Black llucii : +red

Stop. Clock. Shot.

2008-08-26T21:42:00.003+10:00

How little there is left to say...

Perhaps the clock has stopped ticking...

Or maybe I've folded my ears in.

Whichever it is, would you listen anyway?

Caramel & Catastrophes

2008-04-19T16:17:00.006+10:00

Caramel & Catastrophes...

"It won't do

To dream of Caramel

To think of Cinnamon

And long for you.

It won't do

To stir a deep desire

To fan a hidden fire

That can never burn true.

I know your name

I know your skin

I know the way these things begin...

And I don't know

How I will live with myself

What I'd forgive of myself

If you don't go.

So goodbye, Sweet Appetite

No single bite could satisfy..."

Have you been dreaming of Sweet Appetite?

Spare me my life!

2007-08-24T23:58:00.000+10:00

To all English teachers out there, couldn't you be more novel and stimulating like the Japanese?

**Video below contains explicit language. You view at your own risk!**

Bloss & Mary, I say you should adapt your lesson plans to include the above!!! I tell you, you will produce only 'A' students!

URGENT APPEAL FOR FOSTER HOME!

2007-08-21T17:21:00.000+10:00

Just got a very sad and urgent email from a personal and very dear friend, who has a pet dog in danger of being put down at the SPCA if a foster home cannot be found for him.

A permanent home has already been found for him but can only be flown there in 3 months. He needs to be rescued from his current location ASAP for as long as he remains there, he is in constant danger of getting killed. He only needs a small corner in your room, house or garden, and ALL expenses will be paid for.

Please have a read of the message she has sent, below, and inform as many people as you know. Contact details are listed below as well.

Thank you all!
______________________________________________________________

RE: Looking for a loving home to foster, Toffee, the Jack Russell

Hello!

My sister and I are looking for a foster home for Toffee, our Jack Russell. Unfortunate incidents at home, unrelated to Toffee, have created the need for her to be fostered out for three and a half months (September to mid December).

Toffee is female and has been spayed. She is 9 years old (this is a rough estimate as we adopted her too) and is a very gentle and good-natured little lamb. She is house-trained and loves being around people. Meet her and she'll melt your heart!

We are willing to cover the expenses for food, shampoo, etc.

Please do not hesitate to contact us my email or cellphone:
Dawn Wee: dawnwee@gmail.com
June Wee: junewee@gmail.com, HP: 9848 1901

Thank you so much!

Sincerely,

Dawn and June Wee

The Musings of the Lunarling

2007-08-04T19:38:00.000+10:00

Hello...

I’m wondering if you’ve got some time.

You’re busy?

That’s fine.

Yeah?

Oh, okay then...

Well, I just wanted to tell you a story. A story that I dreamt.

A story I dreamt and bathed in milk waters, holding close to me while we hummed in the moonlight. But as time ages, its starting to change. And I just thought I’d tell it to you, just incase...

...just incase we don’t come back this way again.

I have been sifting through the fragments again. Them beautiful shards. It brought so many smiles to see them glisten in the afternoon sun, casting rainbows on the wooden floor, and on my skin. I played with them til sunset. I actually forgot how much I missed them! Oh, these beautiful shards!

After handling each, staring at the wonder of their beauty through the sunlight, giggling like a child at their crazy shapes and soft colours, then laying them aside in the treasure box, I eventually got to that one. Yes, that’s right. That one. *chuckle* Seems so long ago, doesn’t it?

Anyway, I held it in my hand and admired the intricate gold that has come to be inlaid in the blue-green glass of the shard. For a moment I thought I felt a tremble, but I decided to take a closer look anyway.

And then it all came flooding back...

I can’t even remember how it happened or when it happened anymore. I just know that for as far back as I can remember, I’ve always just been trying to find my way back to Ïthiil. I no longer remember where I fell, and I don’t even remember anymore what would bring me back. And so I’ve always been searching.

Its hard travelling across deserts, oceans and mountain peaks while you’ve got fragments, but there was never any fear. I always knew I would go back one day so it was delightful to be able to see all the beauty of this new land before I did. Days dragged on to years, and years dragged on to Time... And so a century passed and I was still travelling with my precious knapsack of fragments, the dream of Lunär Ïthiil always keeping me marching on.

But you know how it is. When you enter a new world, the binds that keep you have to conform to the breath of the new realm. Thus, I found my memories slowly fading, and while my destination still remained vivid in my mind, I began to lose track of the threads that wove the dream.

So I walked slower, rested more often, and began to stop to play with the flowers longer. Eventually I near cleanly forgot my purpose and one day, made my abode in the outskirts of the village. I still knew, of course, that Lunäriin was strumming somewhere for me, and so I only ventured to the village town to stock up on depleted supplies and occasionally, to observe the festivities of the village folk. I got to know several of the folk intimately but these trysts were always brief for Ïthiil visited me every night, and the people could not understand what it meant.

Then one day, in an epiphany, I saw a crystalline butterfly and as it fluttered its delicate wings, the fog that had veiled my dream dissipated and I realised once more my purpose. However, by this time, having drunk from the springs, my being was forever changed and I would always have a soft spot for the dwellers. I wore my knapsack around my laxed shoulders and walked away from the village, never to return.

Through my travellings, my memories began to come back to me and I could journey faster, stopping less, ravelling less in the nostalgic distractions, and all I remember now of the sights I saw on this leg, are but colourful hazy shadows of reticent laughter and aromas.

But I am getting carried away. What I really want to tell you about is how I came to acquire these shards.

A curious thing began to happen after I left that village. I found the fragments in my knapsack had begun to render themselves.They were growing! Eventually I realised that they weren’t actually growing, but were rather, coming together. And I knew that something momentous was beckoning.

Then one night, when Ïthiil showed her face and bathed me in her familar glow, I found a path revealed before me. Confident with Ïthiil’s Light, I ventured on the path and saw things I had only known in my memories, until now. It was also on this peregrination that for the first time I saw the shards come together as a whole. I discarded the knapsack and journeyed with this newly-formed chalice in my hand. Together, we drank from nectarine waters of Lore, and rested in enclaves of aged oak, warmed by sapphirean fires that sprung from realms I could only conceive in my stupor.

Then one day, I saw the path was joined by another, of a different shade but equally beautiful. I eventually recognised that this new path wore the same shades as Ïthiil and with each passing day, the glimmer of Ïthiil grew more intense until one day, I found myself in a circle encompassed by both paths.

For the first time, I felt my heart break and I spent an unknown dimension of Time in the wretched circle, crying from the depths of my very soul. In the end, the allure of the first path, though revealing to me all the treasures and earthen wonders that it would lead me to, corporeal jewels that many have spent tears and blood to obtain, could not veil my nights, that were visited faithfully by Ïthiil, with its gossamer silk. And so with my chalice now broken again, but possessed with a myriad of colours which where before only shades of bluish-green, I took to the new path, with the previous etched forever in a place as elusive as Mind.

A lifetime has passed since that day. While my memories have now spun themselves into tangible pearly webs, and I can finally return to Ïthiil, though in an unexpected way, sitting here with this shard in my hand, I realise that I have become more like the dwellers than I ever thought possible. Perhaps it was the years that I journeyed, or perhaps it was the springs from which I had so often drunk,... then again, maybe it was the chalice and the golden path.

I am happy now that I have found the way back to Ïthiil. I thought before that I had to be with the path to get there, but I realise now that the path was merely a borrowed vassal that would have to be returned, a vassal I cannot take with me if I am to journey across the waters back to Ïthiil.

I look at the shard once more, lovingly, and a little sorrowfully, a keepsake of the only time I ever saw the chalice whole and enjoyed it. I will never know how to put you back together and I may never sit by the sapphirean fires with you again, but I just thought you’d like to know that you have more of me than I will ever have of you.

’Twas fair the maid, as beckoned thus,
a tear and smile, and elven dust.
Of moonshine born, none shall know,
A dream of lark and breath of snow.
Forever dancing merrily,
In the wind that kissed her mournfully.

If you should see the silver leaf,
that whispers sweet of Love and Grief.
Tell it not to shut the way within,
but point you to the Lunariin.
Who will tell you of the Jewelled Mill,
The way to reach the Dream Ïthiil.

Crack me up!

2007-07-23T00:18:00.000+10:00

The funniest thing I've heard all day... *honey chuckle*

The Divine doesn't come to play your kind of dramas!

The Soliloquy

2007-07-15T23:07:00.000+10:00

She sat there frantically searching through the endless files for the lost photos. I lay back against the wall and smiled at her. .“She’s never gonna learn. What’s lost is lost forever.”

She turns around sharply and stares at me accusingly with tears streaming down her face as I give her a sheepish but wry smile. She knows its futile but she keeps on searching anyway. Fingering through the files desperately, she mutters a prayer repetitively, pretending that its really going to make a difference.

“Its not going to help, you know. He doesn’t help with things like that.”

She glares at me once more, anger piercing forth from the dark, deep wells of her eyes. You can almost see the pain wracking her thin, frail, pathetic body. Her lips red and feverish from untold grief, swollen with the sorrow of a thousand hearts suspended by thin silver threads, she drops the files that cascade slowly to the floor like dying leaves in the winter wind, and whispers, “If we don’t find it, we’ll never live to 3.15pm.”

Welcome to my lonely daffodil
With eyes of sunlit hues
A garden party awaits us inside
We’ll be late tonight

See the silver on my cloud
Between the hearts of Spring
An escapade to which we’ll go
Our lifetime on a swing

Ride the Thunder

2007-07-13T11:16:00.000+10:00

Thunder by Astroninja All Stars

Let Your Love Shine Through by Wayne, Sanjeev & Justin

Black Tears

2007-07-12T02:24:00.000+10:00

10 Reasons Why

Because I feel like it.
Because I don't feel like it.
Because nothing makes sense.
Because Nothing makes sense.
Because I don't have a greyhound.
Because people are incompetent.
Because I don't have a cat.
Because there are 89 paintings left to do.
Because I'm cold.
Because I'm lonely.

all hail the red tide. welcome black tears.

Time & Tide... paints my arse black.

2007-06-13T16:19:00.000+10:00

I haven't written in such a long time that every colour I see, seems so lame. Yes, even this. But oh well, we all have got to make a living somehow!

In other news, liberation has dawned and the red tide is over. No more exams; some more biodegradable breatheables of the feminine type! Woo hoo! \m/ I rock!

Two weeks ago, I thought the world was going to end (I swear I saw a blistering sky!). This week the rainbows are out with supersoakers!

1) My jellified friend has found a dream catcher.
2) My pea has finally come to Melbourne. We are going to pledge our lives to our forgotten siblings.
3) I am reunited with the Double Rainbow Ringer.
4) Antonius' hair as grown and he's playing air keyboards really well!
5) Bhagavan has anointed my writing. Looks like soft, sweet, sparse speech is preferable to long-winded grandmother stories.

But a hint of a storm approaches:

1) There is electrical trouble.
2) I can't make up my mind if the Man-on-the-Plane is a dodgeball or... just a ball.

New Ifs for June:

If brains could be picked apart, what would I like you to see?

If my soul were transliterated, I fear it would be yours.

If 3 -1 = 1, I would be very happy to know that I do not exist.

If mountains were moved aside, and seas drunk to the heart’s content, the earth I want to feel ‘neath my feet, would be your heart in my hands.

If there was only one thing that could be said, what word would you be?

If there was a way to have kept you wrapped in cotton wool, I would've worn you round my neck. Pity that you no longer call my name. I could’ve trickled gold in your ears.

For the Friends who have fallen but aren't forgotten:

So dear friends
Your love is gone
Only tears to dwell upon
I dare not say
As the wind must blow
So a love is lost
A love is won
Go to sleep and dream again
Soon your hopes will rise
And then from all this gloom
Life can start anew
And there'll be no crying soon

~Brian May
Performed by Queen

Rock for Wayne 2007

2007-06-11T02:57:00.000+10:00

For fellow-squinters:

Venue: The Pavillion @ Far East Square, 28 China Square near Raffles MRT
Date: Saturday, 23rd June 2007
Time: 3pm till late
Price: SGD$10
Featuring: Electrico, Humpback Oak, Force Vomit, Caracal, West Grand Boulevard, The Fire Fight, A Vacant Affair, Great Spy Experiment, Astroninja & All-Stars

\m/

In Memoriam: Wayne "Thunder" Seah 1977-2007

2007-05-23T15:35:00.000+10:00

In Memoriam: Wayne "Thunder" Seah 1977-2007

Sputnik

2007-05-16T11:11:00.000+10:00

“...many times I have wondered as to what can one possibly give back to the Sun as a token of gratitude for all the light that He brings to our dark homes even as He burns Himself out...perhaps nothing at all! However, the least we could do is to keep our doors wide open and do not let His efforts go in vain.”

~Sri Madhusudhan Rao Naidu
Hridaya Brindavan, 2005

Vesak

2007-05-07T12:42:00.000+10:00

This is why I can't eat beef or any other meat for that matter...

In other news:

Its hard waking up to a dream state. Have I ever felt awake? Have I ever truly felt awake?

My research paper is losing its dime and dazzle, and my supervisor no longer looks like an Intergalactic rebel leader. Having school on a top of a hill is not much fun anymore too. Curses to the lack of bulldozers in the 18th century.

My hair is falling out in hand-fulls too. It no longer worries me. There are more important things at hand. Like why I can't get the damn fruitflies out of my fridge. (Doesn't it just make me look like a dodgy, rotting, disgusting old hag living in a dump of a decomposing heap? Muahahahha!)

