Wednesday, September 29, 2004
- 10:25 pm
i wish i werent so stupid.
- 6:00 am
fallenfromgrace
yeay! new gallery album thingy!
Keep each other
from heartache
because the time you share
will become short
Then when you are together
for many years
they will seem like just minutes
Heartache
Keep each other
for your whole lives
Heartache
le sigh.
nothing gold can stay,
nothing ever does.
maxine was right about memory.
Come in my boat
a storm is rising and the night is coming
Where do you want to go
quite alone you are drifting away
Who will hold your hand
when it pulls you downward
Where do you want to go
So boundless the cold sea
Come is my boat
The wind of autumn keeps the sails stiff
Now you are standing by the lantern
with tears in your eyes
The daylight falls to the side
The evening light sweeps empty the streets
Come in my boat
Yearning becomes the helmsmen
Come in my boat
The best sailor was I
Now you are standing by the lantern
with tears in your face
You take the fire from the candle
Now you are standing with tears in your face
Fall is coming, the only spoke of your mother
So merciless is the night
In the end I'm left alone
The time stands still
and I am cold
Monday, September 27, 2004
- 4:19 pm
how am i going to get into a JC like this?
i give you my preliminary examination english essay,
walls
walls. how completely, and surely they surround me. they serve to keep everything out, but to the naked flame of my soul, i am kept in, trapped. i used to be free, but the walls of my guilty conscience have driven me close to insanity, and i can find no release from this mass of solid grey matter encapsulating my mind. i am stuck here, lugubrious, as peripatetic thoughts, woven from the intricate strands of my mind hover about in the dark, never to be released. i will never be free of these walls, for a deed committed in a moment of weakness, a flash of passion and anger that has rended me irredeemable, unforgiven.
i sit here under the flickering light of a dying lamp post, as the moon, once so warm, the same silver moon which used to carress me with gentle streams of moonlight, once so loving, sits in the sky, hard, cold, casting pale yellow beams down at me, as if it knows.(i miss you.)these walls, they filter the good out of everything, and has left me a miserable wreck of a man, a shade of the person i once was. i look at my calloused hands and close my eyes, and it all comes back. the walls in my mind refuse to let the memory out, the memory of a night in which i committed my most grievious sin.
she was beautiful. she was the angel of my dreams, and the queen of passion and love, and i loved her like no man ever could. when we were together, her tempestuous eyes would be latched on to mine, as we would gaze at each other under the stars, reading each others eyes without the need to talk. she was nineteen, but already she possessed a maturity beyond her years. she was beauty incarnate, and i loved every part of her, from her long silky black hair, to her shapely feet. it was all going to be so perfect, until that night. until the night i saw that man walk through her door, and watched it close behind him. as i stood there, i thought the worst of her; that maybe she was cheating on me! then i heard a shriek, a clatter, and all was silent once more. i ran from the kerb at which i stood, straight into the house, through the unlocked door. the walls, they surrounded me. i paused in the kitchen and armed myself with a knife before proceeding upstairs, and there she lay dead. her once lively, fiery eyes now blank, the hilt of a knife sticking out from her chest, blood spattered on the walls. the walls, i could not escape the walls, as u grabbed her, and held her still form close until a howl of fury built up in my throat, which drew her killer from a room. without a moments hesitation, i plunged the knife deep into his chest, going down, down, down and twisted it. this feckless worm had come to rob, and he robbed me of my love. i did not care that he was dead, did not care that his warm blood streamed in rivulets from his nose, and gushed from his chest like a bloody red spring, or that he had stopped struggling. i ran from that place, just ran, and eventually lay down in a swoon by the side of the road.
and here i am now. two nights later, with nothing to live for. i was a murderer, and now i realise; i have built these walls myself, to shut out emotion, whilst i drown in the inescapable guilt and sorrow. these walls will never let me be free or happy again.
a crumpled up piece of newspaper blows across the road, and the velvet dark cloak of the night throws itself upon everything. a cat meowls, and looks up at me, its yellow eyes almost challenging, its black coat blending into the night. i sit on an old cement chair, interspersed with graffiti and various markings undoubtedly left by the vandals. the light still flickers, and sometimes i am plunged into darkness, as is my mind, all light blocked out by those walls. the tread of feet coming closer along the deserted road breaks the silence, and then eventually fades away. probably just the echoes of a disenchanted lover, shuffling aimlessly home. i cradle the package i have been carrying in my arms like a child. a clock nearby chimes twelve times. it is time.
it looks like any ordinary package, but as i remove the brown wrapping from the box, i know it contains my only form of release. a chill wind blows, eating through my thin shirt, whispering into my ears, as hands with blood encrusted nails reach in, slowly, carefully, tenderly groping about the box until they reach the cold, metallic object within. the cat has leapt onto the bench by now, as the dark green leaves of the trees rustle, and they bend over, as if trying to grab at me.
this will set me free. after this, there will be nothing, my soul will be freed from the shackles of life and bondage to the body to fly among the stars. the walls will crumble, and i will be let loose once more. i hold the gun in my left hand, hesitating slightly, but steeling my resolve to block out that weakness, before i speak out my last words into the cold,lonely german night.
"ach du lieber *******, du weg, weg, weg."
it was from a favourite poem of mine, as i repeated it in english.
"oh my dear *******+, all is gone, gone, gone."
for indeed, everything was gone. all was lost.
+name hidden
i felt the cold muzzle of the gun press against my temple, like i felt the blood throbbing through the veins there. adrenaline surged through my body, while i heard distant sirens growing louder and louder. they were coming for me, the police. i blame it not on the killer, not on her, but on me. i blame my miserable plight, my sorrowful state, my woeful existence on the walls, for they have driven me to this. walls of guilt and sorrow, walls impermeable, unbreakable, yet so phantasmal, walls inescapable, walls existing in my mind. there were too many walls, and i yearned for freedom, as my finger tightened on the trigger, and in that millisecond, i saw her, smiling, beckoning towards me, my glowing beauty, and-
BANG!
the walls shattered, a cascading mass of broken glass falling onto the ground and disappearing. he was free, as the night grew less suffocating, and the moon cast her sweet yellow beams on him. she would rise again tomorrow, he would just fade into obscurity, another nameless man in a lonely world. a man free from the shackles of life, from the walls in his mind.
above his still frame, the light went out.
