1. Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy.
2. Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend.
3. No animal shall wear clothes.
4. No animal shall sleep in a bed.
5. No animal shall drink alcohol.
6. No animal shall kill any other animal.
7. All animals are equal.
1. Four legs good, two legs better.
2. No animal shall sleep in a bed with sheets.
3. No animal shall kill any other animal without cause.
4. No animal shall drink alcohol to excess.
5. All animals are equal, but some are more equal than others.
Delivered at 12:37 AM;
Monday, September 25, 2006
My cousin got married last night. It wasn't a glittery affair, but the entire event deprived me the chance to learn about ol' mustachioed one's ways of lebensraum. Bummer, but oh well, weddings are about living space anyway, just how much are hers that is uknown.
My cousin, the bride was 24. Just came back from Aussieland just a while back too. No, crikey she didn't marry some man in Melbourne or become attached to a dude from Adelaide, but rather her one of her childhood friends, whom she has known for 10 and a half years, attending the same tuition class or something. aww. There was this concoction the couple made called 10.5. When the waiter first gave it to me and proclaimed 10.5, my mom thought it was the percentage of alcohol within, and promptly, erm gave it to my dad. I got my second helping soon after anyway.
Before I continue, I blame the exams for allowing my vocabulary and grammar to deteroriate, where it appears that an information overload results in your fingers typing incoherent rubbish on the keyboard in stuttering intervals. In fact I've typed the above sentences four times already, each filled with weird mistakes that won't come to me at any other point of time in the year. !3geg!#%R!qcqaefavg. sizzles.
Hmm. The term childhood sweetheart has a very nice feel to it when you get married eventually. It's as if it affirms your affection for each other for having transcended time, especially since it was developed when you were wee kids. I like the term childhood sweetheart, as it somehow implies that you had someone to confide in, someone to place your raging hormones upon, and someone to day dream about, where the bestest thing is that your dream eventually came true. No wasted adolescence and sleepless nights. Or maybe less than normal, but still.
My mom told me the other night, amongst other nuggets of wisdom, that "Kenneth there is so many cherries for you to pick." I think its meaning lies somewhere between "there are many fishes in the sea" or "there are many trees in the forest", but I like the sound of cherries, they make squishing noises that fills the silence of an empty heart. Empty, not broken. Empty, but gas prices are so high that you'll never know when or how it'll be filled. Dosen't matter the size of the gas tank. It's all the same for car, van or caravan. Empty is empty. Childhood sweetheart? Childhood sweetheart your si lang tao la.
And folks, that's how not to end off any entry about your cousin's wedding. *chides*.
Don't ya think that you need somebodyDon't ya think that you need someoneEverybody needs somebodyYou're not the only oneYou're not the only one
Delivered at 10:40 PM;
Sunday, September 24, 2006
November Rain
Chin up mates, weather forecast has it that rain's gonna come down soon enough and wash away the tiredness, late nights, dark circles and sucicidal thoughts that are synonymous with this season of our lives. Whee.
Cold- by kani in stupor. I shall be cold, till the frost it shatters That I'm your friend.Monday, September 18, 2006
I shall be cold, as the still water
I shall be cold, as frigid sea
I shall be cold, in the hangman's halter
I shall be cold, in no serenity.
I shall be cold, as the days they darken
I shall be cold, as the clouds they brew
I shall be cold, my eyes ships sunken
I shall be cold, devoid of a you.
I shall be cold, as unfeeling metal
I shall be cold, as vicious winds
I shall be cold, as I lose the battle
I shall be cold, as my life begins.
I shall be cold, a flickering candle
I shall be cold, a dwindling flame
I shall be cold, a souless sandal
I shall be cold, pray you the same?
I shall be cold, as an unflinching blade
I shall be cold, as the blood runs chilled
I shall be cold, calm and sedate
I shall be cold, without the love you killed.
I shall be cold, a weary winter white
I shall be cold, a dark tourniquet
I shall be cold, absent from a losing fight
I shall be cold, and the past hence I forget.
I shall be cold, if only for a season
I shall be cold, but winter melts in spring
I shall be cold, there is no other reason
I shall be cold, so peace to you may bring.
I shall be cold, till the hurts I can mend
I shall be cold, for the only thing that matters
Is being able to say
Sunday, September 17, 2006
The Men - Charlotte Delbo, Auschwitz Et Apres
In the morning and in the evening, on the way to the marshes, we walked by columns of men. The Jews wore civilian clothes. Tattered clothing with a red lead cross smeared on their backs. It was also the case for the Jewish women. They fastened these shapless clothes about their persons. The others wore striped unifroms that floated upon their thin backs.
