we cannot change the cards we are dealt,
just how we play the hand.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
4:42 PM
Hate
it's not only necessary to know how to go about loving your enemies, but also to go down into the question of why we should love our enemies. i think the first reason that we should love our enemies, and i think this was at the very center of Jesus' thinking, is this: that hate for hate only intensifies the existence of hate and evil in the universe.
if i hit you and you hit me and i hit you back and you hit me back and go on, you see, that goes on ad infinitum. it just never ends. somewhere somebody must have a little sense, and that's the strong person. the strong person is the person who can cut off the chain of hate, the chain of evil.
there's another reason why you should love your enemies, and that is because hate distorts the personality of the hater. we usually think of what hate does for the individual hated or the individuals hated or the groups hated. but it is even more tragic, it is even more ruinous and injurious to the individual who hates. ... for the person who hates, the true becomes false and the false becomes true. that's what hate does.
a sermon of '57, delivered to eternity. and more so, the greatest misdeed in the world is to hate, and be hated in return.
the voices in my head-
Saturday, April 28, 2007
6:36 AM
Flight
caged birds accept each other but flight is what they long for. so i set them free, the pair of shimmery red hearts. and as i watched them disappear into the crimson morning of a late april, i say a silent prayer, devote a minute of thought, beg a moment of forgiveness.
the voices in my head-
Friday, April 27, 2007
10:23 PM
Want
it never was a matter of what i can, or cannot do.
its the want.
funny, how marketeers adopt the Maslow hierarchy of needs wants and demands, each greater than the next. isn't the want paramount, the epitome of human desire, for the want often outstrips the demand.
rapists. robbers. burglars. standing testimonies of my theory.
its innate, an instinct.
don't suppress it, just don't misuse it.
thank God i have a religion.
the voices in my head-
Sunday, April 22, 2007
11:54 PM
Rag
ryan was speaking to me a week back, on how the grand plan for rag and flag this year would go underway, and how we're set to smash the record of eighty blooming thousand dollars.
so it is dear boy, my platter has arrived to run this rat race. but solace is sought somehow, that my purpose had been to use the events for rag and flag as bonding sessions for one's committee, and not a blind fervent attempt to raise invisible digits of a counter.
i am amazed though, how wonderfully brilliant certain things may appear. there seems to be a freedom of choice, but it is in fact an illusion of choice; many routes to take, but all mirages save one.
i see my dear neighbours sell flowers sell goodies sell tickets sell tshirts sell umbrellas and for what i ask. in a swing of accompaniment, pout and frown, rag loh they would say.
whats rag?
don't know, most would honestly proclaim.
yet some might defend, a tradition!
i say, there was once a tradition in a block, pun intended, that there had to be a certain mix of seniors to juniors each floor, and forgive the unceremoniousness, but a tradition from what? a tradition for whom? a tradition till when?
for charity! others still in valiant defence.
and who are we benefitting i say. don't know would probably come up first, followed earnestly by a fuck you lah, who cares.
but of course i shan't dwell further. this blog had never dwelled in politics, and i shall stand by watching the world scuttle by in ignorance and feigned ignorance.
and indeed, NUS is a brilliant school.
north south east west who's the best,
rag flag rag flag is the best. yippee.
the voices in my head-
Thursday, April 19, 2007
8:43 PM
Mug
i like cows. they make good steak.
i like exams.
the voices in my head-
Monday, April 16, 2007
5:53 AM
Copperfield
i suppose in a way or two, i resemble the Recees of this world, allowing the Julians to do my dirty work.
and i wake at 5pm these days, and sleep at 10am. i truly am, an escapist.
two seconds ago, i killed an ant two inches away from another. the other ant merely scuttled on, unaware of anything amiss.
i wonder if it would ever realise it had been so close to death.
the voices in my head-
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
4:58 AM
Try
could you try to.
and in the end, you had either did. or not.
there really, isn't anything fitting of a try.
to try, quite simply, is a politically-correct phrase to plant an exemption clause at the end of that particular statement which states "there was never any guarantee that i could succeed".