-akesh-
and if you want, maybe we can have a deer dance?
a deer dance refers to one of two things, its
a) my peculiar style of playing soccer down the flanks, and scoring from the sides, whilst mainly being a defensive player and running up and down the field many many times and so putting christian vieri, useless bastard #1 to shame
b) a slow dance with a special person...is a deer dance
deer are elegant little creatures, with spindly little legs for swift, graceful movement.
maybe ill go to acjc, apparently their drama is quite good there.
and maybe well have a deer dance,
someday.
Sunday, September 26, 2004
- 11:20 am
spare us through all things
if i had three wishes, id wish for flight, for a beautiful desert island, and with my very last wish, id wish for a million wishes.
and with those, id take time back.
anyway. its raining here, and its 1130 in the morning, and why im awake at this ungodly hour puzzles me. it boggles the mind! it flies in the face of reason! after the o's this must change. ill become a demi james, but ill sleep till 2 instead of 5 on sundays, and although ill probably wake up at nine as usual, ill force myself to lay about till 2. unless of course im waking up on the side of a strange unknown road, or in a strange room. then i get up and chao.
real madrid lost again, this time to athletic bilbao. dear god, please let things go back to normal.
please let everything go back to normal...return real madrid their lost form...put ac milan back on top where they belong....force liverpool to accept that offer so they can buy back owen and thrash man u and arsenal...
more research on successful drug policy shows that treatment should be increased!
and law enforcement decreased while abolishing mandatory minimum sentences!
and give it back.
give it all back.
Saturday, September 25, 2004
- 8:03 pm
its too late now.
its bad. really really bad. i was so wrong, so damn wrong, and i went and screwed it all up. let death take me, i dont care...i miss, i pine, i despair, i know longing like never before. i dream every night, and every night i wake up in fits of despair such that i write like nothing ive ever done, just stay up and write about beauty and perfection and joy and comfort, because i see them - i see them in my dreams, i see things i never saw elsewhere. i see a lot of things, but i see few people. the spark that glows within myself will eventually die in due course, i feed everything into one thought, an image, a soul, an impression, a person in my mind, and i take away and i suffer. for sheer stupidity which blasted everything that was...and everything now is different. what a ride its been, but the rides over. i wish i could explain everything.......but i cant, not now, not anymore. everything is dead.
i miss you.
- 12:44 pm
i blogged again, but it was too personal, so i just saved it as a draft.
whats the gender of our generation?
wake up,
you dreamin too much boy.
you wantin too much,
you missin too much,
you hurtin too much,
stop or you gonna go too far boy.
dont take that step cos its mine leading towards self righteous suicide. if i died, id make sure itd be for some beautiful reason. i jumped off a cliff at night to feel the velvet smoothness of the air hold me for eternity as i fall forever, i starve to death to understand the true meaning of suffering, i burn myself to become one with the elements, earth fire water.
speak with me, my only mind
you take the legend for a fall
wednesday and thursday were good.
i met ramya and then i left for starbucks, where i wrote the other entry in a somewhat distracted manner until my dear friend max appeared and then we were at starbucks for a while, and then we parted company, and i went on to lido and took the next show for the terminal which was the 2pm show (and it was 155! talk about luck man) and then i was luckier still because the person i was next to was really nice, and we chatted and laughed like crazy throughout the show, and in the end, we swapped numbers, although i dint really take hers down and i gave her someone elses number (damn i need to sneeze. ahwaikitchoo! no i dont really sneeze like that. although thats pretty much obvious. see how i meander?) i was walking out and this bunch of girls (so much for them trying to be discreet) were pointing at my shirt and giggling cos it read
stop staring
you cant afford it
then i go to borders hoping against hope that reise, reise is out there - but its not. i end up seeing ariffin, amin, bhavan and a number of other people, including the great fashion guru who wore the trendy purple shirt to youniverse. [woosah!]
the toxicity of our city
then the next day i go out with hulin shumin and kat, and as expected, we had a great time, although i did have to call my dad and ask him to bail me out.
damn.....woke up like 630 this morning just so that i could be at yew tee by 830. im usually there like 830 saturday mornings before going to these blocks to do work.
its all part of the big plan involving ligation of our nation.
singapore our home and nation,
together with deforestation,
join in like youve never,
done before!
yesterday alex from new zealand called, and we have vowed to swap accents.
dum de do.
thing is, i wrote this action packed, emotion charged entry- and then deleted it. i dont know why, i just dont want to, cos whats it gonna achieve? whats it gonna change? nothing, except that i needed to write.
ah well.
its hot and sunny, and the dust swirls about in the air outside, as the sounds of a pneumatic drill penetrate the walls of my room, and not even the lazy rotations of my fan is doing anything to help alleviate the discomfort brought about by the intense heat.
of course, i could have said that in one line,
its really hot in here.
malapropism to the max.
or i coulda said extreme.
ah well, maxtreme will just have to do.
math math math
big bad voodoo
and in a while, things will go back to their normal continuum,
time will resume once more,
as i take the seconds apart and peer at their innards.
what makes a second?
okay, lets take time to be a wave.
and then lets consider it to be a fourth dimension, and a sort of treadmill on which the other three dimensions run. this wave has crests and peaks, and occasionally you can look back in time and see things from beyond the dimensions, in other terms, see memories, things that once moved through a certain place - which explains ghosts and paranormal sightings. this wave of time comprises of slides, because the smallest unit is not a second. the smallest unit of time is infinitely small, but if we were to consider it in context with a living person, it would be the time taken for the smallest macromolecule in the body to move very, very slightly. a second is made up of millions of these, like an eternity to the small things withinm but just another second to us, as it slips us by. it just moves along- unstoppable. technically, travelling back in time should only be made possible with the advent of interdimension travel - and that would take millions of years to do. to put a living thing from three dimensions into existence on a piece of paper, or on the floor like a perpetual cartoon without damage to the organism mentioned would be the first form, and from there, things will progress. the innards of a second can be divided into slides, which once lived, can never be returned. look outside now, and watch the trees move and sway, then come back in. now think of the time you were standing there a few seconds ago, watching them sway. it seemed so inconsequential then, while it was happening, but you realise you can never have that time back.
as much as you want time back,
time spent somewhere,
time spent doing something,
time spent with someone.
you can never have it back.
