The Broad Thighs of Justice [Redux]

2010-11-29T22:22:00.002+08:00

I'm done. This life is officially over. I'm moving on to the next one with a smile on my face; I have no regrets, save for the times I didn't try for something higher than what was expected of me. Maybe this time I'll get it right.

2010-09-20T12:54:00.002+08:00

I'm standing beside your car. I'm sitting behind your table. I'm hovering over your copy of Cosmo. Underneath your folding chair. In front of your eyes. Swimming in your Starbucks Tall Mocha Frappuccino. Do you miss me? Do you think of me at all? Do you hear our song on the radio at night? And when you do, do you mouth the words and think about the way we danced, the time we laughed only at ourselves? I hate you so much.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Orchard Rd,Singapore,Singapore

2009-12-14T16:02:00.002+08:00

Stop callin'
Stop callin'
I don't wanna think anymore
I've got my head and my heart on the dance floor
Stop callin'
Stop callin'
I don't wanna talk anymore
I left my hand and my heart on the dance floor

- 'Telephone,' performed by Lady Gaga (feat. Beyoncé)

2009-11-23T00:31:00.000+08:00

This is not where it all began.

2009-09-26T14:18:00.001+08:00

"This is apparently how I party."

"What happened to your shirt? And why aren't you wearing pants?"

2009-03-25T14:20:00.000+08:00

Fuck! My bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream just bit me!

2009-03-25T14:19:00.000+08:00

Gotta have more babies, gotta have more babies, yeah.

2009-03-25T14:17:00.001+08:00

The decay in my mind is clearing up!

2009-03-25T14:14:00.002+08:00

Why should they? Why should they come? They need not come. If they come, they will leave. If they leave, they won't return. They shouldn't come only to leave, but surely they can't stay. If they can't stay, why should they bother coming? There must be a way to make them return. Variety, variety, consistency.

2009-03-25T14:13:00.004+08:00

Hey, the next time you're tempted to do it, think really carefully about what you stand to LOSE if you did it.

2009-03-25T14:13:00.001+08:00

Uh, something happened to me.

2009-01-21T14:43:00.001+08:00

Remember the strength we had
When we were in love?
I think I can
Find that strength again.

2009-01-03T15:48:00.004+08:00

You cannot precisely measure the most essential properties of subatomic behavior. According to Werner Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, the more precisely you measure one property, the less precisely you can measure another.

To clarify, you can only observe the position of an electron by bouncing something off it (light is a common example). This means that you need to introduce some form of radiation that has energy of its own. The problem is, this energy will disturb the path of the electron. In other words, more energy must be added in order to determine the position of an electron more precisely, and the more energy is added to the electron, the more you will disturb its velocity.

So conversely, you must minimize the electron's exposure to radiation in order to measure its velocity more precisely, but the absence of sufficient radiation (light is again a good example) will make it impossible to precisely determine its position. Hence, the more precisely you measure one property, the less precisely you can measure another.

The above applies to the universe on a subatomic level. It should not be confused with the Observer Effect.

2008-12-30T11:08:00.004+08:00

I'm feeling pissed off today. If you refuse to deal directly with me, then why should I deal directly with you? Okay, I'll let it go. Again. I feel sorry for you.

2008-12-23T19:43:00.004+08:00

The Secret to Developing Efficiency:
Avoid the Strong and attack the Weak.

The Secret to Developing Strength:
Attack the Strong and Protect the Weak.

2008-12-18T22:46:00.002+08:00

It's been a while since I last cried. Who really keeps track of these things? Is it healthy to not feel the urge to cry for so long? Used to be I couldn't even look at the clouds in the sky or listen to swelling orchestral music without stifling a pathetic little sob in my chest.

Yeah, maybe I was a real gaylord before. I don't know if I like this new development or not. Have I not had a good cry these past few weeks because I've been happy all this while or am I just hiding or not acknowledging some emotional bear trap in my subconscious, which is just waiting for the right moment to spring and break my bones? Is it only a matter of time before I'll be forced to confront some lurking monster hiding beneath the calm surface of my psyche like some overgrown toad in murky pond water? Does anyone even care, including myself?

The trick to staying sane is to avoid asking yourself questions like these, so I'll quit thinking about them now. You've just participated in a very rare, deeply personal (though fleeting) moment here, folks. It probably won't be happening again anytime soon.

So soak it up, you lucky dogs, you.

2008-11-26T23:10:00.001+08:00

You're never satisfied. I hate working for you.

2008-09-12T13:22:00.003+08:00

Reboot

Okay, it has been more than four years and now I am almost fully disengaged. It was a long and painful process but I think I appreciated the painful parts more than the periods of silent indifference and general unfeeling. It was the general-ness of being there that almost killed me, the lack of any sincere emotion or genuine motivation. I was tied up inside, slowly bleeding to death. The heat of the water was being turned up little by little so that the death that awaited me seemed like a subtle and gentle haziness, like a lazy Sunday afternoon as Paulo Coelho once eloquently put it.

Yes, I'm being infuriatingly cryptic, as usual. It's kind of my style. I have not flexed my muscles of expression for a very long time, and I think I've said this too often without having done anything about it. Hey, now's my chance to actually do something.

Memory is actually very important to me. To my relationships. Yes, it is. But now my memory is shot. Lack of sleep and a lifestyle of self-abuse are mostly to blame. It will take some time to recover, but for now I've got to just focus my thoughts and nurture them back to life again.

My writing has become very general and non-specific(?), especially when I have to write about my personal life, but I hope I can get down and pen something beautiful again. Was it ever beautiful? I have to believe it now. I have to be stubborn in the face of any negativity that has infected my spirit while I was away. I need to at least believe before I can try again. I hope it only has to be a temporary delusion.

It's like running again after a half-year hiatus. The legs don't feel like they belong to you; they can't be the same legs that carried you over all those great distances with such energy and confidence. They're wobbly and unsure, like a baby's. My fingers on my keyboard feel the same way now. It's best not to dwell on that, though. Just do it, just do it!

I'm excited about life. I'm excited about the home we're creating together, woven out of our days spent working together and experiencing the world together. I'm excited about our future encounters with each other and the synergy that will flow through our interactions. This is it. This is the time to do what you always knew you were meant to do. I wish I had some kind of warcry! I want to start attacking my days on earth! I want to start living again! I want to take it, seize it, devour all my future days and nights! Let me leap out of bed! Let me rush through the daily rituals! Let me be restless and strong and GET DOWN TO WORK!

2008-09-03T00:09:00.000+08:00

It's all going to end sooner or later, so you might as well blame me for it.

2008-08-22T17:16:00.002+08:00

Twitter-worthy

Hey, I just plucked out my first white nose hair today!

2008-08-19T02:49:00.011+08:00

Hppy birt\\\day to me.

The best thing about tonight's that we're not fighting
Could it be that we have been this way before
I know you don't think that I am trying
I know you're wearing thin down to the core

But hold your breath
Because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you
Over again
Don't make me change my mind
Or I won't live to see another day
I swear it's true
Because a girl like you is impossible to find
You're impossible to find

- 'Fall For You,' performed by Secondhand Serenade

You know what? I've wanted to tell you this for a long time. I've wanted to tell you this since before the day you were born. I'm sorry for everything I've done and will do. You will not forgive me. But I love you. I may not do what I do because of my love for you, but know that my love for you will now be the canvas on which I paint the rest of my life.

Everybody's waiting to see you fly. Everyone's hoping for you to succeed. Everyone's standing in a crowd, cheering for you. I want you to know that I will be cheering the loudest. And, when you have lived your life to the fullest that you can possibly live, I'll be standing there at the finishing line, waiting for you.