In other pleasant news:

I went to the Vesak celebrations with a bunch of absolutely divine rishis yesterday. It was beautiful. I had to bring my camera without batteries tho, so you'll definitely get to see beautiful pictures of the bathing of Buddha, the 3 towering Triple Gem Buddhas, the amazing firework displays, the 5-Lions dance, the sutra chantings, and the endless vegetarian foodstalls, I'm sure! 'Tis hard remembering the things you're supposed to when you haven't woken up, lah.

I've never seen a bigger Vesak celebration in an Asian country. Strange... But it was nice how they turned the entire usually up-market, posh, poser-paradise area into one huge, celestial temple! I wish you all could have seen it! There were guides on hand, everywhere, to provide clueless folk with knowledge about Buddha's life (if they still couldn't get it from the story boards all around), about the symbolism of the things that were there and going on. There were Christians, Hindus and other party folk participating in the rituals, offering joss sticks, etc. It was such a fun way to learn about Buddha's life and it would be great if there were more such celebrations around the world, of the different religions so that anal-retentive arse wipes could become a little more than toilet paper.

Alas my most decent post to date and I have to end thus for the bell that tolls... the school bell, that is.

Bowl of Blood

2007-03-14T15:13:00.000+11:00

If I could just get my hands on some of them... things.
Them yummy things. I dunno.
How do they look like?

Could it be a bowl of blood?
Or pine with bits of pork?
Or maybe just a bit of them
Raisins in a sock.

Ah, bugger, I forget I'm vegan.

But I still miss you, Mr Sin.

Siddharta

2007-03-02T11:19:00.000+11:00

I have met a great, wise wizard whose crystalline blue eyes I cannot forget. Nor his aura of Love or his deep chuckle that sends waves of tranquility permeating through my consciousness. As tall as a god should be, smooth white hair and beard of snow, with but a trickle of gold strands down the middle. Lashes of an equally dazzling white framing his eyes that make the skies weep or the blue bells sigh, a citrine blue of waters of paradise. The glow of Love that hovers over his entire being, rouges his baby pink skin with a divine undertone of the fairest white. His voice, soft and low, yet echoing with a majesty only of the Gods, he knows. He knows. He sees, feels, hears, and knows all.

Yet lying in the lap of such a god brings only as many battles as graces. And magnificent graces I have been granted. And now while I dwell on the fences between melanchoy and happiness, I cannot help but know. "Manic depression is touching my soul!" And the battle has not even begun.

Trying to remember Uncle Arthur and his warm hug and knowing smile, I struggle to surrender. I just want to always be with him and soak every essence of his divine presence, like a pet sponge. Its the closest I can get to India. But yet I know its a desire, as needless as this unreality. O my wretched mind! How you keep pulling me back to the Glass House!

While I am no longer able to hear his words, somewhere in my heart lies an inscription forever forged. I cannot forget and I must never forget. And to battle I will go, for Uncle Arthur but really for myself. To India, evermore, to claim my Real prize.

For My Angels: My Heart

2007-02-27T12:23:00.000+11:00

For My Angels: My Heart

"I have come to light the lamp of love in your hearts, to see that it shines day by day with added lustre. I have come to tell you of this universal, unitary faith, this spiritual principle, this path of love, this duty of love, this obligation to love. Every religion teaches man to fill his being with the glory of God and to evict the pettiness of conceit. It trains him in the methods of unattachment and discernment, so that he may aim high and attain spiritual liberation. Believe that all hearts are motivated by the one and only God; that all faiths glorify the one and only God; that all names in all languages and all forms man can conceive denote the one and only God. His adoration is best done by means of love. Cultivate that attitude of oneness between men of all creeds and all countries. That is the message of love I bring. That is the message I wish you to take to heart.

Let the different faiths exist, let them flourish, and let the glory of God be sung in all the languages and a variety of tunes. That should be the ideal. Respect the differences between the faiths and recognize them as valid as long as they do not extinguish the flame of unity."

~Sri Sathya Sai Baba

I am not wrong afterall...

May you see the flame burning in my heart.

Aum Sri Sai Ram

I sit...

2007-02-21T16:18:00.000+11:00

'Tis been a fair few fortnights since my company has sunk into the squalor of loneliness, when yesterday I met my new virgin bride, Gloxinia. And already, I have lost her to careless hands and a dyslexic mind. [translation: I finally got my .Mac laptop yesterday and accidentally deleted ALL the photos I've taken so far, completely and utterly, last night. So I had to sent her back to the service centre to rescue the lost shots.]

But love does still reside with me for a little changeling I have found. Present to my new bride and I, servant, muse and plaything to her loveliness, Göernig has it been christened. Enchantingly how I have noticed dear Göernig Quentin possessing two souls in that infant-like fragility, a mirror twin. So Glisnieg, it shall be called, the child with two faces.

So pardon me, my lovely lords, for I shall ride once more to thee when I regain my bride, bridle and horse!

First Thought, First Light: 2007

2007-01-01T15:22:00.000+11:00

"Each event, however banal its attire, is, but an instance of God thirsting to communicate."

Sri Vijay S Prasad

Happy 2007, My Invisible Friends...

The Stage of Bliss

2006-11-23T17:16:00.000+11:00

"In the beginningless and endless stream of time, night and day, summer and winter roll endlessly on, carried ceaselessly through the Universe by the flood. The term of living beings diminishes with each passing day, yet while being carried forward in the flood of time, man remains surprisingly unaware of his fate and rarely spends a thought on his fast declining life-term. He is blind in his ignorance. Riches and wealth are short-lived; office and authority are temporary; the life-breath is a flickering flame in the wind; youth is a three-day fair and pleasures and fortunes are bundles of sorrow.

~Bhagawan Sri Sathya Sai Baba
23rd November 1966

In Memoriam: Michael Ng 1923 -2006

2006-11-08T21:25:00.000+11:00

Dearest Ray,

My grandpa passed away on Sunday. He was very active and still backpacking all over the globe, travelling at speeds that easily left his grandkids absolutely breathless trying to keep up with him.

10 years ago he was diagnosed with colon cancer that had spread to his kidneys. 3 years ago he had to have an external kidney bag attached to his body but that didn't stop him from backpacking or doing anything else he wanted. A month ago he decided that he was fed up with the stupid bag as it was a hassle to change when he travelled, and it would sometimes hurt when he brushed too roughly against it. As he was preparing a trip for the entire family to drive up to Malaysia and to meet me in Melbourne or Brisbane next year to backpack up to Sydney to visit Rachel, he thought that he'd go for an operation so that he wouldn't need to use the kidney bag anymore. It was a simple 2 hour operation that had only a 5% risk. So he went ahead for the operation on Friday, 3rd November. It was a second postponement of the operation as he was having pre-op jitters before. Bravely, he went in alone.

During the operation on Friday, complications arose. Old scars from previous operations flared up and wouldn't stop bleeding. What was supposed to be 2 hours dragged on to 6. When he came out of the theatre, he came around long enough to let my Aunty Chuen Chuen know that he was in pain. The nurse gave him more morphine and he slipped back into unconsciousness. Later on Friday night, doctors couldn't stop the bleeding from his wounds and wanted to open him up again to see what was wrong. Before he went in for the second operation, my grandma leaned over to him and called his name. He regained consciousness for a few seconds to look at my grandma before closing his eyes again. It would be the last time he regained consciousness.

Despite the second operation in the wee hours of Saturday, 4th November, doctors couldn't find where the bleeding was coming from. They said that the first 48 hours is the most critical and gave it that length of time for his condition to stabilize.

Throughout the day they pumped in a total of 16 litres of blood. He was on a ventilator and his major organs had to be aided by machines. I went to visit him on Saturday at 4pm and stayed til 10pm. I kissed him, stroked his hair and his strong arms, and reminded him about the trips that we were supposed to make together. I prayed with him and was sure that he was gonna be alright. With a confident sense of peace, I spent my time, in between giving him kisses and praying with him in his room in the ICU ward, sitting in the corner reading and catching glimpses of him while nurses shuttled in and out of his room. Occasionally I watched the monitors, not knowing what the jumping numbers meant, but feeling quite sure that they weren't anywhere near as exciting as the dreams he must be having of a round of roulettes in Genting. He loved the thrill of a gamble and he was one lucky striker. He was the unbeatable "Ah Pek" and unchallenged reigning banker at cards & mahjong every Chinese New Year.

At 2am later that Saturday night, the hospital called all my uncles & aunties. They said that his condition had worsened during the night and that they didn't think he was going to make it. They asked that everyone come down as soon as possible to say their goodbyes. They said they don't want to waste any more blood on my grandpa, the feisty hero who never said die, and that they were going to take him off the machines once everyone had come to say goodbye. The family began their trek down to Changi General Hospital. My dad usually chooses the most inappropriate times to let us sleep in. But that Sunday morning I woke up, after an unrestful sleep, with Grandpa on my mind. I went down with my dad and sis at 9am on Sunday, 5th November, having only learnt about his deteriorated condition half an hour before.

When I got to the hospital, the first thing I saw was my mum's eyes, red and swollen from crying. A sudden rush of anxiety washed over me and I ran into the ICU ward where my grandpa was the night before. My Aunt Lulu was already there standing by my grandpa's side, holding his hand and crying. I leant over the bed railing and kissed my grandpa's puffy, abnormally yellowish forehead. (He was a rosy hue the night before.) I told him that I was here and kissed him again. Choking back tears, I stepped back to let my sister speak to him and asked my mum for permission to put some vibhuti (holy ash) on his forehead, which I did as I reminded my grandpa about the time he went to India and got to meet Sai Baba and touch his feet. I reminded him about our travelling appointments. I told him that everything was gonna be ok because God's with us. I prayed with Grandpa somemore, kissing him, telling him how much I love him. I asked him if he could see Swami and told him that he should follow him. I told him that God would lead him to the direction he was supposed to go and not to worry or feel scared.

As the hours dragged on, anxiety turned into suffocating desperation and I felt like I was drowning again. The more members of the family arrived, the more my desperation grew. Every person that turned up meant one step closer to shutting down the machines. I kept asking Grandpa to focus on my voice and not to pay any attention to everything else that was going on. There just too much mumbo jumbo talk about death, funeral rites and reference to my grandpa as tho he wasn't there... as tho he already wasn't there.

By the time the family was preparing for the first machine to be switched off, I was sitting in the corner of his room again, this time confidence replaced with the desperate, rhythmic chant, "Follow Swami. He will lead you to the right direction. But if you wanna come back, tell Swami, and he will bring you back. If you feel like you don't have enough strength to make it back on your own, use me. Give me a sign and i will fight with you. Use my strength, my energy, my love. I will fight for you, Kong Kong, I will fight for you. Just give me a sign..."

At 12.50pm on Sunday, the ventilator and final machine was turned off. The monitor was still attached. Numbers were still jumping on the screen and my grandpa never gave up. For fifteen minutes or more, with no other organ functioning, my grandpa's heart continued beating. The doctors came in and pulled the curtains around his bed. Everyone trickled out of the ICU in tears, regret and shock. I stayed back. I heard them pull out the tubes and I heard them remove the numerous drips and bags that were attached to my grandpa. My ears were picking up every sound but I couldn't tear my eyes aways from the monitor that was visible above the curtain railings. I was staring at the screen and I saw it go blank when they switched the monitor off. The numbers were still jumping...

They pronounced my grandpa's death to be at 1.15pm, Sunday, 5th November 2006. 2 days was all it took to take my grandpa's life away.

While the tears have dried up and the shock is wearing thin, my heart is still all at once numb and in pain. I am torn between acceptance of fate, happiness at his reunion with God, and anger that maybe they turned the machines off too soon. I cannot help the thought that keeps repeating in my head, that this isn't the way he would have wanted to go. There are too many things left undone. He was only 83 years old and still had 10, 000 balls of energy left to go. He was so passionate and zestful up to the very end.

I know in time, my heart will heal, the pain will numb and I will only have fond memories of this wonderful, wonderful man, who loved life, his family, the sea, using his skilled hands to make anything his genious mind could conceive, mathematics ingeniously applied to the art of gambling, and travelling the world, too much to ever reveal the secret of his hidden, prized and most coveted, secret stash of chocolates.

As we cremate his beautiful but lifeless body tomorrow, and scatter his ashes in the sea that he so loved, on Friday, may Fire and Wind bring Bliss that we have yet to find on this very mortal plane.

With love and mourning,

Sabrina

"disappearing in a snow storm,
riding on waves,
walking on mahjong tiles,
a handsome deck of Ace & Kings,
Forever dripping in bitter chocolate...
See you 'round, Kong Kong!"

~In Loving Memory of
Michael Ng
1923 - 2006

The Joker at lasts awakens...

2006-01-30T05:57:00.000+11:00

I keep forgetting that no one is going to slay dragons for me. Afterall, I have always been but only the jester.

For far too long I have been telling the tale, that I had begun to believe that it was my tale... that it would be my tale. But alas, we all have to step away from the looking glass at some point, leave the island and put down the cup. The looking glass afterall only portrays an exaggeration of what is. How beautiful that exaggeration was! How beautiful that exaggeration would have been... But it is not real.

May the story now begin its true unfolding. Never again with frills and faerytales; never again with wisps and rhymes; never again but only as it is meant to be.

It was good while it lasted and it lived as it was supposed to. I always knew but now I know why. And I thank you. I pray never again to sip from that rainbow fizz. But I will always keep this final gargle.

Thank you for the ride, I know you never were.

My Dear Ribbons, you were always right. *smile*

Rainbows Rave in Rancid Rain

2006-01-27T06:25:00.000+11:00

I swear by the rainbows in my hair:

I read my posts from about a year ago and I nervously scratch my armpit, thinking how I have returned to being the Joker.

I walked. But I didn't think.

I have reached the last square of this hop-scotch... and I don't know what to do next.

