Badsketching

2004-02-19T18:42:00.000-08:00

There are many kinds of birds in the jungle.
Some are small, swift and have high-pitched laughs.
Some are larger, slower and love to show off their jeweled tail feathers of sun and gold.
Some are dark, malevolent creatures that hide in the dark waiting to swoop down at anything it deems vulnerable enough to be prey.

There was a bird.

It flew in small arcs from tree to tree, stopping to take a short rest after three or trees, for it had weak wings and couldn't fly above the thick canopy of the trees.
With its brown and green feathers that camouflaged with the jungle's foliage, the bird didn't seem like much amongst the flashes of brilliant colour that the other birds lent the jungle.
The bird quietly ate berries and any fruits it could find.

This bird loved to sing.
And it had a beautiful night voice that was like no other.

When it sang its rich moon-stained melody, the trees' Leaves quivered with delight and shower its dew on the shrubbery below. The sparkling voice reminded the Wind of the Sea, the Sky and the Rain, and she somersaulted and twisted above the clouds everytime she heard it.

And when the bird sang, it sang its heart out. And all those with hearts also sang along, including the birds who were stronger, or more beautiful, or faster.

And the little bird's voice rang clear and beautiful like ice, above the cacophony of squawking and screeching.

2004-02-18T09:10:00.000-08:00

Brain Conversations Part I
guest starring gnoix

Hello. this is my alternate brain. I've been quiet all this while, whilst being dominated by my irritating right companion.

Who says you're being dominated...you just never chose to come out of your little cage in the brain!

Perhaps you're right. i shall go back and keep quiet as usual.

No...you've been quiet for 20 years...it's high time you surfaced...you're a coward you know that?

OH Fantastic, I never knew you've thought of me as one. What else do you think of me, you thinking brain...?

I think we need to talk. And you're wrinkly and wet...you stupid left brain.

That's new, never thought you would do something as serious as talking. Anyway, I'm fine with that. But for now, it's bed time. Why don't you pass me your Handphone number, and I'll sms you when i wake up. Hmm... don't know when that will be... I usually sleep like forever....... and oft-

SHUT UP!!! SHUT UP!!!!! How the hell do you sms without fingers... I suppose I use my brain muscle to press the keys!?? You are a bumbling....forever-sleeping....idiotic waste of space! I should be the one occupying the whole skull!

*yawn* ever so childish. ZZZzzz...

to be continued.....in BRAIN CONVERSATIONS PART II

2004-02-09T18:46:00.000-08:00

It's strange how I feel responsible for so many bad things happening.

I used to think my family wasn't as close as it should be; family dinners sometimes seemed like an awkward affair of strained conversation punctuated by jokes, I didn't seem to be living up to my role of a big brother or a son, and I seemed to be spending more time out rather than in.

I was out of my 5-room flat's white gate before my family would wake, and I would be in after they doze off, and I felt that it was my fault for not spending enough time with my family. My dad, my mum, and my 2 smaller sisters.

You're supposed to love your friends and family. Isn't that a basic requirement of being a civilised human being? To love those around you, who care for you and protect you. And it makes me question: how much do I actually love those around me.... and how much do I value the relationships that I have with others?

I once "killed" a friend.
It was late at night, around 1am, and I was about to go to sleep when I received a phone call from a long-lost primary school friend. She seemed more than enthusiastic to hear my voice once again after almost 6 years, and was bubbly and enacted our old escapades of exploring game arcades and playing catching and doing school projects...

All I could manage at that ungodly hour was a soft murmur,
"I'll call you back later OK...not the right time now."

And she sounded hesitant, but said OK and put down the phone. With a sigh of relief, I put my drowsy head on the pillow, glad that I could postpone this to some other better time. Sleep was of utmost importance.

Then I realized something.

How was I supposed to call back someone whom i didn't even have the number of? My brain churned for a moment, and then gave up when I realized that I juz lost all connection with this friend of mine. With just one stupid sentence.

I erased her existence from my life.

I killed my friend.

2004-01-26T17:44:00.000-08:00

Ok...Peter Pan's reserved for some other time.

Damn it.

Life's teetering on the edges of being super damned bo liao...again and again and again.

It's strange when you see other people so happy and satisfied, having so much to do, having so many wonderful ideas and hopes and dreams.

And it seems that I'm missing out on something that's much greater than myself.

There are moments like during parade rehearsals, waiting endlessly for public transport (warning...pet peeve!), in conversation with people I don't really want to talk to.....when I suddenly discover that what I'm doing seems to have absolutely no reason at all... and I have this strong urge to rebel and topple whatever's forcing me into this state of banality.

