29 August, 2007

omfg i can't sleep

time is still. and cold air bites into my skin without remorse. there are so many things that i want to do with my life, yet i just that there's something holding me back. the lack of desire, passion and motivation. they say that your life flashes by just before you die - i'm thinking that when it happens to me, all i'd see would be a big black -SPLAT-. my life. nothing interesting. nothing so far.

nada. shit. squat. nothing. zero.

26 August, 2007

I

I am concrete dreams
escalating by Clarke Quay floating
on tonic and gin, grinning at the white folk
who pay my girls. I am 92 degree Wednesdays,
sweat stained schoolboys and soccer mud shoes
in a thirty people bus carrying forty,
with pineapples and mandarin oranges
sagging in a bag. I am mahjong playing
ancients, smoking. I am aluminum louvers and glowing
altars stabbed by joss sticks.

I am 89 degree yellow Tuesday crisping,
walking past single story miracles
that sell only bananas and coke.
I am water edged with a failing sense
of humor, green, with chlorophyll pages wafting
to Chinese opera on street corners. I am Lion dance
on Orchard road, flaunting my red,
denying my blue. I am Gucci and Prada
blighting oriental silk; wearing gray and Nikes
when I need nothing and slippers

I am five thirty sunrise. I am water
reclaimed as earth.. I am Friday evening beach ball
gone too far into sea, spicy barbeques and Cantonese
satin swearing. I am climbing trees to stare at people in matchbox
apartments vacuuming parquet. I am Heineken and jazz
washed over by Orion, diluted.
I am strangers
asking “have you eaten”, offering peanuts in patchwork
old town, smelling like cloves,
graced with beetle nut spit.

张惠妹 - 如果你也听说

突然发现站了好久
不知道要往哪走
还不想回家的我
再多人陪只会更寂寞

许多话题关于我
就连我也有听过
我的快乐要被认可
委屈却没有人诉说

夜把心洋葱般剥落
拿掉防卫剩下什么
为什么脆弱时候
想你更多

如果你也听说
有没有想过我
想普通交朋友
还是你依然会心疼我

好多好多的话想对你说
悬着一颗心没着落
要怎么附和
舍不得又无可奈何

如果你也听说
会不会相信我
对流言会附和
还是你知道我还是我

跌跌撞撞才明白了许多
懂我的人就你一个
想到你想起我
胸口依然温柔

张惠妹-如果你也听说

许多话题关于我
就连我也有听过
我想我宁可都沉默
其实反而显得做作

夜把心洋葱般剥落
拿掉防卫剩下什么
为什么脆弱时候
想你更多

如果你也听说
有没有想过我
想普通交朋友
还是你依然会心疼我

好多好多的话想对你说
悬着一颗心没着落
要怎么附和
舍不得又无可奈何

如果你也听说
会不会相信我
对流言会附和
还是你知道我还是我

跌跌撞撞才明白了许多
懂我的人就你一个
想到你想起我
胸口依然温柔

如果你也听说
有没有想过我
想普通交朋友
还是你依然会心疼我

跌跌撞撞才明白了许多
冷漠的人就你一个
想到你想起我
胸口依然温柔

如果你想起我
你会想到什么

19 August, 2007

There's no one in town I know
You gave us some place to go
I never said thank you for that
I thought I might get one more chance

What would you think of me now,
So lucky, so strong, so proud?
Never said thank you for that
Now I'll never have a chance

May angels lead you in
Hear you me my friends
On sleepless roads, the sleepless go
May angels lead you in

So what would you think of me now
So lucky, so strong, so proud?
I never said thank you for that
Now I'll never have a chance


May angels lead you in
Hear you me my friends
On sleepless roads, the sleepless go
May angels lead you in


May angels lead you in
May angels lead you in
May angels lead you in
May angels lead you in


And if you were with me tonight
I'd sing to you just one more time
A song for a heart so big
God wouldn't let it live


May angels lead you in
Hear you me my friends
On sleepless roads, the sleepless go
May angels lead you in

May angels lead you in
Hear you me my friends
On sleepless roads, the sleepless go
May angels lead you in

On sleepless roads, the sleepless go
May angels lead you in

12 August, 2007

Bang! You've killed yourself again.

My mind is in disarray.