Thursday, September 23, 2004
- 9:25 pm
http://www.apple.com/trailers/fox/dodgeball/traillarge.html
"dodgeball is a sport of violence, exclusion and degradation. make sure you pick the bigger, stronger kids for your team. that way, you can gang up on the weaker ones."
goddammit, dodgeball was so bloody stupid, it was funny.
today, we did all sorts of things,
and once again, it started at starbucks, and hulin later came and told us to stop mugging! cos i was trying to decipher chinese and coming up with all sorts of stuff such as dancing man and house on fire.
then we went to watch dodgeball, whilst starbucks.....starbucks.
all around town.
what else are fairy godpeople for?
cos today we had a top scoring table hockey player, and a scary fierce one who scared the hell outta me.
i came back on an mrt, and time seemed to drag and crawl, as i cut it up and thought about every second as it passed me by, and i thought about a lotta things, and a few people.
and what happens now,
pray tell?
katling thrashed us all at table hockey.
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
- 7:47 pm
be prepared for longness, cos its about to smack you straight in the face, like how that guy who dint want braces paid someone to do. just stop reading right here and now, because youll probably not understand much of what im saying due to the fact that the whole thing is a chunk of hidden meaning, and nothing is what it seems.
life is a waterfall,
you think you got something,
but then you gone and lost it all
let the edgar allen poes have their say, and the mark twains cry wild, ill just write. sitting here in delifrance hearing them play that stupid 'pretty boy' song over and over again. some fag he musta been, so i put on the headsets, cos system of a down telling me that their building a prison for you and me sounds much better.
and the time disappears and im back in my little glass sanctum starbucks, with a mocha frappe in fronta me, a ton of memory over me, rammstein playing, the handphones going, and the wallet lies down like a docile little thing...but its different. its wrong. it not how it shoulda been. somethings missing. in a while, the tone of this writing will change with the music in my headset. industrial rock is telling me to become a striking industrial worker, but i know what i want, to go to europe or america and act. of course if ramya becomes a director, its settled, otherwise ill do something else, failing which ill become a bearded old man living in a cave in the mountains. itll probably be in india, cos there they worship most things from cows to half naked old men, so why not me? or ill join nat geo and film animals. nope, wont happen.
weises fleisch!
the prelims have passed, outta sight, outta mind, for now.
glass windows
the exterior is fascinating, and so is the green plant placed specifically against the black, highlighting its colours, and above me lies zara, temple of fashion, although giordano, levis (from whom -yeah i refer to them as people- i got my happy ol' jacket), Topshop and Tommy Hilfiger are hanging around.
no shumin, i will not forsake hilfiger, cos i dont believe he said those things, and besides, oprahs just a crazy old biddy. the wall here is nicely done, and im gonna have it done like that in my own room whenever. maybe ill invite a bunch of people over and well paint all sorts of things on it.
industro rock is interesting, more so when its german, and to the extreme, reminds me of coldly beautiful communist russia, which also reminds me of broken glass. the 'fight, kill, strike!" syndrome. so metallic. damn, lachzeits boring.
propheten der apokalypse are the prophecies of the apocalyspe. if you couldnt get that, then proceed to bash your head against the wall, and pay homage to your chair, its probably gotta higher IQ than you.
the most interesting and fun part of the week comes 3 hours every sunday, playing soccer, and this time i promise ill stretch properly, im infused with no desire to hurt you anymore dear calves.
whoever thought that nobody could change their stars? anyone can change anything, as the individual is stronger than most believe, bearing little thought to the thoughts/ideas of the dissentious. dissent if necessary, worry your little numbskulls off, and see what it changes. nothing at all, and though i speak not from experience, i believe it to be a non beneficial trait to be eradicated.
if you dint understand anything of what i just wrote- fear not! i dint understand it either, it just came from the hand, cos right now, im not paying much attention to writing or looking at the paper, my head is full of how stupid i was to let a once in a lifetime person go. forgive and forget they say, especially the forget bit, cos very few things are worth remembering, and some people come along only once in a lifetime, and hey! i think i done used up my once, so here i say it loud, proud, and something else-oud -
there goes the neighbourhood
and if it was russian, itd be
dair goes da nayberhuut!
so much for love thy neighbout. come here, and ill teach you to love my shoe, hippie.
wait.
im supposed to be a hippie of the sorts, according to a number of people. peace man.
wheres the love?
get the guns people, and this aint a drill, we need to find the love, like soon, before it gets stepped on! oh scratch that, lets all just have a tea party!
such incoherent nonsense from a sad incoherent boy, who, with the imminent removal of his braces will be merely sad, but sad in the dawn of a new era of oral freedom, crisp and crystal clear pronunciation, and a whole new world of linguistics. but ill be content with sad.
despair
woe
misery
they dont mean the same thing.
its so interview like.
to the self proclaimed emotionless people:-
hey! do what you want with your life.
to the self professed gays:-
hey! do what you want with your life.
to the seclusive reclusive people:-
hey! do what you want with your life.
to the poachers:-
YOU DIE! i come kill you now, because you not only kick my dog, you kill it with your elephant gun!
maybe i should write my next play soon, but i cant, i already wrote and burnt the last one for this year, and that was already three over the quota of seven (what a stokhanovite!) although i doubt that two of them count, considering they were about a single person, done in march and in july, and yet another explored the concept of showing the first scene, the last scene, and mixing up everything else in the middle, and was aptly named Puzzle : Caught In The Middle. its like giving this sense of interactivity to the audience, although sometimes i mourn the burnings, but i must, i want to, for noone else must ever see my work, save one person, who no longer exists. the only exception was competition, and that was it.
maybe ill become a playwright. nope boring.
sigh.
what now?
theyre all gone.