Like a pig thrashing to escape from a pen.

After this pig has been let free from his temporary jail, he looks back at the pen, gate swinging in the night breeze, he sees a ghost of a triumphant happy pig bursting through those gates. Then the ghost lifts off into the dark sky and disappears into a sparkling sheet of stars.

The pig then sighs. Unhappily. And trods cautiously lest another farmer ensnares him.

Where am I going with this allegory... I have no idea.

And this seems to have absolutely no logic whatsoever.

2004-01-24T09:29:00.000-08:00

And today I present:

Moment of Profound Truth
There are three types of happy people: those who are misguided, those who are deluded and those who are in denial.
The misguided ones think something is making them happy.
The deluded find nothing to be sad about...therefore they are happy.
And those who are in denial pretend not to see what's not happy at all.
Personally I'd be happy with not being happy at all in that case.

Moment of Inane Bo-liaoness
"Sorry, was I stepping on your toe? I was aiming for your face!"
Ok...maybe I need to work on it a bit more...
Guess I'm not as bitchy as I thought I could be.

Moment of Gut-Splitting Hilarity
Person A: I'm gonna ORD in year two thousand and five, F.Y.I.!!
Person B: Hahaha you dunno how to spell "five"!
Sad but true happening...

Moment of Fictitious Happiness
"I think you owe me a kiss," I said after much hesitation. She smiled knowingly, and bit her lip. "But I'm not ready... I need some form of protection..." she stammered in an absolutely adorable way. "What do you mean by that..." She reached in her plastic bag for her newly-bought CD and removed the transparent plastic wrapper. "Here's the protection," she said holding the limp wrapper up, in all manner of seriousness.
"You kiss me through the plastic."
And I began closing in without much thought, faint with the peculiar fantasy of it all. As our faces met on both sides of the flimsy wrapper, breaths misting on each side, I felt the fullness of her lips taut against the strangely sensual smoothness. Her playful eyes told me it was a joke, but her warm sweet breath that suffused with mine reminded me it was reality.
After some awkward moments, I removed the plastic wrapper.
My mind exploded in an assault of tactile stimulation.

(am I weird or wat...writing stuff like that)

Moment of Self Discovery
I love indulging in low-intellect conversation.

Next issue: Peter Pan, Freudian Philosophy and the Horny Bitch Wendy!!

2004-01-24T07:33:00.000-08:00

And now I introduce a soon-to-be-regular feature on this blog: Moments.

A slideshow of fragments of my life, possibly occuring in actuality or in mere thought.
There will be five "moments"...each representing some idea or thought that
spawned from something that happened to me...on a ride home...talking to a friend...
juz daydreaming...watching a movie...

1. Truth: My philosophies of life..take them or leave them.
2. Bo-liao-ness: What can I say? I'm an insane person with inane thoughts
3. Hilarity: Laughter, after all, breaks all barriers. And reminds us that we're all made of the same human stuff.
4. Happiness: Isn't that the so-called meaning of life?
5. Self-Discovery: Because "God is a DJ..and life is a dance floor..." and you get what you give with your moves

Next: 1st installation of this pretentious crapola!!!

2004-01-18T01:37:00.000-08:00

testing whether I can actually put pics and links here:
if you have a chance...visit this online comic
it's completely text-free and in a goofy egyptian hieroglyphic style...
an interesting take on what happens when a king suddenly loses everything
including his clothes!
very cute and extremely funny

2004-01-17T17:32:00.000-08:00

Alcohol really tastes so bad... ... ...
for example Red Wine that I had yes-
terday. there's the initial chemical burst
of bitterness that spreads!! And a tinge
of sweetness...maybe an illusion of sweet-
ness that fades quick then there are
these overwhelmingly foreign
Fumes rushing to meet
eyes, nose, lungs.
for a moment
you wonder
whether
to swal-
low
or
sp-
it
and
you
swalllow
and when
you do you
regret it on the spot
as the Alcohol courses your throat
leaving a cold fire in its wake

you don't understand what's happening to your body
or why it's reacting the way it is
you just know the heat
and you know that your eyes are taking snapshots
instead of functioning properly
and your mind slows to a crawl

others can hold their Alcohol better than I do
they don't see how it affects me

2004-01-16T21:32:00.000-08:00

Something serious happened last night.

Our normally silently skulking, broodingly negative conductor from the FAS Lartnec Band (changed to protect the innocent) suddenly had an anger orgasm.

After an ordinary dining-in with extraordinarily bad music, the poor PMS-ing chap decided that too many people were moving around, talking, laughing at half-naked pics of band people on camera handphones, and the bad music was juz icing on the rancid-tasting cake.

