we cannot change the cards we are dealt,
just how we play the hand.
Friday, November 23, 2007
8:42 PM
Nice Love
i write this because i have a little confusion, and a little confession.
i find it bellicosity when someone is nice to me, simply because he(she) feels like being nice to me. i would suppose, that you would demand something in return. and i immediately tuck a little memory at the back of my head, reminding myself to return your decorousness.
it is not possible to be nice. for the sake of being nice.
i challenge any, to leave an incident of such. and i will rip it apart with the simplest of logic.
you say then, what about friendship. but hadn't i buy the drink for our friendship, flourished with embellishment?
you say then, what about charity. but hadn't i seek to feel good, philanthropy and beneficence in full blossom?
and so you bring up stories of eighty year old grandpas taking care of that twenty year old quartered-diseased half-paralysed quartered-blind kid, and ask me what he seeks in return.
he seeks, the hope of a miracle.
and so you recollect the day where you took a stride far left, to avoid killing that creeping snail across the zebra crossing.
you seek, the absence of guilt.
but love.
1 Corinthians put it so aptly, and i could put my retorts and reprisals, squelch and sass. but i falter. because it is the word of the Lord, and the word of the Lord is true.
Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things
i write this to my friend T, and my friend K.
they used to be friends, and more.
for i am perplexed. how could T feel differently about K like he didn't love her. how could T stop loving even while they were together. it couldn't be, for not even i had stopped loving whilst in any relationship. and it is i, who desires absence over abstinence, bellicosity over rectitude.
K speaks of fairy tales, and tales like such define the big and little, beginning to end. why would you ask me, how it is to understand when one has left the other. pray tell, i had never left anyone. i had always forced the other, to leave. fairy tales, beginning to end, a happy ending that is.
Tell me a story, K.
What kind of story, child?
A story with a happy ending.
There’s no such thing in all the world.
As a happy ending?
As an ending.
and so i write to you, T and K.
because T is after S, and K is after J.
times change, things move. pray tell, what comes after Z?
i know not, but this for sure. love endures all.
the voices in my head-
Sunday, November 18, 2007
11:50 PM
Hallism
the decision on and about halls could be termed as hallism. i would suppose, a close reckoning to hylotheism.
and i say, there is a certain uncertainty about my days to come.
quite positive i am going to outgrow the hallish days next semester, but i will stay long enough. because i owe it to the captain who was, because i owe it to the captain who is. and because i owe it to my word, that i would not give up at something halfway done.
but it scares me, the rationale being.
i looked up at the glimmering chandeliers, and i see a cycle for the next twenty, thirty, forty years.
to wake to eat to work to sleep.
why do i wish to escape the hallish chronology and be immersed in mundane isochronism? i know not, perhaps its the obsessive compulsive disorder working up. perhaps its the workaholism kicking in. but i know it for sure, the days of seeing and being seen, has long gone.
i grow. i pray, for the better.
the voices in my head-
Friday, November 09, 2007
9:27 AM
Kuhn
of the delights of this world, man cares most for sexual intercourse. he will go to any length for it. risk fortune, character, reputation, life itself. twain says.
why so.
think later. i say. learning and sex until rigor mortis.
the voices in my head-
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
11:12 PM
Robbery
and i never thought it would have happened to me.
forties i reckon, both of them. bristling moustache, chinese with a local accent, and a slur of hokkien on occasions. the left, wore black slippers, a spot of mud. the right, donned a grey rag, white all over. perhaps a painter.
i had my time, a negotiation of five minutes approximate. i threw them a singular ringgit to begin with, how naive it seemed in retrospect. but blame me not, i had assumed them to be the shoddy beggars off the streets in Johor.
they were quite frantic, by looks of it. the left especially. gold ring on his third finger. glanced around every other moment. but the right, a little more brutal. needle, quite diseased, held in one palm, patience waning.
and so it was, money or the jab.
i gave them what i had. twenty one ringgit and seven singapore dollars.