You are everything good and pure and wonderful in my life of failure and regret. I did nothing to deserve you. I love you so much! I love you forever. Grow up healthy and be useful to the people around you. Never let anyone tell you how to be happy. Never let yourself down, ever. Stand up for the weak and powerless. Take root, but reach for the sky. Fly once in a while.

Tonight will be the night that I will fall for you.

2008-08-19T02:48:00.001+08:00

Yeah, well. I kinda miss me, too.

2008-08-07T02:46:00.002+08:00

My father broke down and cried in front of me today. I wanted very much to cry with him, but no tears came so I just stared at him through indifferent eyes. I don't know if I can ever cry again.

2008-04-11T10:28:00.000+08:00

It turns out you can't be held responsible for someone else's happiness.

2007-12-09T19:15:00.000+08:00

Okay, I'm Sold

My next car will most likely be the Toyota Prius!

2007-11-26T09:09:00.000+08:00

We Lack The Stamina

He was entitled to return and did so
But I ask, What of us?
We lack the stamina, and wander off.

- 'On a Cat Which Fell Three Stories and Survived,' written by Philip K. Dick

2007-09-30T13:49:00.000+08:00

Hey There Delilah

Hey there Delilah
What's it like in New York City?
I'm a thousand miles away
But girl tonight you look so pretty
Yes you do
Times Square can't shine as bright as you
I swear it's true

Hey there Delilah
Don't you worry about the distance
I'm right there if you get lonely
Give this song another listen
Close your eyes
Listen to my voice it's my disguise
I'm by your side

Oh it's what you do to me (x4)
What you do to me

Hey there Delilah
I know times are getting hard
But just believe me girl
Someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar
We'll have it good
We'll have the life we knew we would
My word is good

Hey there Delilah
I've got so much left to say
If every simple song I wrote to you
Would take your breath away
I'd write it all
Even more in love with me you'd fall
We'd have it all

Oh it's what you do to me (x4)

A thousand miles seems pretty far
But they've got planes and trains and cars
I'd walk to you if I had no other way
Our friends would all make fun of us
And we'll just laugh along because
We know that none of them have felt this way
Delilah I can promise you
That by the time we get through
The world will never ever be the same
And you're to blame

Hey there Delilah
You be good and don't you miss me
Two more years and you'll be done with school
And I'll be making history like I do
You'll know it's all because of you
We can do whatever we want to
Hey there Delilah here's to you
This one's for you

Oh it's what you do to me (x4)
What you do to me

- 'Hey There Delilah,' performed by Plain White T's

2007-04-27T18:29:00.000+08:00

I Think...

... most of the time, the thought of suicide is an act of hate/revenge towards those whom we love or whom we think ought to love us.

2007-04-09T17:54:00.001+08:00

“We measure the effectiveness of the true leader not in terms of the leadership he exercises but in terms of the leadership he evokes; not in terms of his power over others, but in terms of the power he releases in others; not in terms of the goals he sets and the direction he gives but in terms of the plans of action others work out for themselves with his help; not in terms of decisions made, events completed, and the inevitable success and growth that follow such released energy, but in terms of growth in competence, sense of responsibility, and in personal satisfaction among many participants. Under this kind of leadership it may not always be clear at any given moment who is leading. Nor is this important. What is important is that others are learning to lead well.” – Robert W. Galvin

2007-04-05T00:03:00.000+08:00

Promise Me These, My Friends...

Don't drink too much.

Make sure you are well.

Be careful not to catch a cold.

Don't let your body or your heart get sick.

- Sang Doo! Let's Go To School

2007-03-30T17:33:00.000+08:00

It's Weird But...

... I now seem to be living vicariously through myself.

2007-03-28T10:21:00.001+08:00

"Not all who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien

2007-03-27T23:05:00.000+08:00

I've got this sudden urge to form an Exploration Party... We'll grab a random guide to Singapore's food/entertainment/attraction hotspots and hit them all sequentially, maybe one every weekend. Does that sound interesting?

2007-03-27T22:50:00.000+08:00

Cat

T.S. Eliot loved cats.
William Butler Yeats loved cats.
Christina Rossetti loved cats.
John Keats loved cats.
J.R.R. Tolkien loved cats.
Mark Twain loved cats.
Christopher Smart loved cats.
Marianne Moore loved cats.
Ernest Hemingway loved cats.
Oscar Wilde loved cats.
Doris Lessing, Rita Mae Brown,
Carolyn Chute, Nuala O'Faolain...

Isn't it time you got a cat?

- 'The Pocket Muse,' written by Monica Wood

2007-03-24T02:50:00.000+08:00

I hope you realise that this has nothing to do with you. It's something I need to do because I've got to straighten things out for myself. I need time to regain my focus and clarity. I'll make sure everybody is happy in the end. I know I haven't been very good at keeping promises, but my dream is to become the hero in the story of my own life!

Well, it was one of those great stories
That you can't put down at night
The hero knew what he had to do
And he wasn't afraid to fight
The villain goes to jail
While the hero goes free
I wish it were that simple for me.

And the reason that she loved him
Was the reason I loved him too
He never wondered what was right or wrong
He just knew
He just knew

- 'Hero,' performed by Phil Collins

I'll come through in the end. I'll tie up all the loose ends, I'll silence my doubters, I'll save the day!

edit: On hindsight, it seems a little silly of me to have said that my dream is to be the hero in the story of my own life. Dreams imply choice and in the present circumstance I haven't really got a choice. I can't just want to be a hero now. I have to be.

2007-03-23T11:32:00.000+08:00

"There can be as much value in the blink of an eye as in months of rational analysis." - Malcolm Gladwell

2007-03-19T18:00:00.000+08:00

angel

spend all [my] time waitin'
for that second chance
for a break that would make it okay

there's always [some] reason
to feel not good enough
and it's hard at the end of the day

i need some distraction
oh beautiful release
[the] memory seeps from my veins

let me be empty
and weightless and maybe
i'll find some peace tonight

- 'angel,' performed by sarah mclachlan

2006-10-10T18:01:00.000+08:00

The Month of the Human Soul

October 2006 is now officially The Month of the Human Soul @ TBTOJ[L]! All entries to be made in the month of October 2006 will be related to the subject of the human soul. Yes, the human soooOOOooOOooul [howling wind sound effects].

Be afraid, people.

2006-10-06T15:21:00.000+08:00

All Quiet On The 'Blogging Front

I've been thinking on the idea of the human soul lately. Before I write down my thoughts on the subject, I would like to hear your opinions. What does the term 'soul' mean to you, and do you think we have one?

2006-09-18T23:37:00.000+08:00

I can't wait to move out. I can't wait to sit in my living room and read a book or take a nap on my sofa. I can't wait to start planning and writing at my new writing table. I can't wait to start reading and rereading the books I've recently bought but decided to pack into boxes until the big move. I can't wait to pay off the housing loan and finally own the place. I can't wait, but I have to. The anticipation is sweet.

2006-09-14T15:33:00.000+08:00

A woman was reportedly abducted while outside a shopping centre in Bukit Bintang, Kuala Lumpur, before she was raped in a carpark in Kajang, which was situated about 20 kilometers away from the scene of the abduction. Read the full story here.

And the kicker is...

... the last few paragraphs of the story:

The police are treating the case as one of molest.

The victim's husband told GuangMing Daily that he had had sex with his wife soon after the rape but before she went for her medical examination.

As such, the doctors have insufficient evidence of a rape.

The victim has also yet to attend a photofit session with the police to identify her rapist.

Her husband told China Press that he was too busy with work to take her to the police station."

But he was evidently not too busy to have sex with his freshly-raped wife. Yikes.