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
- 9:55 pm
and he will stick with his team through thick and thin,
through joy and sorrow,
for the love of the beautiful game,
and the great players
where ronaldo goes, i follow, worshipping the ground his godly feet have passed across. it is indeed an elite group only three people have ever been in, although only two remain, who have been chosen in accordance to my strange whims and fancies, them being ronaldo and the rock, and the last person (who was very much more substantial than someone ive never met) is gone, although it would have been interesting had it been ramya, cos then theyd have been the three Rs, but then again, it wasnt.
so i mourn, for two of my three supported teams are ailing. first came Real Madrid, and their painful loss to espanyol (i spit at thee, vile curs! and may thy training grounds run fallow!) which hurt.
oh figo!
for all your good looks you have failed to bring your team to the fore!
oh ronaldo!
may the goals pour from you feet once more!
oh roberto carlos!
why arent you running up the field?
oh beckham!
if you only care about your hair, madrids doom is sealed
oh casillas!
you IDIOT! why the hell did you injure your finger?
oh camacho!
fucking moron who dint wanna linger
oh raul!
where have you lost your form?
oh owen!
shouldnt scoring be a norm?
oh zidane!
why does your play stutter and cough?
oh samuel!
second match kena sent OFF.
i remember back in 2002, singing along to the music of the victory song,
Campione! Campione!
when beloved madrid won the La Liga....and i wanna hear it again at the end of the season, i want to see a glorious treble from my madristas.
and liverpool.........seeing manchester united fluke a victory past the liverpudlians at anfield. so much for youll never walk alone, cos i saw djibril cisse up there alone for most of the match. STUPID IDIOTS WHY DID YOU SELL OWEN?! @&^$#%$^%#$ (i am somewhat mollified by the fact that he was sold to madrid)
at least.....at least ac milan are holding their own.
tomorrow, ramya leaves singapore, and we lose a national treasure. your loss singapore. and no amount of foreign talent is ever gonna tip the scale back.
and other things. recurring thoughts, misconceptions, preconceptions, despair.
it all comes back.
Monday, September 20, 2004
- 7:06 pm
remember how it was in between winter and spring?
cos we were always there in our little own dreamworld.
psychogroupiecocainecrazy
thou hadst me
du hasst meksh
trust me, they mean completely different things.
makes you high, makes you high,
makes you really wanna go
makes you high, makes you high,
do you really wanna take it slow?
so you want the world to stop
i dont know what to say,
everything is so different.
why is it that so many people are so insistent that this person is the best drummer, or this person is the best guitarist in bands? and then why do they go on to dissect the whole thing and all their songs? its so...stupid. its music, for you to enjoy, not analyze. frankly, i couldnt give a damn as to whether it were tinky winky or some world famous idiot playing the drums in a band, so long as their music is good. only yam has only convinced me that a certain drummer (keith moon) was the best, because apparently he blew himself and his drums up, and came back on stage bloody and smiling, and there was this time he climbed up to lennons room to wish him a happy marriage to old yokes.
dum dee dum.
just look at us now
hey you -
do you remember me?
i used to sit next to you in skool...
stupid jc talks. may a vast majority of the speakers have laryngitis, or their throats ripped out by rabid chihuahuas.
Sunday, September 19, 2004
- 7:38 pm
thank the gods (shiva, vishnu and all their buddies) it DIDNT RAIN!
the sky was overcast and real dark (speaking of real, real madrid lost 1-0 to stupid lousy espanyol) and it started to drizzle and then subsided while in kranji it was POURING! which meant that today, like most weeks i had a fabulous match, scored twice and it woulda been thrice if idiot colin from my own team was planting his fat ass in front of me. james was on the other side and making things difficult so i stayed back defensively as usual (i must get an italia jersey, im a full time defender!) just that at the last part of the match...this vinesh or viknesh or whatever his name was, jamess friend, was on the left side where i play with the ball, and just as i dispossess him
agony.
my left muscles had the severest cramp ever and i just collapsed in pain. damnit. match ended, and uncle went and pushed my ankle upwards, and five minutes later i hobbled back home with twinges of cramp up my left calf muscle.
i really should stretch more before the game next time.
and tomorrow ill be studying with hulin, and on tuesday ill be having bio prac, and on wednesday ill be out with hulin (maybe) and on thurdays itll be a godsibling outing, and on friday my retainers come on (yeah, like ill wear them) and kalpana has a bio test and couldnt come with us on thursday and itll also be THE END OF THE WEEK, and THE START OF MUGGING FOR THE O's.
must get six points.
must get six points.
might get ten points.
must get six points.
aerials......in the sky
Saturday, September 18, 2004
- 9:52 pm
my sehnsucht
Walk with me my little friend
Take this promise to the end
Speak with me my only mind
Walk with me until the end
And make the forest turn to sand
You take the legend for a fall
You saw the product
Why can't you see that you are my child
Why don't you know that you are my mind
Tell everyone in the world that I'm you
Take this promise to the end of you
its saturday and that means that the major megadeath exams in the prelims are over. it also means that wednesday draws closer.
links
http://www.outdoor-sport.org/download/sound/links_234_rammstein.mp3
seemann
http://www.lysator.liu.se/herzeleid/audio/verbrannte_erde/09_-_Seemann.mp3
sehnsucht
http://www.lysator.liu.se/herzeleid/audio/verbrannte_erde/06_-_Sehnsucht.mp3
du riechst so gut
http://www.lysator.liu.se/herzeleid/audio/verbrannte_erde/15_-_Du_riechst_so_gut.mp3
du hast
http://www.lysator.liu.se/herzeleid/audio/live_at_the_max/10_-_Du_hast.mp3
night is here.
Thursday, September 16, 2004
- 8:35 pm
written again.
one of the long posts which will never be published, but remain forever saved as drafts in the memory of blogger.com.
that unpublishable one
saved as draft
we all fall down
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
- 7:38 pm
the sky is overcast, grey, as the evening sets in. its beautiful, in a sense. almost serene, like time has stopped in this strange uneven glowing blue twilight. its so damp everywhere outside - and its so peaceful, almost masking the fact that today isnt any ordinary day, its day before the history prelim day. and as ive restudied china russia and germany, along with causes of WWII, du riechst so gut [ something i was gonna say, but dint in the end ], du hast, buch dich and engel streaming forth from my radio at large decibels.
live aus berlin
no prizes for guessing what that means.
prelims...and how time flies during the papers. they make 2 hours seem like a quarter the amount at 10 times the usual concentration.
see how it shatters?
sec 3s,shaddap and attend the gathering of sttd people, cos we sec 4s cant go, and its a good bonding session. attendance is not mandatory - its voluntary, but anyone who doesnt volunteer will be slapped with 20 hours of detention.
after itching to play again after certain leg hurts and people - look at that harmonica! quit gerrymandering! i used to have a terrapin named jackie! - people who throw broody looks and sulk about ; until i throw something in return - hows a brick sound?
