a W a k 3 n | n G *

Tuesday, October 31, 2006
1:33 AM

Around the Nose

there's no such as an official in an unofficial nor an unofficial in an official. it must have been the chilli in the prata.

the voices in my head-

Monday, October 30, 2006
2:16 AM

Thief

i have a private policy on shoplifting, much like the FRS Framework. thou shalt steal only from large organisations where no one person suffers personal individualistic loss. and thy happiness value of the world must increase a bare notch.

this weekend, i stole a precious little thing.

am i going to suffer an acne outbreak.

the voices in my head-

Thursday, October 26, 2006
11:42 AM

Trust

half my world's my game, and the other half my girl.
and everything that's worth about me is my word.
my game was stolen from me, and my girl slipped away. why did you return to steal my word as well?

now i can never whisper into another, a little sacred trust me, ever.
and how would you expect yourself to trust me when i cannot trust myself. what wicked irony.

you've destroyed most of me. and made me hate the rest of myself.
so this is, what you call love?

the voices in my head-

Tuesday, October 24, 2006
5:09 PM

SeventySevens

sentimentality and graciousness of what gentlemanliness will only anchor a sinking boat.
there is a limit, and i will move on.

even if it means dragging the leaden anchor across the sea beds of sandy memories. may the stinging corals and prickly barnacles have mercy on the wreck of a soul.

in other news, happy birthday xiaowei. your party was as true as it could get. a loving boyfriend fretting at the door, and a blindfolded lawyer playing musical chairs, half the size of a single butt cheek.

it was 1:08am. i was 20 feet above the ground, tree of eternity hanging by my side, and we looked down a single girl swirling her sparklers and skipping in circles, a single girl swinging pendulum up and down, a single girl quite miss contrary, and a single girl single no longer taking a snippet of the present on the polaroid.

and you ask me, have i chosen.

what happy choice is there, when there is no such thing as a choice.
what happy ending is there, when there is no such thing as an ending.
what true love is there, when there is no such thing as love?
i still, beg to differ.

the voices in my head-

Saturday, October 21, 2006
7:15 PM

Clamps

i recall posting on occupational acceptance a year back, when i witnessed the slippery death of a delivery boy, and commented whether as many tears would have been spilt if the boy had been a summoning lady clad in white.

and on a side note, i beheld campus security to be the knights of shining armour, running around the campus at midnight with a baton chasing a foreign rapist. or perhaps playing sherlock holmes to the newest victim of a smashed windscreen and stolen laptop.

but my goodness gracious me. who on earth had those 6 cars offended, and what hideous crime had the miserable drivers committed?
all they wanted, my dear campus security, was to get to class on time. and it wasn't as if their beautiful ferraris were holding up traffic of any kind.

the happiness level of the world has just dropped another, 6 notches.

the voices in my head-

Wednesday, October 18, 2006
10:49 PM

Courtesies

sorry.
have you ever really sat down, a moment with thought only for the present, and wonder what this word means.

i've been saying sorry for this and sorry for that and sorry to her one too many, but so what.
my primary school teacher ms wendy lye once told me that sorry is quite the hardest thing to say, but a decade after, i can stand before her and refute that. these days, apologies are so more easily presented over a little thank you.

and i realise, that it has always been myself saying these wretched sorrys. i wonder how it would be when the tables turn, when someone finally looks me in the eye and simply says,

i'm sorry.

the voices in my head-

Sunday, October 15, 2006
2:35 AM

Hime

i had never broken down so badly before, 6 minutes and 12 seconds of a video that stretched an eternity.

selfless and magnanimous?
tactful and reminiscence?
empathy and sympathy?
pensive and broken?

or just plain cruel.

you have conquered me, completely.

the voices in my head-

Wednesday, October 11, 2006
2:06 AM

Pea Fairy

a: you speak too highly of me.
a: its foolish

b says: its not
b says: it never is
b says: thats why i dun think miss c as a fool
b says: but an admirable bohemian
b says: its just a pity bohemians love practicalitists but not otherwise

a says: on that topic though.i think practicalists love bohemians because it is their escape.but it will be frustrating because the bohemian cannotsettle.
a says: that should be the picture instead

b says: true. and the most painful thing, is to love and yet inability to.

a says: but thats what i dont understand.inability.in all levels..when you say you cannot.

b says: its something i cannot grasp as well
b says: most unfortunately.

a says: doesn't desire transcend ability.and that desire translated in conviction which can be seen/felt/known. and that result doesn;t matter because i know you want
a says: which is more than sufficient than i know you can

b says: what you want is boundless. it has no parameters
b says: what you can is grossly limited by the constraints of our heart, our mind.
b says: and most tragically, what we may have in our lives is what we can. not want
b says: all else fades in comparison. why would you think i should give up a love so deep, so great.

a says: do you WANT this love?

b says: fine, lets see how this argument turns out.
b says: yes i do want it.

a says: no its not an argument, but an examination of the want vs the can
a says: then whatwould you do to fight for thislove

b says: bring it on =) i stand by my instinctive intuition of reasoning
b says: i would do nothing
b says: because it is a love i want, but not a love i can have
b says: in fact, i would do a lot.
b says: but a lot that i do would be to, not have this love

a says: what you mean a love you cannnot have

b says: a practicalist cannot love a bohemian. it doesn't work out.

