a W a k 3 n | n G *

Wednesday, May 31, 2006
8:38 PM

Narcosis

funny, i thought i would carry The Nonsensical Poem to my grave, but one actually managed to decipher the damning codes and anagram! i'm no genius, my dear, just a fake copy.

on more interesting matters, i have returned from diving! its been 4 days since i had the last spit of salt water off my mouth and nitrogen slowly seeping out of my pores and the novelty's just bout on the brink of its death so i shall just bore you with pictures of the weird and weirder.

the weird

and the weirder.

breathtakingly beautiful ain't it.

i'm talking bout the panty liner.

the voices in my head-

Thursday, May 25, 2006
1:02 AM

The Nonsensical Poem

waiting for the inevitable sink
as it tickles and tempts at a spa
never knowing what to expect would i

juxtapose colours of pinkish orange i mix and brew
under the stars of kismis and the aussie pine
never never thought it would come to this would i

pray tell,
how not woo `d olive knot

the voices in my head-

Wednesday, May 24, 2006
2:04 AM

Land of Farjar Faraways

it took a tad more than a climb up a sticky penthouse and a tub of cheap icecream to realise that things needn't be as complicated as i thought it must be.

there is after all a happiness-ever-after behind simplicity, and there needn't be light after the tunnel. there could just, perhaps, be light before it.
light which could and would stretch for the days forevermore.

the voices in my head-

Tuesday, May 23, 2006
3:51 AM

Cunt Puns

why does every declitnation be a step to leave?
oh i meant declination.

the voices in my head-

Sunday, May 21, 2006
1:20 AM

S-A-M

so i thought, it must have been the end.
but ends, as they usually have been, are always cleverly disguised as beginnings.
and 4 hours of carbon monoxide was a mere trifle, an end to a beginning, and a beginning of an end.

in seven blooming hours, i suffered a 6am rooster call. a brigade pillaging the immigration. sneaking into the cleaner's vault. stamped at 8:03. streaking at 160. stopped at customs. thousand ringgit. wanted list. smudged validity. invalid numbers. preposterous travel time. forgery. five hundred ringgit. handcuffs. malaysian escort. singaporean escort. australian embassy. closed. emergency department. a hundred aussie. wheel clamp. aussie escort. immigration department. fifty dollars. fahtimah's visit. six bloody dollars. phototaking. five dollars. escort. passportless entry. causeway glory.

don't ask.

the voices in my head-

Saturday, May 20, 2006
1:03 AM

F for fish and F for farm and F for fucktheworld

have you ever had that inclination of a moment, to fling yourself at the nearest thing and swap its insides for its outsides. i did just that, with a cannonade of profanities and a fusillade of insults. how unlike waikit ain't that.

but lo and behold, it is by the blessing of a holy berlowny that i had the divine opportunity to experience the most exciting adventure on my ride. an hour from country M, it struck me that as a PR of a country A, i could have validity on passport on country S but country M as supremely cockup as its fahtimahs deem so, i couldn't possibly have validity on my passport in the vincinity of country M.

but i spare you the technical details, and dive head long into the adventures of mr lai. driving at top notch towards lavender, oh my holy papa sardines of india! lavender street is by far the most unlavendish road, with a throng of heavy vehicles and invisible men with sets of white teeth and eyeballs hovering about, i skidded into the parking lot of the sacred immigration department, only to realise its. yes you guessed it, CLOSED!

so much for 1900-777-7777's reliable information and my utmost stupidity most certainly. and so i hammered at its glass door and most pleasantly, a security guard the likes of uncle cheong graciously entertained me. my oh my, descended from the race of white teeth and eyeballs too, what honour bestowed upon me!
tilting his head from left to right, and right to left, with a curl of his tongue with each vowel, "aye ar. ah bang ar, not my problem ar. this place close ar, but you can try ar the changi airport department ar, its open 24hrs ar"
quite certain he even had an ar in the midst of the word department.

so plunged my heart to the depths of nothingness with a mighty weight worthy the boobs of a pattayan beach prostitute, i called 1900-777-7777 my most reliable call search service, and they most delightfully gave me the number of changi's department! i couldn't stop smiling i swear, and i sped down the PIE as safe as i could possibly swerve, and yes you guessed it again! its CLOSED! but CLOSED would be an understatement, as the department isn't EVEN IN FUCKING EXISTENCE!!*&$^*(#&%(*&!
oh the number you might say, haha. i could post it right smack here on my blog, if i weren't afraid of the O-exorable-government pressing charges on defamation, but that number was most gleefully, a fax number.

oh blessed be the great greek pagan king of mars and twisters, i remember vividly breaking into the widest smile i could stretch my mouth, and it split my face in two. i sped all the way from forsaken changi to marshland marsiling, and attempted to slither into country M anyway, praying fervently country A had had superb infotechnology co-sharing facilities.

but oh no no no. all i got in return for a little faith in the land of M&Ms was not one but TWO FUCKING TOLL charges for a causeway, which i was most splendidly stuck on for not one not Two not THRee but FOUR FUCKING HOURS to the opposite checkpoint and back.

can you imagine four fucking hours of sniffing the rear bumpers, rude J plated vehicles, sets of white teeth and eyeballs talking condescendingly down at you, toll charges that would more aptly be renamed tow charges, all compounding on a poor soul once named waikit now fuckyoufuckmefuckherfuckhimfucktheworldandbefuckedwaikit.

