we cannot change the cards we are dealt,
just how we play the hand.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
2:09 PM
Partner Talk
i talked to little miss confused-as-i-am, otherwise known as my beautiful partner, on a little saturday morning of a random weekend upon a sacred house. it was very weird, how one of the more irrelevant friends bore huge relevancy to one of my most ball-squirming issues on hand.
amongst many things exchanged over a teabag of conscience, this i remember the most. would i rather hurt or be hurt.
and i surprised myself quite appallingly. to hurt of course, not a hint of hesitation.
i don't mean to be selfish, but perhaps i would credit my obsessive compulsive disorder in full blossom. i choose to hurt, because it would be an illusion of choice i enjoyed, and i know i could look back in time, thirty years when siew's boobs start to sag, that i had hurt someone and consequentially i.
i had made the choice that slushed the slag upon the tar of the road that i walk. for better or for worse who would know, but at least i know for sure, i was in command of my life then.
i would rather hurt, than to be hurt and look back and ask myself while scratching my balding oily scalp, why was there nothing i could do. goodness gracious, that would have been the ultimate tragedy of all crossroads.
the inability of command.
i am obsessive compulsive. and i have to be in control. not of your lives, but mine.
perhaps its time to review your risk assessment should you dare mesh yours with mine.
a wonder what enlightenment you could bestow `lil dear partner.
or perhaps it was the american pie.
the voices in my head-
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
10:55 PM
WollyWinky
once upon a time there lived a little boy named wolly. he was a very naughty boy who pricks hamsters. he likes to stuff sunflower seeds into their tiny twitching mouths and pricks their cheeks with a toothpick. most of the times, he ends up piercing their cheeks and the hamsters around him are often spotted with a hole in cheek.
then twice upon a time there came along a little girl named winky. as of the tales by enid blyton love isn't that complicated. boy meets girl and girls meets boy and boy loves girl and girl loves boy and they marry and live happily ever after. but as these tales, there always props a little problem for the children to cry over and the characters to scratch their head and ask what the fuck are they going to do.
winky, alas, is a great lover of hamsters and she cannot bear to see hamsters with holy cheeks.
wolly, on the other hand, has his obsessive habit which he cannot kick, because it fills him with an orgasm each time the cheeks rupture and a sunflower seed spills out, a little mess of red and fur.
one day winky's favourite hamster walks by and wala wala, it has a full blown cheek. wolly reckons at least 13 sunflower seeds upon its right cheek, and a great temptation overcomes poor old wolly. he shivers and he squirms, yet so says he no i must resist this, and he convulses as if the big bang had struck once more, a cosmic climax of modern times.
and that bloody hamster. lets just call it chip this very moment, it walks with a saunter as if beckoning to dear old wolly. why haven't you poke me? nanny nanny poo poo.
but my oh my, wolly picks up that sacred toothpick of his and flings it out of the window. he loves winky too much.
so you ask the moral of the story, as each tale by enid and dahl often proclaims. indeed, one truly loves when he forsakes his utmost desire.
and of course, masturbate daily to aid the prevention of toothpick fetish.
the voices in my head-
Monday, September 25, 2006
10:05 PM
Glass
the glass is half full and half empty.
simple concepts of philosophy i had grasped since the hairless era.
to love and hate one,
to want and not want.
to rejoice and tear,
to smile and to fear.
the glass is full and empty at the same time.
now this, is the beginning of adulthood. philosophies for the aged.
the voices in my head-
Saturday, September 23, 2006
1:10 AM
Out
i would never soar again
yet i didn't know why i could have broken down so simply.
its just a fucking knee ain't it.
so it dawned upon me. heck it play on and lose my knee or knife it crutch on and lose my game. why does it have to come to this.
never seems to me to be, an awfully long time
the voices in my head-
Friday, September 22, 2006
11:42 AM
Curtsy and Bow
formality of words and gratuitous courtesy irks me.
how could two embrace one moment and speak with utmost comity the next. kiss me at liturgy or liturgy kismis?
i miss the little man.
the voices in my head-
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
7:20 PM
H is for
4pm and i attended a tutorial today in a forsaken computing corner of NUS, and a lady stopped me as i limped and settled myself on the chair. "you're from hwachong ain't you" not her exact words i must disclaim, as she probably will read this so says she, but it warmed my heart somehow.
i am still, a hwachongian. i thought. and i smiled for the first time that day.
probably because i had only awoken ten minutes before.
amongst the great things that it has to offer, hall's turning me grotesquely nocturnal.
hall. hwachong. haha. H is for many things don't you think.
the voices in my head-
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
11:21 PM
Flying Solo
yesterday i rode a vespa with a helmet streaked with an aWak3nlnG down the pattering rain and it felt like i was flying. a dislocated knee and a misplaced ligament, my life is definitely less worthy these days.
today i was writing a thousand times over, a name of one whom i had seen for a split second in my life and i was spraying up a heart, for a girl i hardly know, and another whom i don't even identify cooks up a herbal chicken soup for me and i wonder what this world is coming to.
quite fun actually. nostalgically fun.
the voices in my head-
Friday, September 15, 2006
7:22 PM
Little Man
it has been two days since i abandoned peter and pan, and i can't find a word to describe the use of my legs. it could be weak, or wobbly, or tense, or frightened, but more apt would be impotent.
so had begun the adventure of my impotent left knee, but i hop each day on my left leg ten excruciating times, and i know for sure, one day i will fly again.