We pitied them because they had to march in step. As for us, we walked as best as we could. The kapo, at the head, was fat, warmly dressed, and booted. He called cadence: Links, Zwei, Drei, Vier. Links. The men found it hard to keep up. They were wearing canvas foot-wraps with wooden soles that did not stay on. We couldn't imagine how they kept on walking. When there was snow or ice, they carried them in their hands.
They had the special gait we all had over there. Head thrust forward, neck forward. The head and neck propelled the rest of the body. The head and neck pulled the feet. Deeply circled eyes with dilated pupils burned within their gaunt faces. Their swollen lips were either black or bright red and when they parted one caught a glimpse of bleeding gums.
They walked past us. We whispered, " We're French, French women." just to find out whether there might be fellow countrymen among htem. We hadn't met any yet.
Intent on marching, they did not look in our direction. However, we looked at them. We stared. Our hands were wrung with pity. The thought of them, or their gait, their eyes haunted us.
There were so many sick women among us unable to eat that we had a lot of bread. We tried to talk them into eating, to overcome their disgust for the food we were given. They had to eat in order to survive. But our words failed to arouse their willpower. They had given up on arrival.
One morning we carried bread under our jackets. For the men. We failed to meet a men's column. We waited the evening impatiently. on our way back we heard their tread behind us. Drei. Vier. Links. They walked faster than us. We stepped aside to make way for them. Poles? Russians? Pitiful men, oozing misery like all men here.
As soon as they were abreast of us, we took out our bread and tossed it to them. There was a mad scramble. They caught the bread, fighting over it, snatching pieces from one another. They had wolves' eyes. Two of them rolled into the ditch with the bread that had escaped from their grasp.
We watched them fight, and wept.
The SS shouted, setting his dog on them. The column reformed, resuming its march. Links. Zei. Drei.
They did not even turn their heads in our direction.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Guilty Gear xx Slash
Pictures paint a thousand words and youtube makes them move. My apologies for flooding this page with music videos, but hey who's complaining. "Sniggers"
After the exams, I am going to do plenty of things. It is unwise, to think about what happens after reaching the finishing line, such as the hallowed bottle of sparkling liquid, or the congratulatory lap of honour, the bunch of flowers you'd get, stuff like that. So I should be talking about how I am going to reach Oct 2 without blood in my eyes, caffiene coursing through the veins and my brains and sanity in 'langalorry mode'
I am going to want to do plenty of things after the exams. And right up there in priorities together with doing my part for world peace and society in general, is learning how to play Guilty Gear xx Slash properly. Roman Cancels here I come. Huzzah.
hic.
I thought I lost you somewhere.But you were never reallyever there at all.
Delivered at 9:58 PM;
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
motley crue-if i die tomorrow
I wake up to find myself
After all these years
And where all the time has gone
Still seems so unclear
'Cause there's no one else
Since I found you
I know it's been so hard
You should know
If I die tomorrow
As the minutes fade away
I can't remember
Have I said all I can say?
You're my everything
You make me feel so alive
If I die tomorrow
It brings out the worst in me
When you're not around
I miss the sound of your voice
The silence seems so loud
'Cause there's no one else
Since I found you
I know it's been so hard
You should know
If I die tomorrow
As the minutes fade away
I can't remember
Have I said all I can say?
You're my everything
You make me feel so alive
If I die tomorrow
I spent all my life
Looking for our innocence
I've got nothing to lose
One thing to prove
I won't make the same mistakes
Now I know
That everything will be ok
When I die tomorrow
If I die tomorrow
As the minutes fade away
I can't remember
Have I said all I can say?
You're my everything
You make me feel so alive
If I die tomorrow
You make me feel so alive
If I die tomorrow
If I die tomorrow
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Cranberries - Zombie
After careful consideration, I have made the troubles in northern ireland my focus for IA, and it is with great pleasure that I present to you a song that encapsulates the mood of the times, Zeitgeist. Enjoy.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee
Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal Puff
And brought him strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff.
Oh Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee.
Together they would travel on a boat with billowed sail
Jackie kept a lookout perched on Puff's gigantic tail
Noble kings and princes would bow whene'er they came
Pirate ships would lower their flags when Puff roared out his name.