2006-09-08T10:24:00.000+08:00

The Paladin Warhorse: Looks Sw33t and it is Fr33

Well, strictly speaking, nothing is free. Perhaps it would be more accurate to state that it costs no gold. Uh, not directly, anyway.

So how has everybody been? I'm fine, I guess. Sort of.

What I don't like about CHS

He regards alot of my activities as a waste of time. He never comes out and says it, but he's pretty dismissive when I try to talk to him about my interests. It is hard to share the things I appreciate in life when he thinks it's all somehow beneath him. Maybe I need to work on my descriptive skills. I love the study of flesh-eating bacteria because...

I have been a victim...

... for too long. So now I'm gonna spend my time on stuff that I feel will yield a proper return. No more day-to-day waste-of-time stuff. Gonna start reading again. And then applying. And then recording down my findings. Yeah, I'll be busy changing my life. But don't leave me alone or anything.

I Miss The River

I've been thinking about walking along its banks again. Feeling the breeze in my face again. Living off Subway sandwiches everyday again. It's been keeping me up at night.

Ideas Need To Flow

So turn the tap on. Enough said. Time to do.

2006-09-07T14:11:00.000+08:00

Spotted on my Skype contact list...

"There are many ways to say I Luv U... but Fking is the fastest!"

2006-09-06T10:39:00.000+08:00

"You are a little soul carrying around a corpse." - Epictetus

2006-09-02T18:57:00.000+08:00

And What I Was Trying To Tell You Last Night Is...

... that exploration leads to knowledge and understanding, but also to an inevitable loss of innocence. Would you like to explore with me?

"The tender boughs of innocence burn first, and the wind rises... then all goodness is in jeopardy." - The Log Lady in 'Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me,' directed by David Lynch

2006-08-29T09:00:00.000+08:00

What's Left Of Me

The woman at the foot of my bed is back. She does not show me paintings of thistles this time; she only sits and stares. I don't know if she is trying to tell me something or not.

I had this urge to close my eyes and scream and scream and scream yesterday, but I turned on the car stereo and the urge passed. I am in some kind of Hell. God is punishing me. Or is He teaching me? There ought to be a way to tell the difference. He knows now that I am beginning to learn His lesson. The lesson is painful.

Beauty does not belong to anyone. It has to be shared. But I do not want to share. I want to hide it away, keep it to myself. I want to be the only one who knows what beauty is. Let the rest of them grope in the dark. To see their hands on what is mine would destroy me.

I know where I am headed. I will be destroyed. I can see myself laughing in the flames.

2006-08-28T09:21:00.000+08:00

Dark Blue

We were boxing
We were boxing the stars
We were boxing
You were swinging for Mars
And then the water reached the West Coast
And took the power lines
The power lines
And it was me and you and the whole town underwater
There was nothing we could do
It was Dark Blue

Dark Blue
Dark Blue
Have you ever been alone
In a crowded room
While I'm here with you
I said the world could be burning
And burning down

- 'Dark Blue,' performed by Jack's Mannequin

2006-08-17T12:25:00.000+08:00

More Than This World

Fumbling his confidence
And wondering why the world
Has passed him by
Hoping that he's meant for more
Than arguments
And failed attempts to fly
FLY

Dreaming about providence
And whether mice or men
Have second tries
Maybe we've been livin'
With our eyes half open
Maybe we're bent and broken
BROKEN

We want more than this world's got to offer
We want more than this world's got to offer
We want more than the wars of our fathers

AND EVERYTHING INSIDE SCREAMS FOR SECOND LIFE

- 'Meant To Live,' performed by Switchfoot

2006-08-15T12:26:00.000+08:00

The Unfilial Son

My father called me an unfilial son again today. In Chinese.

unfilial
a.
Unsuitable to be a son or a daughter; undutiful; not becoming a child.

There is no satisfactory English equivalent for what he called me, actually. Essentially, when one refers to one's son as 'unfilial' in Chinese, one is really saying one wishes one's son was never born.

Funny how I sometimes think I wished the same thing.

2006-08-14T09:36:00.000+08:00

Dance Dance Dance

"When you dance, your purpose is not to get to a certain place on the floor. It's to enjoy each step along the way." - Wayne Dyer

2006-08-11T22:54:00.000+08:00

Hips Don't Lie

Can't take it anymore. Have to write something. What the hell have I been doing? I've been busy with work. And with a lawsuit. And with the new house. How many unfinished writing projects have I got pending? Let me just count them off the top of my head... There's that story about an abandoned baby left on the beach. Then there's the Spasmgirl episode involving a villain named The Chessmaster. And there's 'Life, Love and Other Disposables.' And there's the Anthropology series where I've only just introduced Jamal and Azlinah, two characters whose stories will eventualy have a profound impact on my life. Then there's 'Trust Simon' and 'Emil Lime, Mighty Pirate.' Is that about all? I think so.

There are other ideas in my head, but now that I'm sitting down to write them, they don't seem so clear to me anymore. A story about a bear or a dog, perhaps. The bear/dog belonged to someone important and got lost. A twist at the end of the story. Better not say too much yet. A piece based on someone I met in Vietnam. An American. He had an interesting theory about blowjobs and how to do them properly. A story about cats. Or a woman's very rational fear of them. Oh, yes. But more of a substory to be incorporated into 'Life, Love and Other Disposables.' A biography of a fictional character named Wen. He falls in love with a girl and she gets pregnant. He leaves for a foreign country and returns to find her waiting for him, only without the baby or any knowledge of its existance. The writer intervenes halfway through his life story, then the character invades the writer's world. It all occurs in the mind of a little girl after having read the first chapter. It'll seem more coherent later. I hope.

I've been listening to hip-hop music and conducting social experiments. I will translate my findings into words when I'm done. I am also going to write down my experiences at work as a satire or a parody. It'll be called 'Hell Inc.'

I brought the smack down on one of my managers yesterday. In a crowded public place, through the phone. Let's call him Manager E. Another manager (Manager L) needed some urgent information from Manager E's staff (Staff N) and made a request for the guy to call him, but he didn't call. This despite being told to do so by his direct manager (Manager E). Confusing, I know, but I prefer to keep things cryptic when it comes to work and certain aspects of my personal life. Anyway, Manager E told Manager L that there was nothing Manager E could do if Staff N (who is Manager E's staff) refuses to call Manager L back. Nothing he could do? Then what am I employing a manager over Staff N for? I blew up in a big way. Everybody gave me a funny look after my outburst over the phone. It's funny, but I thought it looked like a mixture of fear and respect.

A storm is coming. Yes, an obscenely overused string of words. Let me present them as a quotation, then:

"I know there is a God - I see the storm coming and I see [H]is hand in it - if [H]e has a place then I am ready - we see the hand." - John F. Kennedy

I see a storm coming. It will destroy me, rebuild me, CHANGE me. Change, whether it is good or bad, would be PROGRESS. Therefore, I stretch my arms open and lower my head in silence. I think of my journey through life, the simplicity of my youth and how far I have travelled, progressed. And tell the storm that I am waiting.