james passed by outside the other day at about 8, so with a quick 'dont kill too many people today' he went on with my blessings, and to return later for some 'myoplex da'.
and so we all fall down
yes we do kitty cat! yes we dooooo!
when i grow up, i wanna become the grim reaper!
but most importantly i am strongly desirous of having this terrible sadness dissipate - lest i am diagnosed as manically depressed. is it better than criminally insane?
i dont know, i dont know, tell me...
theres only one thing that i really know for sure;
that i am, that i am, craaaa-aaazy!
oh eh oh im daakter boom bombay
speaking of eh oh, whatever happened to the teletubbies? did barney feel turned on by big momma t-rex in walking with dinosaurs and start working out? did he become a big hunky funky purple (what? to attract lesbians issit?) flesh eating, bone spitting tyrannosaurus?
consider the teletubby themes for some shows (as quoted by raakton bin nontak, their #1 viewer).
dipsy makes custard.
tinky winky finds his ball
lala catches a rabbit
pos wonderful day
why cant they be more like:
dipsy realises hes a bastard.
tinky winky finds his balls.
lala catches dipsy and po at it again.
or even like
po buys illegal semi automatic weaponry and goes on a shooting rampage.
wed probably have tinky winky hauling his big purple arse down to a self help centre before realising that he doesnt really know what sex he is, and that strange antennae on his head is picking up a lot of illegal satellite porn.
or that i dunno what to do and distract myself by writing pointlessly and non comittaly in circles. im just writing for the sake of writing, because all there is left to do is write.
and everyone is gone,
and everything is gone.
the child of ra and mya, the two egyptian gods is going on wednesday, and its really good for her because shes going to york (in england for the idiots who dont know) and therefore will not be in singapore - for a long time. she will enjoy the sweet bliss of singaporelessness with the only things there to haunt her of this bleak place being the few other singaporean students there, and the memories of people she left behind.
everything else just stops and snaps - all in an instant. funny to think your life is like a raindrop - but the most complicated damn raindrop ive seen, or to be more poetic - a tear. life is a tear. not the one pronounced tare, but tyeer. why, i dont know, but it seems different. the only people who seem to have gotten life figured out are ramya, that dying old man in a cave on the mountain, thenuga, and the most understanding one - marilyn manson.
after all, sweet dreams are made of these,
and anyway,
who am i to disagree?
Saturday, September 11, 2004
- 11:13 pm
she stands upon the further side,
between us flows the river,
and in those waters deep and wide,
dwell the almighty life giver
yet is my love so true and sweet,
a word of power - a charm
the stream is land beneath my feet,
and bears me without harm
for i shall come to where she stands,
no more to be held apart,
and i shall take my darlings hands,
and draw her to my heart
but she is dead,
and so am i,
for all that was,
was but a lie.
Kann man Herzen brechen
konnen Herzen sprechen
kann man Herzen qualen
kann man Herzen stehlen
Sie wollen mein Herz am rechten Fleck
doch seh ich dann nach unten weg
da schlagt es links
Konnen Herzen singen
kann ein Herz zerspringen
konnen Herzen rein sein
kann ein Herz aus Stein sein
Sie wollen mein Herz am rechten Fleck
doch seh ich dann nach unten weg
da schlagt es links
links zwo drei vier
Kann man Herzen fragen
ein Kind darunter tragen
kann man es verschenken
mit dem Herzen denken
Sie wollen mein Herz am rechten Fleck
doch seh ich dann nach unten weg
da schlagt es in der linken Brust
der Neider hat es schlecht gewu?t
Links zwo drei vier
Friday, September 10, 2004
- 11:36 pm
my self righteous suicide
you wanted to.
you wanted to.
you wanted to.
then went and changed everything.
why have you forsaken me?
in your eyes forsaken me,
in your thoughts forsaken me,
in your heart forsaken me?
sigh.
and then there were the fairy godpeople, and there was yesterday, and although we dont officially have a fairy godperson 5 or fairy godperson X,youll still be my fairy godsibling regardless of anything.
i wish i knew what to do, i wish something could happen to make things better.
my sister caught a lizard and was asking what they ate. obviously she wantst to keep it as a pet, so i told her to feed it her leg hairs. she asked my mother to little effect, cos my mom just said they ate 'shit!' and went on to exclaim and protest at her keeping it as a pet (most of her pets die). i broke this mirror today, cos it was lying about, so my sister held it up and broke it by punching it really hard and it shattered all over the place, so i told her to tell our mom that she had looked into it too long, and the mirror so cracked.
theres nothing much more to say here, im back to my pyro ways, and more and more paper dies in the flame everyday, with today seeing the burning of seven sheets of of paper filled with writing, names and everything, and then the satisfaction of knowing your words are dying - just like you are.
no. theres too much to say and think about. i spent the whole day working robotically, i need to be me for a while - and we all need to express though some of you decide to suppress, or some of you encourage and then take away before the bloom of the flower. is it all some fault of mine? because if it is i wholly accept responsibility, for the fact that i dont know why everything is disappearing, why everything and everyone is going away and anything that ever mattered is dying - its all dying its all going; and father, if i have wronged - surely thou hast punished me enough? please. please, stop this. men arent the masters of their own fate; only the mindless mechanical are - not the thinking feeling people - and i wont suppress emotion, for whilst some may see it as weakness - oh fuck it, you can all see it for what you want, i understand it, and i am absolved from sin because i am born anew and i have come across realisation of old truths a long time ago, and he was right, frost was, nothing gold can stay. but somethings can. some things do stay forever, till you die, and even then memories live forever in the matter of the universe, and like they say - love never dies, because it forms a part of the life force on this living planet of ours till were so entangled in its forms we dont know what to do, an end up trying to suppress and downplay it - for if you realised that nothing - no, there is nothing now. how could there be -
sigh.
yesterday, all us fairy godpeople were online, and today i spoke to katling again. and qianqian and an an are doing well, although now theyre eating 2 pellets instead of 4, and shes not growing any taller (or so she claims- kat youve reached the height where you cant be an oompa loompa anymore. keep growing shumin, youll get there eventually)
but really.
how things have changed - again.
i cry when angels deserve to die
Thursday, September 09, 2004
- 9:31 pm
reise, reise
and so they asked as they bent down to question the man lying on the ground -
can you bring it?
