we cannot change the cards we are dealt,
just how we play the hand.
Monday, April 25, 2005
9:54 AM
Monday Greens
its 11am on a monday morning and i'm green free. a happy 11am on a happy monday morning indeed.
you can hang me by my balls and swing me round the world, catch me by the ears and twist them all around, and still i would not sign on. definitely.
the voices in my head-
Sunday, April 24, 2005
1:27 AM
Confessions
"its been a while since i've had time to my totalitarian control, but i guess its a small price in the eternal love we share. perhaps its just in the midst of such distractions and invitations do i get drawn back to the days where i can tell myself whom to go out with, girl or guy. where to go out to, day or night. when to go out till, dush or dawn. and at times, i shamelessly miss those days as i look into the most beautiful eyes i've ever glanced upon."
"kor! you guys can't be like that. we girls are taken for granted then. maybe once in a while but not in a habit. must choose the girl over friend some times too!"
"haha i know your girl, who doesn't know how possessive step can be, and you know somehow you play a major role in whether she studies or not.."
"you're one great fortunate bastard you know"
"lai waikit! i'm minding my cold lean, and you ought to mind your step! steer clear of mahjong tonight or you'll be violating section77 of the vaginel code and if found guilty, you'll be castrated personally by us. haha, k tell your girl to work hard yes? she has been missing you the past whole week, make her happy la k? :) "
you know, no one would ever understand me. and with such certainty i could avouch because not even i recognise the equation of my emotions. when i was with [her], i yearned for a princess like step, yet now i fight for the freedom like one guerrilla warrior of the Tamal Tigers. perhaps the day i could come to some form of closure is the day i settle down with some screwed up pattayan prostitute and take pleasure in shopping for all that DIY shit on weekdays, and end up scratching my head on sunday mornings wondering what the fark for am i holding a drill.
it was the first day, i still remember, when i asked the fateful question. would you have me tell you all, even if it hurts. or to tell you what pleases, and accentuate the smile upon that angelic face?
you chose, or rather we chose the truth. and it has come to this, for i had told you how i hate you dragging recherché weekend minutes, hate you driving inches from the kerb, hate you spending money over me, hate you grasping so tight upon my whowhatwhere schedule.
but for every truth told a bolt would strike me from within, as i hastily attempt to slurp back my words, only to realise my tongue ain't ever quick enough. minutes tossing beneath the blanket meant minutes off a weekend countdown clock, but little know silly me had you the desire to cuddle minutes more in bed. inches off a drive kerb meant inches off an accident in due, but little know silly me how quick you had wanted to speed down in a bid to see your boy. every single cent raped off your bank meant naught savings for a snowy day, but little know silly me you had loved me so deep from day number one that snowy days would not suffer my absence. i mourn for the lost of my whowhatwheres morphing into ours, but little did i know this was what actually meant by a love, real love, a ridiculous, inconvinient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love.
as i did tell cher. i hadn't loved from the beginning of our chapter, perhaps just an inkling of liking. accidentally in love, apt to sing on that fateful night. but i am learning, my girl, to like and then to love, and then to like to love.
and then maybe, i would finally love to love.
the voices in my head-
Saturday, April 23, 2005
10:58 AM
On Hacked Sausages
there once lived a sausage in the golden age of crusades. and there lived in that golden age of crusades a beautiful princess in a white black castle. and in that white black castle lay that beautiful princess who scratched at her head. and her tummy. and in that head lay ideas of reform and change. and in that ideas of reform and change lay the sausage. and in that tummy lay the sausage.
poor sausage was hacked into pieces, for the princess wanted it changed. and into her tummy.
blog's been hacked. tag to enrol for the save-the-sausage campaign.
the voices in my head-
Friday, April 15, 2005
10:15 PM
Quirk
you know how those old women and men type so very deliberately upon each keypad on atm machines at 7pm on a good old friday evening, when the queue snakes forever as he her she him you me all try to draw some fast cash for the weekend. and its really infuriating.
so i've got this kooky habit now. to wrench my face severely out of shape, contorting it into a masquerade of innocence, while prying my extraordinarily long neck over the poor slouching old elder, sneaking a peekaboo at their pin numbers and repeat it in ten successions to imbue it deep in my egghead.
and when they are finally done, i would let my tongue slip in a ghostly careless whisper, a sacred six digit rhyme. and watch while its their turn to wrench their faces severely out of shape, contorting it into a dissimulation of whammy umbrage.
the voices in my head-
Saturday, April 09, 2005
11:30 PM
Height Impair
i realise i can't wake at eight in the morning after smoking shisha at two, grasp a pizza on one hand, an aloevera drink on the other, new paper clutched under my armpits, atm card still askew, wallet balancing precariously between my fingers, mp3 ear piece hanging loose, dashing helter skelter towards church.
because when i do, i endanger the lives of little children.
the voices in my head-
Friday, April 08, 2005
9:59 PM
to the many whom(s) it may concern
if i could
i'd reverse the tides of time
i'd be a flutter of flirt, void of
responsibilities. commitments. love
i'd like two, three, four. loved naught
i'd give everything back
i'd hold where a hold is due
i'd hug where a hug is due
i'd kiss where a kiss is due
i'd make you happy
i'd make none tear
i'd let you two, three, four
love me
if i could... i would
but i've already given my heart to someone else, and its something i could never share...
please let me be fair to you, to her, and to myself...
it ain't easy for me too,
only because i care,
and you mean alot to me.
---
and as the tides backwash, i found it intricately facile
because the girl was the perfect little thing. sweet and simple. an adorable sis.
and now i nod in a silent agreement, guys are bastards, ain't we.
---
and now girl, you read this.
a mock mimic, a shock gimmick
not the least nice, but perhaps. just perhaps
you would know how i feel
---
and now dude. i appreciate your exquisite taste
but to make a princess happy is one
to make a princess confused is another
there are four billion girls in the world you know.
the voices in my head-
Saturday, April 02, 2005
10:20 PM
On Santana's Game
whoever partakes in a game where he can be the empire and a player at the same time?
i can't stand myself. haha. i'm such a cheat.
the voices in my head-
i love my girl. a love so beautiful, symmetrical, tangible
God loves me. a love so great, unconditional, real.
my life in a nutshell. working towards loves of sorts. beautiful, symmetrical, tangible, great, unconditional and real.
a page, deliberately left blank.
Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking.
It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.
I Corinthians 13:4-8
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