang up the phone after you thought you did.

My face pressed against the window grills, I looked across the street at where you should be. Right there. The clattering of the background noise sounded almost melodic. Occasionally, you waltzed in and out of my ear. My eyes will close as I hold the phone closer, straining to hear every single treble of your voice. I could feel you, the image nearly complete.

Didn't matter that I was running late for my appointment. In that moment, time was running in the past tense, a destination that I couldn't catch, anyway.

Six, seven minutes went on in this long distance call, till you got lucky, I hello-ed to a numbing white sheet of silence, and the signal was lost.

on and on

the dreams are still coming.
what is contained in the day
tores free in the darkest of nights

and the morning after
carries the weight of the wanton excursion;
imprints of your name in this pillaged heart

Enchanted

What or how to feel. My feelings spinned in a daze this whole day while it was aglow in fuzzy warmth. Am i better at concealing my emotions already; the many times when my sense of you slipped below the horizon, you were in sight, but you were gone, and my heart sank as I took deep silent breaths. in my own silence. your voice rings in the background to the phone in a tone once familiar and so crushingly close. I sit in the greatest cold, shivering from within, with your scent submerging me in you, yet remained impermeable, insensitive to the fading grasps of my fingertips.

.

put me to sleep

sometimes i just feel so bloody lost.
i'm running out of places to hide,
let the feelings hunt but not find me.

the burn in my eyes.

this is the morning of 30th Nov, in the wake of 29th. i feared its coming, a day of two funerals. one for you, and another for me, my long suffering heart.

stephen my friend.. your passing hits me harder than I'd have thought, given that we were not the closest of friends. yet tonight I shed tears for you. can't quite bring myself to write much of you yet. the day when i visit Anfield, our spiritual home, I will lay a flower for you upon Shankly Gates.

and for you, my heart, my dear dumdum. i am silent.. but i miss you everyday. you won't be reading this, but happy anniversary nonetheless. =(

a surreal hug, may it transcend from my thoughts to you, through the air and the distance wherever you may be, under this sky we share. may it reach you tenderly, brushing pass your arm, reaching around the small of your back, like a warm caress from someone in your heart on a november day, cold. may the good of this world conspires to bring this hug to you.

For Stephen.

only with death, do we understand life
and the inadequacies of just living.

Stephen old man, I remember you. You'll Never Walk Alone.

You've been missed.
.

Stephen Loh - Dragon boat accident - Cambodia
NTU - NIE - NJC - Maris Stella
NTU Hall 1

Wake at 7 How Sun Close, 27th and 28th November.
Take 22 from Serangoon MRT. about 6 stops away.

Funeral on 29th November.

everything is so sad.

everything.

silent death

tremors echoing
from time to time
unerringly,
towards
this forsaken land
the injured lay slumped
hand over his mouth
muffled cries
in fear of
being found

broken parts

two weeks and hurting, that should be a hairline fracture on one of my metatarsals, possibly the first or second, on my left foot. hope it heals by itself.

same for my old ligament injury above the right ankle. soreness and some swelling persists on.

same for the broken parts elsewhere. that should be permanent.

and it wasn't to get your sympathy.

your song keeps playing in my head
like a broken jukebox that wouldn't stop.

hold my head

My forehead feels heavy with sporadic twitches due to the recent build up of muscular mass from excessive frowning in a blood culling effort to prevent constant thoughts of the emptiest, saddest kind.

6.26am

the dream was so painful i couldn't sleep again.

somewhat breathless. i turned off my fan. the right eye feels sore. i don't remember rubbing it. i touched it. watery remains. get away from the dream. is that why i'm sitting here on the chair, curtains down, not knowing what to do. hiding in daylight.

i've lost all sleep. where has it gone to, where did my baby go. at least i saw you there. you look beautiful. but not for me.

a piece of square trying to pass through a circle, or is it the other way round. i exist merely as the great clattering, the obstruction in between.

or did i secretly wake up to wait for your reply from last night.

almost an hour. dare i go back now.

there are no question marks because there will be no answers.


like an overused SketchIt pad, no amount of erasing can remove the last remaining image.

4am

chest is tight. i can't breathe again.
4am. it's the same time.
i remember i coughed and spluttered.
but you only wanted to say goodbye.

hold my hand

demons visit
with the night silenced
breathless, the air
too thin for screams

sleep

i want to sleep my life away
what will i be waking up to?
a day of haunting memories
and a night of broken words

oh please let me sleep,
let me escape for a little while
and when i do wake
tell me i'm in the November of '05

4.35am

I have no wish to make you
the bearer of my pain.
here I go now, here it rains
and tomorrows come, with great disdain

i saw
it hurts
it fuckin hurts.

just talking to myself

silent night
broken morning
and a silent night

it wasn't much
but even that bit
was out of touch.
.

i don't blame you
just upset at how things turned out.

just a simple how are you

i feel like a beggar who's just waiting and waiting everyday to pick up the scraps. sometimes, there's a little something. but mostly, there's nothing at all.

.

where is the smile in your voice
or the kindness in your touch
wasn't it only yesterday when
we playfully nudged

the smile in your voice lights a thousand sunset
where and when have i heard that voice before,
it wasn't today or the week just passed; silent dusk
will it be tomorrow and its tomorrow, that's my simple ask.

so call me and smile at me,
smile at me and tell me,
words with a sunset view
just a simple how are you.

nothing wrong.

- Anything wrong?

everything is right as rain it seems.
why the hell did i call?

today,

i cut it out and left it at home today. but still it beats. and still i seek.

tell me when, we'll meet again.

tired. of a lot of things. physically. mentally. emotionally.
how did i screw up my life so badly? it's like a giant step towards depression. though i'm still sane enough to say that i'm not entirely depressed. not yet.

waiting for something, someone, is one of the worst thing in life that one can choose to do. you never know when they will turn up. sometimes they can't. sometimes they dun want to. though when such stuttering moments do come by, you subconsciously try frantically to squeeze in as many words as you can within the preallocated five minutes. and inevitably at the premature end of the conversation comes the two words that you never ever want to say. but you always have to utter them anyhow.

if time can be purchased, i'll buy you some.
about three lifetime's worth.

For a lifetime

resistance is futile

i'm exhausted today, from refraining myself, from controlling my thoughts. trying i mean. for the whole day i felt as if i was trying to hold my breathe underwater. i used my own hands to force my head down.

at night i finally succumbed and dropped a message. followed by a call. then i wished i hadn't. it all amounts to nothing still.

at the end of the day i'm feeling much worse than before. my lungs feel deflated, caved in. i give up on the pretense of solidity. but u were already asleep.

i wish u had called.

then my phone rang. it was you, suddenly awake. could you hear the excitement in my voice? there was a different kind of breathlessness that i couldn't contain in me. it was a pathetic exchange of words muttered in half-slumber, but somehow i instantly felt better. it's all about you still.

over tissue and planta

it feels so cold all over again.
a thousand questions and no answers.

can blue birds sing and flowers bloom when your sun don't shine
can you feel the soft caress of late night breezes when your windows are closed

do you only miss the flowers and fingertips when they are gone

to have all the riches in the world yet without time or love to spend with, will you realise only too late that the world is too full of fools poorer than the happy poor
.

it's already 3am.
my windows are opened, my flowers sit in eternal bloom. i am learning to sing a forgotten tune. will you sit with me, and listen?

this is my concert for you and you alone.

On the eve of the day

I'm glad I was locked in my room when it happened, shielded by the four walls closing in on me. So swift and sudden, everything that I've been trying to put down for so long all came together in a gust and washed me out. Every bits and pieces of pain and grief, swallowed down in strength and bravery, re-visited me, swept pass me, through me, coursing through every single vein and arteries inside of me, this flaccid bag of emotions. swamped over, i was powerless. it was ruthless.

you answered, but i was choked. could barely say goodbye.

Did i surprise you that I lasted this long?

Tonight

Will you be awake at the stroke of midnight?

Caged

It's a simple life you and I dream of. Must it be so complicated?

I feel chained up at home, stifled and muffled. A cage with an open lock. Yet when I step out, i find myself in an even bigger cage that is the world. Life is a punishment right now.

where are you?

till water runs dry

the words are running dry

i try not to think these days, but it's still quite impossible.

to put aside all sadness and heavy thoughts at a snap of the fingers when u appear or call is taking its toll on me. i feel happier when they happen, but such happiness is a relative term these days. happier than a minute ago. happier than when i waited in silence. such moments don't last for long, are never long enough, and then they have to end, in silent brutality. you dun see the face of the jester when the curtains are drawn, when the makeup is removed, when the goodbyes are said, the painful goodbyes.