a says: now you're sterotyping
a says: who set that boundary that you cannot

b says: i did
b says: and do not speak of prejudice and how i should not have

a says: mr b!!!!!!!this willgo nowhere lah if you are your own demon

b says: because i did try. when we were together. to remove this boundary. to give myself time to adapt to her love. to give her time to change her style of love
b says: and it does not work out, and it will not work out
b says: and then i thought, after we broke up
b says: what right do i have to "give her time to change her style of love" ?
b says: what i do not want may not be what is correct, or what is wrong.
b says: what right do i have to change her. i should set her free and let her love away. one day someone will come by and appreciate her love
b says: and she will be loved in return. i should change no one. i have no right
b says: and thats why, i left. and thats why, i will not go after her. and thats why, i love her but i cannot.
b says: a tragic play in which i am the director and the cast. funny eh

a says: ok we're on a different dimension here.ok lets say on a more erm.micro scale.in actions and inactions

b says: and lets just say whatever above is just the beginning. things are much more complicated than the foundamental skeletal crust of the problem

adapted from tales of the pea fairy and her little nutty boy

---

the greatest thing i had ever learnt is to love and be loved in return
the most painful thing i am learning is to love and not being able to love

or perhaps as my neighbour most aptly puts it, i'm just a jerk trying to noble-lise things. if one day i should discover this to be indeed true, i will sit back and laugh with you my dear pea fairy.
i wish you luck with your nutty boy.

the voices in my head-

Sunday, October 08, 2006
1:29 AM

Poems and Such

we should stop kidding ourselves
it won't end up the way we want. it can't.
moulin rogue is a fantasy, and even such tales end up a tragic hero and a fallen beauty.

when angels' neck jilt under night
where advocates' ink kill into time
sucks the evil potently

and so it was, MAF 06 the year of jelly coconuts. i stepped into the school i so adored, and looked into my past. how i wish how i wish how i wish.

i shall disappear just a small bit
little things have killed me over the week
storm of flurry events taking heat
i need to run, the candles are lit

--

don't you love wicked.

twelve years off the big black pearl
a pirate's hunt for his treasure
never thought it so simple
when one and all thought it a curse
a kraken rose out from the depths
nailing twisting piercing flanks
just so in the nick of time
use thirteen pounds of gunpowder
"next please!" yes and so it is
Monday, July 31, 2006
3:08 AM

lana cakes so chocolatey beautiful. wink a little cheeky grin. naughty girl wanes sexy butt. jut that dickhead out of sight.
jut lana oh wink! i wane.
luna moonfang eclipse on eleven. leaving on a jet to rome. ink our romance kiss that girl. win my heart you long have had.
how a luna win a jet ink?
Friday, July 28, 2006
1:15 AM

its a pity the audience who shared these shows would come to some form of closure soon, where there is nothing to be continued but the wisps atop narnia jovially untwining nits.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
5:41 PM

this is Julie's strawberry love letters from me to you
when ancient nymphs join under noon
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
11:29 PM

sink the empty powercraft
when angels' neck jilt under night
where advocates' ink kill into time

go figure.

the voices in my head-

Wednesday, October 04, 2006
1:44 PM

MRI

a funny feeling.
i was stripped mercilessly, put upon a cold hard bed, and my knee was cast in an unfeeling plastic case. two hands pressed my head down, gentle yet firm, and a stuffing of same material as my rubber duckie was plunged into my ears. a net followed, and my head felt like some cabbage ready to peel.

i craned my neck, so at least i could identify that white nurse who witnessed me in such alluring glamour, and silence her after my scan was done. but to no avail, the cast held me down like a puppy's print upon cement. i was stuck, onto a crippled-friendly bed with things at the side that prevent one from rolling in excitement and falling tragically to its death.
i was trolleyed into the room. i wouldn't know of what speed had i travelled, but the ceiling lights seem to move pretty fast. my white nurse must have been a fervent addict of daytona, perhaps i could date her after my scan was done and while she teaches me once more to play with crutch, i could teach her to play with crotch. crutch.

the room was huming. not that melodious. droning. a tad louder. bombinating. but bombination wouldn't be apt. it was roaring, yet with no hint of violence. in fact, there seemed to be a peaceful element to the sound yet it kept me on the edge.
it was nothing like i've ever heard before. perhaps the closest sensation i could imagine was the time at open seas diving amidst orange nemos and pink jellyfish, that silence like a womb, when suddenly a gargantuan ship hovers atop and this similar bombination bombards my two poor fellows at the side of my head. thank God for the mini rubber duckie stuffings.

and then she left me. like all things do. i heard a murmur of keep your leg still and before i knew it, the things by the side of my bed collapsed and i knew i was going to die. this fucking contraption, stupid knee and stupid leg, i couldn't even pick myself to run. but as all stupid things come to an end, my malfunctioning brain from below the net heaved a sigh of relief when the bed did not collapse but rather, a conveyor belt rolled me ever so slowly into this huge machine. i felt like a luggage, but my wretched nurse had forgotten to plaster an urgent tag over my knee and worse, a fragile tag over my dick.

and billions of blue blistering barnacles, all of a sudden that machine just burst to life. i would have been less surprised if my white nurse had suddenly popped out and dressed as santa passed me my christmas present, but that bloody contraption just started convulsing as if suffering from a terrible bout of fits and a circle of white lights enveloped me.
that conveyor belt continued to transpose me slowly but steadily, and the white lights seemed to get nearer ever so rancorously. that bombination wouldn't stop. and my nurse wouldn't come.
i must have been going to heaven.

or hell.

the voices in my head-

Monday, October 02, 2006
10:40 PM

Double Dew Axe Why Zee

whether to smile or cry i know not
when someone stops and waves each time
walking by asking how's that knee
waikit knows not but smile and shrug

with two more days of limp and hop
while peter and pan kept still at bay
what will you say my white coat doc
would you make me smile or cry

will you put me to a sleep
will you cut open my leg
will you condemn me to hop
will you have me lose my game

the end draws near.

the voices in my head-