couldn't understand why the fuck i was still smiling on the way back home.
but i guess it could have been the shared exasperation of the guys, the silent amenity of a friend, the sweet comfort of a dear sis, the lame humour of a great pal, the charm of my queen or the tolerance of a princess.

or more possibly, the carbon monoxide.

the voices in my head-

Friday, May 19, 2006
1:44 AM

Anagrams and Such

da vinci was made to be a genius
but dan brown is undoubtedly one.

and as King talkwa III once said,
"i have been in love for too long, i yearn to fall in love again"
p.s. i love you

how selfishly humane.

the voices in my head-

Sunday, May 14, 2006
1:52 PM

Rivers and Bridge

it was yet another midnight at clarke quay, with drunk caucasian ladies on shoulders and beer bottles floating down the river, snug off a bridge away from roars of dismay and screeches of mirth at the liverpool penalty shootout, four pairs of eyes darted left and right, each attempting to figure out whose partner is whose.

and i tried, as always. to fake a move winning a set with a queen still holding onto the ace. but i fail this time, and i fail these days.

took me a second to realise, i've become a little more transparent than i had imagined.
or perhaps, just perhaps. my friends are a little closer to my heart than i thought.

the voices in my head-

Friday, May 12, 2006
10:46 PM

Constants

29 months is an awfully long time
forever is a painfully long word.

the voices in my head-

Thursday, May 11, 2006
4:29 AM

Prata and Tea

say you, the unthinkable has been thought. and the unspeakable has been spoken. pray tell, when would the undoable be done?

xwei and mingmao are the worst sort of company you could garner at 4am in wee morning for prata and tea. i enjoyed my tea chinook last night, it was orange.

the wheels are in motion.

---

love is...

loving someone, plainly. cos you love her.

my love, for her.

maybe that's why it affects me so much that i feel so loved... just for now... that it hurts to be loved.

the voices in my head-

Tuesday, May 09, 2006
11:53 PM

Sit Ups

perspiration trickles and she tickles
her little feet atop my yeti's
and i count 45 46 47
again and again the elbows pound my knees
and she bends
forward, her lips on mine

82 83 84 i count and i ache
but squinching my eyes
i push for that very next kiss
only to have Nickelodeon screaming on TV
and she jumps off me, and onto bed
eyes afixed on perhaps Walt Disney or some
more bizarre female creatures.

and i couldn't do no more.

the voices in my head-

Monday, May 08, 2006
9:58 PM

Porridge Servicing

i woke at a most disgusting 7am this morning to hoist my car for its 5K servicing when its already way into its 7K haha, but most unfortunately the morning wasn't any near of a haha. eyelids of lead, i had to weave in and out of an abominable traffic jam that had me blindly spiralling into the city three times. which obviously meant i went under the wretched gantry three blooming times. which most certainly also meant that ERP meter went beepabeepabeep.

but that wasn't the point of this entry, for i hardly whine and bitch.

after ebraking into that servicing lot at alexandra, i had three hours to kill and i decided to drop by at my grandma's. a little off alexandra, south of depot and snugged in the retiree's estate at telok blangah, i climbed the very stairs which i used to clamber at a tender innocent 6, and yes i was once innocent thank you very much. i bought the very same sweets, you know those 3 candy cubes of sprite or coke in a easy tear-off pack. and toady i realised perhaps i had never meant to be a good boy, for it is of now that i buy them with money now off a poor tution girl's mum's wage, yet years back it used to be nicked off my mum's purse.
15 storeys up and i knocked but dear grandma wasn't home. been dropping by at evenings and nights, and it jolted me with a rush of sentimentality that it had been the first morning since a decade and a half ago, that i stepped back home in a bath of morning light.
this morning i lay on the same bed which i had probably pissed and shit on, while i tasted the same delicious porridge which sprouted me to this blossoming height.
and all of a sudden, i felt like a kid again.

the voices in my head-

Thursday, May 04, 2006
4:58 PM

Zoo K

i was grossly pissed off by a bottle of tequila whilst playing a chauffeur sugardaddy nanny. but behold the irony that it was the same bottle of tequila that hoisted me out of the pouts and frowns and whines and sulks, and had me stopped forcing myself to think. now when one's faced with an emotional apex, what is one to do but look up at the splintering lasers, suck in the blare of a school mass dance remixed, and wait for the end?

a tinge of familiarity struck, and a wave of nostalgia followed. hadn't it been 3 years yet Agave tequilana always manages to extract memories out of perspective and slap us in our faces.
and most certainly, pain sleekly evades when streams of poison courses through our veins but why must it hurt so bad when the tranquilizers fade into nothingness?

haha xiaowei. no drinking and driving.

hic.

the voices in my head-

Monday, May 01, 2006
1:30 PM

Mafia

three days back from taiwan and i proceeded to wreck my house with yet another horde of pretty lightsticks, a myriad of white stars, a ceiling of pink and white, copious falls of streamers, a throng of assholes and five beauties.

killing ourselves with no rear view mirror

wonder girls at work again.

the assholes.

---

and what more could be more apt to kick start a dear friend's adulthood at an ungodly 2am of a monday morning with a perpetually dead shaman and the searing arrow off a bone fletcher.

the voices in my head-