Suddenly november is almost here. i'm surprised, or shocked. wasn't it only august when it started, or september when the skies were falling. my life has stopped moving for the last few months. i seemingly spent everyday waiting, waiting till when we meet again.




Happy birthday.
I hope you cherish it.

The gardener

i am a gardener, with cuts all over.
i grow my flowers, see how they scatter
petals unopened, twirling in fervent
for that dance partner, a last step in tandem

your flowers

like wonderful

Films are beautiful. Like a girl that i know. When i sit in the dark and watch, I see her on screen, feel her next to, and inside of me. Films bring me to places, to misty beaches and pebbled roads, to butterfly gardens and starry nights. Corners of this world that I want to be at, but only with this girl that i know. I've seen how beautiful life can be, now let me travel with you. Let's live, like wonderful.

that was monday.

today, it was an empty screen, showing black on black.
the imaginary credits was one name short.

tell me.

i need peace of mind, or a morphine shot.
wake me up, tomorrow

do the right thing

a day of jumbled thoughts. i breed my own demons and i struggle to vanquish them myself.

you. we live in each other in a way none of us could have imagined, more than i could fathom. listen to your heart.. do the right thing. the sooner it is, the less difficult it will be.

The Book Of Love

It was laughter, it was joy
It was the sound of you and I

It was sadness, it was tears
It was the feeling when we tried goodbye

It was kisses, it was hugs
It was when we know we couldn't part

It was me, you waited for
It was engraved deep in your heart

It was late, it was lost
It was love that winter brought

It was you, who taught me love
It was a fate together we walk

It was written, it was us
It was a story for which you always ask

When you're gone.

Today i'm quite exhausted. How do I keep myself from thinking of the obvious that's pounding at my head at every opportunity? Walking on the road where at every alternate step lies a huge pot hole that I must avoid getting suckered into. Sidestep the rain that's intent on drenching me, sell a dummy, shuffle to the right. Yet, it's still you.

And i caught a fever instead.


11th Oct.
sometimes i don't know what else to do. This is one of those days when i uncover the shielding stones and have no strength to lift them back. The last goodbye took it all. I can still smell your scent in the air I breathe. Can you tell them not to go so soon.. Next week can't come fast enough. And i'm running out of time and words to say to you..


29th Sept.
I feel suffocated the moment I step away from you. My heart heavy, sinks to the floor. Dragging behind my feet. Surrounded by the madding crowd yet I stand there as lonely as a single leaf dropping and falling through the winter cold.

Think. Yes you have alot to think about. I like you best when you're sleepy.. When you don't remember to pretend that I'm just a stranger. This is you. And this is me. Even ifyou wash off my memories and change my heart, I'll still remember us. You live in me. You're a part of me. Like snowflake is to winter. Like sunshine is to day. You're the eternal sunshine of my spotless mind.


19th Sept.
I want to confess that just now, for a fleeting second, I really did not think of you. I nearly choke on a fish bone.

Then in the next moment, I realised I was wrong. For even if I lay there dying, the only person I want to be with, is still you.

the morning that never was

is that all that u can say?

give yourself a better reason. i've said enough.

it still hurts.

The Death of Ivan Ilyich

The Death of Ivan Ilyich - Leo Tolstoy.
From the final paragraph.

'He's gone.', said someone over him.
He caught these words and repeated them in spirit.
'Death has gone,' he told himself, 'it's gone'.
He took in some air, stopped halfway through a deep breath, stretched out, and died.

In the closing chapters, I was the living Ivan Ilyich. Everything that I thought was right, was wrong.

headache

Headache, yet another. Are they triggered by certain thoughts?
I've got more of them in a month than I ever did in 10 years.

It was morning

It was morning. It was morning only because there was a message at 6.05am followed by a call. Then there wasn't any. Hence on for six days since, the night, the killing night, has taken over the remnants of day that used to be spared from the mercilessly stifling hours with air that chokes of dead flowers, flowers once sweet, in her seasonal bloom.

.

teh manis saya,
di dalam hatiku,
tak ada sayangnya,
sakit hati saja..

.. does this make sense to anyone other than me?

Inbetween the dreams.

i rinse my mouth and notice a glob of blood washed away. then i remember i had an unpleasant dream in my sleep. During the dream, i bit my lips, and it bleed. I flick my tongue to the wound and feel the contours of the top and bottom puncture marks. Did it help to save me from the dream? I opened my eyes for a second, cried out in pain and dived right back in. Because you were still inside.

a 3 minutes spell of you in such clarity, where else can i go?

an island that no one lives
i know of one and such a one
will you come and live with me,
if i take you away, won't you stay?

how do i stay, or leave?

Awake? dun ask me. I always am. Even in sleep. my dreams are always awake with you.. my darling angel. i hope you call.
.
i called again. do you feel mad or bad or sad like me? hear the ashes of torment from your heart. helpless like mine.
.
your voice melted me. before calling i was full of stoic composure. after hearing your voice all words desert my mouth, like a fool newly in love with palpitating heartbeat.

your voice melted me.. from stark raving madman going out of control, to a sedated prisoner of imploding sadness chained and locked in a padded room.

how do i stay.. if you deny me my necessities of you? And how do i leave, when locked away from you, i can't say my goodbyes?

waiting

i can't bring myself to look at other girls. or to buy chicken rice without you here. even the days are longer. when you're anywhere but near.

.

you can't bear to, somehow. you dunno why.
did you even try to know why? maybe you'll find answers in what i wrote you. they are not heartless scraps of advertisements.

time is what i have in ample right now, yet ironically it's also what we can't share together. cars can bring you go places, but legs that have endured the road and stood by you before, will travel with you till the end of the world.

i used to be the most careful man when crossing the road. i think a lot of things doesn't matter any more.

September Skies

have you ever seen the sky without clouds
a silent sea of china blue
like the skies of this september
like the days i cried of you

hold me close, don't let me go
i would like to dance with you
hold me close, don't let go
let us dance to yesterday's tune

so see this sky without clouds
an endless sea of china blue
like the color of my fallen heart
in the story written by you
.

thinking of you the whole day. i looked up at the sky and see nothing but blue. like the color of my heart. how i was feeling the whole damn month. i needed an excuse to message you, so i made up a poem about blue. and this poem is about you.

then i realise i also need an excuse so that i can see you, so i wrote this into a song, a song that i would like to sing and strum in front of you. but let me learn the guitar first, so that i can one day serenade you with weiwei's song.

and just so you know, you'll never need an excuse or reason, should you ever need me.

peaches for thought

You gave me the sweetest peach that I've ever had, brought all the way from home.
i always look forward to 6.05am. will i still hear your voice before i close my eyes?

eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

i lie down and close my eyes and got consumed by recurring nightmares. I lived out scenes from Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind. They were after me, trying to delete me from your memories. I couldn't reach you. I woke up over and over again, a dozen times over 2 hours, head spinning and feeling suffocated. Each time I close my eyes again, they were instantly onto me. It was so real. I keep checking my phone for you to rescue me. You didn't. Sank back into the torturing chamber that I was too tired to resist. In between the surreal moments I messaged you, in a daze, for real, i saw it in my outbox. I am here, where are you, I said. Did they intercept the message? And all those before that? What have they done to you over a single night? Two days' worth of sleep and fatigue was scared away in that gruesome two hours spell. I finally kicked myself up and gasped for air, the thin oxygen-less air that pervades and seeks harbour in my room like a heavy cloud that storms in uninvited and refuses to dissipate. Where's the eternal sunshine?

...

breakfast
didn't go down well.
bloodshot eyes
now sing me a lullaby

.

i hug my phone to sleep more than my bolster these days.

Please leave a name

I wonder who reads my blog. Today I would really like to know you.
I've been getting quite a number of visits lately. Seems like everyone loves a sad story.

So do me a favour. Click on .. "1 raised hands" at the end of this post and leave me a message.

if we're acquainted in someway, please leave a name that's identifiable by me.
If we're not, kindly tell me how you ended up here. I'm curious.

i know nine out of ten of you monkeys will read this and not do anything. Even if you know that I know you, write something anyway. Even if you're my mother, give me a shock anyway. Even if you can't be bothered, treat it as an act of kindness, anyway.

thanks.

why

.

why is sadness everywhere in me?