Kind of like a fish out of water feeling.
I'm easily irritable.
More of such emotions are definitely going to cause a schism within myself.
And I think I'm just holding it all inside. It's hard to find an outlet. An excuse just to burst out for no apparent reason. The stigma of tolerance. A stigma cause without it, i'd turn into a raging maniac going at anything or anyone without rhyme or reason. Too much of it, you get people like me, who can't find outlets to release their frustrations because they can't remember how. I seriously cannot remember how.

Perhaps it was due to my granfather's death. The three or four days during his funeral, I don't recall crying at all. Not a single tear. Not one. Maybe that's why I can't seem to put a finger on any real emotion anymore. Perhaps I've been lying to myself about everything since then. I'm just not so sure. I feel like a -Kinder Surprise. You unwrap me, eat the chocolate and find an ambiguous capsule inside with a random toy. Not so much of a forest gump "life is like a box of chocolate thing". More of a, woah, wtf is in the capsule today kinda thing. I really cannot remember having a "Mary Poppins" day - carefree and problem-less. Maybe it's just too fucking idealistic, afterall, wouldn't everyone appreciate a problemless life; being able to solve everything with just a "snap" of their fingers. But then again, there arises a problem - What if you are unable to snap? Anyway, I think perfection is boring. It's dull and unrealistic. As fuz once said, perfection is not really a goal, it's a journey. (I think fuz said this, not very sure).

My head is in shambles. I think God can't hear me anymore. No, I think I can't hear God anymore. My deaf, dumb and blind moments are constantly creeping back time and time again. I try to speak to Him. But He seems so far away. I guess I still believe that He answers, perhaps not in the way we expect Him too, but He does. The baptism sign on my forehead is flashing red, warning signs of a disgrunted Christian, warning signs of falling into the trap of drowning in the sea(s) of Hell and being skewered in the ass by Satan himself. I wish my guardian angel could sprinkle some magic dust on me, let me grow wings and fly me to lala land. Somewhere far, and away from everything. Not problemless, but just to be quiet by myself for just a day. I'd let the sun make sweet love to my skin, while i'm constantly stroked by the winds' gentle touch. Fuck, sounds like i'm missing the beach more than anything else. Bah.

I wish I had a gun. I'd put it in my mouth and eagerly squeeze the trigger. Hoping that the bullet will be ejected with so much force it blows a gaping hole in the back of my head servering my cerebral cortex and medulla oblongata and with it, all life from my already souless and emotionless self.
Bang! You've killed yourself again.

11 August, 2007

I happy am. I think. But since I think , so therefore I am, right? NOT!

I'm feeling happy today. Well, quite at least. I don't know why. Perhaps the endorphins from the no nut famous chocolate chip cookies kicked in. -shrugs-

Anyway, I was doing some thinking about a conversation I had with Miss Brownie. If my memory serves me right, i remember discussing something along the lines of what ethics is. She was saying that ethics is for the priveliged. As in, not everyone should loosely say they are Ethical because they do blablabla; in other words the word ethics shouldn't be used so loosely.

I was mentioning to her that the definition of what is or isn't ethical is pretty much ambiguous - what do you define as ethics or being ethical? I was saying it was pretty much subjective and like the over told story of the man who steals medication for his sick dying wife because he can't afford it. Is it wrong, or right? Purists would say that just by stealing, he's already wrong because he has broken a law which is a criminal offence. Sympatheti(zers) or sympathetic people would think otherwise. Sort of like a use your heart over your head situation, yes? -shrugs-

Aiyar, whatever la. MWhahahah. I'm too lazy to think already. EPL's starting, or started. I'm not really sure. Not much EPL action in Australia. The only way to really catch all the matches is by subscribing to Foxtel Cable TV which sucks balls by the way. On the bright side though, Ruby World Cup (27 Days to go) will be shown on Ten. Yay! At least I still get to see some ball action, other than their stupid AFL.

07 August, 2007

These few awkward lines.

I'm leading the prosaic life right now.


I'm absolutely dead; Blinded by life's suffocation of light, Deaf from life's rethorical rhymes and Starved from life's decapitated hope. I'm wondering like a blind deaf and dumb victim tossed in the lost and found section of the worlds' own reject bin (most victims are never found).

I cannot find happiness in anything anymore. Everything touched, tasted, heard and felt is souless to me. Everyone who speaks, who shouts, cries in pain or laughs hysterically, they are but a shadow of sanity and logic. There is no sorrow to be bled, no tear to cry nor life enough to breadthe a sigh. Unable to function. Unable to maintain my sainty. Depression is me. I am depression.

"He committed suicide about two years later, from exsanguination."