and he stared right back up, fire burning in the dark brown of his eyes, and he told them - i will.
eto lo su'quento - sar'gasso maria
whither dost thou travel?
for the wind is cold and biting, wouldst thou rather not gather round the fire and bask in its warmth? for the path is long and wearisome, and the roads are haunted by wolves and bandits.
brasil has upset me by drawing 1-1 with germany, whom the beat 2-0 in the world cup finals, and to add insult to injury, kevin kuranyi scored the equaliser against brasil, brazilian born kevin kuranyi.
la nina
italy however came out with a 1-0 scoreline scored by pinturicchio himself, which is greatly pleasing. yeay.
la nina del panuela colorado
on the 23rd, i will go with hulin to the mandarin hotel, and then proceed to the third floor to dr soh's orthodontic clinic to get my braces removed, after six long long years. these metal contraptions of evil will finally be exorcised from mine poor sufferant mouth, and life will become more pleasant. of course some people had to go and drown this joy by leaving the country the day before.
los del rio!
hello. i am returned from a journey to a place so terrifying i still bear the marks of it 'pon thyself. yes, i have ventured into my mind by attempting to achieve the state of mind commonly regarded as nirvana, through the activity of meditation, which i have learnt to control everything beneath the surface whilst maintaining a calm outer surface. it doesnt matter what position you choose to bear (for example, i was sitting in a tree with monica until a certain someone saw us and got jealous and hovered about until i told her to go off with him), just empty your mind of all thought, and believe me, its much harder than you think to think about nothing because the mind has a lot to say - no matter who you are.
no matter who you are - what ever you do - please, dont try this at home.
singapore idol is such a complete joke. the so called 'idols' voices lack richness and lustre, and my godsister rekha could whack all of them out of shape any time, anywhere with her jazz singing. and cmon lah, shumin and kat could do better than them if they tried, easy, whilst none of them could lay a finger on zul, and im pretty sure i could put them to shame. thats why next year, we might go - but im going with my siamese connected at the hair twin max.
they walked along quite quietly wondering where they were going, not quite sure, but with a small amount of certainty that they were going the right way...and then the sun rose. they could see again.
i'll go buy rammstein, german rock is divine.
3 and a half hours of math in a cold classroom is no fun.
ive been wrong again and again, and the way things change wreck everything - everything, nothing escapes the inevitable change brought about by emotion and mood because it quite essentially changes who i am - and i fear none have the patience to ride it out, save a few, one of whom is leaving singapore, and one other who is coming with me on the 23rd to get the braces removed.
heres my ticket mr collector man,
now come claim my life.
I don't think you trust
In, my, self righteous suicide
I, cry, when angels deserve to die
In, my, self righteous suicide
I, cry, when angels deserve to die
Father, father, father, father
Father into your hands, I commend my spirit
Father into your hands
why have you forsaken me
In your eyes forsaken me
In your thoughts forsaken me
In your heart forsaken, me
Trust in my self righteous suicide
I, cry, when angels deserve to die
In my self righteous suicide
I, cry, when angels deserve to die
Sunday, September 05, 2004
- 4:46 pm
id do it again
if i had the chance
go through it again
though i know in advance
this particular post was hand written some hours ago, on a wad of fullscap bearing my name, and here i write it out fully, although two pages have been burnt and will never be heard of again due to the nature of their content.
and the sweet silver song of a lark
all i get from you are
and some things are better left unsaid. teen angst is a load of non existent crap, its just the worlds way of saying that teenagers are naturally angry and emotional, when in truth its the way were being raised, the environment, this sweet example of continuous variation.
i couldnt sleep last night, it was too hot, so i got up and wrote to sleep and eventually, the dreams came, and i feared wakefulness because dreams are, in truth, our hopes and fears (thank you keane!) of a person and wakefulness is too harsh, too jarringly different from the sweet surreal reality of your mind to the plain old staten of consciousness when you realise everythings wrong, everythings a mess, its all wrecked up, and only you can save yourself instead of standing there lowing piteously like a dying cow. and we can save ourselves through the banishment of certain emotions from the mind during some hours of the day, because otherwise itll all come back, itll all come pouring down like rain hearken to the thirsty ground (wouldka look at that-it rhymes! lets all dance about in fits of glee now) and here as i lie on bed writing, i feel it all returning to i shall proceed at length to provide suitable discourse on another topic of a more pleasant variety, brownies procured by the Valhalla Cooking Maiden herself, Ramya Vodka Jaidev.
and then again i should halt here, for why should i go on about Ramyas sinfully delightful brownies when the only result of such a discourse would cause anybody reading to die lusting after the multilayered chocolate goodness of Ramyas Divine Worshippable Brownies whose creator will be leaving singapore for a long time to come, and so plunge us into a deep state of despair, devastation and withdrawal syptoms galore, although it is hard to imagine things getting worse than they already are; but sometimes i surprise myself, a passage sure to open up untrodden mental paths to be taken although it is consolatory to note that they veer away from suicide, im not suicidal, this life is mine to live.
just as i start to think my cousin cant get any more retarded than he already is, he turns around and surprises me.
i fell into a burning ring of fire,
i went down, down, down
and the flames went higher
does methylene blue have Cu2+ in it?
do i care?
its my fault the way things are now, after all, who else can you blame for the state of your own mind. i have told most of it in full to hulin, and it takes away some of the weight, whilst the rest shall be borne. in fact, weight is the wrong expression, ya know when your mind feels dense and your chest, heavy? perhaps creative expression is the best form of alleviation, although i remain barred from my remaining passion of drama, kept away from the thrill which doth reveal itself as my driving force. and another form of passion which always, ultimately brings with it sorrow, hurt and grief, a price too high to pay for too long, but worth every second of it.
please, please, please, dont rain,
and although were loth to do so; come back.
let the skies hold back today,
let this storm end,
i want to see the golden sky.
what has branded us deservant of such sufferances, to live conformist zombie like lives devoid of most joy, since what little there is escapes our grasp, slips through fingers like water from a man dying of thirst, and once again we are steeped in a world of sorrow, and the light fades from the stars, and the star, it is gone, so what do you look up to at night?
and youll never walk alone
liar.
forgive me father for being an unbeliever, anything you ever gave me to believe in, you took away.