For you

Tuesday midnight, early Wednesday morning

26 September 2007 00:22:00.
I held you in my arms.
I'll always remember this second of my life for you.

Dark waters

when too much was on my mind, and i wondered where you were

If I lie on the sea
  and drift with the tides
Will it carry me back
  to the beginnings?

A full moon cuts into the night
  hear the currents an uneven rhyme
One after another
  plight upon plight
They wait for me
  to join their ranks

Will you cry
  if I plunge a knife
into this cancerous heart

Or will you
  save it like the shooting star
That you so longed for

This heart
  this very heart
to which you first gave life


not since the august of this year, have i slept in peace.
when can i dream of you again and not wake up, missing

A thousand times over

This is a tragic love story.

When she loved, he couldn't find his. How she waited, and how he searched, the future was never clear.

He tried hard to love back, too hard perhaps, and never realised how happy he already was. One day there was a silly incident, a moment of folly and he ended things.

Then he gradually found his long dead heart and the feelings that he held, long suppressed by shadows lurking from the past. He found love, his and theirs, and wanted to embrace her as always, tell her what she had waited to hear all along. But suddenly her heart was dead, she told him. Lost, perhaps to someone else. She won't change her mind, he can't change the story's ending.

When she loved, he couldn't find his.
When he finally did, she had already lost hers.

He believes she hasn't forgotten it all, yet she refuses to acknowledge whatever floundering feelings that flies in her heart. She thinks it's not fair to whoever. But is it fair to themselves, the long suffering hearts? He will keep holding on to the pen, but will she ever change this tragic love story?..

If there's someone who loves you wholeheartedly, but you can't love back, give yourself a slap. If your heart doesn't change, give yourself another slap and think again, feel again. If you finally love back but it's already too late, you'd have wished you had slapped and questioned yourself a thousand times before.

I did. I searched and asked myself for 21 months, but still I was one slap and a step too late. Now I can't say enough I love yous.

The moon can set the sun can rise the stars can die for all i care, but if you say yes but will be late, you know I'll always wait.

168 + 32

Before the lantern glows and sparklers dance.

I hold and caress your head with my hand, you adjusted my arm for a better fit. You leaned onto me and fell back into sleep. I buried my face in your hair and breathed in your scent, fresh air for a wilted strand of grass. I stroked your arm and stole kisses from you, I hope you pretended not to know. For that fleeting moment which is never long enough, I felt whole again.

My most memorable journey. The one that I hoped ambles along the road on and on forever without needing a destination, for sitting there with you in my arms, I know I've reached mine.

The heaviest heart.

Friday

I spent today with a heavy heart. Much heavier than usual. Every breathe that i take weigh a ton, slowly sinking in searching for the bottomless pit, refusing to rise. A heavy heart. It's no metaphor, I now know.

I walked round and round today hoping that you'll turn up in front of me somehow, so that I can pass you my little handicraft. After hours, i felt irritated with myself. fucking dumbass. As if a card will change anything, it's not even pretty.

Then quietly, you were gone.

.

If this is heaven's idea of a joke, it has gone on way too far. The brother in quiet grieving, and the sister's wedding is tomorrow. Smiling faces everywhere. Will I look inconspicuous beside the pillar? Somehow I must contain these gloomy days of my life and learn to smile for a day, for the day of her life. I've hardly helped out much with her wedding stuff and I've no idea what's going on tomorrow. I haven't been a good brother or son. Or anything.

I was hoping to bring you to the wedding. You know..

Have to wake up really early later. 7am. My eyes usually can't close at this time. I forced myself to go for a run just now, hoping that it'll tire me out enough to sleep early. And run off the heavy heart, running makes one feel lighter. But it didn't work. 25m 11s. I'm surprised I lasted that long. Lie down and hope for the best.

The last time I smiled was on thursday midnight thereabout, at you. The last time I heard genuine laughters from my voice.. there was no last time. Been way too long.

Listen to me

it takes a day to like someone and a day to forget

it takes tears to love someone and leaves eternity for regrets

listen to my words. you know i mean it.

listen to your heart. hear the whispers, don't hide.

.

i can't watch another film like i used to.
i heard myself in the cinema last night. it was horrible. the murderer spoke my words. he got redemption from his wife. i didn't.

The Dead Girl. The dialog was spot on.

silent night

the nights are the worst.

after so long, i really do know. the nights are cruel. the nights force you to say good bye. they leave you all alone. the nights bring silence, silenced off the world and leave you to grief for all. silence so loud, it hurts. silence so silent and so loud. you hear your heartbeat, beating the ailing heart. you hear your sadness and the sighs, crashing waves after waves down against your left chamber, north of your artery.

You also try to hear, somewhere in the distant east, whether the other heart sings the same story. silence bridges the distance. you recognise the rhythm of her breathing. remember it even, for life. Sleeping, she may be, but listen. Sleep my share for me. The sleeping heart speaks what the stubborn mind wouldn't hear. Is this what you really want? can you hear your whispering doubts?

I can sit with you and listen. Listen to each other's heart. You hear them the clearest, in the silence of the night.

.

Midnight of 20th September '07
I'll always remember tonight

Our Novembers

thinking of you
the world askew
don't you remember
the sweet novembers?

and yet another.

and yet another night gone. one after another they are filled with disappointment, the friend of silence. will the time ever be right? i had last night, and i ruined it with impatience. Why did i ever get off that bus? too angry, too flustered to think. Clarity of thought isn't a strength of mine at this moment, and it can't be, not when it's swirling all the time with memories of you.

.

and i wrote something else.

.
deeply yours

Damn green umbrella

sunday. bloody sunday.
the mother of all screw ups.
stabbed myself in the foot today.
mightily pissed with how everything turned out.
arghhhhhhh fuck.
FUCK


i should learn to lie sometimes.

save tonight

In the closet of your heart,
Can you save tonight
the way I will,
Surely you remember
us, we are so real?

~~~~~

i lifted her head
she looked at me and said
hold me darling just a little while
I held her close
I kissed her our last kiss
I've found the girl that I knew I have missed
well now she's gone
even though i hold her tight
i've lost my love my life that night.

you

you used to ask the same question
i'll look away, said i wouldn't know.
how i pray now that you'll ask again
for i can't wait to say that i always will

That day.

29th Nov 2005, Tuesday.
Do you remember that day?
I looked so dumb.. and you were so happy.
Will there be another happy day for us?

I can't turn back the time, I can't undo all the hurt.
I can't give the words that I should, nor the kisses that I could.
But you know now that if I can, then I surely, surely would.


If we only try..

Will you close my eyes

I'm tired. I just want to lie down and sleep. But I dare not. For I know when I close my eyes and darkness engulfs me, all that separates my mind from your face is emptiness. And I still can't sleep.


epilogue
~~~~~~~~~

Naomi said, "u spent so much time writing yet write so short. u wrote for so long yet so short."

[ meepok man ] says:
yeah
[ meepok man ] says:
so long yet so short
[ meepok man ] says:
like how it turned out man
[ meepok man ] says:
so it's very apt

As it happened

i am so cold i shivered, under the midday sun.
warmth can come from, the double barreled gun.

~~~~

what am i having, a char siew bun
more than enough, for a winter lunch.

~~~~

as it happened.

the night always go quiet
unreachable
the silence deafening.

I don't want to.

Each time you have to leave,
I want to have you in tight embrace,
like we always, used to, do.
Yet as I remember your anguished face
that crestfallen night,
It seems more merciful to turn,
and just wave goodbye.

my phone

What are you doing?

nothing. waiting for a call. that will never come.

Why don't you call then?

did.

oh.. Is that why you keep looking at your phone?

It's all about you

My dear old friend Zhiyong left a message on my board -
"Orbit: A writer said that the saddest man writes the best words. Ironically, I see your writings now surpassing much of before. Sometimes I wish you don't write so well."

As I was replying, I started thinking about all the stuff i've written on my blog. Over the last two years, there has been nothing worth a mention that I've written, everything seemed sterile and safe, starved of sadness. Indeed the quietest period since I started a blog, a diary almost 8 years ago.