something happened last night that coerced me to act like charlatanical casuist. i was torn between not hurting someone ever so dear, and giving up something which quite rightfully belonged to me. and i realised, with a jolt between the slip of a tongue, that i had never been denied something that i had really wanted in my life.
and then i thought, maybe thats why i am in disorientation now. because she -where she is used in a platonic sense- was denied, just like a level 25 battlefuried tidehunter with 0 kills, and it simply confounds me.
i never cease to amaze myself how i could never cease to confuse myself.
the voices in my head-
Sunday, September 10, 2006
10:58 PM
Can I Buy A Vowel
sometimes i look back at the times when i was skipping down the hwachong corridors, some pillars decorated with a little scribble here and there, others awaiting the attention of a naughty boy who couldn't keep his nicknames to himself, and i wonder what the fuck am i doing now.
i shy away from friends, socialising has turned from habit to pain
i was lifted off the court, my knee an awkward angle
i stole the smiles from those i love, and i never returned them
i have lost my past, and i choose to walk on.
perhaps it is only human nature for anyone to wreck as many lives as he can when his is already as wretched as his legs.
the voices in my head-
Thursday, September 07, 2006
11:44 PM
Scratch and Lose
i scratch my head these days and wonder.
would you join the tail of a queue when you can't see its head?
would you drive the gravels of a route when you can't see its end?
would you dive the depths of the great blue waters when you can't see its bottom?
so would you, tell me. wait for a happy ending that might not even have an end?
i scratch my head these day and wonder.
how can you make me speak of the truth when i know not the truth?
how can you make me promise you the glamours of tomorrow when i know not the future?
how can you make me provide the constancy in your life when i am no constant myself?
so would you, tell me. rather have me lie?
i scratch my head these day and wonder.
the voices in my head-
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
1:56 AM
Neverland
i never knew
that it would be most comforting
to see a stranger offering a hand
i never knew
that it would be most torturous
to awake in the morning
i never knew
that it would be most endearing
to have a lady clear the plates
i never knew
that it would be most painful
to watch basketball
i never knew
that it would be most courageous
to lift my right leg
1:39am. today i took my first step without crutches.
the voices in my head-
Monday, September 04, 2006
10:26 PM
Peter & Pan
it was 10:10am. i awoke to a familiar chime from the back of my head and i turned to snooze the wretched nokia.
i shouldn't have turned.
it took 28 steps to the toilet, and i managed a weak smile to the cleaning aunty. she was really friendly, and for a strange reason i wondered whether she would have greeted me if i were the waikit once tall.
bless the hall lifts. but if you were to leave my block from level 1, screw the two camouflaged steps upon exit. it took 93 swings of a waikit on pendulum with a little cute bag on his back to reach the bus stop. strange, the bus driver seemed a little more patient today.
i must have been elected the new ruler of the universe. i stepped into the canteen with an overwhelming "what happened waikit?" and an endearing pat on the back which actually did quite hurt a bit.
but thank you my friends, thank you all.
monday blues and numb blue with cold i was, sitting myself for six hours in cold lecture theatres, but snippets of warmth dropped by thank God. "oh actually i was on crutches too five months back so i know how you feel" and "don't worry i screwed my ankle back then and now i'm fine just that i can't soccer anymore"
i remembered his face when the second guy said that. he had a smile that did not stretch to his eyes.
and so here i am in my room now, my left knee snug warm and my upper body rigid fit, with my two new found friends that had helped me live my day. their names are peter and pan, and they are identical twins with a pad of grey. metallic stick skinny and standing at my chest level, each stood by me on my left and right the moment i had awoken in jolting pain. yet together they remind me of a little boy from neverland who could fly the heights of the hoop with ease.
i will undo the bandage one day, and fly once more.
the voices in my head-
Sunday, September 03, 2006
10:16 PM
Busted
you irritate me.
and the fact that i cannot hate you for irritating me irritates me even more.
what say one when his girl comes skipping up with hand made birthday invites to a three thousand dollar party and thirty cents in her bank?
what say one when his girl comes smiling ear to ear with a ltd ed. polo ralph clasped behind her and scuttering to the zoo to earn 50 meagre bucks beneath a sweltering saturday sun?
and now what can one say when his girl so irritatingly relents not even when the love ceases all hope of possibility and all possibility of hope?
so listen hard my dear, for the only reason why the top hasn't been blown is due to the fact that the thundering glimpses of irritance stems from the root of love.
but cross the fucking line, and twist my words and i would take the slimmest opportunity to turn this tragic drama into a single farce where the laughingstock is plain obvious.
you kissed her, held her hand, slept with her.
kismis it was and don't make it sound as if we had sex. appreciate the honesty because that was the only thing which thrived amidst these troubling times.
and then kissed me, held me, and told me you loved me still.
why the lies. why the damned lies.
i did not kiss you and i never did tell you i loved you still.
you cried when you told me, she decided to leave.
since when did she leave me, and of all people how the fuck are you to know.
you also cried when you told me, you didn't love me was a lie.
if it should confuse you less, then i must have lied again.
you let her stay over, and told me you were busy with bball.
i never did, step. i never did.
then you let me find you, and told me all of the above in 5 mins of words.
i had to tell you everything. it would be an insult to our memories if i hadn't been honest with you, so why don't you just appreciate the wretched honesty and stop blowing my words out of proportion.
enough on the platter. i have a dislocated knee and a torn right ligament and the fact that i might never be able to touch the rim again scares me. don't piss me off any further, love may be boundless but my patience ain't.
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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