Oh! Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee
A dragon lives forever but not so little boys
Painted wings and giants' rings make way for other toys
One grey night it happened, Jackie Paper came no more
And Puff that mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar.
His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain,
Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane.
Without his lifelong friend, Puff could not be brave,
So Puff that mighty dragon sadly slipped into his cave.
Oh! Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
It was around 9.30 pm, when I walked out the doors of the library, holding in one hand the zenith cup of coffee that day and Schindler's Ark, the novel which Schindler's List was based upon, in the other, a grim representation of the history IA work I have to conjure up tommorow. The street was amazingly quiet, amazing because seperating the library and Bugis Junction is a small road that's always filled with vehicles, their horns and a whole lotta exhaust for your breathing pleasure. Like I said, tonight was deathly quiet, with the occasional sounds of trees rustling in the wind's midst. Very unlike Singapore, I contribute. Sitting down on the pavement to read, I see streams of college students, undergrads and a plethora of muggers leaving the library, preparing to get home as quickly as possible to get enough rest in order for them to wake up early the next morning to come back to the library before it opens to continue their life, or lack thereof.
Schindler's Ark is great, Liam Neeson is perfectly cast as Oskar Schindler, and is the first character I think of now when I hear the actor's name, rather than a green lightsabre wielding Qui Gon Jinn. Anyway I digress. Draining the last ounces of caffiene, I am interuppted suddenly by the arrival of a trishaw fleet, most like the TIE fighters that follow the Death Star, since we are on the topic of Star Wars. A group of about 7 trishaws, driven by the driven, in a flying V formation much akin to that of geese. As they drew closer the whole confluence of tradition and modernity hit me like a Force push as I realize that it is only in Singapore that such things can happen, as the monolith of DieHardStudying towers behind me and a similar monolith of DieHardShopping in front, seperated by the asphalt that the orange geese tread now.
As they drew closer, my eyes were drawn to something blue, at the feet of the geese. Neon lights, undoubtly, and as always, with neon lights come music. I prepare myself for the mmzhi mmmzhi that always comes, as sure as summer comes after spring and a taxi after midnight surcharge has been turned on, with the neon lights.
However. Instead of Ace of Bass (whatever the hell that really is),
The Verve's Bitter Sweet Symphony is carried throught the quiet street by the winds, as if infecting every nook of this lifeless city, blanketing the night with it's irony. Only in Singapore, the refrain goes.
And then I give a wry smile because how can you not?
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
I believe I'm rather well rounded. Hopefully not literally of course, but in the sense that my interests in life, are varied and range over a wide spectrum. I guess I'd be happy sitting in starbucks with a turtleneck, a hot mocha and a good book, ok fine sans the turtleneck, and at the same time enjoy a whole afternoon at Bugis playing Marvel. We're having a tournament soon by the way. But I digress, as some Indian curry dude said, variety is the spice of life, and the more hiam the better I say.
Was reading about the Holocaust today for my history IA, and the good thing about history IAs, is that for a topic you came up with yourself, there's just so much material available for you to expand your knowledge girth, the only catch is that you have to regurgitate it all out while making it sound like it's your own erm, regurgitations, lest turnitin.com knocks on your door in the middle of the night. I particularly enjoyed reading, under the guise of researching, the poems and prose of a French woman called Charlotte Delbo, and the impact, I dare hazard, was indelibo. Not wishing for war, pestilence, or heck raising cab fares by another 50 cents, but sometimes I wonder if Singaporeans are so sheltered, and so empty culturally compared to Europe, America, or even Japan, that we need something to jolt to our senses some semblence of nationalistic pride and a fervour for life. Granted we're only 41, menopause will come soon, and perhaps events to make us reflect on what it really means to be Singaporeans, and who knows churn out tomes of "Great Singapore Literature" for future generations.
Unfortunately, Great Singapore Sale seems the more plausible entity likely to arise.
The air is clean and con, the food safe and in all its shrink wrapped goodness, the ERP is working just fine, Suntec City is noman's land and 4 million people are smiling...
Someone should write a book on this. I'll read it. Just sans turtleneck.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Forsooth. After that coffee laced post before this, I have come to slow down my adrenalin a little and time passes unhurried yet with purpose, as I seek to write something not filled with erratic punctuations, random shrieks and yelps of sugary excess and other whatnots.
In short, for the first time in a while, I'm collecting my thoughts, instead of spewing them out like a hose who had too many krispy kremes.
Collect. Collect.