2006-08-04T20:30:00.000+08:00

Clarity

I worry
I weigh three times my body
I worry
I throw my fear around
But this morning
There's a calm I can't explain
The rock candy's melted
Only diamonds now remain

By the time
I recognize this moment
This moment will be gone
But I will bend the light
Pretend that it somehow lingered on

- 'Clarity,' performed by John Mayer

2006-07-30T17:20:00.000+08:00

Milky Milky Right

Some random words for meditation:

I am a liar. Every statement I make is a lie. Jay Chou's 'Fearless' makes me want to cry every time I hear it. I want to fight somebody, connect to his body with my fists, feel the energy pass into my chest and out my back, spit blood. We are all feeling unstable now, flitting between calm and fear, peace and terror. I have to stop myself from sobbing. I stood in front of a bookshelf in Kinokuniya the other day and wept. It was the store's collection of biographies, which I've been meaning to start reading, but am now unsure if I would ever have the opportunity. I need to jump up and down, throw my open palm to the sky, fight the temptation to stop moving, to lie down, to retain energy instead of releasing it into the atmosphere. Fight! I remember your face. Saigon Hotel. I threw up into the street and you took me home. 我记得你。

She moves closer. I put my hands on her waist and pull her towards me. "Do you mind," I ask. She does not dare to reply. I drink in her fear like a man dying of thirst, then release her. She runs. They do not always run.

2006-07-26T14:46:00.000+08:00

Another Nightmare

I had another nightmare last night. I dreamt I was one of four young women sleeping in a dark forest of rotting trees. We were lying in a huge four poster bed, complete with thick blankets and large pillows, under a particularly ancient tree with low branches. The general atmosphere was frightening, as if something terrible was about to happen. A cold wailing wind blew dead leaves everywhere.

One of the girls beside me decided to get up and go somewhere. Perhaps she went to the toilet. Or maybe she heard a noise. Anyway, she left and I quickly forgot about her. Something began to pull at my blanket. I heard a woman's laughter, like it was just beside my ear, as my blanket was pulled away from the bed and onto the floor.

I got up to retrieve my blanket, feeling terrified in my dream. The other girls did not stir. Each had a familiar face, like I'd known them for a long time.

I was about to get back into bed with my blanket when the girl who had left earlier returned. Something was not right about her behaviour; there was something wrong with her walk, like she was limping. She was not limping before. I must have known her for a long time as well, because we got into bed together and held each other very close. Her face was right in front of mine; we laid down facing one another. As I drifted off to sleep in my dream, I felt her breath against my cheek.

Then I opened my eyes to look at her face, trying to remember where I had seen her, what our relationship to each other was, how long I had known her. I suddenly felt a cold chill spread down my body. Her face was familiar enough, but this thing in front of me was not who I thought she was. I was seized with a violent realization of how alien she was to me. I was staring into the face of a complete stranger.

It is hard to explain the fear that I felt. I knew the face; something inside me was familiar with that face, but I did not know the thing that was wearing the face. In a fit of abject terror, I enclosed her neck with one hand and started to hit her. Perhaps I was attempting to knock the face off of the pretender that was wearing it. I am not sure now. It is hard to determine why people do what they do in a state of panic. And I was horrified.

The change was almost immediate. Her face jerked back from the impact of my blows and was transfigured in an instant. One moment it was the face of a dear friend and the next moment it was the face of a stranger with crazy eyes, grinning wildly at me, giggling, laughing. I did not release my grip on the thing's neck as I stared into its face. I was helpless with fear; I could not move. It grinned and expanded in my vision until I saw nothing else. I began to sob and whimper violently, like an animal about to die.

It was my whimpering which awakened me. I woke up in bed alone, terrified out of my wits, my body shuddering. As I crossed the final threshold between sleeping and waking, I could still hear her laughing. The sound of her laughter had followed me from the world of my nightmare, echoing off the walls of my bedroom before fading into the night.

2006-07-25T21:40:00.000+08:00

What the fuck am I supposed to do with 3 million dollars?

2006-07-25T21:03:00.000+08:00

I think I'm in love with Diana Thung. Hope everything turns out well for her. :)

2006-07-10T12:31:00.000+08:00

"The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place." - George Bernard Shaw

And boy, do I know this one. :P

2006-07-08T12:30:00.000+08:00

Anthropology (Part I)

I met Jamal in a hip-hop bar. I was hanging by the side of the dance floor with my glass of burbon and enjoying the music when he came to me and waved his jug of long island tea in my face.

"You know, it's okay to have a little fun once in a while," he said.

"Aye?" I replied.

"My name is Jamal. Who are you?"

"I'm Kim Jong-il."

Yeah, I was Kim Jong-il that night. The night before that I was Dr. Cornelius. You know, the ape guy.

"Sure you are," said Jamal, laughing.

"So where are you from, Jamal?"

"I'm from New Jersey. And where are you from?"

"Singapore."

"Ah, a native of the soil." There was a pause while we both took a sip from our drinks. A group of girls on the dance floor caught Jamal's attention. They had no sense of rhythm at all.

"I just love Chinese people, Kim. I love Chinese kung fu, I love Chinese food, and I really really love Chinese girls."

"Yeah, I love them, too."

"Their butts are so small. I love their tiny butts. Look at them wriggle over there. The butts in New Jersey are huge."

"I'm really not in a position to comment, Jamal."

Jamal turned to look at me. There was a serious expression on his face.

"Find me a hooker, Kim."

"What?"

"Find me a hooker."

"No, man. I will not."

"Awww... Help me out here."

"Find yourself a hooker, man."

And that was when Azlinah showed up.

2006-07-07T16:07:00.000+08:00

Irregularity

"Oh, fuck."

"What? What is it?"

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, my god."

"Sorry. I've been irregular lately."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not okay. You should be angry. Aren't you angry?"

"No, no. It's fine. Don't be silly."

"I'm not being silly. Why aren't you angry? Why are you always so nice?"

"Haha, is it a crime to be nice?"

"Stop being so nice. Why do you have to be so nice? You make me feel like a terrible person."

"But you're not a terrible person."

"I am. I'm a terrible person. Stop being so nice to me. Just stop it."

"Shhh, baby. What's wrong? Come here."

"No. Don't touch me. Just go away. Leave me alone."

"Baby, what's wrong? Did I do something wrong?"

"No. No, you didn't. You never do and that's what's wrong."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"You'll never understand. I feel terrible. I just feel terrible. Just leave. Please."

"Sweetheart..."

"Don't touch me! Get out. Get out, get out, get out!"

And so he left.

2006-07-05T14:21:00.000+08:00

The Supplier

No, really. You brought this on yourself. It's difficult to buy from you when you act like a jilted girlfriend every time I buy from someone else. Am I not managing our expectations well? Frankly, that's more your job, managing expectations, than mine. And you said nothing about exclusivity.

I haven't got the time to be worrying about whether my purchases will upset you or not. It's just too taxing, no matter how low your prices are. It's just not worth the aggravation. So excuse me if I escort you to the door early. A customer/supplier relationship of this type can only be defined as abusive and unproductive. Consider our ineffective partnership ended.

I suspect you'll redouble your efforts to accuse us of unfairness and inefficiency in front of others. You say that our technical team is weak, that we've become yaya and arrogant now that our business is improving. That we're somehow rejecting your products out of spite rather than necessity like I explained to you.

Well, go right on ahead. In the meantime, the grave you're digging for yourself in this industry deepens.

2006-06-28T17:18:00.000+08:00

You held me up when I was down.

Now it's my turn to hold you.

I'll try not to drop you, babe. :)

2006-06-26T10:32:00.000+08:00

"Magnetism is one of the Six Fundamental Forces of the Universe, with the other five being Gravity, Duct Tape, Whining, Remote Control, and The Force That Pulls Dogs Toward The Groins Of Strangers." - Dave Barry

Colours was almost knocked down by a car yesterday. Pantone was nowhere near the scene. She seems to be okay; they're still playing with each other, although Colours is now avoiding people for some reason, preferring only the company of other dogs...

This is not a spam blog post.

2006-06-19T11:56:00.000+08:00

A Barely Audible Whisper

"Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me... Anything can happen, child. Anything can be." - Shel Silverstein, American poet, cartoonist and composer (1930-1999)

To my family, friends, enemies, co-workers, customers, competitors, lovers, beloved: Listen. :)

2006-06-02T18:10:00.000+08:00

The Word For Today is CLEAVE

When it was over, she lit a cigarette.