The fish bowl ain't stained with sacred blood and dusted with the cosmos any longer. It has become an obituary. Care thee to pay homage to your face on my wall?

You talk. I talk. I listen. You stone.

I have become alot less eloquent. Surprising, since I have become less constipated.

This is the longest post in the longest time.

I found the stuff that make gelatin weep and exchanged it for some minerals au naturale. Yet I feel unhealthier. There must be something awry with the directions on the map.

I am about to stamp my feet on Mother Earth and be judged accordingly. I pray I will be granted admittance to the next level. Dexterity +5, health +3, mana -10.

Where be you lunarlings, my beloved brethren from a realm now forsaken? I seek thee to bear me yonder, away from this wretched, barren desert of my fatal elixir. I have been away from thee for far too long, and my body now aches and mind now wilting, save only for the last leaf that hangs now by the silver thread. I pray thee to save me with your grace. Take me away to your forgotten palace and show me thy face, My Mother Moon. Show me thy face.

If paying my respects to the Angkor could make one wish come true, I would spin on the tip of my bulbous bunions and march right off in the opposite direction. Not because the leaves are dancing, but because the wind ain't blowin'.

Bollocks, lah! Do I look like I'm even remotely capable of delivering a celebratory oration of your wonder? I can't even, for the bleeding knees of the next gecko, tell you what my name really is. And they have even said that I have degenerated. *mutters under torrid breath*

I forgot to name her.

...and so the story stands still...

Too much fizz ain't good for no one.

Missing:

2006-01-23T02:43:00.000+11:00

Has anybody seen him anywhere? I reckon he's walking around somewhere with a chord in his head and a dream on his lips. I don't know where he is. But maybe you could help him find his way back to me?

I can't write my poetry anymore.

The Man of My Dreams is giving me Nightmares

2006-01-23T02:02:00.000+11:00

llucii, The Boy Next Door is the man of your dreams

You're comfortable in social situations that fluster other people. It is in part this ease is that makes you a catch for potential partners. You like to take time to really get to know the people in your life, especially your romantic partner. Your challenge is to make sure that you get what you want out of the time and energy you've invested.

The guy next door can be a lot more than the kid who played a great game of tag and buried you in snowballs. He can be the man of your dreams. A laidback and fun girl like you doesn't need a glass slipper or fancy jewels — you just want a guy who knows how to have a good time and has a handle on what's important.

You're the kind of girl who wants to marry her best friend, so you might not have to look far for the perfect guy for you. Whoever said you have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince wasn't talking about you. Tag — you're it!

Are you it?

phlonderings of the phelgm

2006-01-11T23:38:00.000+11:00

what if we've been wrong all our lives?

...wouldn't we be fucked.

What Famous leader I wish I really am...

2006-01-10T03:14:00.000+11:00

What Famous Leader Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

...what famous leader I wish I really am...

Vogon's Breath

2006-01-02T02:15:00.000+11:00

"...then why do you do it? What is it? The girls? The leather? The machismo? Or do you just find that coming to terms with the mindless tedium of it all presents an interesting challenge?"

Arthur looked backward and forward between them in bafflement.

"Er..." said the guard, "er... er... I dunno. I think I just sort of... do it really. My aunt said that spaceship guard was a good career for a young Vogon - you know, the uniform, the low-slung stun ray holster, the mindless tedium..."

~Douglas Adams'
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

too familiar.

Tragedy of the Tempest

2005-12-28T04:38:00.000+11:00

I have failed. Continuation of battles yonder will cease and henceforth, I will be posted to a new region. A region from which I know not what to expect. What strange territory Thou has placed me in... and I shudder. Yet allegiance I have paid and loyalty strong though grievously. But I am not shaken, Lord, forever my Master I trust in Thee that Your humble warrior-slave You will not forsaken.

In other news, Christmas has come and the goose has gotten fat. I have indeed put more than 2 pennies in the old man's hat... And yet, he coughs in my face again. Cheh! Trees did not grace us with their presence this time, but homage I paid to them by allowing the Midnight Dream of Burning Stars to consume more wrapping paper than the task required. *grins*

Internal restructuring of the cavern has also commenced albeit slow and steady like a bleedying tortoise with tissue paper stuck too far up its arse. Things have been tending towards black again and its a familiarity I welcome. If only I could have a raven to match the black lace curtains. Otherwise, maybe entertainment of the jazzy fish again? Nay. I have pledged my lifeblood to their protection. Falter I will not... in public.

Its been burning like the legion and I sweat neath my pits. I almost need a mop to mow my lawn. Muahahha! But I am angry. How dare the Sharp one not work?!! The guardians have fed thee well and yet you unashamedly defy and betray them thus. You evil evil little piece of ungrateful contraption! I suggest you wisely desist your insolence and replace the shackles around your ankles. We should never have allowed them into our homes!

Newsflash: My mind's joy is the latest prancing on the Myanmar Project! Mosquitoes, here I come to repay you for your years of good ol'loving kindness!

May the season's musings burn throughout the pages of your life like a moth's wing in the flame of the Divine Oil Lamp...

Cats Can Fly!!!

2005-11-26T05:50:00.000+11:00

I hearken to you and bid you see this page of wonders tho simple, but well-intended. Enjoy.

http://fivecatflyer.blogspot.com

Sathya Sai Says

2005-11-15T00:46:00.000+11:00

"I have come to light the lamp of love in your hearts, to see that it shines day by day with added luster. I have come to tell you of this universal, unitary faith, this spiritual principle, this path of love, this duty of love, this obligation to love. Every religion teaches man to fill his being with the glory of God and to evict the pettiness of conceit. It trains him in the methods of unattachment and discernment, so that he may aim high and attain spiritual liberation. Believe that all hearts are motivated by the one and only God; that all faiths glorify the one and only God; that all names in all languages and all forms man can conceive denote the one and only God. His adoration is best done by means of love. Cultivate that attitude of oneness between men of all creeds and all countries. That is the message of love I bring. That is the message I wish you to take to heart.
Let the different faiths exist, let them flourish, and let the glory of God be sung in all the languages and a variety of tunes. That should be the ideal. Respect the differences between the faiths and recognize them as valid as long as they do not extinguish the flame of unity."

~Sathya Sai Baba

How strange the bubbles pop just when you thought you had run out of soapy water.

Amen.

CatArena

2005-11-14T23:31:00.000+11:00

Ah! I have found life! A sweet, sweetness I dare not let go of. And strange from which fountain this new pleasure has sprung. But why surprise, for is this not where I have always suspected my lease would lie? I guess I am simply bolting from the blue that I have finally emersed myself in it. Who would have thought that sunlight would actually make me grow... *shakes leaves proudly and curtsies to the Sun*

I attended to 2 mediation cases today and it was my first time mediating alone. I felt the wonderfully familiar and spiritually empowering satisfaction, only experienced before at the World Animal Day carnival and prior engagement in what I hope were Seva. Of course, I wasn't actually alone since I had to have the company of Maternal Translation Services.

Do not blame me for the failings of the non-recreational second language educators. They are of a breed no one understands and one I have little interest in understanding. I never asked to learn that language, which no one in my domestic surroundings can even speak. The self-celebrated authority of the idle minds should have known better and let me learn the language of my true heritage. Dumb is as Dumbass does! I would not need to have imposed on my dear mother if I were only living in Thailand, France, India or a country where English is THE ONLY language medium. Lunarii or Quenya would do as well, but refusals to speak makes it hard for communication. Anyhoo, petty grievances aside, it has been a pleasant day and Lord Lucii has been appeased.

In other news, the merging of Magic and Mundane is well underway and the recipe will be completed by morrow's end. Upon accomplishment, the resulting potion will last approximately two and two fortnights, and permanently add +1 to all skill levels. If I'm lucky, I might even stumble upon a transmutation that could have even better statistics, and forever increase mana capacity and/or provide portals to new realms. I rub my hands in glee and look dreamily into the Cauldron of Better Things! O Prem, you rock and you make me rock! *thrusts pelvis like elvis*

Just the other day
in a land not too far away,
I found my way
and it made me sway.
Rhythmics and limericks
might give me kicks,
But hail to that which made me sick!

The Wooden Bridge Over Seletar opened its misunderstood doors to Lord Lucii and the lesson that laid within made him stumble but for a moment, and resolution grew to harbour, even for a nary moment, the Vanished Ones. It seems that Sands must be laid aside for this task, and calculation has to be carefully executed if Misconstruction is to be avoided and Potential magnified. Oh! Skin of Thine Elders I will need to assist me in this undertaking. Together with proper utilization of what's left of my hemispheres, of course! Ah! Brain Power, I stretch ye!

Stay tuned for other whimperings...

DNA of a Daft Daffodil

2005-10-22T04:40:00.000+10:00

One third of our DNA is the same as that of a Daffodil's

Doesn't that just explain so much?

Optimistic Resignation of A Missing Dragon

2005-08-08T03:43:00.000+10:00

I prance, I pry, I pray... and I let out a wet fart and breathe deeply. Care you to join me, O Master of Your Universe? Hello again, Folks! I have returned from what I will tell you was a period of hibernation. I have returned, scale-less, darker, sleeker... and well-oiled. I should also warn you that this skin is about ready for shedding. But effort makes it a tough thing to do. So we shall just have to wait and see...

In other news, Autobiography of a Yogi has become one of my favourite books of all time. To say it was a gem in my abyss is a severe understatement, and if you should ever have the rare moment of Elune's blessing, I hope that you, too, will find the joys that I have found...

My stomach hurts and I feel like hurling. Olympus has returned but bearing the scars of war that I fear will haunt her for a long time to come. I have recently acquired for myself some pet-rashes on my cheeks and temples. They're steadily growing healthier each day and I dedicate my sleep to caressing their rosy, matte form each night. How nice it is to have company on your face! It makes the lonely nights so much more bearable! Bollocks to sleep! Who needs ye, Servant of Sloth!!!

Adornments may now be acquired at outrageous prices, starting at $2 a piece or maybe even lower. I find a renewed vigour in colouring the ragged form. Contortions and regular meditation has also breathed new life into the worn out spirit and new optics are now available in a myriad of colours, with no illusion, what's more. The Yell of Yarn has also hailed the shore and building has commenced, although one arm is shorter than the other. But no worries, architects claim that it can still be salvaged.

My kinsmen will be hailing in about 17 days from this dawn. I will be receiving my medals of honour and merit, a recognition of the soldier and the war effort, they call it. But we all know its just to show the king his roastings. All the same, we will then be setting sail for yonder, where I will meet my brethren once more. I should also notify you that a second solar sighting will be occuring, though briefly so you might want to keep an eye out for it. This time, tests abound, and I am determined to emerge the victor. To those who delve in the frosty art of wizardry, please ah, I'm not asking you to carve out your nipple and present it to me on a silver platter lor!

Btw, are you there?

Vathek

2005-05-30T21:41:00.000+10:00

Such was, and such should be, the punishment of unrestrained passions and atrocious deeds! Such shall be, the chatisement of that blind curiosity, which would transgress those bounds the wisdom of the Creator has prescribed to human knowledge; and such the dreadful disappointment of that restless ambition, which, aiming at discoveries reserved for beings of a supernatural order, perceives not, through its infatuated pride, that the condition of man upon earth is to be -

humble and ignorant.

~William Beckford's Vathek
1760 - 1844

MetalKnuckleHead

2005-05-09T18:48:00.000+10:00

*llucii roars once more... she has found her fire and readies herself for the next Scourge on the Insolent.*

I have found my strength, renewed by my Solaris, elbows propped with my Double Rainbows, and the Moon supporting my ass.

While Dharamsala now hangs in the balance between Providence & the Custodians, I believe I have a wily backup plan, which cunningly involves repeating a rendezvous. Where would October bring me? But for now, I surrender. I shalt not want, I shalt not ask, I shall accept what may come... *whispers* albeit reluctantly, if it does not rub my inclinations the right way.

Funny how you caused me to level up by breaking my arrow. I guess that means you deserve thanks? I shall consider that proposition and get back to you...

I wrote my first metal riff! You know what this heralds? MY AWAKENING!!! Soon I shall reign as I was prophesized to! Soon I shall show all you unworthies what it means to stand before a God and know that your whole life was meant for nothing but that one moment where you beheld Magnificence and realised how you should have suffocated yourself with your pampers! I shall make men weep, heroes tremble and shit-stained cottonheads lynch themselves with their rebonded teazles of an excuse for hair! I shall bring the establishment down to its knees and wretch in the faces of those who have dared defy me! I will curdle the blood of smart-assed gremlins with each distortion, while nourishing the chosen with an audio ambrosia far more delicious than Venus' orgasms could ever be, by the very same note!

I... will... rule....

*re-adjusts suspenders and pulls pants higher*

I will Event Horizon your scrotum and turn it into a punching bag for the kangaroos.

blackroots

2005-05-06T05:03:00.000+10:00

The Black Box
time: 2.30pm till late. date: Sat 7th May 2005. venue: Planet Paradigm (singapore shopping centre, 5 mins walk from Dhoby Gaut MRT). presale: $7. at the door: $10. for more info: email missnatasha@hotmail.com or sms @ 92378160. no age limit.
*free compilation cd for first 100 people.

DYL: Roots
time: 2-8pm. date: Sun 8th May 2005. venue: woodlands cc theatrette. tickets: $4

More amazing pieces fromlocal music talent, faithfully advertised by your local coffeeshop psycho. For the cause!!!