And thinking back on these two years, not coincidentally spent with you, it seems so clear now that the reason I wrote nothing is because I was happy. I was quietly leading a happy and blissful life that I was unaware of.

And today I finally understand why.. the reason is you.


hugs,
your dumbass

I feel like the person I love most in my life died and a huge part of me died along with it and there's no one left to comfort me. No hugs, no kisses, no calls, no kind words. Now I tell the whole world that I love you, I can't say it enough, but there's no one left to listen. The world has become a colder place.

Have you ever died like that?

Now I know how it feels when a loving husband causes the death of his beloved wife. I am both criminal and sufferer. We share the same grief. I can write for a thousand and one days yet it will never be enough to express how I feel now. Life is impossible to go on. There is nothing left except for a permanent throb of pain in the heart.

your voice keeps ringing in my head.
i can't help it.

days after getting my new specs, my vision is blurring and i dunno why. i look around the train station today and there are things that I just can't see clearly.

is this the side effect of too much grief?

oh fuck.. i lost two kg in a week.
not eating really helps in slimming.

i better find some food

~~~~~

after saying so much.. how come she still don't understand what I wanted?
I asked for kway teow soup.. and got something entirely different instead.
I took it and walked away.

i'll also remember this as the period in life where I totally lost interest in food.

i wrote a lot today. everywhere.

the boundaries between a day and the next is no longer clear. i live through time like an immortal. I hear the birds sleep and i hear them wake. I close my eyes with the sun bearing through my curtains, through my eyelids. Sometimes I eat to entertain.

Today, or yesterday, I can't be sure, the night ended like how the morning did. absymal. ominous. not encouraging. Lose the anger, the remaining sane bit of me says.

There is hope yet to come and feelings yet to go. One can never be too sure and we can only try.

looking back the past 2 years, i'm disgusted with how blind and foolish I am.

is this my karma relived, coming back to haunt me and slit my throat? it's all my own doing.

every single second with you now is priceless
every single conversation we have is treasured
every single hug i'll give the tightest
every single touch carries my whole heart
for every single everything could well be the last
i'm a man on death row.

it's 11am. i still can't sleep. i feel like i'm being tortured and abandoned, just waiting for a slow death. the head's spinning, the body is weak. something's burning where the heart ought to be.

i lost to a car today. it might as well have run me down, twice over. i wouldn't have known the difference. i feel deceived.. nothing hurts more than this. i was supposed to surprise you, but i got clobbered and robbed instead.

where are you really? your voice is indifferent. did it bother you at all? or how long had i been sitting there transfixing my eyes to the gate? how far i've travelled? did i even sleep? and where did i go? where am i now? nothing.

i try to close my eyes and the images come flooding back. minute by minute. scene by scene. there's a firm hand clutching my head, refusing to let me sleep.

my heart didn't change overnight. it was there all along, foolishly trying to protect, not love. but how fast yours did, and it's all my fault. where have we disappeared to in you? tell me, i'll put them back.

still you're nowhere to be found. later, you said. you sound cheerful elsewhere. later, i wait. minutes turn to hours. later, will it be too late?

and if i do see you later, what will i do? stretch a smile across the face? and you wonder why i've changed and became so charged with anger and frustration. my face weighs a thousand times heavier now with all the sadness in the world hanging on it.

regardless, i will still smile for you.

Can you let go?.. Can you live without breathing?

Have you ever seen despair and desperation in a man's eyes? I did today.

can you feel it?

Sean Penn in I Am Sam reminded me about love, a different kind, but love nonetheless, in some heart-wrenching scenes.

And I get an excuse to shed tears through the night..

the night time is the worse, when the streets are quiet. i sit in the middle of the room staring at four mute walls, breathing the sadness the sleeping world left behind for me.

my hello rings through the air, no echoes, no feedback. even the hot-line is dead.

Today I learned a new word from Dictionary.com's Word Of The Day.

maudlin \MAWD-lin\, adjective:
Tearfully or excessively sentimental.

I'm sure it will come in useful someday.

He and she made a great pair, as do morose and maudlin on days when he flips through photos of his long dead spouse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The mother bought me a donut. It was so fucking sweet I put it down after the first bite. there's enough grated sugar there for about 3 cups of tea. I don't like donuts.

the randomness

Here the rain comes, again and again today, as if trying to wash clean the tainted spots on earth, and from lives, emotions that went wrong.

The mother is a difficult role that too often, becomes a role difficult to live with.

J.M. Coetzee is simply a brilliant writer. Be a main character. Otherwise what is life for.

Still overdue. I owe the library a fortune.

Less than 3 weeks left to the sister's wedding. I'm still not sure what's going on. I am positive that I will dread the wedding dinner. I am still of the opinion that wedding banquets are big suckers of everything.

Something's wrong with the left shoulder. Right knee acting up again so I couldn't do the short run that day.

British films night

I compensated for the irritations caused by Shinobi by watching another two films from my treasure vault, yes I have many many more. Picked because of their shorter runtime, both coincidentally share themes about the harsher but very real sides of life, of people we choose not to see sometimes, and are both set in London.

London to Brighton is good. I like British films, and French.

Dirty Pretty Thing is very good, and Chiwetel Ejiofor the black man outstanding as Okwe the Nigerian illegal immigrant. Just realised it's a British film as well, directed by Stephen Frears, the same man behind the more recent The Queen. Thumbs Up.

no need for a title

1st September 2007. Saturday.

Worst day in my life for the last two years. Even Liverpool's 6-0 drubbing of Derby couldn't lift me up. That's how bad it is. Well at least they didn't top off the terrible day in equally befitting manner.

1st September 2007. The preceding days were almost as bad. I could feel the devils coming yet I was helpless, just waiting for something, or nothing, waiting for the blow to strike me fully where it hurts. And it did.

After two years I said hi to james blunt again. he understands.

the man who knew too much, yet too little.

And the intent, as we now know it, then why save the goodbyes?

i feel betrayed.

a reversal of roles that came so swiftly. the feelings of being shut out, i hated it. leaves an aching after taste.

never suspect that i still have the heart and emotions in me, not until recently at least. perhaps there was love all along, love that chose to lurk beneath an impenetrable layer of icy cold whatever. and it emerged to face all the wrong reasons. emerged in a blaze of gloom. like a murderous acquaintance i once knew.

another harpoon through the heart of a vanishing species. what more is there left?

waiting

sometimes i sit around too long waiting for nothing to happen

In perspective

Take a glimpse, of what's too near to be seen clearly. Have a look, at the distance yonder. Whatever that's in between, put them in some focus. Not everything needs to be prime and properly fitted into the box always, get the feel of it instead, you can't see too much. Just like life.

I hate CGI

Fuck. I've just wasted another 100 minutes of my life watching Shinobi, a japanese excuse for an action/love flick. 7.0 on IMDB.. where did all these dumb pple come from.. Another 100 minutes out of my already wasted recent life. that's quite a bit.

Video killed the radio star, and CGI killed the action film genre.

Run 5

Run 5 - 29th August, Wednesday
Time - 1:03:20
Distance - 10km
Route - Serangoon Park Connector
Picked up - none

River was at a low tide.

The lungs are still not quite into it. The legs are limbering up. The will power was activated today when there was a hint of betrayal from the lungs. Chalked up a lengthier distance.

My formerly torn ankle ligament is recently feeling sore after soccer every sunday.. let's hope it will hold up.

the man who knew too much

2 hours to a full day, of forgotten sleep. kept awake still. perhaps you know why.
and the why, if that's the intent, as we know it, then why save the goodbyes.

Run 4

Run 4 - 22nd August
Time - 41:56
Distance - about 6.4km
Route - Serangoon Park Connector
Picked up - stiff thigh muscles - not quite recovered from sunday soccer

Today I affirmed that there are plenty of fishes in the river, and it's Sungei Serangoon rather than Sungei Punggol as I thought it was previously. Man.. they just keep splashing up on the water surface to feed or something. I told tham about it. maybe we'll go fishing there soon.

But of coz it was also where I encountered the python incident. So I make some good out of my not-very-constructive sober time at home and watched a few snake related documentaries on NatGeo and Animal Planet. No prob. I'll catch one home next time.

Today I made a mental note to remember the distance of the track's length. 2.2km. to simulate the marathon's 42km i'd simply have to run up and down the place 19 times.