Well for starters, since August almost 10 people have packed their bags and left for lands flowing with milk, honey, and yes hot sauce. Around 6 from school, a couple more from church and like 4 Steph/Stefs in total. Wowzer. Enoch has dwindled exponentially since 2005 too. Maybe this is how the cookie crumbles, and the reality that time and space do have an impact on our everlasting friendships is sinking in right now. Or maybe we should just treasure what we have, because, *drumroll*, there's no crying over split milk, time and tide waits for no man, and oh did I say that's how the cookie crumbles?
Speaking of milk and cookies and other delectables (I love the way this piece carrys itself so effortlessly on waves of randomness and food), we went back to JS on Teacher's Day for buffet. Well not really, but all of us spent more time on our feet getting the increasingly small portions of 50 Cent wonton mee and char siew rice. But it was nostalgia, and till now I find it amazingly kewl, that, as aKwan said, never before has any batch in JS continue to come back to visit the teachers for so long after leaving pri sch than the class of 2001. Uh uh. And it's not like one or two of us, it's at least 15. JS is cool. Enjoy the moment folks.
Anyway, academia's going to take a toll on me. I'm back at the library mugging my orifices out alongside the rest of Singapore's future leaders, and an overwhelming sense of deja vu is apparent in the place. Must be because I was just there a mth or two ago, and whoanelly, it's exams again!!!!!!!! [/enthu] However, if you ask me why I do what I do, why I'm in IB and stuff if it's so stressful, the answer is clear. It's in the name of charrenge.
And it's in the name of charrenge too that I have to bid thee for now adieu as I finish the last 100 words of my 4000 word EE that's due next year. Wow, it seems just like yesterday that I formulated my topic. Time passes fast when you're having fun man.
Ah well, pass the milk and cookies...
Saturday, September 02, 2006
I've stared at this Blogger :Create Post - Microsoft Internet Explorer page for millenia already, and besides these words it's a blank slate. No this is not some mindtrick or sneaky business to fill this page up with random crap then at the end of the post go : Hey but I wrote something in the end! Muhahaha!.
Nah, just that these days I'm getting old, or rather I need a greater stimulus to do the things I'd usually do in a flash. Yawn. See there it is again. The signs are ominously evident, I'm aging. My two feet have been inactive in making contact with spherical objects, and if this continues, it'll be not two but six feet that I'll be familar with. And this brings me to my next point,
I'm old enough to be nostalgic about football.
Egads. I saw this top goals of the decade thingy on ESPN the other day and it was quite endearing to remember all those moments and greats that this generation will never know of. See I'm old enough to demand a generation. Dennis Bergkamp retired this season,alongside Nigel Martyn and soon enough youngsters nowsaday won't even recognize this footballing genius, to be unable to think of other superlatives. Dudes like Matt Le Tiessier, Gabriel Batistuta, Gianfranco Zola, Peter Schemicael ( the only man yoo player I truly respect) the Arsenal heroes David Seaman, Nigel Winterburn, Tony Adams, Emmanuel Petit, Marc Overmars, Lee Dixon,Martin Keown, and of course Bergkamp himself, and many more that I can't recall exactly, but mention their names and waves of nostalgia cascade around me. Wah shit this is getting too pseudo poetic.
My point is, this generation won't remember Ryan Giggs' ( K the second man yoo player I respect) sublime solo goal against Arsenal in the 98-99 FA Cup Semi Final, or even David Beckham's half way line goal against Wimbledon in 95, and damn there's so many moments out there in EPL history that I realize will all go down, in well history in a couple of years, because to put it simply, we're all getting older. Oh yea and Roy Keane just became manager of Sunderland. Does ANYONE at all remember Roy Keane signing for man yoo from Nottingham Forest for 2.1 million pounds almost a decade ago? I thought so.
But yet ah, my so called annals of footballing history are but a page in the books of like well, obviously older people who have lived through wars, economic depression, pestilence, and flower power of the 60s, and dammit it seems like i'm not so old anymore! [/end wave of nostalgia]
I did some math today.
shhhh.
started my revision for the final year. First time, in 78203546 centuries, that I've done math revision more than 2 weeks before the exams. It's written in the stars, I am going to get my 7 for maths. Not gonna say much more, or trumpet my mathematical prowess (or once was there lackof) ,but rather I issue you a charrenge. Watch this space. Just watch it, come October.
Watch this space, and all the friggin lines and planes in it.
Good night.
A little less conversation, a little more action please.
Delivered at 10:42 PM;