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.
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.
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.
- 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Ahh, I've got photos.
Or here, if reading does't make your head spin.
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| National Stadium - Closing Ceremony |
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.
