a W a k 3 n | n G *

Tuesday, July 31, 2007
1:13 AM

Attachment

same same, but different.

the voices in my head-

Monday, July 30, 2007
3:41 AM

J.East

the white is gone, and the orange shall dawn.
my car sits, for its 5th week, anatomized with its outsides at Paya Ubi and its insides at Johor Bahru. and i half wonder whether the garage gurus in the land of the north could differentiate a catalytic converter from a pair of pattayan pintuyan.

in related news, it has been quite a long time since i had embarked on the red line which ends at jurong east. the succor of my trusty lancer in days where 24 hours seemed never enough, had indeed provided much convenience that i had never truly held thankful for.

the train approached jurong east and i was quite disturbed by the ominous booming intonation that educates people to press a button and speak calmly when turbanised mr terrorist leaves his bag behind. isn't the most logical, and rationale course of action, to smash the windows and hurl the bag onto a people-less track?
perhaps it is the condescending nature of the authorities to see bearded mr terrorist fumbling with the remote when activating the bomb, and bomb specialists of our mass rapid transit would have the luxurious splendour of time to stroll into the scene at the next station and reposefully snap the wire.

it tickles me to have this ominous booming intonation rudely interrupted by a plesant female voice telling me that train services to clementi has stopped. bloody hell, if public transport ain't 24 hours, at least its supposed to stretch into the wee hours of the night?!

it was quite apparent soon after, that i was the only idiot hoping against hope on the platform of the EW line. i mustered all the dignity that i could garner, and strolled towards the exit, where i fumbled for naught but a moment.
embarrassment of an extremity i must admit, classic moment in the making, as i could not find the little slit. that thing which i had thought would suck in my EzLink card. like straws to drinks. like vacuums to dust. like mouths to, flesh.

i would not bear the midnight surcharge. goodness knows how much the surcharge might have tripled, with the GST hike and all. it was 12:38, and i begun the walk from jurong east to west coast road.

1 hour 13 minutes. 3100 steps. 31 fooled taxi drivers.

i wish i could tell you. but what iota of difference would it make. i cannot imagine anything, i cannot imagine anything else. i will say it plainly now.
1 hour 13 minutes. 3100 steps. and neither you nor i will cringe or shrink.

the wait is, nearly over. i have simply appropriated love and given it a new name. just as i should appreciate the mechanics of the mass rapid transit, i will learn to speak its new name.

the voices in my head-

Tuesday, July 24, 2007
1:59 AM

Change

i must disagree that change is the only constant.

what say you, to the ataxic string of words of dear old pak and the ice-cold retorts of mingmao, the cackle of a beauty and the quiet observance of concord and comity. or apparent lack of.

these too, had been quite the constants of my life. happy birthday to you pak.

the voices in my head-

Friday, July 13, 2007
1:22 AM

Four

if there were four takeaways i could sniff off the land of the honkytonts, it would undoubtedly be these little snippets of life, in no order of priority.

one, there was a unique compatriot, half a head taller than i and vaguely humourous for a lawyer. he had a habit of taking down the little things i do, which he so believes would attract girls like bees to honey and boys to porn. he was egged on vigorously by another lawyer who bewilders himself at the ratio of Bally shops to McDonalds in Kowloon, and kisses his socks to sleep each night. the list was quite comprehensive, but offhand i could only remember a precious few. to hurl litter flamboyantly, to swat flies in a careless wave, to replace words of norm in one's concocted style.
of course, these are hardly measures to entice girls, but this unique compatriot of mine made me learn quite a great deal of myself, and i thank him for that. i wish him the blessings of a blowjob, and many more hearty piaks in place of a chinese word he might not know.

two, much annoyance to a bid of valiant defence at Fong Underground, much argument is based on a retrospective foundation. you should have done this and you should have done that, all spoken so easily off mortal tongues yet with a divine sight.
arguments aside, i had pondered much over the atrocity of such retrospective sights. it particularly irks me to realise that the slippery slope of many debates are founded upon the awareness of beings when the event has already passed.
many tend to form their opinions based on facts already passed, which naturally supports their opinions. don't you realise that the phrase see i told you so is especially vindicative and damningly irritating.
it was a great learning experience to battle three lawyers on an irish nut, but a greater learning experience to uncover the common pithole of retrospectiveness in place of chronology.

three, perhaps it being the fad of warreen buffet and rich mum poor mum books, but everyone's into the talk of money, or rather, of how to make money. stocks and shares, insurance and investments, multi-level-marketing and direct sales, its taking the toll on us '85 babies. but in retrospect (that little bad habit again), the wanderings of MongKok with a beautiful host and the late night walks of ShenZhen had me realised the true extent of globalisation.
there is no greater money to be made than to leverage upon the powers of currency and information. the day i have every crook and cranny between two nations at my fingertips would be the day i am made a millionaire. and the day i have each crook and cranny upon the globe as my playground would be the day i am made a billionaire.

four, is getting quite too much to read. i don't quite like fours, much like the superstitious canto-speaking honkytonts of Kowloon.

the voices in my head-

Tuesday, July 10, 2007
11:27 PM

Fong Underground

it wasn't the work of a margarita, an irish nut, a blowjob and two glasses of iced water. perhaps so, the confessions from the peak, whisked around in a quiet 760 slumber garnered much controversy amongst three lawyers and ms goldman.

pray tell, what might define love? the lawyer with his sock placed emphasis on putting thyself in the other's shoes, quite apt since socks and shoes walk hand in hand. practicality upon reasonableness, would you build your love on this self-proclaimed rock?

the lawyer with an accent that does not match her skin, then speaks. on perceived notions of dos and don'ts, on common consensus of yess and nos, and i bid her a token of appreciation and a shade of envy, because she had quite taken for granted the basis of such notions and consensus. it had not been the fortune of the couple, nor the intelligence or wit. rather, it was the work of the religion, the rock of faith.

and i have no answer, for i knew this to be best. i would work my life and my love in this direction, but in this interregnum, i shall persist in my love. the ability to make each other see wrong in thy actions, or yes. the ability to change for each other.

i am quite a stubborn boy.

the voices in my head-

Wednesday, July 04, 2007
9:37 PM

TIG

i had a drink at Pacific Coffee Company, and i ordered a 100% natural Kiwifruit nectar drink for twenty two dollars. there was a little flaw with its red straw, a chip off the tip, and i went to the counter to swap straws. after all, i had paid twenty two dollars for it.

that aside, i merely swapped straws. i did not change the entire drink.

substitutions should be made that way.

the voices in my head-