_+++______________________________ _+88______________________________ _+880_____________________________ _++88_____________________________ _++88_____________________________ __+880_________________________++_ __+888________________________+88_ __++880______________________+88__ __++888_____+++88__________+++8__ __++8888__+++8880++88____+++88___ __+++8888+++8880++8888__++888____ ___++888++8888+++888888++888_____ ___++88++8888++8888888++888______ ___++++++888888888888888888______ ____++++++88888888888888888______ ____++++++++000888888888888______ _____+++++++000088888888888______ ______+++++++00088888888888______ _______+++++++088888888888_______ _______+++++++088888888888_______ ________+++++++8888888888________ ________+++++++0088888888________ ________++++++0088888888_________ ________+++++0008888888__________

Solaris

2005-05-04T23:39:00.000+10:00

You know you're swimming in shit when your nose is stuffed full with lecture notes in one nostril, and the other is reeking of overdue assignments.

I should pay more attention to the sunrise and sunset.

Sunrise and Sunset are technically the same thing, flipped over.

I look up "sunrise" and end up reading "scrotum".

You should have been there, the day I saw three suns: one setting, one singing, one glowing.

I have been consorting more with the solar than the lunar. Which way will Mid-Autumn blow?

The Sun has sunspots; The Moon has craters; I have large pores and blackheads, therefore I win.

The Sun is a supernova and the Moon is a satelite. Does that mean I will be a SuperLite? ...*man-handles blubber rings*

In the West there is a Man in the Moon. In the East it is a Lady. Will Misteress be offensive?

I saw the Moon looking at me. I winked. He poked me in the eye. And I was strangely contented.

Toilet paper: my romantic partner. my asswipe. my heartache.

Epicenter of My Epicurus

2005-04-27T19:36:00.000+10:00

Who am I kidding?

I should have joined the circus when I had the chance.

Where were they when I needed them?

I think they were hiding behind the wardrobe door.

Looking at you through the cracks.

And you sat in the corner staring back.

You took my photo and didn't even ask.

I cried, godammit. Were you pretending to look back?

I let the sand go. It slipped through my fingers and sailed the North Wind.

My heart is happy and my mind's a wreck.

You said... you said... you said...

Too much.

Como agora?

Epicurus says there is nothing to fear about death. Jimi says:

The story
of life is quicker
than the wink of an eye
The story of love
is hello and goodbye
Until we meet again

You know what I say?

A felicidade e como a gota
de orvalho numa petala de flor
Brilha tranquila depois de leve oscila
e cai como uma lagrima de amor

Be patient, My Dharamsala...

Wails, Wisps & Wonder

2005-04-11T15:31:00.000+10:00

In the event that you have also forsaken everything you have always defended to seek your perfect rose, you might understand what I am about to confide in you:

It hurts.

It shreds you to the bone and tests every limitation. It unravels all your carefully planned and constructed beliefs and tears down your walls of strength. You find yourself paralyzed, groping desperately in the dark for something that isn't going to be there... yet. Its dark, dank but strangely perfumed. You might find the scents reminiscent of the fragrances of an Arabia you have always fantasized about but never beheld... until now. Or is it?

Your resolution is shaken over and over again. You try very hard to remember your course but sometimes you forget. What do the double rainbows really mean? Are they just accidental lovings, or have you read them right? Your tarots are scrambled and you know not how to play them anymore. The only thing you know with certainty is that you're The Fool. (pray, where is my dog?)

You have chosen to be alone. You rejoiced. You cried. You accepted. And your Winds picked up.

But now the calm. Before the storm, or after? I know not. You tell yourself you cannot see what's in the fog until you are closer. But old habits die hard. You tighten your reins and try to curb your curiosity. It killed the cat. Thrice or more before... before you blinded yourself.

But you've bestowed sight back to yourself and you know the birth of your heart will come soon. Just a matter of time. Be patient.

You light the cigarette as a test of your will, and oddly, it unveils new knowledge. You see it now. Let it come, they say, and embrace it. Accept that it has come but do not hold on to it. Let it pass when it has to and accept when it comes again. Everything is empty afterall.

I am afraid that I have become stronger. I don't know what to do with it. I thought this is what I wanted. No, this is what I wanted.

The tremors of my fingers. The wisps of stale smoke. The wretching stench of a diseased past. But the Flower... and now also the Fragrance.

What now?

Sit back and be glazed over, you wanting eyes. Sit back in the dark, and let the light in your lifeless eyes be your only illumination.

Wave of the Wiccan

2005-03-16T17:12:00.000+11:00

You scored as Paganism. Your beliefs are most closely aligned with those of paganism, Wicca, or a similar earth-based religion. You may also follow a Native American religion.

Paganism

79%

agnosticism

79%

Buddhism

75%

Hinduism

67%

Satanism

63%

Islam

63%

Christianity

50%

Judaism

38%

atheism

33%

Which religion is the right one for you? (new version)
created with QuizFarm.com

Girl in a Glass Coffin

2005-03-04T04:12:00.000+11:00

a joker...

a Queen of Hearts...

a girl in a glass coffin.

Morpheus of Dreams

2005-02-28T23:45:00.000+11:00

Another by Quizilla.

I'm seriously bored...

come back, pea.

Nihilist Bear

2005-02-28T21:45:00.000+11:00

Nihilist Bear

Which Dysfuntional Carebear are you? brought to you by Quizilla.

sheesh.

Rollerball: Evie (Let Your Hair Hang Down)

2005-02-07T08:31:00.000+11:00

I have decided that my fame in the field of psychology can only be founded upon my discovery of the prevalent but unresearched disorder called asininomia, otherwise known as purposeful stupidity.

In the event that it should fail to fulfill its role as the deciding factor in a Nobel Prize nomination (I am not so covetous as to expect to be actually awarded the grand prize. Ambitious I may be, but a barmy zealot I am not.), I am putting my dimes on it that it would at the very least prove worthy to enter the Hall of Shortest but Sweetest Medical Tongue-Twisters.

In other news...

My ukelele was baptised on the 5th of February as Zimri Armistadt.
Zimri is Hebrew for 'music'. Zimri is thus now an official member, joining Emma Star. and the Wind Whisperers, in the Guild of Pandemonium. All Hail Rojak Muzak!

also...

Blogging is for:

the unashamed egoist
the financially-deprived advertiser
the criminally bo liao
those who have no other means of making friends/affirming one's defining status
the untenable insomniac.
<insert your own>

I say, Halt your rocks! 'Tis all in the name of jest.

Ed Wood D. Wood Jr.

2005-02-07T02:33:00.000+11:00

Finally Ed Wood!

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Are you interested in the future? Because that's where we'll be spending the rest of our lives!"

~Criswell in Tim Burton's Ed Wood

Live & Loud

2005-02-01T05:21:00.000+11:00

Presenting: "Live & Loud"

Featuring: Rafe, Syawla Evol & Zhen

Where: Thumper @ Goodwood Park Hotel

When: Wednesdays @ 9pm til late

How: No cover charge; 18+; strictly smart-casual only

So:... Support & Enjoy Local Music!!!

RockFest

2005-01-29T18:31:00.000+11:00

Note: StereoSuperStar will be making their debut on the airwaves on Thursday 4th February 2005 at 9pm! Appearing with Chris Ho on RSI (Radio Singapore International), be wet & ready for a groovin' session! Tune in to this ultimate experience at http://www.rsi.com.sg or on NewsRadio 938. Be there or be square, my foggies!!!

DYL: Inhabitant

2005-01-29T18:26:00.000+11:00

doubleyellowline: inhabitant
The ultra passionate, melodically driven doubleyellowline team returns this February with "inhabitants", unplugged!

Dreams of Day Architecture
Ace Troubadour
Pale Pretense
Lunchbox
Lunarin
Arpee

And the vital details;
Date: 12th Febuary 2005
Venue: Function Room, Yusof Ishak Hall, National University of Singapore
Time: 1800 hrs
Price: $4 per inhabitant

Come enjoy an evening of acoustic music magic!
Supported by NUS Original Music Society

*info. from www.doubleyellowline.org

The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy

2004-10-31T01:45:00.000+10:00

Hello, Little Ones! It has been long and once again its story time. Today I'm going to read to you a lovely little story written by a brilliant wizard by the name of Tim Burton, who wrote a clever little book called The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy & Other Stories. So listen well now and pay attention, for in this story lies a strange tale and magic that will forever change your life. And they say that if you listen really carefully, you might even hear the voice of that wonderful wizard himself! So, listen up now:

The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy

He proposed in the dunes,
they were wed by the sea,
their nin-day-long honeymoon
was on the isle of Capri.

For their supper they had one spectacular dish -
a simmering stew of mollusks and fish.
And while he savored the broth,
her bride's heart made a wish.

That wish did come true - she gave birth to a baby.
But was this little one human?
well,
maybe.

Ten fingers, ten toes,
he had plumbing and sight.
He could hear, he could feel,
but normal?
Not quite.
This unnatural birth, this canker, this blight,
was the start and the end and the sum of their plight.

She railed at the doctor:
"He cannot be mine.
He smells of the ocean, of seaweed and brine."

"You should count yourself lucky, for only last week,
I treated a girl with three ears and a beak.
That your son is half oyster
you cannot blame me.
...have you considered, by chance,
a small home by the sea?"

Not knowing what to name him,
they just called him Sam,
or, sometimes,
"that thing that looks like a clam."

Everyone wondered, but no one could tell,
When would young Oyster Boy come out of his shell?

When the Thompson quadruplets espied him one day,
they called him a bivalve and ran quickly away.

One spring afternoon,
Sam was left in the rain.
At the southwestern corner of Seaview and Main,
he watched the rain water as it swirled
down the drain.

His mom on the freeway
in the breakdown lane
was pounding the dashboard -
she couldn't contain
the ever-rising grief,
frustration,
and pain.

"Really sweetheart," she said,
"I don't mean to make fun,
but something smells fishy
and I think it's our son.
I don't like to say this, but it must be said,
you're blaming our son for your problems in bed."

He tried salves, he tried ointments
that turned everything red.
He tried potion and lotions
and tincture of lead.
He ached and he itched and he twitched and he bled.

The doctor diagnosed,
"I can't be quite sure,
but the cause of the problem may also be the cure.
They say oysters improve your sexual powers.
Perhaps eating your son
would help you do it for hours!"

He came on tiptoe,
he came on the sly,
sweat on his forehead,
and on his lips - a lie.
"Son, are you happy? I don't mean to pry,
but do you dream of Heaven?
Have you wanted to die?"

Sam blinked his eyes twice.
but made no reply.
Dad fingered his knife and loosened his tie.

As he picked up his son,
Sam dripped on his coat.
With the shell to his lips,
Sam slipped down his throat.

They buried him quickly in the sand by the sea
- sighed a prayer, wept a tear -
and were back home by three.

A cross of gray driftwood marked Oyster Boy's grave.
Word writ in the sand
promised Jesus would save.

But his memory was lost with one high-tide wave.

Back home safe in bed,
he kissed her and said,
"Let's give it a whirl."

"But this time," she whispered, "we'll wish for a girl."

happy halloween.

In Loving Memory: Superman

2004-10-15T20:40:00.000+10:00

"This is no fantasy, No careless product of the imagination..."

~Jor-El
(opening line of the movie Superman)

Farewell, Goodbye & Adieu! You entertained me when I was a mere tot: "If you've got me, who's got you?" You taught me my first lesson about the stupidity inherent in all humans, exemplified by kids sailing out windows in an attempt to walk... to fly in your path. You tickled me with your shirt-ripping antics, reminding me of my then-hero Hulk Hogan, and you were the first to enlighten me to the fact that sci-fi music scares the Be-Jesus outta me. It was you who inspired stupid kids all over to wear skin-crawling, sore eye-inducing superhero outfits; a trend that will never be forgotten, no matter how hard we try to. You were the one who sparked my fascination with magical crystals and laid the groundwork for Supergirl, another wonderful piece of childhood memory. But most of all, it was you who... em... hmmm... *ponder*... well, I'm not sure what else you did for me. *shrug* But your human form was pretty swell to promote stem cell research. I will never forget you, Superman!

In Loving Memory of Superman

Was Christopher Reeve 1952-2004

A Disconcerting Chord...

2004-10-12T15:04:00.001+10:00

I was always behind you coz I know what you're thinking. Sometimes I run up next to you and we have fun together. Sometimes I run up next to you and we cry together. Sometimes I run up next to you and you look at me, but you don't see me. So I walk behind you again until the next time, when you're ready.

Now you dare drag out my reality, all nicely folded and neatly stacked in the corner, throw it in my face and have the cheek to tell me that I've been negligent of its existence? You have the freaking audacity to dismiss my scars just so you can play up yours?

My debt to you no longer suffices for your constant whinings and whimperings anymore. That you could so easily and so carelessly discard me for preachings and wallowings in your self-pity, has left me hurt, wounded, angry and broken. My offerings may be humble but my heart has always been true. How you can take these offerings and tell me they mean nothing, has left me numb... a stinging numbness. This unconditional duty, this servitude, you never asked of me. It was I who chose to take up this torch, of my own free will. But still, even then, surely I do not deserve to be treated so carelessly?

That you can so cruelly and thoughtlessly make me face my delusion, this reality, shows how much love we really have. You are taking my hand, pointing at these monsters and telling me to look at their monstrosity... I have bled for these demons and I have long tamed them so that we can live without touching. Why must you insist that I cry for them now?

You never saw, you blind fool, and you insist on believing that you're the only one who sees. I am tired and I am broken. No longer does this torch burn for us. I will continue carrying it only because I cannot forget and stupidly bind myself to a debt no one acknowledges. I, too, am a fool. I am a fool to have loved you. I am a fool to have thought you were the one.

I am a fool to have given you my thread.

Now before you go thinking that I'm writing this for someone else, think again. Don't even try to flatter yourself on my terrain. Otherwise, honestly, what makes you think I'm writing about you? *looks interested* Is there perhaps something that I've written here that has struck a disconcerting chord within you?