"You don't mind if I smoke?"

He shook his head, just a slight movement. His eyes were still closed, his hands still cupped behind his head.

"Tell me your name," he said, when she had finished.

There a short pause before she replied, "It's Snoopy."

"Snoopy? That can't be your real name."

"So what? Like you really care."

She got ready to leave. She was going to make it quick and painful. It was her way.

"Don't you dare forget me," she said before she closed the door. She was gone forever.

He lay in bed and stared at the ceiling for a very long time.

2006-06-02T12:21:00.000+08:00

So Who's Workin' Fer You?

After getting all of Pope Benedict's luggage loaded into the limo, (and he doesn't travel light), the driver notices that the Pope is still standing on the curb.

"Excuse me, Your Holiness," says the driver. "Will you please take your seat so we can leave?"

"Well, to tell you the truth," says the Pope, "they never let me drive at the Vatican when I was a cardinal, and I'd really like to drive today."

"I'm sorry, Your Holiness, but I cannot let you do that. I'd lose my job! And what if something should happen?" protests the driver, wishing he'd never gone to work that morning.

"Who's going to tell? Besides, there might be something extra in it for you," says the Pope with a smile.

Reluctantly, the driver gets in the back as the Pope climbs in behind the wheel. The driver quickly regrets his decision when, after exiting the airport, the Pontiff floors it, accelerating the limo to 105 mph (remember, he's German).

"Please slow down, Your Holiness!" pleads the worried driver, but the Pope keeps the pedal to the metal until they hear sirens. "Oh, Dear God, I'm gonna lose my license--and my job!" moans the driver.

The Pope pulls over and rolls down the window as the cop approaches, but the cop takes one look at him, goes back to his motorcycle, and gets on the radio. "I need to talk to the Chief," he says to the dispatcher.

The Chief gets on the radio and the cop tells him that he's stopped a limo going at a hundred and five.

"So bust him," says the Chief.

"I don't think we want to do that, he's really big," said the cop.

The Chief exclaimed, "All the more reason!"

"No, I mean really important," said the cop with persistence.

The Chief then asked, "Who ya got there, the Mayor?"

Cop: "Bigger."

Chief: "The Governor?"

Cop: "Bigger."

Chief: "The President?"

Cop: "Bigger."

"Well," said the Chief, "who is it?"

Cop: "I think it's God!"

The Chief is stumped, "You been drinking, John?"

Cop: "No, sir."

Chief: "Then what makes you think it's God?"

Cop: "Well, he's got the Pope as a chauffeur."

It's a great joke, really funny, and kinda reminded me of how important it is to have good people working for you. Because truly, the people you've got working with you (co-workers, staff, bosses) says a whole lot more about you than anything else.

2006-06-01T15:02:00.000+08:00

Thank You, Blogger!

"As with many powerful tools, blogging services can be both used and abused. The ease of creating and updating webpages with Blogger has made it particularly prone to a form of behaviour known as link spamming. Blogs engaged in this behaviour are called spam blogs and can be recognised by their irrelevant, repetitive or nonsensical text, along with a large number of links, usually all pointing to a single site.

Spam blogs cause various problems beyond simply wasting a few seconds of your time when you happen to come across one. They can clog up search engines making it difficult to find real content on the subjects that interest you. They may scrape content from other sites on the web, using other people's writing to make it look as though they have useful information of their own. And if an automated system is creating spam posts at an extremely high rate, it can affect the speed and quality of the service for other, legitimate users." - Blogger, 2006

This weblog was taken offline recently because Blogger suspected it was a spam blog. The exact terms the team at Blogger used to describe my writing are: irrelevant, repetitive or nonsensical. I had to send them a request to put this weblog back online. And my reaction?

I've never laughed so hard in my life! Validation at last!

2006-05-30T14:36:00.000+08:00

"The only thing that equals writing what you think is a good poem is to write another just as good. It is like coming home after a long absence, and knowing the trees and water and land are yours, your land; or waking up with the woman you have known all your life, and knowing she is your life; to feel the boundaries of yourself widen and expand in the sober drunkenness of your brain." - Al Purdy

2006-05-30T01:11:00.000+08:00

I Choose You

"Okay, okay. Choose one. Honest doubt or blind faith?"

"Alright. I choose... honest doubt!"

She laughed. Her laugh was like the sound of windchimes. His ears reddened a little.

"God, you made it sound like you were choosing a Pok�mon! Honest Doubt, I choose you!"

She flapped her arms and made little Pikachu noises. He wanted to reach out and hold her right there and then, but he didn't. He would regret this restraint for the rest of his life.

2006-05-29T22:35:00.000+08:00

Yes, I hope we dance!

2006-05-29T22:27:00.000+08:00

Warning, Preface

This is what the Lord Almighty says: "These people say, 'The time has not yet come for the Lord's house to be built.'"

Then the word of the Lord came through the prophet Haggai: "Is it a time for you yourselves to be living in your paneled houses, while this house remains a ruin?"

Now this is what the Lord Almighty says: "Give careful thought to your ways. You have planted much, but have harvested little. You eat, but never have enough. You drink, but never have your fill. You put on clothes, but are not warm. You earn wages, only to put them in a purse with holes in it."

This is what the Lord Almighty says: "Give careful thought to your ways. Go up into the mountains and bring down timber and build the house, so that I may take pleasure in it and be honored," says the Lord. "You expected much, but see, it turned out to be little. What you brought home, I blew away. Why?" declares the Lord Almighty. "Because of my house, which remains a ruin, while each of you is busy with his own house. Therefore, because of you the heavens have withheld their dew and the earth its crops. I called for a drought on the fields and the mountains, on the grain, the new wine, the oil and whatever the ground produces, on men and cattle, and on the labor of your hands."

- Haggai 1:2-11, New International Version

2006-04-27T14:28:00.000+08:00

"Ordinary riches can be stolen, real riches cannot. In your soul are infinitely precious things that cannot be taken from you." - Oscar Wilde

2006-04-23T16:17:00.000+08:00

Diary, Appendix A

"For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. Now when he had agreed with the laborers for a denarius a day, he sent them into his vineyard. And he went out about the third hour and saw others standing idle in the marketplace, and said to them, 'You also go into the vineyard, and whatever is right I will give you.' So they went. Again he went out about the sixth and the ninth hour, and did likewise. And about the eleventh hour he went out and found others standing idle, and said to them, 'Why have you been standing here idle all day?' They said to him, 'Because no one hired us.' He said to them, 'You also go into the vineyard, and whatever is right you will receive.'

"So when evening had come, the owner of the vineyard said to his steward, 'Call the laborers and give them their wages, beginning with the last to the first.' And when those came who were hired about the eleventh hour, they each received a denarius. But when the first came, they supposed that they would receive more; and they likewise received each a denarius. And when they had received it, they complained against the landowner, saying, 'These last men have worked only one hour, and you made them equal to us who have borne the burden and the heat of the day.' But he answered one of them and said, 'Friend, I am doing you no wrong. Did you not agree with me for a denarius? Take what is yours and go your way. I wish to give to this last man the same as to you. Is it not lawful for me to do what I wish with my own things? Or is your eye evil because I am good?' So the last will be first, and the first last. For many are called, but few chosen."