Anyway, this year's will be a much more serious event than my past 2 marathons. I even told Zijing that I wanna run alone this time. No more exams to get in the way, no work commitments for now at least, so it's time to test my limits while there is still something testable. I mean if i'm 80 years old and i say i wanna test my limits, i'd prolly just walk around the park twice and try to give myself a pat on the back.

The Night Towards Sunday

sleepless, by the still of the night
by the voices in my mind, amplified
they seem to talk in clarity
now that what noises, oh not me,
they lay abed where no one cares.

early birds, i hear their chirrups
who will feed me, said them
to this impostor of impending dawn.
i fumble in thoughts of what morning may bring

the night long gone
yet dawn refrains,
a conspiracy with the timer's old hands
half in jest, for those voices
and these words I cannot consummate

silence now.

the early birds,
where have they gone to, did they hit snooze?
and for whom did i write that haiku?
the night is dying, killed by my thoughts.
let me sleep now, before I too rob the new day's dawn.

Run 3

Run 3 - 16th August
Time - 33:46
Distance - unknown
Route - Serangoon Park Connector
Picked up - nothing

Moodless to run, started with a bit of stiches, but managed to run it off. Quite alright in the end.

This is one of the days when i run with an empty head, not a thought in my mind.

Keep hearing splashes from the river as I run, like fishes jumping in and out of the water. Couldn't make out what it was in the dark though. No one else seemed to pay any attention to the sound. Maybe there are dolphins in that murky water. Dolphins following me. Yup.

About Me - The early years (iii)

The next major accident occurred when I was about 9. I was trying to cycle up a slope when I flipped over, slamming my left elbow into a tree root. Now trees are very strong, but not my young bones, so I managed to dislocate my joints. I picked myself up and looked for the nasty sister. She glanced back at me and, probably feigning oblivion to my plight, turned and got into the lift herself. With that, I lifted up and pushed the heavy bicycle with my remaining good hand and trudged home alone in pain, my left arm with the useless lower half dangling limply by my side.

Emerging from the lift I faced another problem. I had to carry the bike down a flight of stairs to reach home. In my normal healthy state, carrying it with two hands was a struggle. In my current condition with only 1 good hand, the weight of the bike would have dragged me down to a sad death at the bottom of the staircase.

At nine years of age, I had no idea what a joint dislocation was. When I reached home, I told no one about the accident and instead lied abed and tried to sleep it off. Only when I woke up with the persisting pain and sense that something was quite wrong indeed did I inform my parents who hauled me off to a Chinese sinseh.

Dislocating an elbow was nothing. Having someone forcefully wrenching it back into the empty socket was one hell of an experience. My whole face turned sheet-white from the pain, tears streamed silently down my cheeks.

Lesson learned. If you dislocate something for the first time, get anesthetic.

Rain

sometimes in hougang, it rains.

The reason to live

My life is in disarray.

No sunday soccer for 3-4 weeks now. I can't function anymore.

Sleep at 5, wake at 1. The day is over before i know it.

Why?

Because there's no reason to wake up at 8am for the last few sunday mornings, and the week just follows suit.

Somebody help me.

Run '07 - 2

On yet another of my hare-brained ideas, i shall document down my training runs en route to the Singapore Marathon on 2nd Dec 2007. Along the way, there will prolly be many days where there will be absolutely nothing to write about, but hopefully it can help bring more discipline into the runs nonetheless.

Run 2 - 12th August
Time - 34:12
Distance - unknown
Route - Serangoon Park Connector
Picked up - Tightness in right thigh

Minutes into my run, the sight of my threatening runner's frame blazing down the footpath at a lightning speed scared the shit out of a cyclist and he fell off his bike.

This is the first time I'm running along the park connector in daylight. I usually run there in the middle of the night in the past, and on one such run, I encountered a road accident and after which I nearly stepped on a huge python lying in the middle of the pavement next to the canal.

In the warm fading light on this early evening, I realised that it is quite a nice place to run at. I used to call it a canal, since it does connect to canals around the area, but today it appeared more like the proper river that it should be, called Sungei Punggol. Lots of people fishing from the river which I can only imagine to be fertile with fishes of some sort, especially with various species of birds preying from the same river.

I'm hungry now. off to dig out some food.

To run

Just as I'm about to run, a freak shower started to unleash in the perfect sunny weather. Damn it really.

I've got to kick start my running regime before it's too late again.. less than 4 months left to the big day. Completed a short 20min run without any ill effects some days back. Planned to do 30 to 40min today, if the knees and ankle can hold up.

Now if only the damn rain will stop.. Soccer is gonna start in another hour..

faded black and white melodies

listening to sad love songs at 4.30 in the morning does something to the soul; a feeling that i used to know very well indeed.

hi waipeng, i'm reading your blog. and your friend trixie's too. and funnie, that you both know lester, who used to be my best friend 15 years ago, whom i met again in ntu, but we left it at that for some reasons unknown.

Michael W. Smith's Friends is playing now. The song that we sang back in our Sec 1 or 2 class performance. Nostalgia-filled faded memories. I can almost drop a tear right now, the friends we had and those who departed from our lives.

I would like to reacquaint all my old friends. before it's too late.

before the merciless hands of time sweep us by.

which brought a thought to my head, is there a limit to the number of close and active friends one can have at any point of his life? once a certain quota is reached, old friends are pushed down the list and replaced by new ones?

final whistle

the boys and girls started school this week, back to the humdrums of classes and canteens and girls watching. life in ntu and hall goes on without me, without skipping a beat.

and i miss it all, with somewhat a heavy heart.

I made the decision to cut school in 3 years so that I can get some income. but now that i'm here, working seems to be the last thing on my mind.

the abrupt arrival of the end of 3 years in university felt as if the final whistle of the Liverpool game came 15 minutes early. without injury time. and i'm the substitute who's still warming up by the sidelines.

this recently expired phase has made up one of the most memorable part of my life, alongside my secondary school years, where friends and love were gained and lost. upon seeing the email sent by the students union promoting whatever activities that are going on, i can't help but wish that i'm back there again.

gotta move on, back to the unfinished cambodia photos.

The Alchemist

I'm feeling inspired after reading this acclaimed title by Paulo Coelho.

In fact, I'm on the way to becoming one. For the last few days, I've turned all my food into lao sai.

I also transformed early evening and day into night by sleeping 14 hours.

Such is The Language Of The World.

Cashback

Sometimes love is hiding between the seconds of your life.



I think I have something for films overlaid with narrations. They bring me one step deeper into the film, like a friend relating his story, rather than just plain voyeurism in the dark.

Funnie kungfu guy looks like Robbie Fowler, and footballer looks like Kevin Keegan, in Newcastle look-alike kit no less.

Two thumbs up for Cashback.

Fate

I don't know why it took me this long to write about such.

Destiny, dated.

I saw two girls in a train compartment at Raffles Place. four hours later, after traveling to the west and back, I spotted them, again together in the same compartment, heading in the same direction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before I moved out of hall, my mailbox's key was mixed up with my old room's, so I tried them out at the mailboxes. I discovered that my key opened both mailboxes. I then tried it on all others in the same block but none would work. So out of the entire block, I had ended up with two rooms that shared the same keys.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During a dreary lunch break, I was chatting with Peiyi about the odd-jobs that we had done before. She then mentioned her stint at a florist many years ago, and recounted a weirdly memorable order that she had taken from a customer over the phone. The dedication on the bouquet's card was highly mushy and too long for the phone so it had to be sent over the length of 3 smses. The customer also sms-ed back at the end of the day to thank her. During then came the shocking realization that there I was, sitting at a cafe, sipping Mr Teh Tarik with the girl from whom I had ordered Valentine's Day flowers before we knew each other, half a decade ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes I buy $2 of Toto because I'm a cheapo. On a particular day, while on the way to the lottery outlet, I acquired a good feeling. The good feeling that I had made me buy $5 instead of $2, hence increasing my chances of winning from 1/1,466,110,800 to 1/586,444,320. That evening when I checked the locations of the winning outlet, I saw that the both the Group 1 and Group 2 winning tickets came from the same outlet that I bought from...

When I matched the winning numbers with mine, I realised that even destiny gets it all wrong sometimes.

Lei ha, Siem Reap

Quick note before I dive into and get lost in the hundreds of photos taken in Siem Reap..