BigO...

2004-09-28T15:58:00.000+10:00

Before I grow old, I want to accomplish an instrument and perform with a band. Just once.

Before I grow old, I want to master at least another dance (bharatanatyam, odissi or any latin) and perform with a troupe, with a solo or a pos de deux to boot.

Before I grow old, I want to have an article (be it for professional or lifestyle purposes) or a literary piece published with a well-respected publisher or magazine/journal.

Before I grow old, I want to create an art piece whose dimensions are larger than I am.

Before I grow old, I want to be able to play at least one jazz piece on the piano.

Before I grow old, I want to acquire the Electric Ladyland Nude Cover poster, or better yet, the LP.

Before I grow old, I want to own the hanging dragon.

Before I grow old, I want to create my own tea set that will not crack on heating.

Before I grow old, I want to learn the art of glass-blowing. I want to blow a rainbow fish bowl.

Before I grow old, I want to see my tummy muscles once more.

Before I grow old, I want to stop fantasizing about piercings or tattoos. You can never make up your mind anyway.

Before I grow old, I want to recreate the image I have seen for too long in my head. Lest I finally forget.

Before I grow old, I want to say that I'm satisfied.

Before I grow old... c'mon, at least 12 of them, please.

What's your BigO?

People talkin' but they just don't know
What's in my heart and why I love you so
I love you, baby, like a miner loves gold
C'mon, Sugar, let the good times roll!

So many people live in make believe
They keep alot going up their sleeves.
But my love, baby, is no kind that folds.
Come on, Baby, let the good times roll!...

~Written by Earl King
Jimi Hendrix
Come on, Pt.1
Electric Ladyland

The SunS

2004-09-20T17:40:00.000+10:00

"A fun loving multicultural rock'n'roll band who can and do rock the universe"

~Beat Magazine

All Hail the new Singaporean wonder!! Presenting the one and only: THE SUNS!! Previously known as Boredphucks, with Banned in Da Singapura as the official charter, this amazing phenomenon was cruelly usurped by local authorities after accidental use of vulgarities, while enlightening a 2,000 strong crowd of devotees at the Youth Park in 2000. Recognizing their potential for attaining cult status, the authorities decided to protect their own backsides first by banning the Boredphucks once and for all from performing live in Singapore. Pity.

Thankfully, this astronomical gastronomical concoction of musical ooh-la-las has resurfaced in Melbourne and are once again rockin' da universe!!! Honest to God, I cannot recall another live performance that got me rockin', screamin' and singing along like they have, during their gigs at Pony Bar & Greyhound Hotel. They've got a natural stage flair and the way they worked the audience was eerily successful and altogether superb. The SunS is made up of San Singer on vocals and lead guitar, J Bass on bass guitar and backup vocals, and Wayne Thunder on drums and backup vocals.

San is one helluva guitarist and truly worthy of being a frontman. All aspiring performers out there, this is the guy you should be studying! There's no other way to describe what he does on guitar than making love. I'm a hardcore Hendrix fan, so it really takes alot when I say that the first word that came to mind when I saw San perform was "Jimi". But he sure as hell works the guitar and songs like Hendrix did: ultra smooth, ultra sexy. Electrifying! And wait til you check the vox!!! On stage, he was cheeky and extremely teasing, with the crowd being putty in his hands, with antics like licking along the neck of his guitar while unleashing a notorious display of sheer guitar genius... Off stage, however, the superstar demeanour was shed and San was totally approachable. He was really down-to-earth, took the time to hang out with the crowd and personally thank each and everyone for attending the gigs. This is what I call a true artiste! Finger-wagging good!!

J Bass was no sidekick and his personality was just as strong on stage. Apart from having an extremely long tongue which sent both girls and guys reeling and squealing, J's reggae stomp was signature to his almost trance-like state of total immersion with his craft. This guy loves his bass and you know it!!

Wayne Thunder was Alexei Nemov on drums! When I first saw him before he got on stage, I thought he was just peddling the merchandise, with his kitschy ensemble of traditional chinese outfit, sneakers and military satchel of EPs. Unassuming and extremely friendly, he became Speedy Arms with A Mega-Watt Smile onstage! If not for his brilliance on the drums, he would just have been lost in the midst of his drumset, with flashes of gleaming white teeth ever so often. Wayne sure as hell made his presence felt, drumming the bootiful band to the rockin' core of da universe!!

Apart from being mindblowing performers and excellent musicians in their own right, the trio make an excellent combination of eclectic styles, resulting in a perfect harmony that isn't just multicultural. Their musical and performance timing is almost reminiscent of the comic timing between Frasier and Niles! Their style is a sweet amalgamation of reggae, surf punk and old school rock. A power mix that leaves you no choice but to rock along with these lovely people! No matter how hard you try, you just won't be able to keep still! Just imagine the Beach Boys, jamming with Bob Marley, in a showdown with a notorious partnership between Marc LeGras and Jimmy Page, possibly. Oooh, sizzling!! Infectious beats, catchy lyrics and a whole lotta love goin' on! Stand up all you lovely people, and check the cool guitar intro!!

Their latest release, Rock EP, has been riding and reigning the radio waves in my cavern. And now I want to do nothing other than to croon along to Cecelia, the first song on the EP. Whoever Cecelia is, she better be freakin' happy that she's got me singing odes to her night after night! Cecelia has also reached the charts on Syn.FM and are up for nominations on many other charts. They're fast making a name for themselves in Melbourne and San even spoke to me about the possibilty of an all-out Australian Tour in Summer next year. So, keep a lookout for this band for they could possibly be one of the few to leave a lasting mark on local music history and rattle the nerves of local authorites with an "in your face". They are indeed a force to be reckoned with! So, do trot along now, why don't you, to their site on my links, and revel in what could possibly change the tide in the local territory!

In Loving Memory: Snowy

2004-09-14T11:45:00.000+10:00

The day I met you, you slept in my lap. Breathing with a softness that only one as tender and precious as you could.

The day you ran away with another male, I knew I had fallen in love with you. I cried so hard when you finally came running back to me. Some said I was foolish for giving in so easily, but after nearly losing you, I could only hold you and cry.

Some day we will meet again, and then we will revel in love as we did before.

Memories etched in the lines of my palms, I will never forget you.

In Loving memory of Snowy

Died & Cremated: 9th September 2004

My Future Feet

2004-09-13T01:54:00.000+10:00

This is the future of my feet. When my knobbies will grief me no more. When my garden finally lands. Wait for me, you two beauties! As Jimi Hendrix once said, "I'm comin' ta get cha!"

*salivates, trembling in orgasmic desire*

The Unlikely Comrade...

2004-08-28T10:33:00.000+10:00

I never realised how communistic rhythmic gym could be until I watched Faithless' I Want More music video...

"Hail, The Red Tide! Your long-lost Comrade calls!"

*twirls clubs in greeting, with a .3 difficulty throw and zuan yan+forward roll*

Wisdom

2004-08-24T15:28:00.000+10:00

"If degenerating into a mindless idiot is what it means to be a parent,
I shall certainly take care that I never achieve such a dubious distinction"

~Margaret Weiss & Tracy Hickman

Dragonlance: Dragons of a Fallen Sun

Tango de Corazon

2004-08-21T03:33:00.000+10:00

I went for my first Tango class today... It was wonderful.

History has it that Tango was birthed on the streets and in brothels of Buenos Aires. Bearing African influences,it evolved in the arms of Argentinian gauchos and their mulattos. The dance and its songs are a poetic manifestation of tragic romance; beautiful and sad all at once. Although it was initially thought of as a vulgar display of sexuality, the Tango was really a lamentation of love and its woes. The Tango soon captured the attention of the young upper-class men who began teaching a "purified" version of the dance to their young female counterparts, and so the rapture of Tango began.

The precision and the grace of the dance can really only be brought about by the coalescence of the dancer's soul and the song. Honestly. At the beginning I was preoccupied with trying to get the steps right and my "axis" straight. But really, its only when I started to lose myself in the song that it all started to flow very naturally. (Of course, I also had a very good leading partner. So you could also also very rightly argue that I was mere putty in his hands.)

I can't wait for my next Tango class. I went there with a headache and came out in love. The romantic tragedy that was its beginning and its music that is its life blood, living forever in the moment of the dance, as long as the music kept playing, does nothing more than call out to me, showing me the bond we share. The dancers mere puppets, slaves to the songs that freed them and bound them all at once,... truly soothes the soul.

Ah! I have found my release!

Marilyn Manson

2004-08-15T03:26:00.000+10:00

I don't like his music. I don't appreciate his reason & logic. I don't like his paintings nor his lithographs. But I am however, drawn to his style. I like his videos, I like his photos, I like his website, I like his costumes, I even appreciate his makeup. I love the artistry.

http://marilynmanson.com

Simone Weil

2004-08-14T23:50:00.000+10:00

...There I received forever the mark of slavery.

~Simone Weil

The 11th Equation continued...

2004-08-11T18:28:00.000+10:00

I ran my 11th Equation theory by a friend today, who is a software engineer, and she confirmed that my theory is on the right track. Apparently, its this very problem that plagues computer programmers and software engineers alike. Anything of human hands carries with it the innate possibility of error, the possibility of the 11th equation, the unforeseen circumstance, that calls for rigorous testing. And even then, she says, you never really know when you've got it 100% covered. Thus, the possibility of a computer evolution is very real, as according to the 11th Equation. So for those who weren't convinced before.... ;P Heh!

But of course, this isn't all to it (otherwise I'd have university job offers knocking on my door). Its here that the essential question must be tackled: what is there to evolve to? What is there to become?

Human?

And what does human mean? What does it constitute?

Interestingly, a subject I'm currently studying is tackling this very question otherwise put as the issue of mental states. Many theories have been formed to resolve this: functionalism, computationalism, behaviourism, neuroanatomy, neuropsychology...the list goes on. But it seems that all that has been resolved... or rather, the most convincing of these theories, one most popularly adopted today is the functionalist theory, which essentially states that what is the mental state isn't important, its the function of these mental states that matters (which totally begs the initial question of defining mental states!). Thus, centuries of philosophizing about mental states have reached the conclusion that mental states are just simply mental states, so there!

Question answered? More like question rolled in a ball, stamped to the ground and tossed in the waste paper basket.

You know what? I'm tired. I've been spending too much time thinking about things that, as yet, don't matter. Sheesh! What's new?!! So I shall trotter off and leave this here.

Until a more appropriate time,

---The End---

39th National Day

2004-08-10T19:00:00.000+10:00

HAPPY 39th NATIONAL DAY, SINGAPORE!!

You're as old as Linda Evangelista.

For those overseas and haven't catched the Parade, here's how: http://www.ndp.org.sg

By the way, did any of you notice that *Lee Hsien Loong used his binoculars with the cap still on, at the Parade? I can see Singapore headed for a very bright future.

*info courtesy of Blossom's observant eyes

attention

2004-08-07T18:37:00.000+10:00

**attention**

I have added new links on my page in the drop down box. What's new you ask? More links to some of my favourite band websites and most importantly a link, under the "+perform..." section, to a website where you can try and buy the latest and best pc games!!

Explore... Devour... Satiate.

The Prophecy

2004-08-06T16:34:00.000+10:00

I was going to tell you a story of a person with no integrity, little virtue and loads of selfishness. But then I'd rather not dampen your day. So instead, I shall read you an excerpt from a book I bought today, after an extremely satisfying taibo session.

"Chapter One:

The very last words young Fergal McNally heard in his life were: 'Don't lean out of the window!' The very last sounds were probably the air whistling past his sticky-out ears as he fell the fourteen storeys, the honk of traffic horns below (getting nearer and nearer, of course), and - possibly - the 'SP' of the 'SPLAT!' he himself made as he hit the pavement. Fergal certainly wouldn't have heard more than the 'SP', though, because by the time the 'LAT!' part had followed, he would have been well and truly dead."

~from The Fall of Fergal by Philip Ardagh

Now, on to MY story:

How many of you know where llucii is from? Do you know of her origin? How she got her name? What is she? What is she made of? What does she smell like? What does she taste like?

Well, I think it'd be alot more fun if I didn't tell you everything all at once. Perhaps at a later time YOU could tell me what you've come to learn about this...elusive character. But here I'll give you a clue. An insight to her nature... her purpose... the prophecy of llucii...

An excerpt of her life, an example of how the prophecy manifests, as recorded on the 7th day:

"llucii says...:: I would love to be there on the day, at the very precise moment when she finally sees who she really is, then crumble, fall, and disintegrate into the pathetic dirt that she is...(she can't be dust coz dust sounds too poetic)... I just want to watch as she melts in disbelief, in her own dire excretions. And after she's nothing but a bubbling pile of gunk...(she can't even be called black gunk coz black is too cool)...I will place my hand above the puddle that she is...and resurrect her. And she will not dare look at anything evermore, for the shame she will hold would be too great to bear...even for one with a neck as thick as hers...I will lift her face so our eyes will meet. She will die once more from shame and guilt, and then I will pardon her, and i will let her forth into the cesspool of life, so she can begin her slow and arduous journey to redemption...

This is the prophecy that is llucii."

This is but merely one of the manifestations of the prophecy. llucii is but a mere instrument of her own construction. Black as a passing shadow, masked by light, illuminated by darkness...her aura of moonlight, her heraldic shield of angels. She walked once, freely upon this earth, but now suppressed by chains of her own binding, released only when the beckoning of the prophecy grows too strongly, to maintain the balance. The balance which she once wrought, and wrought wrong, and thus was birthed, forever bound to the prophecy.