- Matthew 20:1-16, New King James Version

2006-04-23T16:06:00.000+08:00

Biography, First Draft

Then He began to speak to them in parables: "A man planted a vineyard and set a hedge around it, dug a place for the wine vat and built a tower. And he leased it to vinedressers and went into a far country. Now at vintage-time he sent a servant to the vinedressers, that he might receive some of the fruit of the vineyard from the vinedressers. And they took him and beat him and sent him away empty-handed. Again he sent them another servant, and at him they threw stones, wounded him in the head, and sent him away shamefully treated. And again he sent another, and him they killed; and many others, beating some and killing some. Therefore still having one son, his beloved, he also sent him to them last, saying, 'They will respect my son.' But those vinedressers said among themselves, 'This is the heir. Come, let us kill him, and the inheritance will be ours.' So they took him and killed him and cast him out of the vineyard.

"Therefore what will the owner of the vineyard do? He will come and destroy the vinedressers, and give the vineyard to others."

- Mark 12:1-9, New King James Version

2006-04-17T15:51:00.000+08:00

I have no excuses.
And neither do you.

2006-04-10T14:16:00.000+08:00

Sorry, God / Sorry, Dad

I've tried my best
But I don't think it was good enough.
Now I'm lost;
I don't know what to do next.
I'm waiting for You to save me.
I'm waiting,
But there isn't alot of time left.
I've let everyone down,
And I can't forgive myself
For not being good enough.
I give up,
My hands are off the wheel.
I'm just waiting for You now.
Save me.

2006-04-06T18:34:00.000+08:00

In Case I Didn't Get To Say Goodbye

I'm losing my voice.

I guess it was bound to happen. I haven't got anything to say anymore. I've been quiet for too long.

I'm lovesick. Sick of love. Sick of life. Sick of my little world of little people. I'm lonely. More than I have ever been in my entire life.

I'm falling in love constantly. I have been falling in love with everyone and everything for 27 years. Falling in and out, in and out. In, out, in, out. Fucking love, man. FUCK!

What I need, I cannot get. What I want, I do not need. What I love, I do not touch, do not see. I touch it and it's gone. I look at it and it disappears.

I love everyone. I want to love everyone. I want to fucking fuck every single fucking person I see or hear about or read about and I'm fucking tired of it.

Love, man.

Tomorrow I will ask someone to leave. Out of love. Out of love, man. Fuck me.

I have destroyed myself. There is nothing left of me.

Kee Min is dead. Long live Kee Min.

All the wicked things. All the wicked things I have done in my wicked life. I carry them in my heart. In my heart, man. And they're pulling me down. Down to the pit. My social acting will not save me. I am stranded in space, spit out like a melon seed from my home; my momentum is increasing. And I'm not gonna stop. I'm so far away from people I can barely sense them now. I'm comatose.

It's a dark day, yes. I've had dark days before, stretching into weeks, months, years. I can remember my dark days. But this time it feels different.

The word for today is TIGHT. The word for tomorrow is GRIND. The word for the day after is JUICE. Yesterday, it was DRIP.

Heartache. Headache. My feet ache. My entire body is wrecked. And my soul is dripping poison. My blood is black.

I'm lovesick. Sick of love. Sick of life.

Sick in my heart. The core of my being is sick. I'm sick inside.

When you're this sick you don't really care much about what other people think. You say stupid things to people you don't know. You overshare. People blink at you, mildly disinterested, barely comprehending the secrets you are pulling out in front of them. They change the subject. Or they look at you like you're some kind of pathetic freak.

You sit there and imagine yourself alone in a field. The whole world has died and you are the only one left. You close your eyes and know, just know, that there is nobody else and you feel a breeze blowing in your face. You feel calm. There is no hope of company. Life is so easy to bear when there is no hope.

It's so easy to bear when there is nobody to comfort you or tell you it's going to be okay or encourage you to pray. You just tell yourself that it's not okay, and can never be. And you'll be fine with that because that's the only possible reality there is. Nobody can disagree with you.

Other people generate alternate realities. They disrupt light. They cast shadows. I love them. I'd love for them to never exist. If I had never known the beauty of another person, I would not miss it so much when it had gone.

I cannot do what I am required to do. What I'm expected to do. Or I will do it and lose a little of myself every time. I am not a servant of order, of planning, of strategy. I am a servant of beauty, of randomness, or coincidence, of luck, of the spur of the moment, of undeserved favour, of chaos.

So we said goodbye, parted ways. People come and go, come and go. In and out, in and out. But I loved them all. Tomorrow I will tell another to leave. But I'm the one who's really leaving.

Sometimes I think I already left.

2006-03-13T15:22:00.000+08:00

Dhaka, 5 Days

I am going to miss everyone.
I am going to miss my wife.
I am going to miss my friends.
I am going to miss the food.
I am going to call back home everyday.
I am going to call the office everyday.
I am going.

2006-03-11T17:35:00.000+08:00

Let Us Masturbate Again

The following is the result of holding it all in for too long. Yeah, it's free association time. Be afraid.

Just the other day I decided to try and come up with the most offensive name for a band. I've always wanted to start a band for reasons I am not entirely sure myself. Maybe I just crave attention. Band names I came up with:

1) Sex For Underaged Girls

Actually 'Sex With Underaged Girls' sounds a little more offensive, but I won't go into that because it'll just become a slippery slope of taboo additions from there. I can easily imagine people suggesting that I change the name to 'Anal Sex With Underaged Girls' or 'Uncles Having Anal Sex With Underaged Girls' or 'Uncles Having Anal Sex With Underaged Boys.' Not a nice thought.

2) Okay, I admit it. That's as far as I got.

I've discovered that my brain can only hold a certain volume of ideas at any one time. Ideas are kind of like...

Interrupted thought. Made the mistake of looking out the window.

I'm thinking maybe I should say more about the band name thing, mostly because I'm worried about what people will think of me. I am not usually this callous. And I'm not a pedophile, of course. I was able to come up with that name because it deeply disturbs me.

But this post isn't about some silly mental exercise in futility (naming a band I will never ever start is an exercise in futility). It's about free association.

Apples. Brains, pineapples, oranges, fruit, panda, loops, Ah Meng eating a salad wearing an apron with the words 'Man' written on it, it's a black apron, chewy chewy pizza guy loves Sandra Bullock. Stop. Distracted.

Touch of madness. I like my friends to be a little touched by madness. I have not been meeting up with any of them. I miss them. I've been putting on weight, been tired all the time, been eating comfort food.

Touched by madness. I am so boring in social gatherings now. Not dynamic. Sift through this load of rubbish and you may find... nothing. Still, it passes the time, eh?

Let's talk about the imaginery girlfriend. Observe her lips. Texture. I like to imagine texture. I let my mind touch her lips. Apply pressure here. Like cushions, her lips yield to my mind and I slip inside her. Moist. The key idea here is moist.

Moist is not my favorite word. It's sticky, messy, uncomfortable. Moist is sex.

And sex is uncomfortable.

My favorite word is CLEAVE, actually. It contradicts itself and agrees with itself at the same time. I love that. I think duality is a very curious thing.

Her tongue cleaves to... from... on? I just visited the weirdest website. I made the mistake of Googling 'cleave,' you see. Don't use Google. They'll catch you. They write everything down and never forget a word. Their cookies last for years and years.

I once visited another website which tracked word searches that other people were using to surf the internet. Crazy stuff. Gay werewolves. That's one of the searches that came up. Crazy. My friends know about this because I told them about it. Now they think I'm into homosexual Lycanthropes. No, not me.

I once told someone that I was the straightest guy I know. I still think I am, and I know alot of straight guys.

At least I think they're straight. I'm not very good at analysing people. I expose myself to alot of risk when it comes to trusting people. I just don't make good character judgements.

Or perhaps I'm just no better than the next guy. I'm too hard on myself sometimes. Most of the time.

I was thinking of starting a weblog on my business. Now it's too late, I guess. Now that I've told you so much. There is no dignity left in me.