think about it, hadn't it always been easier to say "i had tried" instead of "i did not". or perhaps we think it apt to replace "i did, but failed" with a sophisticated try.
still skeptical? next time that miserable try escapes your tongue, replace it with a fundamentally similar statement without it, and a sense of responsibility kicks in, because this time, no exemption clause hovers about to save your face.
the world's not so forgiving. whether you claim a try, or you proclaim a failure, there is no bloody difference.
could you try to.
tell that to a kid, that poor thing might not grasp its concept. to such, the world merely stands as is, or isn't. do, or don't. yes, or no.
try is a grey line invented by wise men, much like exclusion clauses implemented by lawyers, much like condoms worn by rhinos and triceratops.
rugby is a very violent sport, i had never condoned it.
pity, i would never ground a try.
the voices in my head-
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
3:13 AM
Tell Tales
tell me, how would you feel.
if you had sown the seeds,
of the rare rafflesia upon your back garden,
only for it to bloom in full blossom,
after you had moved out in taciturnity?
tell me, how would you feel.
if you had given way in armistice,
to a signalling car off your blind spot,
only for it to cut you miles ahead,
and jam its pretty brake?
tell me, how would you feel.
if you had built the walls of bastille,
much like spartan, much like the great wall,
only to be trapped in ire,
amidst the torrents of a rising yellow river?
tell me, how would you feel.
if you had raised a boy,
in the forsaken hometown of nowhereness,
only for him to run in paroxysmic puberty,
and undoing the dones of your happy times?
killing your little rafflesia,
vandalising your riced up car,
and peeing into the yellow tides.
tell me now, how this boy would feel.
if he had outgrown his age and looked in retrospect.
the voices in my head-
Saturday, April 07, 2007
5:58 AM
Ha Haha
let me fill you in on the headlines for today.
i did not check my blindspot when changing lanes!
oh my goodness, what if this motorcycle zoom past and boohoo, will have accident and all my siew mai har gao beef kway teow will fly out of my boot. poor supportive shearites will have to settle for the same old naan while poor temasekians will have to stuff themselves with expensive oily prata. sigh, i told myself, must check next time k, don't be so naughty. *tsk tsk.
i'm sorry too, i should have known the fuf boys wanted to surprise me with a present for christmas last year. plan A, to hire that strip dancer for the night. but then she turned out to be my neighbour's uncle's godson's prime minister's pet dog's previous owner, and we knew each other from the college fuckfest last summer.
how how. plan A fail, go plan B. to hire that male strip dancer who happened to be a keynote dermatologist.
but you dodos of pattayan island, he happens to be my cousin!
i was so angry with the fuf boys, not for ruining my surprise, but to betray that trust of confidence between my cousin and i. yet so, not as if i very gian presents and surprises, but i feel bad that after all the effort that the fuf boys had put in, i was not in for a hot steamy night but a bedtime conversation on yellow skin and black skin and white skin and spotted skin and bruised skin and bloody hell what have you.
so i was damn pissed, and i wrote my fuf boys a letter.
stop being a self-possessed know-it-all can.
i'm not here to entertain you
so, you think you're fucked up?
you should see me when i am.
i can win the battle,
i can make you little persians flee like little dicks.
i'm in control.
i'm the supreme ruler of the universe.
don't mess with me, fuckers.
i hadn't smiled so much these days.
you make my day my dear.
simply because, there is quite little of such puerile outspokenness, left upon this world.
you're either a tragic protagonist with brains in the lacking, or a comic marvel of paris hilton in the making, and to both.
a toast of the most expensive tea and a salute of my manhood in full esteem, of which this, would not fit even your FOC ikea mirror.
the voices in my head-
Monday, April 02, 2007
2:41 AM
Crossroad
it was the annual youth service this sunday, and i see a myriad of colours on the podium instead of the traditional crimson which the choir usually dons.
it seemed an age of eternity since i was the one who stood on the stand, leading a sanctuary of hundreds, in the year of '05. hair streaked white, hands clasped upon a bible, long sleeved and tied.
it seems, that we are an age long forgotten. the youths of 1985 have had their golden era, and it is time to let go and move on. happy easter sunday to all, save the chocolate egg.
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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