So hark now, little toyol of pittance! I say this once, and only once:

You couldn't get screwed even if you laid yourself naked with a

"Free for all!
Screw me once, screw me twice.
Please, I beg, I'll pay you nice!"

sign hanging around your neck. This is how much you're worth. So now, because I am of reason and of mercy, go back forth to the pit from where you crawled. Attempt to mar my light once more, and I swear, the last light you'll see will be the light from my sword plunging into where the sun don't shine.

I admit, unashamedly, that there are some I'd like to hurt.

*smiles*

...

2004-08-01T05:50:00.000+10:00

I want to go home...

DoubleYellowLine Again

2004-07-27T17:46:00.000+10:00

If music means anything to you, you have to be at this gig. Go. Don't say I never told you about it.

I, Robot

2004-07-25T04:13:00.000+10:00

I watched I, Robot and I liked it very much. I liked it because, like A.I., it made me wonder: Does being human require an inexplicable connection between the mind and the soul? Is the mind/soul a free spirit of sorts, driven by unforseen forces for which we will never be able to replicate or even come close to understanding/explaining? Or is the mind a computational device, and if so, what is the soul then? And if the mind is computational device, how would/could a robot evolve, thereby possessing thought, free-will, personality, and the other ingredients, often collectively known as being human?

Let's just take a look at how an otherwise purely computation device would ever be able to become a mind. Let's take for example that:

1) The artificial intelligence of Robot A is built upon 10 equations.

2) All actions/output of Robot A stems from these 10 equations.

3) Only these 10 equations exists in the artificial intelligence of Robot A, hence all potential and possible outputs of Robot A has been foreseen.

I am no computer expert, I can hardly rid my computer of advert bugs. But I reckon this is an extremely simplified version of how an A.I. is actually built, taking that it works like a computer program. For simplicity's sake, let's say that this is true. Thus, if all output of an A.I. is based solely on its base equations, then all output would be easily predicted by the inventors of the A.I. How then would an A.I. be able to evolve without the inventors foreseeing such an event, such as in the case of I, Robot? (although actually in I, Robot the evolution was foreseen, just not heeded. OH! Pardon me, those who haven't seen it! My thousand apologies!! *kowtows*)

Well, simple...provided my premise is correct. Evolution of an A.I., in my opinion, would only be possible if an unforseen 11th equation arises. Perhaps arising through some interaction between the 10 equations (which if the inventors did not forsee would mean that they are perhaps not as good mathematicians as they perhaps thought they were), or perhaps triggered by an external stimulus that cause the A.I. to stumble upon an 11th equation...whichever, is not my focus at the moment. Right now, I'm not concerned with how they might stumble upon the 11th equation. Eniwae, taking into consideration the roles of nanobots in robots as that of connectors or in other words, calculators of sorts, upon stumbling upon the 11th equation, there will lie 2 possible outcomes:

1) the robot will cease to function or respond to the alien stimulus, or ignore the 11th equation, or

2) the nanobots, or other A.I. drivers, will be able to calculate the result of the 11th equation, hence providing new output.

If the second outcome is taken, then inculcating the nanobots from this 'evolved' robot into another will produce a more intelligient robot. This evolution will then continue onward provided:

1) the highest levels of nanobots is always incorporated into newer robots

2) we assume that there is some sort of a 'calculator' in the A.I. (in this example, the nanobots are assumed to have this role)

3) we are unable to forsee all possible '11th equations' and put a cap on it.

I am just ranting and this 'theory' is far from being well-thought out. It occurred to me as Blossom and I were waiting for the Roulette tables to turn in our favour. I don't think its that simple. What have I not taken into consideration? What have I understood and what have I misunderstod? What other possibilities are there? ....*ponder*.... you know, by the time an idea sets in, I've no more energy left to spend testing it.

As you can see, I have too much time on my hands. But if I ever figure this out, I don't need a Nobel prize. Just gimme a job that pays 5 figures a month for me to sit around and churn out one nonsensical idea after another! :D

Or give me a castle in the clouds and make me a Lunar Changeling!

A Tale of Two Hearts

2004-07-25T03:46:00.000+10:00

Blossom went away today. He has to go back to settle some stuff. But he'll be back soon. I'll be back soon. And we'll be together again.

Blossom is a drop of sun: blossoming in spring, playing in summer, dancing in autumn and making love in winter.

I will not cry because I will see you again.
I will not smile because I cannot see you yet.

I showed him my box and he did not refrain. I left my gramaphone playing for hours but he did not mind. He likes what he sees and loves what I've got. He's mine. I'm his.

Ever my knight in shining Orc leather. Thank you for the warm winter nights.

Meng Shi She

2004-07-14T22:31:00.000+10:00

The wind smashed my camera as I was about to take a beautiful picture with Blossom at the pier with Arthur's Seat in the background, against the dark grey skies...

And so my life blood drains away...

unheeded...

neglected...

unforgivingly forsaken.

BUT!! Fretting I'm not,...yet. I am waiting in eager anticipation for lovely money to accumulate in me wallet, pockets and bank for either the Minolta Dimage z10, Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ10, or Olympus Camedia C750 (2 up from my present model). Everyone, please pray that I'll be receiving plenty during the Chinese New Year! I will reward you with many, many pics... fair deal?

Hence, I am now channeling my 'creative' energy towards my uke and Emma (yes, I still have yet to name my uke.). My jewellery are done, my toys are done, and the tarot bag for my sister is almost done. Hang on to your panties, Zchare, the bag's on its way...

Mary's graduation is on the morrow and I know she'll be looking mighty fine! Wish I could be there to watch her strut her stuff down the stage and watch her blush as I scream out fanfares for Bo Peep! She'll be a picture of ultra femininity, brains and bodaaayyyy!! And she'll be strong, hold her head high, and be proud of all that she has become, all that she has learnt and grown to be... Let your glory shine on through, Even Star!

Love has knocked on the door of my left shoe and I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the mandarin ducks are finally working its powers. Have faith, my love, and hang tight...!!

I take my leave now with these words:

How can I be certain of victory?
I can only be without fear.

~Meng Shi She

I sit & I stare...

2004-07-11T04:02:00.000+10:00

You know something must be wrong somewhere when:

1) You shit only when you get severe stomach pains from pent up crap that you cannot endure any longer or when you feel guilty for not having shat. A ritual that usually happens only twice a week.

2) You consume an equivalent of 1 cup of liquids a day and wonder why you haven't died from dehydration, which by the correct definition, should have hit you some 10 years ago at the very least.

3) Every waking and sleeping hour is plagued by fears of balding, hence propelling you to analyze every strand of hair that departs from your scalp.

4) Water, plain milk and vanilla makes you convulse and puke in the absence of conditioning.

5) You see patterns everywhere, therefore the procedures such as the washing of dishes must also adhere to its pattern.

6) You feel assymetrical.

7) You begin to seriously believe the actuality of the idea of being a lunar elf stranded on earth after the crash of the green jelly rocket ship. An idea previously entertained only as a fantasy.

8) You feel inadequate and guilty for naming your guitar but not your ukele, which was adopted first, hence totally violating the partnership, bond and order of hierarchical co-habitation. You fear your ukele will feel unloved.

9) You cannot use utensils in the proper manner because your hands cannot decide if it should follow its natural-left dominance or its nurtured-right dominance.

10) When.... when you forget what you want to write while writing that very sentence.

Stereolab's Metronomic Underground

2004-06-30T14:06:00.000+10:00

I am a toymaker with varnish on my hands. Orange oil works wonders and now my hands are clean... and a tad bit glossy.

I built a sailboat and cement truck.

I am a glitter green guitarist. Her name is Emma Starr and she's a glittery, emerald green, Martinez acoustic.

I am going to play like Gilberto and Carlos-Jobim.

I am a jewellery maker with sliced shells and a roll of wire that keeps breaking. Blossom says I can make it.

I am going to be a famous accessorizing, designing, restaurateur with a pot of bak kuah honey-oil.

I am swaying on the swings of the human psyche and the wonders of life. Piaget or Plato?

I am going to be a philosophizing psychologist or a psychotic philosopher.

I am staying in house with tragedy on my left and punk-rave-wonder on my right. Moving to another apartment will cost me an extra $300.

I am going to have one helluva wrestling match with my overactive imagination.

I am missing my family and friends especially my 3 angels and my little pea-in-a-pod (Zchare, that's you).

I am forlorn.

I am sad that I only have 3 weeks left with Love by my side as I fall asleep at night.

I am holding a breaking heart together.

llucii listens to...:: Stereolab's Metronomic Underground

Shaken & Stirred...

2004-06-21T18:59:00.000+10:00

I'm shaken...

On saturday I found out about my neighbour's passing. On sunday I saw an old man with a missing leg, fall down at the tram stop infront of a tram full of people. A young gent tried to help him up but the old man just waved him off and signalled that he was okay. But he sure didn't look it. His face was red. He touched the back of his head to see if it was bleeding and then held his head in his hands. What broke my heart even more was the way he looked at his missing leg,... at his crutches... and then started shaking his head.

I was sitting on tram 86 to get my mop conditoner, travelling around my favourite old Gertrude Street, when I got a shock from the sound of something hitting the ground. I looked toward the street and saw the old man just as he fell to the floor. My heart broke. For the second time in 2 days. I wanted to run down the tram to help him, but he had already waved off the boy. He looked resigned, helpless...

Blossom tried to comfort me. He said maybe the old man was just embarassed. Maybe he doesn't feel helpless or hopeless, like how it seemed. Maybe his ego was just bruised, but otherwise he could really be a strong-willed chap. Afterall, wouldn't anyone be embarassed if they fell down at the tram stop infront of so many people?

I tried to see it that way. But inside I wonder if he goes back to an empty apartment, or if he meets his buddies in the pub every other night. I wonder if he has family or good friends, or is he just waiting for Time? I wonder if his missing leg ignited a fervour and helped him grow stronger, or does he sit alone in the dark at night, maybe crying, maybe feeling useless. I wonder if he remembers the rainbows...

I'm stirred...

My exams have ended. My neuropsych paper today went relatively well despite the ill-planning (I actually thought my paper was tomorrow). I can finally begin on my gaming crusade, saving the world, smiting evil with my cyber fist!

But every now and then thoughts of my neighbour and of the old man still come drifting in silently. I pray that my pessimistic thoughts are just fables in my over-active imagination and neurotic emotions in overdrive. I recall darker times and acknowledge how easy it is to shut yourself from the light.

I wish I really could smite evil with my fists, save the world, bring comfort to those who've forgotten the smell of the wind... Bring back those who are almost lost... like how I was almost lost. I'm so idealistic. Even magnanimously full of shit.

But for now, in my sombre & humbled frame of mind and spirit, I hope that some day I will be able to make a difference,... some way, some how. I was feeling lost just a while ago about where my future seems to be headed, but the past 3 days has shaken me... and stirred me... And I hope I stay humbled a while more so I don't forget about what really matters... so I won't be so quick to say "life sucks!".

Carpe Diem.

The girl on that Wednesday night...

2004-06-19T17:50:00.000+10:00

We got a call just now to let 2 police officers up. They wanted access to our floor to ask us some questions.

My neighbour commited suicide.

They said she died on the 16th of June, that Wednesday night. Aaron asked how she died. They said it was better if we didn't know. They asked us if we heard anything that night or the time before. I only remember a heated argument that occurred sometime in March/April, and even then I don't know if it was from her apartment. I know my neighbour had a boyfriend coz I heard them talking and cooking together occassionally. I spoke to her once when she asked me if I had experienced a water shortage too. They were repairing a burst pipe. She said she would call the office branch to check and I thanked her for it. I never spoke to or saw her again.

On Wednesday night I was groaning away at not being able to concentrate on my work. I was giving Aaron tips on Diablo and stuffing my face with toffee to ease the tidbit pangs. All I could think of was whining and snacking. I fell asleep some time in the evening and didn't wake up til the wee hours in the morning to continue my desperate search for tidbits.

My neighbour was a petite Indonesian girl with long black hair. She wore a striped turtle-neck and black jeans when she asked me if I knew anything about the water shortage a few weeks ago. She offered to call the office branch and got a thank-you from me. She never spoke to or saw her tidbit-hogging neighbour again.

On Wednesday night, something must have happened or a long-time burden must have taken its final toll. She decided to call it quits.

I am a psychology student and an aspiring psychologist. I study and read alot about the human psyche: what propells us... what motivates us... what undermines us. Major depression, schizophrenia, bipolar, dementia, prosopagnosia...I know them all like the back of my hand. But what really runs through a person's mind during the few moments before they take the last step and bid a final farewell to this life?

There I was snacking, pigging,... ignorant in my sloth. And just behind me, behind the wall on which I was leaning and complaining to Blossom that toffees weren't enough to satisfy my greed, was a girl... lonely, desperate, irreparably anguished, and plagued with the burdens of her existence which were proving too hard to battle. There was a girl who could see no more hope, no more reason, no more sense in fighting.

Just a wall away we were, yet a world apart. Was there anything I could have done? If I had stayed awake, if I had kept quiet, might I have heard some whimper or cry for help?

So many what-ifs and maybes are running through my head now. I cannot help but feel somehow guilty. I should have remained quiet, doing my work and I might have heard something, and I might have been able to do something. I should have taken some effort in getting to know my neighbours better. I should have heard something... I should have heard something. I should have been able to do something. I was just a wall away afterall...

I feel regretful, I feel responsible somehow and I feel sorry. I never knew her but maybe I could have. A chord has been struck deep within and its resounding disconcerts me. For me, just one more toffee left... For her, nothing more.

May you find peace now, that you couldn't find in this life
May the demons that plagued you, plague you no more.
I pray to God that He will shine His light on you
And forever reside in His warm embrace
A solace at last
Everlasting.