Three full days - exhausting, enriching, scorching, amazing, dusty, and ultimately, well spent. Shall try to finish writing and filtering through the photos as soon as i can, before the memories disperse like dust blown off the Cambodian roads.

ache

I feel like punching out the lower row of my front teeth now.

About Me - The early years (ii)

- My injury tendency quickly matured. The next accident was more gruesome. I was riding pillion on my father's old Yamaha motorcycle, sometime around my 7th birthday, an age when my young legs couldn't yet reach the pedestal. As the bike was about to round a corner into my neighbourhood, my left leg dangled into the back wheel and got trapped among the spinning spokes. I frantically signaled to my father to stop. Eventually he did. A kind hearted motorist stopped to help excavate my leg from the wheel. My left ankle was all raw. I could see black, red and white. Grime from the wheel, flesh dripping with blood, and standing out from which, part of my bone gleaming bright.

I did not cry, and calmly told my father to buy handiplasts from the mamak shop across the road. Thankfully he had enough sense left in him to not listen to my brave words. Plasters can't fix multiple fractures and a gaping wound.

The pain did not come till a couple of days later at the hospital, when they poured some solution to wash my wound. It felt like acid burning through my bones, forcefully purging out my stifled screams and teary eyes.

I spent the year-end holidays on wheelchairs and crutches. It took me a few months to eventually walk again and an entanglement of blotchy red scars remain in place of my skin today. My body was never whole again.

About Me - The early years

This will be the first of many parts about me.


I have a colorful history of injuries.

- By the time I entered primary school, I had twice left Ang Mo Kio Ave 10 in a pool of blood. The first time, I was rocking myself on a chair like humpty dumpty, all limbs and head tucked under my t-shirt. I then over-rocked and tumbled over onto the floor, head-first. I think my mum screamed when she saw that humpty dumpty had a great fall, and a bloody head. I couldn't remember most of what happened after that, save for someone stitching me up with thread and needle.

- The second accident was less storybook-like. Just a simple run along my babysitter's corridor, then trip and fall, crash and bang. I once again broke my fall with my trusty head, this time against the stair at the front door. I remember I held a towel against my wound to stem the blood flow as Uncle carried me on the lift down. That made me a two-time veteran of stitching up operations, both on the right of my forehead, at almost the same location incidentally, and quite a few stitches each way.

Another time

Your feelings when you meet it, I
      Am told you can't forget,
I've sought it since I was a child
      But haven't found it yet;
I'm getting on for thirty-five,
      And still I do not know
What kind of creature it can be
      That bothers people so.

When it comes, will it come without warning
      Just as I'm picking my nose,
Will it knock on my door in the morning
      Or tread in the bus on my toes,
Will it come like a change in the weather,
      Will its greeting be courteous or bluff,
Will it alter my life altogether?
      O tell me the truth about love.

An excerpt from Another Time, W H Auden.



I should starting reading him.

Re-acquainting Friendster

I'm trying to update my Friendster profile after like 2 years and it pisses me off somewhat. Uploaded a photo but it kept vanishing without any notice. retarded.

I put my degree name as 'some boring shit', and it stopped me saying, "No profanity allowed". Grow up!!

But anyhow, the profile page resembles me a bit more now.

Singa the Courteous Lion

Reading the morning news, I can't help but wonder whether the courtesy campaign had gone a bit too far when Richard Yong, the fuckin fraudster, very kindly agreed to be extradited back to Singapore to face trial after he was nabbed in HK.

Was there a need to ask permission from a criminal?

"Hi Mr Yong, we've finally caught you! Would you mind if we extradite you back to Singapore so that you can get lynched by the mob?"

"Well since you asked so courteously, sure. Where're your handcuffs? Let me do it myself."

There was no mention of the wife who was also caught. I suppose she said no. Politely of course.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And this

95% of the population are Buddhists yet it's not the official religion, for fear that Thais from the Muslim-majority south may object?

If I'm a muslim from the troublemaking south, I'll feel offended if that's what they think.

The Buddhists similarly rejected the rejection and went on to, let's see.. hold hunger strikes, marched elephants through the streets of Bangkok, tipped over a huge replica alms bowl..

And I thought worldly status should be the last thing on their mind.

The Kallang Swansong

Ahh, I've got photos.
Or here, if reading does't make your head spin.

National Stadium - Closing Ceremony

The Intern - Day 38/50

I'm so hungry the stomach juices have gotten to my brain. After lunch, I'll get so sleepy I can't work either. After teabreak the physical self should be fine, but then it'd nearly be knock off time. That leaves the morning, and mornings are strictly for checking emails and warming up for the rest of the day. I think the Best Employee award may be beyond me this month.

Something irks me whenever i visit the toilet here. There's perpetually a puddle of pee or two right under the urinals. And by puddle i mean a real puddle, like water collected in a pothole after rain.

I dunno how the guy manages it. It looks as if the urinal is leaking, but I know it's not. And apparently it's not a case of misjudgement, more like the instrument of projection malfunctioned and the criminal fluid wimply dripped onto the floor instead of gushing out into the urinal. How he prevented his shoes from being splattered all over is mystifying.

Such inept performance is socially intolerable. I propose that the Moral Education subject in school includes a module on Proper Peeing Practice (PPP). The PPP practical exam would have a row of students peeing while the examiner inspects from the back. Any drop of pee on the floor renders immediate failure. Repeat failures should be banned from public toilets. That should nip the pertinent problem in the bud, before it gets out of hand, literally.

That 70's Show

I can watch it alll dayyyyyy looonnnnngggggg
coz unlike Heroes, I know it doesn't have a crap
ending. ohh yeahhhhh

Hanging out
Down the streets
The same old thing
We did last week
Not a thing to doooo
But TALK to you
WooaaaaaaYEAHHHHHH

The Banana

I was at the kitchen, examining a bunch of bananas for
ripeness.

The father steps in.

I heard his gruffy voice, "Can eat already. But not
very ripe."

I thought I heard wrong. "Huh??"

Said The Father, more loudly this time, "CAN EAT".

So I twisted one lucky yellow banana out of the bunch
and it splitted open down the side instead of
detaching from the top, a sure sign that it is... not
ripe enough.

The Father continues, "But not very ripe".

wtf..

The Intern - Day xx/50

The Intern strode in at 9.13am. The daily consistency of the slightly late arrival deserves a mention.

9.16am, the death clutch of sleepiness slips in her deadly hand.

The Intern is too drowsy and too far gone to continue writing.

Breathing ashes by the north eastern dawn

A toast for my deceased grandpa. And another to the reaches of the Internet.

I'm doing the midnight shift for the fourth straight night at the funeral, currently tapping into somebody's wireless network from a pavilion among the HDB estate.

In an hour's time I'll see a pudgy woman emerging from the lift lobby behind me, with a cigerette in her mouth.

In two hour's time another better looking lady will be on her way to work, carrying two bags with her, sometimes three.

And yet another hour later, I should be waiting for the rest to wake up from deep slumber, so that I can return home to my morning bed. I usually fall asleep the moment I lie down. But not today. The crematorium awaits the body which won't wake again.

The Intern - Day 22/50

Contrary to what many may have feared, The Intern is still alive.

Days have fallen into weeks, and the weeks daisychained to the first month passed. By the end of this week, the halfway mark would be reached.

Each day of slavery has since taken on a monotonous routine of filling up the 17" monitor with my face while trying to debug some programming shit. Such braindrain is punctuated only by lunch and teabreak which is sadly losing its regularity; Fat Tham declared to embark on another of his nonsensical Slim Tham 2007 plan.

The working environment remains cold and silent. The most meaningful exchange of dialogue was over in two lines when Jenny the HR personnel handed me my first internship pay cheque. It was a fruitful conversation. Fruits are expensive these days. I now spend my daily existence looking forward to the next dialogue that I will have with her in a month's time.

The hours after work are less predictable. But I usually take the lift down. If nothing major crops up or the world doesn't need saving on that day, The Intern heads home to watch Heroes. About 4 more episodes to the finale of Season 1. At the end of that, the secret cache of 100+ carefully selected films should be able to last for a year or so.

Published in the papers!

I'm famous!

For a few milliseconds on Wednesday at least.

My letter got published by Today in her feature on the National Stadium where readers wrote in of their memories. So I did. And my passionate letter must have moved their hearts and souls to get selected, but not before the editors tore apart the innards and churned it around, save for the start and end which thankfully remained more or less intact, else I wouldn't have recognized it at all.

Between me and the lady called Jun-lei, who edited my piece, it started out embarassingly though.