There is no privacy in sharing stories. Stories hold our universe together. The storyteller is not in control. The story is. The storyteller is a node, a conduit. He or she is a puppet. The story is like a parasite. It lives in you, then you pass it on to another host. It multiples, evolves. But without the stories we would die. Or we would be worse than dead. We would have no purpose or meaning. No story, no justification, no experience, no existence, no point!

No hindsight. Our present lives run on hindsight. It is the fuel that keeps us going. Not all the fuel. Part of it. Another part is hope. Hindsight and hope. Past and future. Living in a present fueled by the events of the past and the possibilities of the future. We are phasic beings, you and I. We are not all here, or there, or anywhere. Our physical bodies cannot hold us.

You may not agree. Good.

Apple tree. The soft scratching sounds the maggots make. Can you hear them? Just a little tiny bit beneath audible. They are scratching at the fringes of our thoughts, or they are squirming inside of us, in our organs, our brains. Observe the frontal lobe.

They are ideas. Worms. Dreams. They must find their way out, like in that movie, Alien. Oh, yes. If you don't pull them out of yourself they will claw their way out of your chest, spilling blood everywhere, staining the tablecloth and the curtains and that new rug I bought from Tangs Studio.

Nesting instinct. That is my current operator. I will buy furniture. I will work for furniture and fixtures and contractors. I will be working for interior designers. I will pay for grilled windows, a sofa, some chairs for the study. Shelves!

Ikea is the new pornography. An old idea.

My library has been neglected lately. How much of this post is the repetition of old ideas? How much of this stuff have I already written? Some people spend their entire lives living out the same theme again and again and again. Is that going to be me?

Is that going to be me? I think I should go now.

2006-02-28T21:54:00.000+08:00

"At L�ttich in the year 1610 two sorcerers were executed because they had turned themselves into werewolves and had killed many children. With them they had a boy of twelve years whom the devil turned into a raven whenever they were tearing apart and eating their prey."

Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, Deutsche Sagen, (1816/1818), no. 214

2006-02-17T14:26:00.000+08:00

History Lessons

"It doesn't matter to me if a man is from Harvard or Sing Sing. We hire the man, not his history." - Henry Ford

But what is a man, if not a physical projection of his history?

2006-02-16T10:07:00.000+08:00

... Waiting for the Lights to Change

I'm just sitting here...

2006-01-24T19:00:00.000+08:00

Game Theory

Hah, it's all a game.

And games are about winning and losing.

Games are not about appreciating the moment or worshipping beauty or dreaming dreams.

Games are about gamemanship. Games are about competition.

And if you want to play, you had better play to win.

I don't believe any of this.

But I'm playing the game.

And believe it or not, I'm actually going to win.

2006-01-24T16:15:00.000+08:00

"People used to look out on the playground and say that the boys were playing soccer and the girls were doing nothing. But the girls weren't doing nothing-they were talking. They were talking about the world to one another. And they became very expert about that in a way the boys did not." - Carol Gilligan

2006-01-23T21:25:00.000+08:00

Truth

"What you perceive, your observations, feelings, interpretations, are all your truth. Your truth is important. Yet it is not The Truth." - Linda Ellinor

"Truth is beautiful, without doubt; but so are lies." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

"There are very few human beings who receive the truth, complete and staggering, by instant illumination. Most of them acquire it fragment by fragment, on a small scale, by successive developments, cellularly, like a laborious mosaic." - Anais Nin

"Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn't." - Mark Twain

2006-01-16T14:29:00.000+08:00

I fired two people today.

I feel like a man who had to gnaw off his own hand to save the rest of his body from certain death.

2006-01-13T18:19:00.000+08:00

Embrace

She came by the office today. I was in the middle of a sales meeting so she waited at my desk, where she decided to rearrange some papers and folders into neat but random piles.

"What's up," I said, when I had finished.

"I'm lost," came her reply.

"Lost?"

"I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't know why I came to see you."

"I think I know," I whispered.

We drove out to a park nearby and sat down on one of those wooden park benches. It was about to rain. It had been raining everyday for weeks. She pushed her shoulder against my arm.

"I received a phone call from my father today," I said. "That's why you're here."

"I make you sad, don't I?"

"Yes."

I put my arms around her. My heart felt like it was plunging down a dark hole. My vision fogged. We held each other for a long, long time.

And then, she was gone. All that remained of her was a dull ache. It pulsed like a fresh bruise on my flesh. I stared at the sky, tracing animal shapes in the clouds.

And it began to rain.

2006-01-04T18:30:00.000+08:00

"We have, I fear, confused power with greatness." - Stewart Udall

2005-12-20T14:59:00.000+08:00

I don't think I've ever really forgiven my father.

2005-12-09T17:41:00.000+08:00

He Gets Married Tomorrow

Bryan: u there?

Kee: Aye.

Bryan: u

Kee: You gonna be at Henry's?
I'm trying to find a stripper.

Bryan: ahh
nice
if u pay me enough..i'll do it myself

Kee: How much is enough?
I budgeted 300 bucks.
Hahaha.
Don't think you're worth that much.

Bryan: more
but i'll do it for henry's sake

Kee: Riiight.

Bryan: u serious ah??

Kee: I'm sure Henry would be wildly appreciative.
Not.

Bryan: hahaha
but u serious about the stripper???

Kee: I don't think Henry would appreciate a stripper like you and I would.
I've set aside 300 bucks for whatever.
Prolly something sedate. :P

Bryan: bah
thought u were serious about it
hahahhaa

Kee: I dun wanna upset him.

Bryan: hahaha

Kee: If it were... say, you, I'd do it. :D

Bryan: hahahhahha
i'm that sleazy huh
i'm so disapppointed in u
how can u do that to me

Kee: You dun have your head in your ass when it comes to stuff like that, yeah. Hahaha.

Bryan: i need at LEAST.....5-7 strippers
a single one won't cut it

Kee: 5-7??? Not enough hands in the room!

Bryan: they don't call me octobryan for nothin
hahahha

Kee: Wait, they don't call you octobryan... at all.

Bryan: yea..but they would if they knew what i could do

Kee: Hahaha.
Octobryan...
Heh, heh.

2005-12-05T13:41:00.000+08:00

Something terrible is about to happen.

2005-11-25T18:53:00.000+08:00

Little Red Riding

She has grown less awkward with herself. Her confidence has made her beautiful.

I touch her with my eyes.

The day I first noticed her. I can still feel her breath on my face, her body pressing against mine, her lips parting ever so slightly, the colour of her cheeks, the scent of her hair.

I fold into myself, catching her breathlessness in my arms.

She has no idea how pretty she is. If she knew, she would have been frightened of me, because I was hungry for beauty. I was hungry to take. I was hungry to destroy.

Pieces of her float in the ocean of my mind. You shouldn't be wandering in the forest after dark, little girl. There are things out there. Things you could not imagine. And they can see you. They want to taste you.

I can see you are afraid. Come with me. Walk with me. I will protect you. Let me tell you stories. Let me hold your hand. Your skin is smooth, perfect, untainted by lust. There is so much I can teach you, so much you can learn. Your body can hold so much beauty. You have to share it. Share, share, share, little girl.

She takes my hand and closes her eyes. No, no. Wrong. Stop.

Walk on, my dear. I forgot something. Stove, car keys, wallet, the kitchen sink.

She leaves, a little sad. I take a shortcut.

I will be dead by morning. But tonight I shall know beauty. I shall tear it with my teeth, taste it, roll it around in my mouth. Swallow.

I watch her from the trees. She is a shadow in the dark. She is an angel. She is the instrument of my demise. Her hair is black, her cape red like fresh blood.