[my mother my dog and clowns]
tells the story of a boy trying to find his inner soul in dealing with reality and surreality, his life, and here i place the last paragraph of the last play for the year.
the main character goes by no name, and i shall use ***** to represent him.
it is mainly a monologue, with another 4 actors playing all the side characters.
*****: for now that mine purpose is discovered, what future is there for me? for i have been through sorrow and pain and suffered such ravages as the broken shards of my soul can endure. (lights dim) What lies ahead? Pray tell for now i understand the meaning of my existence, and that meaning is to love, to live and let die. i will move on, devoid of it, and so maintain a facade of inhumanity to fade away into obscurity. for i understand that there is a fine line in the complex web of life entailing and connecting love and death, and the latter is beginning to cast its charms about the empty chasm that hath opened itself up upon my chest, to a torn place which used to be so rich and full of emotion....but it matters not now. the blood, it doth trickle slowly down these wrists (lights dim to near black out, NESSUN DORMA plays), and the light, it is fading. I have outlived my worth, and proved nothing in a lonely world, except that I am as lonely as the world, and have let it all come crashing down; it was my fault, i was never strong enough. my hours spent are gone, it is but failure in clever guise, for emotion was allowed to rule my life, and i experienced devotion to a cause not mine, but to a greater cause, to a person - not this individual self, though i regret it not, it was such folly to tie myself down, and i was.....wrong. Death claim me, for i can never be understood now, i am the chosen one, and now he comes to claim me. (rising crescendo, light blasts brilliantly to stun the audience as ***** raises arms up 90 degrees, and collapses to a snap blackout after shouting 'all is lost!') in the dark of the blackout, a voice calls out saying thou art mine and ***** says i am but mine own
the curtains close, followed by the curtain call, as nessun dorma ends.
forgive me
Saturday, September 04, 2004
- 8:30 pm
i think RHCP are the best thing this world has had since sliced bread- and thats saying a lot.
breathe in.
breathe out.
breathe in.
im sorry gerry, you and the pacemakers, you was wrong,
cos the storm was supposed to end a long time ago,
and i aint seein no golden light.
it just get badder and badder
sleep is good, although i dont want to sleep my life away, rather spend it doing exciting things and getting sufficient sleep.
sleep, king of gods and men,
master of all,
come to mine eyes again,
come as i call
sleep, who may loose and bind
each as his thrall,
come to the weary mind,
come at my call,
tamer of toil and woes,
healer of all,
sleep, whence our solace flows,
come as i call
brother of mankind,
softly you fall
leaving the world behind,
come at my call
sleep, lord of all things made,
sleep over all,
let your warm wings be laid,
came as i call
for what else will come when only sleep can provide any respite, any solace from the day.
perhaps we love the night so for it means that escape from the world is but a short while in coming, perhaps its because once again were free to dream - and we dream of lives how we wanted them, and how they couldve been-but never were.
walk on through the wind
walk on through the rain
Shine! IMA SHINE! Korosutameni tsukaresugiteiru... says:
hey akesh
akesh* [ cos things aint how they used to be ] says:
yeah?
akesh* [ cos things aint how they used to be ] says:
stupid things not working
Shine! IMA SHINE! Korosutameni tsukaresugiteiru... says:
on your blog you often sound damn frustrated with life and thigns in general, if not a little sad, but that never comes out when i talk to you
Shine! IMA SHINE! Korosutameni tsukaresugiteiru... says:
why's that?
akesh* [ cos things aint how they used to be ] says:
when i talk to people, i dont wanna project my frustrations and miseries onto them, because thatd make the other person sad too, and two negatives dont make a positive (cept in math), and theres no point in that either. i keep it all for the things i write and then burn, or the things on my blog, because thats a place for the release of my thoughts where they wont interfere dierectly with anybody.
Shine! IMA SHINE! Korosutameni tsukaresugiteiru... says:
so when you talk to me, you are keeping ahlf your stuff unsaid?
akesh* [ cos things aint how they used to be ] says:
when i talk to anybody, i keep most of it out of the way and stuff to ensure an enjoyable communicating experience for all parties. in case of an emergency, our flight attendants will come out and brief you on emergency procedures, failing which you may enhance your adrenline flooding moment-before-death by screaming loudly and praying like youve never prayed before.
Shine! IMA SHINE! Korosutameni tsukaresugiteiru... says:
lol
Shine! IMA SHINE! Korosutameni tsukaresugiteiru... says:
can i ask you a favour?
akesh* [ cos things aint how they used to be ] says:
yeah
Shine! IMA SHINE! Korosutameni tsukaresugiteiru... says:
please don't
akesh* [ cos things aint how they used to be ] says:
hu
akesh* [ cos things aint how they used to be ] says:
*huh
akesh* [ cos things aint how they used to be ] says:
why
Shine! IMA SHINE! Korosutameni tsukaresugiteiru... says:
i can't really explain it at teh moment, but please don't
akesh* [ cos things aint how they used to be ] says:
okay....aight.
i know that goodbye means nothing at all, makes me come back, catch her everytime she falls
go listen to through with you by maroon 5.
Friday, September 03, 2004
- 11:32 pm
crack in the sky,
and a hand reaching down to me,
all the nightmares came today
my skool is insane
my works down the drain
and shes total blam blam
the 22nd of september augurs the end of the RI Preliminary Exams and another event so damnable, helios the sun titan should be stopped from rising and the day should be plunged in the cold sweet dark of night to suck some of the poison and pain for the event, although i will most certainly be plunged in a crevasse of devastation, sorrow, pain, dismay, woe, lugubrity,misery, despair and a billion other words i care not to write here.
this aint diamond dogs; this is genocide
its like having a piece of your soul torn out forcefully - and not even having my braces removed after 6 years immediately after serve as any consolation at all, and dont be surprised, perturbed or shocked to see me wandering about the street mumbling incoherently and howling ever so often as all humanity will probably leave me. damned day that you are, you will not kill me - but i give you this - youll probably come pretty damn close. so yeay for you.
its night again, and azizuls the virgin mary.
and there was that,
there will be the 22nd. past and future.
and for the present - this.
doesnt matter, im in drama for loving it - not for the awards, so
[to my mother, my dog and clowns]
the latest play.
i have an imaginary hamster. say hi to toggy.
i also have three imaginary clown friends.
ones does mime and his name is tonk.
bonko is a regular clown
woggles is actually a killer clown who murders people.