My entry started with the mention of a little tin box which holds all the ticket stubs of the football matches that I had attended at Kallang. When she called me, The masquerading Intern, I was asked to bring down that little tin box with the particular ticket stub of the match that I wrote of. Sure I thought, I'd be delighted to.

When I rushed home after work, my precious tin box was nowhere to be found. It wasn't standing at where it should be, nor was it anywhere else. After moments of digging around, I finally realised that I had somehow arrived at an unsentimental decision to dump it, tin and contents, just a couple months ago.

That was a really depressing moment.

I had carefully kept all the tickets for years, starting from the 90's. So for almost a decade, they sat in darkness as docile memories do. Then came that fateful day when I decided that I'm never ever gonna do anything with these tickets since hey, they are all in my head and heart, so I threw them away. And now when that moment arrives for me to show off that piece of paper saying Singapore vs Bahrain, dated 2001, I have nothing.

Sad.

And embarassing when I call back Today to inform the lady that I no longer possess the tin box which I wrote of with pride.

Anyway, from the result of the editing, I experienced at first hand how conforming and politically correct the paper must behave especially when it is part of the national broadsheet. The words of the eventual published piece couldn't muster a fraction of the emotions burning through Kallang that night. Mild by comparison, that's right.

Here what's I originally wrote, within the restricted 200 words:
A little Mauna Loa Honey Roasted Macadamia Nuts tin box holds all the ticket stubs of the Lions’ games that I had attended. Of them, the most memorable match was the World Cup Qualifier against Bahrain in 2001, held at Kallang.

Singapore needed a win to qualify. Our opponents were leading and we struggled to get past them, tried as we did. Despite their superiority on the pitch, the middle-eastern charlatans started time wasting with more than 20 minutes of the game to go.

The crowd was incensed, outraged.

The trickeries of time wasting that they employed made a mockery of the beautiful game, even out-doing the comical Rivaldo in World Cup '02.

Singapore fans reacted in a way I had never seen before, cheering, shouting and cursing as one. That was Team Singapore, if I may borrow the present day term, at its united best. Coins were thrown and bottles flung in a mad cacophony. Rubbish strewed the pitch, and I don’t mean the Bahrain players.

Police had to intervene, so did Nazri Nasri, the Lions captain then. The Bahrain team bus was waylaid by lions and had to be escorted out. Kallang certainly roared that eventful night.

The edited version:

Why I Do Not Like japan

I can say very surely and strongly, that i dislike japan. despise even. That's not to say I can never have a japanese friend, but the nation on the whole is screwed up in my opinion.

In fact, I used to have a half jap half korean classmate back in secondary school. And in my impressionable young teenage mind, let's just say that her behaviour appeared somewhat deranged at times.

In the recently whaling saga, and not for the first time, the japs insist on killing 1000 whales in the name of scientific research. What research, they did not say. I guess they haven't think of what excuse to research on yet. But what they do know is that once the phony cover is over, it will be followed by the macabre sale of whale meat, for food??, and maybe to make perfumes from the dead whale blubbers.

Screw you japan.
I haven't ever see a whale yet, and you're gonna kill them all off.. bitch.

And of course I have to talk about WWII. The government have never seem to be remorseful about their atrocities even till now. The forced apologies over the years were merely to placate the anger of affected countries. And will the kids in jap schools ever know about what a great bunch of mother fuckers their predecessors were in all the wars? (see wikipedia)

By no great coincidence, japanese are perverts. The number of molesters who get away with it scot free is shocking. (see wiki) Heard from a japanese tour guide that, if you get molested on the train, either whack the guy or keep quiet. the police won't or can't help. The profligacy of jap porn is another example of the perverted nature. See the vending machines dispensing used panties for olfactory pleasures. And how about porn stars eating theirs or someone else's shit.. now that's really really fucking gross and a libido turn off.

From war crimes to murdering whales to sick perversion.. just a stroll down different avenues for them isn't it?

The Intern - Day 13/50

The mind is engulfed by sleepiness.

4 hours and 35 minutes to 6pm

...

I must hold on...

18

what is wrong with me?

i can't understand myself, much less you.

i'm sorrie.

The Intern - Day 4/50

Magic Hour

The Intern can't spend the rest of his life waiting for 6pm.

Farewell Kallong Roar

On a more constructive note, I spent the afternoon of Day 3 posting an entry on my recent National Stadium tour trip.

Not the best of photos, but it could have been far worse. All comments are welcome.

In case you're really blind, click here u fool

The Intern - Day 3/50

If the ignominy of the first two days is any measure, then day 3 of the enforced slavery must look like a great success.

In the lift on the way home, a man in strange running attire said bye to me. I must have managed a smile at the lift landing before that. But a very weak one it was, such that I wasn't sure if the smile came out at all.

Not that I was suddenly the happiest employee of the day, just a reprieve to the strangeness of it all; to be an intern in a company, yet not really in the company, nor doing any of what they call work.

The second significant event occured earlier in the day when I went to the desk of a particular Jenny to return the Confidentiality Form. It was left on my table over lunch, quietly, like how the life of The Intern in The Company goes.

I was then told to photocopy my IC at the photocopier just beside. I fumbled at it for minutes, but it kept telling me "..size not detected".. Is the status of The Intern so lowly that he is not even recognized by a photocopier, the slave of all slaves? Defeated at my first real task in The Company, I had to approach Jenny for help. Which meant that she got to see the stupidest looking IC photo ever taken, circa 1993. Jenny remained professional and stone-faced. She did not LOL.

Now for some pride.

The greatest achievement of the day, the week, or even the entire lifespan of The Intern, was when I discovered where the pantry is located. The one which they have been despicably hiding from me. Morning after mornings, tea-break after tea-breaks, caffeine laden scents had been missile-guided towards my defenseless corner cubicle, yet no one had offered me as much as a clue to where a single drop of water could be found.

So I spotted it after the misadventure with the photocopier. The pantry, the essence of office life anywhere, sits on the opposite side of the entrance, shrouded by high cubicle walls and guarded by the zealous HR people. Maybe as a form of company benefits, HR determines the number of cups of coffee an employee gets a day, and interns get nothing. I casually took a quick reconnaissance glance then turned and left.

Wait till next week.. I'll bring in my own mug, sneak pass HR and come strolling out with my own coffee, just to let them know they have been defeated.

From Singapore with love

Ahh.. here's the nice collage, as requested =)

The Intern - Day 1/50

"Hi, I'm the new intern working under XXX XXX. Today's my first day."

I was led to xxxxxx, who looked kinda lost when he saw me. I was offered a seat and the company's magazine while he get someone to set up my computer. So there I sat for 1hr 15min and no further words were exchanged, even though he was sitting just behind me.

That done, I was shown my cubicle right at the end of the short corridor, which suits me fine. He then demo-ed the company's intranet system to me, and in particular the Project Management System, which can be aptly read as PMS. My task for the whole of the day was to click around and see how I can improve the PMS, thereby bringing salvation to all the people suffering from PMS.

...

LIKE HEELLOOOO?? How am I gonna improve on a system which I've never used before? Shouldn't them the frequent users know best on what should be done? It looked fine to me as it is anyway. Silent questions in my head, and I was left alone in my corner once again.

Whatever happened to the friendly breakfast that my friend had told me about? Or at least a simple orientation around the work place? Everyone turned and stole a glance at the new face. The Intern. My attemped smile and nods returned nothing. The Intern retreats to his corner.

Nevermind the orientation, when lunch time arrived at 20min to 12pm, the Office was suddenly devoided of life. I was conveniently forgotten. Not that I need a babysitter, but isn't the first day lunch invitation a customary gesture? Not a very friendly place it seems.

Thankfully The Intern has many good friends who work around the area. A couple of sms-es soon found myself having lunch with them. So I learnt that Golden Shoe is a good place for cheap and good lunches. And I witnessed at first hand the fabled tissue-chopping culture of CBD. Tissue packets were everywhere, not for its content, but for its prowess as an object to chop a priceless seat during lunch hour. Once we finished eating and get going, a tissue packet instantly landed on where my butts was positioned half a second ago. An office lady turned and walked away smartly.