---
p.s.
in honesty, this is a tale of fact, and it did happen. occured 05Nov 21:00. area of Tamam Sentosa, opposite the street of Jalan Suiliman (at the junction of Holiday Plaza). 15 metres left of the Shell Station, 2nd parking lot from the entrance of the adjacent carpark.
alas. the sambal kangkong might be good, but there was a look in their eyes, of desparation and panic.
we could have lost, so much more.
the voices in my head-
Saturday, November 03, 2007
9:16 PM
Theodore
i must learn to love the fool in me the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries.
and perhaps i had loved too much.
the voices in my head-
Friday, November 02, 2007
11:08 PM
An Open Letter
these are the facts of the case.
3:45pm. i parked outside the boom of Sheares Hall carpark. 3:46pm. a bespectacled aunty invited me within the carpark compounds of Sheares Hall, as we had the understanding i would be leaving "in a few minutes". 3:51pm. an unforeseen circumstance in no relation to the case cropped up, and i proceeded to the business computer laboratory. 4:45pm. back at hall, rested and prepared to change for basketball training. 5:05pm. a neighbour stomps at the door. 5:10pm. it has come to my understanding that the car has been wheel clamped.
these are the facts of the case, and they are irrefutable.
---
and so i must explain to the hall management, you see.
Dear Sir/Mdm,
I write with regret that such an incident had happened, it is also upon myself that I admit the basis of the incident lies in my late removal of the car.
However, I feel that the act of wheel clamping the car is not justified. I believed that the hall management should act in consistency, and by an act of opening the boom and invitation to enter the carpark compound, there should not be a consequent act of wheel clamping it. It would perhaps be more appropriate to call the owner of the car/resident since the hall management has my particulars and they do know the identity of the car owner, if the car had in any way obstracted traffic or caused inconvenience.
Also, the act of wheel clamping by an uncertified personnel caused deep scratches upon the rims and these scratches are far more substantial (in financial terms) than the act of paying a summon.
In essence, there should be consistency in the hall management, and albeit regrettable, the incident proved to be a learning experience on both sides.
---
and now politeness aside, the heart speaks.
bloody hell.
you invite me in. and then you clamp me.
5:15pm. i galumphed into the hall management office and confronted the hall manager. and i say it with no guise, simply and plainly. you are quite a creature.
you try to push the inconsistency of your management onto the kindness of the bespectacled old aunty, when all she did was a kind gesture to allow my car within the compounds.
the argument i put forth was that the car should not be clamped, or if it should be (within your bloody jurisdiction and authorisation), it is common courtesy to ring up the owner to move the car. (especially if that information is accessible to you)
and what do you? you pull gary tan's name off the wall, telling me you sent an email to him and try to scare me off with pompous words and the fact that i have the authorisation of the master of the universe.
most fortunately. i have pompous words up my sleeve too.
but you never give up, do you. you try to shelve the blame to the poor aunty, and by the time you ended at 5:20pm, she was fretting so much she even told me a sopsop story of how she was caught by the campus security for stealing newspapers and why she cared for my car, explaining her gesture of opening the boom.
you pick on the defenceless. you pick on the unpompous. you are indeed a creature of undefined condescension.
and so i tire. and i took my wallet, willing to pay for the summon but together with your name and designation. would you think i let the matter rest.
and then you fret. you tell me again, dotting your sentences with master gary tan and authorisation. and you simply refused, to give me your name.
so i refused to give you the fine.
alas. you had to open the clamp. you had bloody no right. your inconsistencies and all. and you fear.
and you seek my letter of appeal?
i will not appeal, for there is nothing to appeal about.
the clamp has been undone, and perhaps the best you can do is kick me out of hall. and i would like to see you do that.
i take you on, hall manager of Sheares.
why don't i invite you to my house this weekend, and call the cops to arrest a trespassing burglar?
oh. and i haven't started my case on scratched rims.
nor the bloody waste of my time, 34 minutes in the Sheares hall office in the presence of a creature of madly contorted proportions.
i rest my case.
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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