I lick my wounds and pray they will not be reopened. I knock on her door. I feast. I lie. I taste. I die. Again and again and again.

2005-10-05T01:13:00.000+08:00

Untitled

My muse is a cruel mistress. Sometimes she keeps me up at night, whispering secrets and mysteries. Other times she is nowhere to be found, or silent as a freshly dug grave. Sometimes she teases me with half-stories and almost-stories. I do not know her name, but she infects my dreams. She is barely there in my waking hours--merely a vague presence--although occasionally she reveals herself. She is looking over my shoulder now. My god, I can see her in my mind's eye. Oh my god. She is a ghastly drooling thing. Her face! So close to mine. I dare not move. I dare not stop typing. If I stop I will lose my mind. I can feel it fraying already. I am unraveling. She is sitting beside me now. Smiling. Grinning. She will follow me upstairs. No escape! Her fingers caress my cheek with the tenderness of spider legs. I stare straight ahead like a dead man. What will happen if I stop typing? I do not kn

2005-10-04T00:38:00.000+08:00

Enemy Within

"The good fight is the one that's fought in the name of our dreams. When we're young and our dreams first explode inside us with all their force, we are very courageous, but we haven't yet learned how to fight. With great effort, we learn how to fight, but by then we no longer have the courage to go into combat. So we turn against ourselves and do battle within. We become our own worst enemy. We say that our dreams were childish, or too difficult to realise, or the result of our not knowing enough about life. We kill our dreams because we are afraid to fight the good fight."

Little Deaths

"The first symptom of the process of our killing our dreams is the lack of time.... The busiest people I have known in my life always have time enough to do everything. Those who do nothing are always tired and pay no attention to the little amount of work they are required to do. They complain constantly that the day is too short. The truth is, they are afraid to fight the good fight.

"The second symptom of the death of our dreams lies in our certainties. Because we don't want to see life as a grand adventure, we begin to think of ourselves as wise and fair and correct in asking so little of life. We look beyond the walls of our day-to-day existence, and we hear the sound of lances breaking, we smell the dust and the sweat, and we see the great defeats and the fire in the eyes of the warriors. But we never see the delight, the immense delight in the hearts of those who are engaged in battle. For them, neither victory nor defeat is important; what's important is only that they are fighting the good fight.

"And, finally, the third symptom of the passing of our dreams is peace. Life becomes a Sunday afternoon; we ask for nothing grand, and we cease to demand anything more than being mature; we put aside the fantasies of our youth, and we seek personal and professional achievement. We are surprised when people our age say that they still want this or that out of life. But really, deep in our hearts, we know that what has happened is that we have renounced the battle for our dreams--we have refused to fight the good fight."

Sunday Afternoons

"When we renounce our dreams and find peace.... we go through a short period of tranquillity. But the dead dreams begin to rot within us and to infect our entire being. We become cruel to those around us, and then we begin to direct this cruelty against ourselves. That's when illnesses and psychoses arise. What we sought to avoid in combat--disappointment and defeat--come upon us because of our cowardice. And one day, the dead, spoiled dreams make it difficult for us to breathe, and we actually seek death. It's death that frees us from our certainties, from our work, and from that terrible peace of our Sunday afternoons."

Extracted from 'The Pilgrimage,' written by Paulo Coelho

2005-09-28T23:55:00.000+08:00

Nam Viet

Be very very quiet. Li-Sa is asleep.

My writing will wake her up. The keyboard makes loud clacking sounds. I have to hit each key slowly, one at a time, like an elderly lady in an internet cafe, her eyes squinting, her hands moving over her keyboard like clouds on a windless day, her fingers depressing keys in slow rickety motion. Each fingertap is like booming thunder. Boom, boom, boom.

My fingers caress my keyboard like an old lover. My mind is rusty again. I have no memory. This encounter feels awkward and superficial.

Alot has changed since I have last written. I have returned from a foreign land. I have been told lies. I have trusted liars, I have been abandoned by truth. I have known beauty. I am a servant of beauty, of solitude, of good company, of the noise and chaos of life and the slience and order of death. I have tasted life, and having tasted it, decided that it was worth living. I have failed to conquer time and opportunity. I have disappointed and surprised myself. I have eaten ten eggs in one sitting.

And almost one entire pig.

I am a social actor. I am willing to try anything once, just to know. I want to know beauty in my life. I want to know life! But I am surrounded by death. A hardened shell has formed around me. I laugh and sigh and smile.

What shall I say? What shall I write? I have returned from a foreign land. I have returned to a foreign land. Life is a foreign land. Death is home. Death is comfortable, familiar. Death is home, but I don't want to go home. I don't want to wake. I don't want to close my eyes. I don't want to contradict myself. But I do.

It really doesn't matter. I am going to sleep now. I am not ready to write about Vietnam.

2005-07-16T21:53:00.000+08:00

Divide and Conquer

DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER DIVIDE AND CONQUER

2005-06-25T00:30:00.000+08:00

... And Miles To Go Before We Sleep

"Dreams last for so long, even after you're gone. I know you love me and soon you will see... You were meant for me, and I was meant for you." - 'You Were Meant For Me,' performed by Jewel

2005-06-15T22:54:00.000+08:00

6 minutes

I drove three of my coworkers home today. It felt good, having people in the car, going in a common direction. It felt good to be in control, to have my hands on the wheel, to receive instructions on when to turn left or right. I felt responsible for their safety, I kept thinking about how they were entrusting me with their lives, not something I should take lightly. It became a metaphor for me.

I can't let everyone down now.

My hands are on the wheel.

And I'm not letting go anymore.

2005-06-15T00:01:00.000+08:00

The Big Sleep, Part II

I am about to go upstairs to sleep and I'm hoping that Li-Sa is still awake because I hate sleeping without talking to her first.

Talking to her makes me feel like I've ended my day properly.

I need to hear her voice before I sleep now, before the dreams and darkness come. When I am asleep, I feel like I'm miles away from her. It's like we're cut off from each other by a soft oblivion, unless by some small miracle I meet her again while dreaming. I never used to feel this way.

She is probably asleep now.

But still I hope.

Up the stairs I go.

2005-06-14T12:44:00.000+08:00

15-Minute Post

Sitting alone in my office. It's lunchtime. Feeling a little unstable. And more lonely than I've ever been. Is this a nightmare or an opportunity? Maybe there is no difference.

You know the feeling you get just before sitting for an exam for which you feel you hadn't studied enough (or at all)? Imagine feeling like that every week. That's how inadequate I feel at work.

How about the feeling that you were supposed to do something really important yesterday, like turn off the tap before you left the house for a 3-month holiday in Sweden? Work feels like that to me. I feel like I'm sitting on a sinking ship, trying to ignore the water rushing around my ankles as I fumble desperately to pilot a vessel I have absolutely no experience in navigating.

My 15 minutes are up.

Back to work.

2005-06-13T23:24:00.000+08:00

Again, the Big Sleep

Writing again. Gonna be disappointing.

Been a long. time. since. I. last. wrote. anything.

Fingers feel a little stiff. Mind a little numb. Bones a little brittle. The muscles have atrophied. And there is no desire to commit anything to pixles and electrons.

My new wife is sleeping beside me, or at least trying to. My clicking and typing is keeping her awake. I can't do this in the same room as her. It is the way it has always been. Writing is an act of lonliness.

Li-Sa: Scrapbooking is also an act of lonliness and suffering. *pang, pang, pang*

She makes no sense to you. That is to be expected. She is hammering eyelets into pieces of expensive paper. She's a loon.

She is turning my post into a silly one. I need a room to work in. Alone. And a locked door. I will find one soon.

Until then.