we cannot change the cards we are dealt,
just how we play the hand.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
11:10 PM
On Lilo and Stitch and Pattayan Prostitutes
there's a pad on my face, with a little dampness and wisp of antiseptic, and i've come to an apparent consensus that my face undergoes a heavy bout of menstrual cycle once every 4 months. one of my man leaped vertically yesterafternoon while i was descending from one of those waikitly rebounds off the hoop, and a fountain of red emerged. minutes later, i was ushered into a treatment room at pasir laba and a doctor coolly proceeded into stitching up my face, and forgive the blatant mountain-making of a molehill, but it was quite an experience going under the knife amidst a local anaesthetic.
i still quite remember the time, 4:35pm, when that particularly gay doctor placed a translucent cloth over my face, less a gap for the wound. what followed totally caught me off guard, possibly worse than the sight of a pattayan prostitute in antartica, when that piercing light of perhaps a million watts blasted straight in my face. seconds later he injected a terribly cold needle which infused an even more terribly cold liquid which turned my entire jaw even more grossly terribly cold. numb that is. and i realised it was the anaesthetic after all.
then i saw the silhouette of a gay doctor bouncing up and down, and i could feel the distant poke of a metal bit into my face, and this was when a most disgusting recruit entered the treatment room.
"doctor, i dropped my jaw"
what the fuck.
through the translucent cloth and blinding light i could make out medics scurrying about him, and the doctor was screaming what the fuck what the fuck and the recruit was (as i imagine) walking about pointing to his jaw repeating over and over again
"my jaw, doctor. it dropped"
"it dropped, my jaw. doctor"
"doctor, dropped. jaw."
i had learnt from dear old Tam BengBeng back in the days of hwachong that with 5 words there couldn't possibly have that many sequences and probabilities one could phrase a sentence, but that blooming recruit just did.
what was so funny i didn't know but it just was. i brought myself into a fit of giggles, and it was unstoppable. it slipped into more obvious snickles before mounting into cackles and it wasn't long before a streak of gabbles hit me. i could feel the stitches stretching like the ricebowl of a pattayan prostitute, but obviously my numb jaw mercifully had me feel nothing.
but pray tell, it was local anaesthetic, and my neck down was still as sensitive as a dickhead. with that gay still shrieking what the fuck what the fuck, that most fabulous recruit still churning new probabilities with his blessed jaw, i felt a thick liquid wet my PT kit.
that was when i stopped laughing.
the voices in my head-
Sunday, March 19, 2006
10:23 PM
Never
never is a small word spat by big fools who wish to eliminate a certain possibility of their life, and utter a splendid display of cowardice at that.
never use the word never.
the voices in my head-
Thursday, March 16, 2006
11:53 PM
Eva
there is a tingle of excitement to realise that in two weeks, i would be flying on a random evaair with taiwanese air stewardess demostrating how to put on a life jacket while speaking appalling english and even more heinous accented chinese, and serving orange juice that tastes like apple juice or apple juice that tastes like orange juice but maybe its just because there is a certain communication breakdown somewhere along the way.
yet this time, for the very first as a platoon commander and the very last as a little member of the great green force, i know that it isn't touching down to a finale exercise that would mark me as a wielder of a silver bayonet, or a summary 83km trek that had me chocolate bars on shoulders, but as a full blown citizen, pink in health and IC.
can't wait.
the voices in my head-
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
1:56 AM
Unspeakables
it took a little more than a bowl of salivdelicious beef noodles and crispytipsy lime chicken wings to realise that we speak of the past in nostalgic enthusiasm and we speak of the future in weary anticipation.
yet we never speak of the present.
the voices in my head-
Friday, March 10, 2006
11:37 PM
Oreos
my friend from a land across the globe told me that oreos in italy are made such that cream is jetshot into a hollow ashblack cookie, i wonder why singaporeans have factories that whip up oreos which have a perfectly beautiful white slice sandwiched between two.
and no wonder italians die for love.
the voices in my head-
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
2:06 AM
Cookies and Cream, Hugs and Kisses
it is the witching hour of the 8th and allow me to bore you with a tale of the little oreo cookie.
there once lived two pretty little vases, one princess pink, another sunny orange. they were quite the best of friends, more like a sister than just mere neighbouring decors atop a boring khaki shelf. they would chat for hours on end, about cookies and cream, hugs and kisses, and swore to the owner of the O-inexorable-living-room that they would remain friends till the day one naughty kid would come by and smash either into a smittery smattery million pieces.
but it was in the books of destiny of a vase to allow an oreo cookie to come by before a kid, though one might argue it could have been a better fate should the latter had arrived. this particular cookie was a white cream squished by two flat black slabs, and it looked quite idiotic indeed. oddly fitted, pretty bizzarely shaped, a tad too tall for a cookie, it stumbled upon the khaki shelf one fine day and stayed between the two pretty little vases.
and lo and behold, whoever said that nature had to have dogs devoured cats and cats devoured mice and mice devoured cheese and cheese devoured cheese-wrapping-paper, wasn't it written in destiny of a vase that vases were to devour cookies? yet destiny sometimes don that mask of pretence and incur the wrath of time and space. so cookie stayed put between the vases and all, with such mirth and glee, frolic and kicks, it could have been such a happy ending.
alas, what showcase of trickery could destiny only offer, oreo cookie was soon to learn that destiny had merely been a disciple of the master of deceit. my goodness, nothing plays a cookie and two vases between its weeny fingers so more buoyantly than love itself.
perhaps its apt now, to conclude with a little moral of the story as my primary school chinese teacher always used to tell me.
remove the cream off a cookie before you place it between vases. sticky cookies can't make up their minds.
the voices in my head-
Sunday, March 05, 2006
8:26 AM
The Seeker
i seek beauty and love, passion and grace.
but it took only a step of err to run askew. there is a moment of certainty that i knew it would come to some form of closure. hatred breeds hideosity, and i simply can't bring myself to love. after all, i had fallen in love with love and nothing else.
i seek forgiveness and forgetfulness, silence and solitude.
the voices in my head-
Yestertodays
girls are mystical creatures.
boys lie to love, to drive the tears backstage, but the mystics crave for the truth truth truth. but lo and behold, when the truth's finally out on the platter, it hurts them so bad and they cry cry cry.
on more miserable matters, i suffered the most tragic contretemps at dear julia's 21st chocolatey party.
"hi sir, this is the bill for your coke"
that shit didn't even warn me when i so happily ordered it, kabab in mouth. i swear it was the most expensive coke in my blooming life.
a few moments later.
"would you like another?"
"eh no, could i have a glass of iced water instead?"
"would you settle for a perrier's or sparkling?"
"oh. its okay. would this place have a toilet?"
and i certainly hope they don't deploy old totty men to demand $2 per entry for a drink of cool tap water.
juxtapositions of yestertodays brewed a concomitance of buried infactuation and gripping hatred, i soon ought to stop myself from falling in love with falling in love.
i'm sorry to you, two.
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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