rest in peace child
Thursday, September 02, 2004
- 10:38 pm
i figured it out.
in any case, today we had the english paper, and had to write an essay, etc. so i chose the topic on walls and wrote about a man who shot himself in the head following the death of his girlfriend. he was 21, and she was just 3 years younger than him. i hope the examiners like it - or im meat.
like the title says in any case, i figured it out. im probably not gonna find anyone i really like anywhere in singapore, but probably in britain or america, after the strange revelation that im strangely attracted to goth chicks and will probably eventually become attached to one, after watching two shows, about a boy which had this hot goth babe who wouldnt stop swearing and cussing and calling everybody bastards, with her long hair and her strange crazy outfits, and this other one on another show i saw who was just like her, with blonde black hair, black mascara, lipstick and nail polish, except this one didnt have the brit accent and broke tables by bashing her forehead into them. cmon man, these people live life up, and dont go for the stupid normal approach people take to life, they just take everything that wanna come up to them and tell them to shove it.
no, i dont expect anyone to understand, nor do i want to, ill figure out these strange intricacies woven by the threads of my strange mind, let these thoughts wander about till they find some purpose, which undoubtedly eventually they will. i dont want to go on like this right now, im not gonna accept things for how they are, because any person can change their stars - if they believe hard enough.
everything happens for a reason. and for people too scared to face up to what they feel, understand what they want, know what they need, or do what they want to do for fear of demolishing a carefully built up facade - too bad, cos you know that life is short, and you might as well try to do everything you want to do - nay, do everything you wanna do before you die, and these are things best shared with other people, so im gonna get a group of friends and were gonna go around the world and do everything there is to do, and somewhere along the way ill meet that punk goth chick with the black mascara and the cussing and the swearing, and then well die at the same time either from drug overdose, or grow old and retire after setting up a nature reserve and being its wardens, and god knows ill kill any fuck who tries to come near my animals. on the other hand i might just go to hollywood and do what i can in the drama scene before i die - but i must find that punk rock chick with the long messed hair.
its all so strange, writing again at night, like im a different person. like im tired of being someone else, like im 2 people in one, like i can snap and bite and be mean, and i can also go the other way and be gentle and kind and nice, although this is occuring less and less because there arent many alternatives when all life throws at you is bad, and slowly but surely you feel that bitterness building up inside you, because you know like frost told you, that nothing gold can stay, because youve seen the gold, youve felt the gold and you watch it leave you, and know it all goes without being able to do anything other than having your internals wrecked totally for the mere fact that you need to maintain outer appearances because nobody else can know, nobody else can ever know, because when they do - they try to invade your life and disrupt it, and all supposedly for the best intentions. and then you have to be optimistic and hold on to whatever passion you have in life, like i have for drama, and im pretty sure that without that ability to act, i would have died a long time ago, taking that jump - because my drama is most of my life to me, because i live and breathe it, because its a part of me, just like these words that release themselves from the confines of my mind constantly being emptied out in search for some answer, an answer not yet arrived, an answer whichll probably never be answered by me, but by someone else, or their actions. maybe it was all supposed to happen, maybe rending actions were fated to occur, maybe some were forced to suffer mental pain in order to learn the true meaning of suffering, maybe some of us do it to achieve nirvana- which happens to be my original sin as i will understand suffering, and will eventually die, through the deprivation of food from my body, eating only when i really need to so as not to collapse from exhaustion, because i need to learn suffering, to learn to cope with it in its highest form, because i never ever want what happened to ever happen again, because nobody deserves it - because its just not worth it, and nothing is.
thank you for teaching me suffering
thank you for teaching me hurt
thank you for everything.
aaja re
or i might be all wrong, and confused and not know what im talking about, because im so damn frustrated at everything that has ever gone wrong, and that short, short list of the only things thatve ever gone right, and all of them are past productions. because whenever something went wrong, i gave up and started again. i let go too easily, because nothing could really affect me, and then the whole thing changed, everything changed, and everything was different - but everything that was ever supposed to be anything was really nothing, a game, and like they said,
what it meant to me will eventually be a memory
but the sweetest memory yet, for it was a living dream, but all dreams end - and there is finality in everything, except the most lasting things - and for some people - there is no lasting. there cant be an end without a beginning, and i blame me for letting anything ever begin - i was wrong, always have been, and still dont give half a fuck, because ive fucked up every single day of my life, to most people, although its supposed to be going slow, and everythings supposed to be fly- nothing will ever be known. how could anyone understand things, beliefs which have twined themselves so tightly around my central nexus, my soul that they became a part of me? how could anybody understand that i live and breathe emotion, and that i can be emotion incarnate because i did it every day of my life up to now, and know well enough that its not much use hiding anything - and that i made a big mistake for trusting to readily, trusting every person in my life, meeting most people with open arms - a huge mistake, because devoting yourself completely to someone will eventually kill you if its not the same - like max said. im sorry for trusting just as i did, ill be proper now.
i really will.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
- 7:51 pm
smoke on the water
so we say fuck it, and start a new life from scratch
20 days is a mind numbingly short period of time
Shoulda been, coulda been
Woulda been dead
If I didn't get the message
Goin' to my head
I am what I am
Most motherfuckers
Don't give a damn
Aw baby think you can
Be my girl, I'll be your man
and so another day passes, the sun sets again, the moon rears herself up on a trail of cosmic dust and the cycle is repeated again. and if i die tonight in my sleep, itll happen again. and the next day. nothing will change. my passing may be mourned for a few days, and after that i will fade into obscurity.
and if i die for today, you will live for tomorrow
and still you will know love for a greater part of it hang still 'pon your head
cmon child in time, ill teach you
and so we are hardpressed to continue although not much sense is to be derived from continuity when already informed of the fact that there will be an end, and that end is coming soon. still when pandora, the first woman on earth, wife of epithemeus, brother to prometheus the goodly titan opened that box and released all manner of sin unto the world, there was a little voice, and it cried
"let me out! i am hope!"
for prometheus in his far sightedness had placed hope in the box knowing that Zeus might trick his foolish brother in such a manner, with the gift of woman.
i walked down to this bakery a short while ago and i met sam and her flashy new boyfriend.
so its night, and the lamp post outside the balcony, flickers - and dies.
please live, and come back for me.
i am not yet dead