And the three 2nd and 3rd clarinetists (inclusive of yours truly) were apparently responsible for 90 % of the noise, judging from the accusatory glares and stares after the whole thing..

And how can you blame us for that when we were in laughing fits about ideas of a bubble tea shop with waitresses that can produce straws out of down below, and cleavage-held bubble-tea shakers? I mean...that's top-rate comedy material! I haven't laughed about something so idiotic since...when? In the morning?

OK....maybe it wasn't that funny after all.

Maybe it went a bit far...but then again...(and this is a pretty bad moral of the story....but i'm no Hans Christian Andersen or Aesop)...
just F*CK it lah!

I seriously place my personal entertainment above any form of decorum or regimental farce...i'm glad I enjoyed myself...and you know wat? Discipline shliscipline. I don't care about what people think of my "disipline" or "the respect (I) have for the SAF" or the country or whatever. I believe I care more about what people think of my personality...and my capability.

Before you can make a difference in the world, or the country, the SAF or even your workplace, you should try and make a difference to the people around you. To your left and your right. And your front and back.. ok maybe not your front...

And maybe no more bubble tea for me. Guess some people have different tastes.

2003-12-31T18:39:00.000-08:00

One of my recurring dreams is about trains.

Sleek bullet train that stops straight in the midst of a crowd in a bakery
Clunky steam train that chugs undecidely through a watery landscape
Very familiar MRT train that winds through unfamiliar tunnels
miniature train rides, roller coasters, monorails...
Some I've seem before in movies, books, real life.
Others I'm surprised to find existing in such amazing detail in my mind.

I have looked it up before in a dream dictionary.
Trains are a metaphor for change... they physically embody the journey..
the journey in life that we all have to take,
whether looking out of the train window in silent speculation
whether bustling about looking for the tiny hole-in-the-floor toilet
whether playing cards with three other friends hoping the cards don't fall

And when you dream about trains
What you see and do and feel matters
Who you're with matters
Because these are what occur to you when you change
When everything else around you changes and you don't seem to be in the same place anymore.

My train ripped through the womb of the city
I was alone...but not lonely
I saw people form words with their mouths
But I heard nothing
I only had a black briefcase which i knew held nothing
My train travelled high above the ground
In a cityscape scarred with lights
The lights at each station were soft but cold

2003-12-26T18:48:00.000-08:00

Last night I had the unfortunate opportunity to watch my second sampling of "Extreme Makeover".

Apart from the immediate response of being appalled at the gruesome surgical incisions, the sucking, the pumping, the sewing... the looking like you've just been run over by a cement mixer while groaning in bandages...
I also wondered how much do people actually value their aesthetic appearance, and how much how we look actually affects how we think.

Does having a hare-lip deter others from taking seriously what words come from those lips?
Do double-lidded eyes have more truth to them than single-lidded ones?

People say looks don't matter.

But think about it: you have great personality, you're great at everything you do, you're funny you're kind and you're butt-ugly with a big dose. Nose.

Scenario 2: you have great personality, you're great at everything you do, you're funny you're kind and you're gorgeous with a great body.

Ergo (kudos to The Architect for this fabulous newly- discovered word) , when you want to compare 2 subjects in an experiment, you need a control, a constant. And then the results become valid...and apparent.

Looks don't matter? My ass.
Speaking of which...i think i may need some lipo in the nether regions.

2003-12-26T07:41:00.000-08:00

Balance.

I guess that's what life is so desperately searching for all the time... an equilibrium between two extremes.

We complain when it's too fast...too slow... we get irate when it's too boring...too engaging. Too easy. Too tough. I need to lose weight. I need to put on muscle. Too stupid. Too intellectual. Too intimate. Too distant.

This is merely a cross-section of an entire plethora of extremes that plague us as people.

Human beings are naturally adroit at finding fault with life.

When we don't get what we want, when there seems no possible chance to fabricrate some semblance of balance, then we choose to strike out at this delicate setup...then we stage life as a caricature of either of these extremes.

Therefore the birth of the rebels, the punks, the avid naturalists, the destructive nihilists.

Then there are the those who delude themselves in an illusion of happiness, and those who chose to fall further and further in an abyss of desperate, miserable realism.

And we fluctuate to and fro like grass in the winds of change, between these two extremes, in hope of finding an imitation of balance.

Nothing is ever perfectly balanced, nor perfect.

2003-12-25T02:43:00.000-08:00

Testing the blog that I just created today.

Sky's grey permanently.

Botox injections on TV.

Christmas hangover.

Title for someone else's comic.