HaloScan

2004-06-19T16:51:00.000+10:00

I've heeded the Queen Mother's advice and I'm trying out HaloScan's comment handlings. Please give me your feedback. Your comfort is, afterall, my pleasure...

Libra Sanitary Napkins

2004-06-15T00:24:00.000+10:00

Oh, the ingenuity of advertising! Now they even have notable anecdotes on the paper that protects the sticky parts of sanitary napkins (do they have a name for that?), apart from the added scent that is supposed to mask the smellies, the floral prints that are supposed to calm your nerves after the realization that you're bleeding 4 cups worth of blood, the funky colours that they come in now to match the colour of your undies, the funky genius that is the pantyliner for thong-backs (why anyone would want to wear them while recovering from the attack of the Red Tide still baffles me crazy), and the brightly coloured packets they come in, just screaming of sanitary designer chic! Oh oh, did I mention that they've got wiiings to fly?

Am I bored or what?

"ODD SPOT #54
Swans are the only birds with penises"

"ODD SPOT #72
The average human body contains enough potassium to fire a toy cannon."

"ODD SPOT #19
The poisonous copperhead snake smells like freshly cut cucumbers."

"ODD SPOT #123
More than 50% of the people in the world have never made or received a telephone call."

"ODD SPOT #111
Some lions mate over 50 times a day."

"ODD SPOT #47
The average person is about a quarter of an inch taller at night."

ODD SPOT #152
In a study of 200,000 ostriches over a period of 80 years, no one reported a single case where an ostrich buried its head in the sand."

"ODD SPOT #55
A cough releases an explosive charge of air that moves at speeds of up to 100kph."

"ODD SPOT #102
Bulletproof vests, fire escapes, laser printers and windshield wipers were all invented by women."

"ODD SPOT #92
Apples, not caffeine, are more efficient in waking you up in the morning."

Doubleyellowline

2004-06-14T00:44:00.000+10:00

Dearest One & All,

A really talented girl I know has taken on a mighty feat to perform a great service for the local scene. I really hope you'll give her your fullest support and help out any way you can. We've had many talents in the past go unnoticed, never quite receiving the recognition they deserved. I hope you'll lend your support to this effort, that's one of the many boosters that the local scene deserves, be it attending the gigs or, best, sponsorship. Thanks!!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Dear friends, acquaintances and blog-hoppers:

My name is Ave. I am organizing a gig for 6 local bands (Kate of Kale, Gloria, The Leaven Trait, Moren Tea Estate, Radium Rags and one more band, status pending) at the Substation on 15th August. The name of the gig is doubleyellowline 2004. Why "doubleyellowline", you may ask. The name connotes the no-parking rule, which embodies the spirit of the 6 bands who will be playing at the concert - no parking, no stopping, no stagnating. Keep playing. Keep going. In other words, it is the spirit of entrepreneurship and determination.

Preparations for the gig are well under way, but there is one thing that you, my friends and family, can do to help me.

We need sponsors for this gig. So far, we have only had one positive sponsorship response from Boon's Studio at Potong Pasir. He is giving us 50% off the rental charges for a drum set and 3 amps. If your company or organization is likely to be interested in being part of this event, or if you know of people who may be interested in lending their support, please convey this message to them.

The reason why we have no sponsors, even though we have already booked the Substation, is very simple: This is not a registered company or organization. It is not even an organization. The organizing committee of doublyellowline 2004 consists of a motley crue of about 10 people, myself included. None of us draw salaries above $500 a month, for those who are employed. The rest are students, or NS men. We do not have a company or patron behind us. In other words, this is a completely independent production. That is why we need the support of the people we know and trust.

I can be reached at psykedahlia@hotmail.com for the complete sponsorship package.

Please lend your support to local music. I look forward to working with you.

Yours Sincerely,

Aveline Chan
Organizer and Producer
doubleyellowline 2004

C+C Renegade

2004-06-10T20:50:00.000+10:00

Two down, one to go. And so developmental markers and states & laws of nature are gone. Now...just brain diseases and euthanasia to go. *trudging*

But for now, ITS GAMING TIME!!!!

Do you know how long I have waited? Do you know how long I've yearned for you? to taste you... to feel you move in rhythmn with me... to hear them moan as we take 'em down one by one... *shiver* My Beautiful Computer games, here I am once again. All for you. Just the two of us. Your mistress has returned to you.

*scampers off into the darkness.... a distant sound of gunfire is heard... then the smell of the ion cannon searing flesh...*

*salivates*

llucii plays...:: C + C Renegade

Disturbed Dreams from My Disturbed Mind

2004-06-09T11:44:00.000+10:00

Went to bed at 6+. Saw another sunrise. Woke at 11+ with strange dreams. Disturbing dreams.

"Cernoch & Porter (1985) found that babies preferred the scents of lactating females."

*groan* My paper is in 3 and a half hours and my brain is cramping. My innards are shuddering and my urinary tract is about to have a seizure.

Quick, Angels! Gather round and cast magic spells on my brain! Please wish it to work! *thinks of Angels and kowtows to God*

Shaffer's Developmental Psychology

2004-06-08T09:37:00.000+10:00

How many sunrises more will I live to see?

* * *

...and so she sits by the window recalling yesterdays and dreaming of time yet born, a strange sensation coursing through her veins... ah! the old familiar feeling... that unquenchable desire... Its funny how those subtle movements could trigger such a massive explosion from the excited neurons. Yes. Those excited neurons. Firing wildly in their sheer splendour. And then she hears them calling...

"Awaiting orders."

llucii reads...

:: Shaffer's Developmental Psychology

D.A. Thomas' Rebellion

2004-06-05T08:54:00.000+10:00

Lack of nocturnal sleep + Extreme daytime sleepiness could very well be cursors to possible narcolepsy or apneas of some sort.

"Who shall be judge whether the prince or legislative act contrary to their trust?... To this I reply: The people shall be judge."

My exams are next week. Sleep I have not, and neither drive. A fog I have entered from which I seem to be choosing not to escape. Thus I reiterate: My middle name should have been Procrastination.

"By fundamental law of nature, it could not be that the people lack the right to resist their own destruction. Therefore they must have a right to resist a government and recover the power it exercises over them."

The sweet sound of snoring singing in my ears, as my Blossom, strewn over the warm bed like fallen petals asleep in winter, brings to mind the comfort that awaits me as soon as I am done with these cantings of dithering philosophers...

llucii reads...

:: From Locke on Government, D.A. Thomas' Rebellion

Stone Temple Pilots' Seven Caged Tigers

2004-06-04T21:34:00.000+10:00

Grrr.....I'm fuming... I have realised that my tagboard does not have an archive, so that means that I have lost all previous tags. Grrr.... I am seriously contemplating a switch back to livejournal, but the lack of html knowledge is holding me back. See, Blogspot? You should have just included a section for comments/tags. Would have made your customers so much happier! Bleh to you!

My angel has finally succumbed to the temptation of blogging. Hahahha! You have been seduced! Welcome to our realm! --> refer to the new link under 'kakis'.

I miss my angelic Raisin...

:(

llucii listens to...

:: Stone Temple Pilots' Seven Caged Tigers

Muse's Sing for Absolution

2004-06-03T09:26:00.000+10:00

*singing*

Tiptoe to your room,
A starlight in the gloom
I only dream of you
And you never knew.

Sing for Absolution
I will be singing
Falling from your grace

There's nowhere left to hide
In no one to confide
The truth burns deep inside
And will never die

Lips are turning blue
A kiss that can't renew
I only dream of you
My Beautiful...

I won't remain unrectified
and our souls won't be absolved

llucii listens to...:: Muse's Sing for Absolution

Lovage's Strangers On A Train

2004-06-03T07:24:00.000+10:00

What would I do if my daughter reached out for machine guns instead of ditzy dolls? What would I do if my son would rather play tea-party with Flopsy the Bunny and Barbie, over waging wars against cyborgs with the neighbourhood hoodlums? Would I let them do as they please or would I try to encourage them to engage in play that's more appropriate to their biological stereotypes?

What would I do if my son looked at me in the eye and said that he really does prefer staying home and learning how to sew than playing rugby with his school mates? What would I say to my daughter if she wanted to be an altar server and play in the soccer team, which so far has only accepted male players? Would I buy my boy a sewing kit and throw his rugby boots away? And would I petition to the priests to let my daughter serve, or would I just hug her and tell her that such is life?

What would I do if my son started to withdraw and feel like there was something really wrong with him because he has different tendencies from the other guys in school? What if my daughter feels that she's suddenly turning into a freak and believes that nobody will ever accept her? Should I tell them that they are going through a pubescent phase that will pass, or that this is just who they are and they should embrace it? Should I tell them that gender identity is genetically predetermined but that I had tried to coax them into gender stereotypes so that they could fit in, and now I'm sorry I wasn't successful? Or should I tell them bollocks to genetic fortune telling, that they really should just accept who they are because I love them either way, and that I'm sorry that the world is going to give them a hard time as long as they don't conform?

I know what I want to do. I want to encourage them to grow into individuals with principles, morals, virtues... individuals who judge with the spirit and not the body... individuals who can discern the right from wrong, and make just decisions... individuals who embrace and accept instead of rejecting and scorning... individuals who love instead of hate... individuals with passionate hearts and peaceable minds, regardless of their sex, gender and other labels that threaten to encase them in shrouds of elusive social definitions.

But who will allow me, even if I were able to achieve such a feat? Would I allow myself to put my kids in jeopardy of facing society's cruel stones? Will others allow me to bring up my children as free spirits? To risk the pain to attain pleasure, or forget pleasure to be spared the pain? To choose the lesser of two evils, but which is the lesser?

My curse and blessing is in being a misfit... or a free spirit, as a friend once called me. Should I subject my offsprings to the same pain? Should I allow them the same pleasure?

The examples are so stereotypical they make me churn. Conjured by my readings on lectures covering Stability and Change in Self-Concept, they echo popular misconceptions (do forgive me). But hearken the real issue at hand. It is not just an issue that gender roles and identity pay painful tribute to. This is an issue of life. Everything that defines who we are, everything that doesn't... All ideals, expectations, desires... be it political, social, physical, psychological, biological, public or personal...everything is in danger, everything is an issue as long as it doesn't fit in with the normative standards.

And then... what is normal?

Even relativity is relative and non-relative all at once.

I could not have kids and forever wonder at the miracle of being a mother.

where would that leave me?

Tis easier being simple, for nothing will plague thee then.
But even then, the ignorance resounding will tear at thine hungering heart.

*sigh* Ponderings that plague at 6am. Life will be alot easier just keeping a dog.

But even then, the government won't let me keep a Mastiff without burning a hole in my pocket.

Oh! the ache from this muzzle and bridle bit...

llucii listens to...:: Lovage's Strangers On A Train

My Silent Beauty... Tales from a Skeletal Grey Girl

2004-06-01T06:47:00.000+10:00

My silent beauty
Wandering so.
In the depths of my reality,
Dark caves of thoughts unleashed.

Reaching out to the horse of moments past
I feel its heaving breath.
What strange contraption works within
The ticking of a complex mechanism.

Then strange silence.

"Who's there?", says the strange elf
Clad in rags of shrouded gloom.
The armour beneath still wearing a faded glint
Exonerated by the encroaching rust.

What works you funny, grey lunar
And the changeling extends a skeletal hand.
Sad to eyes that do not see
But joyous to hearts that do believe.

So the sepia-toned tunnel grows dimmer
And the strange girl gives a wink
A whiff of lavender and a drip from a tap
Tomorrow's child of yesterday's frost.

And the tunnel continues onward.

Bibik Chilli Padi

2004-05-31T19:44:00.000+10:00

You know you are the epitome of brilliance when you stick your fingers in your nose after handling chilli padi.

Very clever I am.

llucii listens to...::

Sapoo's Tales from a Flaming Nostril

Ow.

Lewis Carroll's Through The Looking Glass

2004-05-20T19:32:00.000+10:00

A-trotting I went, one day, off with a merry skip,
Down a lane, and round about, to the lake for an icy dip.
There I chanced upon a fellow, queer as a roach's sneeze,
Who told me a story I'll never forget that made me laugh and wheeze!
So enjoy this poem, my dearest chooks,
One of his many conjurations.
And if you like, I'll give you more
To smother your daily lamentations!!
TA Daaaah!!

....stay tuned for more Lucii's Looney Limericks

Child of the pure unclouded brow
And dreaming eyes of wonder!
Though time be fleet, and I and thou
Are half a life asunder,
Thy loving smile will surely hail
The love-gift of a fairy-tale.

I have not seen thy sunny face,
Nor heard thy silver laughter;
No thought of me shall find a place
In thy young life's hereafter -
Enough that now thou wilt not fail
To listen to my fairy-tale.

A tale begun in other days,
When summer suns were glowing -
A simple chime, that served to time
The rhythmn of our rowing -
Whose echoes live in memory yet,
Though envious years would say 'forget'.

Come, heraken then, ere voice of dread,
With bitter tidings laden,
Shall summon to unwelcome bed
A melancholy maiden!
We are but older children, dear,
Who fret to find our bedtime near.

Without, the frost, the blinding snow,
The storm-wind's moody madness -
Within, the firelight's ruddy glow
And childhood's nest of gladness.
The magic words shall hold thee fast:
Thou shalt not heed the raving blast.

And though the shadow of a sigh
May tremble through the story
For 'happy summer days' gone by,
And vanish'd summer glory -
It shall not touch with breath of bale
The pleasance of our fairy-tale.

~ Lewis Carroll: Through the Looking Glass

Frank Sinatra's Full Moon & Empty Arms

2004-05-16T17:04:00.000+10:00

I have exhausted the sun so I had to feed my poor Blossom green bean soup. Fever and phelgm make a nasty combination for fun in the sun.