The Intern parted way with friends and headed back to the office. At the door, it dawned upon me that I wasn't given the access code. I pressed the buzzer. No response. I walked around, but I was alone. An Indian chap from another office walked down the aisle and eyed me suspiciously. I pressed the buzzer again. I could see reflections of at least two persons near the door but of course they feigned ignorance. Indian chap returned from the toilet and must have sniggered at The-One-Who-Is-Still-Standing-Outside-The-Door. Eventually I hung around for almost 10 more minutes before someone turned up and I followed him in. So of course xxxxxx must have thought that The Intern have been lazing in an extended lunch on his first day of work.

...

Not knowing what to do, I approached xxxxxx and told him I can't really figure out what to improve on the system. So he told me to think in the shoes of say, a manager, which is basically him, and what can be added to aid the manager in project management, which is basically what he do. So The Intern had to pretend to be The Manager now and know what functions or tools can be added on his first day of work which didn't include an orientation or lunch invitation. Why can't he just tell me what he wants to implement? strange.

The Intern would like to include a function that informs any Interns (current and future) of where the pantry is and the access code for unlocking the door so that all Interns may return from lunch on time.

...

The rest of the day was spent pretending to be busy. I looked forward to tea-break. At 4pm, most of the office mysteriously and quietly cleared out again. Disappointed at such attitude, The Intern went to shit. The cubicle was really cramped. My knees were touching the side of the wall. When I returned, everyone was back already, and they eyed The Intern-who-took-a-long-teabreak-on-his-first-day-of-work with contempt. I could feel their stares behind my back.

At 4.30pm, I really really looked forward to 6pm. And time.. goes by.. so slowly.. and time.. can do... sooo much...

I adjusted the time on my computer so that it goes 5 minutes faster, the same as my watch.

5pm came, but 6pm wouldn't turn up.

5.15pm arrived. 6pm is nowhere to be seen.

Even 5.30pm reached.

5.45pm caught up with the rest. The Intern is excited.

Finally, 6pm. But xxx xxx was nowhere to be found. The Intern thinks it's only polite to wait for him to come back so that I can inform him I'm leaving.

6.10pm. 10 minutes of injury time have been played. Enough is enough. The Righteous Referee blew the whistle signalling full time, off the comp, packed up and left.

The day has ended in sad defeat for The Intern.

To wrap things up

It's been barely 10 days since I last mugged with the muggers at the SAC, but it seems like distant memories now. the preceeding days were kinda rushed, scrambling to get my FYP program together, the insignificant presentation that came after that, then a mad hurry to siphon off the ntu irc network as many movies as I could, before I bid farewell to my home of the last 3 years.

My life in NTU went past fast and furious. Cliche as it may sound, it seems just like yesterday when I was still a blur freshie, terrified of the man-eating Electronics and Maths I in Year 1 Sem 1.

Exams went okie. Not ok as in I'll beat the shit out of the other students, but okie as in I won't get shit beaten out of me by the papers, my final final exams. So compared to how amazingly lost i was just weeks before 18th April, I have done relatively okie.

My last paper in NTU went down without a whimper. It was Distributed Computing, of which I'll prolly get a B if I didn't screw up too badly. The venue was at Hall A, Nanyang Auditorium, next door to my virgin paper in NTU, School of Biological Science. In that inaugural paper, I scored an F for Electronics. Of course, I then cleverly changed my course to Computer Science and managed to erase that mark of failure.

In these 3 years, all in, I have taken 33 exams and 1 major Final Year Project. In retrospect, my bunch of Shitter Friends and I realised that, if like us, you just wanna get your degree with an average grade, then hey, university is actually not very difficult. You can't afford to be lazier than us though. I don't do tutorials, have never approached a lecturer to ask any questions, skipped some lectures, skipped alot of lectures for some subjects sometimes, normally don't know what's going on throughout the whole semester, but I mug real hard in the couple weeks just before exams. So basically it is possible to cover 85% of what was taught in an entire semester in 3 days.

And I am living proof that one need not be good in maths to get by in Computer Science. All I know is my elementary maths from secondary school education. At the end of the 3 years, I proudly declare that I can't perform the simplest of integration or differentiation. I hate maths related subjects. That explains for the few Ds that I got.

ah well, these are stuff that just came to my mind at this point of time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FYP, the 1 year old demon, is over as well. My presentation was alrite, it being more of a formality. Neither supervisor nor examiner seemed too interested. And I doubt they even read my report. I suspect all the efforts put into my report and presentation went in vain. To them it is probably just another project, just a routine whereby if the student didn't screw up, he'll be awarded a B and get done with it. So at the end of the day, my supervisor, Tweety Bird, told me that it boils down to the effort that I put in through the year, and not the final product. Which means that I've wasted a few good days trying to make my program look good. damn it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My last few days in hall was spent in front of the computer screen. I've only recently discovered the magic of irc and the riches that it holds. so before I move out, I thought I would like to make full use of my internet fees for once and grab whatever that catches my eye. It was pleasantly surprising to find some gems among the many films that people were sharing there. In that few days, I turned from film enthusiast to film collector.. Plus the hoard of dvds that I bought over the last few months.. Seriously, I dunno when I'll ever finish watching all the films.

Athens Here We Come

Anfield '05 we kicked their ass
Anfield '06 we kicked their ass
Anfield '07 we kicked chelsea's ass once more

Istanbul '05 we went and won
'06 (who cares where) we took a break
Athens '07 HERE WE COME
WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

the entire defence had a great game. Carragher, Agger, Finnan, Riise, Reina. Mascherano was excellent, bar a mistake in the first half. Pennant was good, as was the workhorse Kuyt who ran down every single ball. Even Zenden had a much improved game whereas Gerrard, sad to say, was far from his best yet again, though he could do no worse than Crouch who had an awful game in my opinion..

ahh whatever, we won.. reina's penalty saves were superb.. the least that i can say.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

on a sour note, I seriously can't stand watching any matches at the hall tv lounge. why must there always be a bunch of idiots who gets on my nerves?? is it just Hall One, particularly block 16? to support Liverpool is a good choice. but to call yourself fans, you should at least get the names of the players right. these 4 morons came in 15 minutes late and talked nonstop without any consideration for the person who's quietly enjoying the game, namely me.

people who don't know a shit about what they are talking about should just shut the fuck up. so disgusted and irritated was i, that i couldn't bear to look at their faces even once, lest i spit and scorn at them should i chance upon them in school.

At the start, they made fun of all the black chelsea players.. makelele, drogba, essien, kalou.. all of them. a little pre-match excitement, i can live with that. "why is he so black?", "did he go for a sun tan?", "did he take an injection?", "they all look alike" .. blah blah .. but if by the 70th minute of the game they were still discussing how black essien is, then surely i can't be faulted for getting pissed.

incessant unintelligent unfunny senseless boastful LOUD crap talk throughout the 90min + half time + extra time + injury time + penalty kicks. fucking pests really. these are the fans i detest, those who watch one game a year and boast to everyone that THEIR team won last night.

if you are or know anyone like that, there should be plenty out there, kindly tell them to sit back, watch and learn, stop reading NewPaper, think before they talk and not to talk like they are playing Championship Manager. They can't even pronounce Steve Finnan correctly!! fuckin retards.. and I nearly groan when they mentioned Kuyt's name.. OMFG really.

I'm glad this is the last liverpool game that I'm forced to watch in hall. and thankfully we won. it makes everything slightly more bearable.

Athens Here We Come...

Study Days - 16th April

7.37am. 1st at the SAC: Champion Mugger showing championship form.


7.48am. 2nd at SAC. :: Mugger Alda :: who can wake up, have breakfast, shit and still make it there by 7.30am.

This is what you see if you're the first at SAC.


My bee hoon breakfast.
Johan showing off the crispy pancake that he bought for us from Bugis. His parents, visiting from Sweden, made a surprise visit to our stronghold the day before, enroute to touring NTU where their son has been wasting the past year at. Nice peeps.

Typical studying scene, to show that we really do study there.

The inflatable pillow is good for sleeping. When placed over the head, it serves as a hairband and effective earplugs at the same time. This is an indispensable studying companion. Makes you look like Empress Dowager too.

Suddenly everybody wants to be empress dowager the old maid.

I told them i once joined the Samsung Olympic Torch-bearer competition where one tries to hold his hand up for as long as he can. Someone proposed a challenge. The rest crazily agreed.

After around 15min, it was down to me and Johan. Eventually I emerged victorious, of course. Singapore 1:0 Sweden.