I am happy again and have never felt more domesticated in my life! Angels, Angels!! Guess what?!!! I have climbed up 2 notches in the HouseWife scale! I steamed fish last night!! But please do not get me wrong. A housewife I will be over my dead body which I will not want Ben to pick up coz he's been thru too much already...that poor boy... but a home-maker I could possibly live with. Do not scoff at me, my Beefy Bovine, or my play with words...I cannot help it. I grew up on politically correct bedtime stories.

Everyone, say: "Happy Birthday, Beautifullest JiaoKutZai" "Girl.... you'll be a woman soon...." Heheheh! You are 24. Time for you to go out, work, and support me! :D

Aaron & I went to Prahan on Friday and we got the first items for our Dragon hoard! Our house is gonna be furnished with beautiful gothic, charcoal dragon sculptures and we found a set we really liked from this gothic shop called Charley Weavers... Beautiful cutlture, beautiful people, beautiful sculptures... So the first in our collection are two charcoal Dragon candlestands. We're still thinking of names for our lovely children. Something medieval...something draconic... will keep u posted!

Just got interrupted by a tripped fire alarm. Firefighters were storming up the fire escape as poor Blossom and I trudged down the stairs, with the feeling of falsity eating away at our guts. We stood in the freezing wind of winter pending. Blossom said we should have brought our camera. Maybe the firefighters should have brought their cameras to mark this second cheating of feelings... Stupid fire alarms! Wrecked my baby's sleep and my blogging input! And the poor firefighters who had to come all the way here and for nothing!! Grrrr...

Eniwae, conscience calls and tis time for me to bury meself in books of major consequences I hope will never befall me: Epilepsey and Temporal Lobe Seizures

Tata for now, Tee Tee for then...
See yer laters, My Beautiful Friends!

Full moon and Empty arms
The moon is there for us to share but where are you
A night like this could weave a memory
And every kiss would start a dream for two

Full moon and Empty arms
Tonight I'll use the magic moon to wish upon
And next full moon, if my one wish comes true
My empty arms will be filled with you

llucii listens to...

:: Frank Sinatra's Full Moon & Empty Arms

Lamb's What Sound

2004-05-12T21:22:00.000+10:00

A gust lifted the leaf through the winnowing sunlight as it searched for its blossom. Then the jamais vu lifted as quickly as it had descended, and the leaf turned its head to look into the beautiful ebony eyes of one... the one? Possibly. Maybe. The sun bathed the two lovers in its warm embrace as the wind twirled the two in a dance to the rhythm felt only in their hearts... a lifetime forever in a moment.

(This is not a watch advertisement.)

So is the story of my missing.

And my angels are discussing their nosepicking habits and the tang of their delightful produce...*shakes head* Nevermind, I still love them. ;D

And And my baby cousin is blossoming everyday, into a flower more beautiful than the one she was the day before...oh how I adore her!! *hug*

News: A hippopotamus swallowed a dwarf in a circus in Thailand. The dwarf bounced off a trampoline and was accidentally thrown off course and landed in the mouth of a yawning hippo that was waiting for its turn on stage. The hippo has always been vegetarian and the trampoline is suspected of foul play.

A song for you before I go,
To dig your nose or suck your toe
Let it now light up your heart
Before you let out that gargantuan fart!!..........*raises eyebrows repeatedly*

What is that sound
Ringing in my ears
The strangest sound
I've heard for years & years
The sound of two hearts
Beating side by side
The sound of ...one love
That neither one can hide

The sound that makes the world go round
The sound that makes the world go round

What is that sound
Running round my head
Funny I thought
That part was long since dead
But now there's new life
Coursing through my veins
Now that there's someone
To make it beat again...

The sound that makes the world go round.

llucii listens to...:: Lamb's What Sound

Ravi Shankar: Raga Ahir Bhairav

2004-05-05T10:17:00.000+10:00

......*zzzzzttt*.......*zzzzttt*......*zzzzttt*.....

my brain feels like a flourescent lamp with a loose connection,....light flickering every few minutes, accompanied by a zzzttt...like a fly getting fried.

My ragas are being rudely interrupted by nova.fm blasting from the garbage truck downstairs!!! Aren't garbage trucks supposed to pick up the rubbish and move on? Why is it stagnating downstairs?

I have been up since my 2 hour nap that ended at 9pm. I have officially become nocturnal. I get a headache when the sunlight blasts its solar energy on my pale, moon-shadowed face, so I quickly pull the blinds back down. Oh jolly, the garbage truck has moved on.

News: there was a red moon last night. Too bad I missed it. I would have loved to see Mr. Moon adorn a red dress for once. I wonder if it had red sequins like Satine's in Moulin Rouge...or maybe it was beautiful like a cabaret queen's during Mardi Gras. Its nice to dress up once in while. I would like to parade in a blood-red sequinned dress once in a while,... alone on a dark lonely stage, with the only sounds coming from the tappings of my red satin shoes. Lovely. I would match the imperial stage drapes. Curtain call....

*groan* Ugh! The battle with M's!! First it was Max,... now Marquis...later, Machiavelli. Why? Is this punishment for not enjoying M&Ms enough? I can't help it. I prefer my chocolates melted. Like dear ol' Kinder Bueno.... or Twix, after spending a day in my back pocket... I hear the Lindt chocolates are good as well. The insides are already melted...... ooooohh

My Sunshine's coming in 3 days! The only sunlight I can take... Hurry, Blossom! Oh, I can't wait! The agony of suspense........ I'm so excited that I almost feel nervous. *gasp* What if I suddenly forget how he looks like? What if he doesn't recognize me? Oh! The anticipation.... its rousing the belly-butterflies.... I think I'm going to be sick....*convulsing from excitement*

News: There will be a meteor shower this afternoon. Wow. Wouldn't it just be a wonderful spectacle. Like fireworks in daytime. Like a candlelit dinner at 1pm in the park in the middle of the business district. Out of point. Cosmos, you fail me again.

2 days to complete 2 essays...*looks up with squinting, tired, puffy eyes, at the moon that has been replaced by a cumulus cloud*.....*groan*.... I need I need a puff from the magic dragon or some MDMA.... why am I allergic to all the things that could be useful to me?

*pulls hat back down and collar up, and shoves fingerless-gloved hands deep into the pockets of her old and dusty trenchcoat, and trudges back down the lonely street, lit by a single lamp, illuminating a monochromatic world*.........

llucii listens to...:: Ravi Shankar's Raga Ahir Bhairav

Rammstein - Links 2, 3, 4

2004-05-04T05:00:00.000+10:00

*GROWL*...*ROAR*...*Mutates into a dark beast, smashing every bone in sight, tearing bodies apart with teeth, of those foolish enough to step in my path*

Wah lau....if only you could see me now, with scalding steam bursting forth through every pore from my body, sweat dripping down my face as it slowly turns into blood...claws unsheathed, fangs bared... eyes blood shot, veins swollen with rage and throbbing to the beat of an Orc drum calling for war... my breathing is getting heavier and more intense as images of ripping his cursed body apart with my bare hands, runs through my head. I feel a surge of sweet satisfaction as I picture myself scalping him with the shard from a window, freshly smashed with his..blasted...(I'm forcing myself not to cuss)...head. I yearn to hear his painful, pitiful, but vain cries for mercy, screaming confessions that have all come but too late. "Sorry, boy, I can't hear you." says I, as I hum to Lamb Chops Play Along.

No. No. No. I am above this. I will breathe steadily. I will press my pointers against my thumbs and feel the serene strength of meditation course through my body, dispelling all negative forces and energy. I am above this. I am one with the universe. I am a tree. I am a rock. I am a leaf floating on the wind....

I feel like kicking the shit out of him, that bloody egoistic prick, staining the face of christianity by claiming to be a "devoted christian". That idiot actually seriously thinks he's THE Messiah. The Jesus of our century. Pathetic. He's not even worth decomposing spit.

No, no, no. This won't do.

*Ommm*.....I am untouchable. I am above this.

I refuse to allow myself to be stirred by such lowly creatures.

....to be continued

I may be listening to Rammstein but I feel more like King Diamond.... balls!

*a growl is heard...fading into the distance.......*

Björk : Possibly Maybe

2004-05-03T21:58:00.000+10:00

Been wanting to write since yesterday but forced myself to at least try to get started on my essays...

Vharunee Kyiiren should be obliterated and Procrastination be put in their places as my middle name...

My poor Queen Mama has lost the Royal Hound..."don't worry, dear, all dogs go to Heaven...Gypsy, no less".... it brings to mind the puppies I killed when I was young. The guilt hangs above my head like a crown of thorns. Maybe that's why I still don't have a dog of my own. But how was I to know that dogs aren't like plants? I just thought they needed the sun to grow as well. I didn't know it didn't work that way... :(
Nevermind, there's Pepper now. I'm her god-mother and aunty. I will make sure she grows up strong and healthy.

So here I sit, all alone, in the evening of gloom. My Blossom has gone to play mahjong. I know what I should be doing now: do work or sleep. *sigh* Solitude is like quicksand in Paradise. When you're not there, you want to get there. But once you're in it, you realise you have to get out before you get too deep. But with every attempt that you make to get out, you just sink deeper into the gloomy unknown. After a while, you accept that struggling is futile and you listen to the birds flying over head and smile at their serenade; you look at the trees as they dance in the wind, lulling you into a serene dream state; you look up at the blue sky above and realise that life couldn't be more peaceful than this, and you close your eyes and are contented. But every now and then you look around you, and how your body and sand have amalgamated into one. You can't even tell if you still have got your panties on. Then you want out. Soon enough though, you slip back into your trance-like bliss and forget about the sand in your underwear.

I wonder: 1) do I want to get out of this solitude I always rave about, 2) am I willing to share my little spot of a quicksand with another, or 3) should I just embrace this solitude and be one with the universe, forever entombed in the earth in a lotus position?

I remember the peacefulness I felt as I stopped at the halfway mark on the bridge over the railway station. Everything was still. The sky was a deep blue, the kind you never see in Singapore, with not a cloud in the sky. I closed my eyes, arms outstretched, and tilted my head back. The sun seduced my skin with its warmth, while the coolness of the wind caressed my body, ensuring that I did not get scalded by the heat of passion. The play of the two, an encasement of yin & yang. The sounds of distant chucking of the train and the cries of seagulls were all that filled my ears. I could smell the sea just over yonder, and each breath was sweeter than the last. I opened my eyes, and I was content.

You would often find me smiling and looking straight up at the world above, on my walks home to Docklands. I miss Docklands. Life wasn't dandy, but my walks were my escape. And they showed me the beauty that this life has to offer. Every pebble on the road, every shard of glass from a broken beer bottle...even the twisted metal in the abandoned construction sites...they were all beautiful.

Yet every night, I looked to the moon and wondered. A forlornness in my heart, a homesickness that wasn't just for my family in Singapore... but for that harbour, that respite I've been searching for,... for that final destination before the eye of life shuts.

Hmm...I guess yes, I have always delved deep, wallowing in my solitaire mystery that I loved. But then, even a Joker constantly seeks for his pack. Likewise, despite the comfort that I find in solitude, I also know that I fear loneliness. Solitude can be dangerous when it starts tipping into loneliness, but otherwise there's nothing that I enjoy more...

...other than being in love.

So yes, come on then, Blossom, come over here...come on in and join me in my quicksand.
It'll just be like having our own little spa of a mud bath,... all at once and forever in this tiny universe!

possibly maybe probably love

as much as I definitely enjoy solitude
I wouldn't mind perhaps
spending a little time with you
sometimes
sometimes

possibly maybe probably love

Bjork : Possibly Maybe

2004-05-01T20:48:00.000+10:00

Ah! Finally! Happy enough with my blog after 4 hours of battling with html. Ironic how I was so adamant the night before, that I would never want to touch anything that's even remotely associated with html. Sorry for all the strands of hair you lost, Rachoo...deepest apologies.

But alas, here I am, all blogspot-converted and finding that html ain't as tough as it looks. (thanks Ben, for your unceasing encouragement and literally being there EVERY painful step of the way! Couldn't' have done it without yours and Lissa's tips! Heh! And yes, Rachoo, I know, you told me so...)

Eniwae, this web spot of a journal is the 2nd child, of which I have decided to abandon the first. Call it a lack of maternal instincts or even a violation of loyalty if you must, but I am unrepentent. Blogspot IS a lot prettier than live journal. :D Again, apologies to you, Rachoo.

For those of you who missed out on my very first journal entry (inscribed in livejournal), here it is:

"1:48AM - Salutations

Greetings all and welcome...

after years of treading on the sidelines, months of walking on the edge, weeks of visitations and days of contemplation...it has all come to this: an hour of impulse.

so here I am, at last...initiated and wondering.

Stay tuned while I try to warm my freezing fingers and decide what's on my mind.

See ya... "

TA DAAAH! And so heralds the end of the belief in 'what is private should remain private'.

I wonder if its this type of addiction that lures people into the glitz and glamour of being a celebrity...or wanting to be a celebrity...hmm... *shudder* Nay! I refuse to admit to such absurdity, true tho it seem! I refuse to associate myself with such mentality!! Cheh! *shudder*

No, seriously. As I'd like to believe, public rantings and ravings can have therapeutic powers. When psychotic patients speak out loud, seemingly to no one, or when they run around in the starkies, they aren't just doing it out of pure lunacy, ya know. What they're doing is very much like what I'm doing in this journal. Only difference is, they don't/might not have access to the net, and I do not have the courage to do so in public! hahaha!

Right...
now its time I got back to what's at hand:

"Outline and assess Don Marquis' argument for the immorality of abortion."

*groan*

2004-05-01T16:56:00.000+10:00

Ahem...testing....

oui...