i had to repeat this story till my jaw needed axle-grease.
definitely not something im proud of. but then pride had always been the demon i loved mocking. so lets have it.
got charged with two military offences as of friday. Something about inappropriate usage of property and disobedience of general order. the thing about how language works in any law book, even one as inane as the army's, it so fucking vague anything u do can fall well into its impact crater. what really happened should be a fable for all kids of adam and eve. don't eat that tasty fruit, or you could cause the end of the world.
digressions aside.
got called back for a saturday duty in the guard house. its 24hr borefest so people think of ways to entertain themselves. i brought a book and a coupla cds. i was done with the book by lunch. i didnt have anything to play the cds with. so i trooped down to my office and fished out the laptop and brought it back to the guard room. The process is a lot more complicated, involving keys and signatures, but lets not bore with the details. Lets just say i processed the key without the signature. so me and the guys there played music for the day. i packed the laptop and hid it away from view lest anyone thought silly ideas. they proved to be my silliest idea yet though. The next morning's handover was a fucking mess. and i had to trot back and forth around camp like a mad hatter to get things settled. that is absolutely no excuse for completely forgetting about the laptop, but thats just wat this fucking fool did.
i forgot.
i booked out in a flair of dramatic irony, in a state where nobody saw the laptop and nobody knew where it went.
monday came and passed. i was on course on the other side of the island, when this side panicked over the possibility of a breach in security. some ninja apparently infiltrated the camp, entered a secured office and left with a laptop, without a trace. i was oblivious to that until saturday evening when someone called and asked if i knew where it was. so there was me in the impact crater, wondering what hit me. 'holee shit. its in the guard room. i completely forgot to return it.' this was after the camp already alerted the higher commands about that darn ninja.
long story short. i got drowned in shit. they found the laptop where i found it and everythings intact. but the possibility that it could have been stolen or that it could have been a real ninja, or that the ninja could have worked for al qaeda is the shit im drowning in. so i got charged. In their defence, it could be considered a severe breach in security. i most definitely did make a humongantus mistake. i gave a lotta people a lotta trouble.
and i really really could have been a evil terrorist. im evil enough, i just forget things too often for osama to trust me.
disclaimer: i seem to be making too light of this entire thing. but i need a momentary timeout from kicking myself between the thighs. 'you are your greatest enemy' was a saying i took to heart long ago. and its become an obsession. times like these i get fantasies of hara-kiri with a charred stake, digging my own innards full or burnt splinters with my own useless hands. nothing suicidal, u understand, thatd be far too easy a backdoor.
mom and dad finally realised what i meant when i told them i've already said to myself whatever they wanted to say to me. i know myself well enough to know which buttons hurt the most when pushed, so lets just. keep. pushing.
didn't want to make her cry. i know parents need to get it out of their system, to say something when we fuck up, to somehow punish us. whether by pain, emotional blackmail, financial blockades or just mental torture. to make it seem like they're doing their job. to make them feel like they won't make anymore mistakes with this fucked up loser of a son. i understand, i let them say it.
but one thing that snapped me, is when they say i dun seem like im guilty, or repentant. that i don't know the gravity of the problem or that i don't care. i keep a straight face, but i do give a fuck. i AM disappointed in myself, i AM extremely pissed at my stupidity and i absolutely appreciate my worthlessness thank you.
at least now you know.
i was facing 10 days in DB. i was already resigned to that fact, up till the point i marched into the CO's office in the dead of the night. When he read the sentence to be 12 days of SOL, i must've been a little too surprised to react. i had mumble a reaply after being jabbed by somebody.
Its 2 days more, but its a lot more lenient a sentence. At least i get to type all these down.
i know i got a lotta people to thank. ppl spoke up for me where least expected. i'm still stunned. and im thanking them still, not in so many words, because there are better ways to do so.
but one thing my parents wanted of me were words. they wanted me to thank god.
come to think of it, i might have mouthed those words, but seldom have i truly said it.
so um
owe ya one, Pops.
________________________________________________________________________________________
sta·sis
n. pl. sta·ses
A condition of balance among various forces; motionlessness: “Language is a primary element of culture, and stasis in the arts is tantamount to death” (Charles Marsh).
lim·bo1
n. pl. lim·bos
Word History: Our use of the word limbo to refer to states of oblivion, confinement, or transition is derived from the theological sense of Limbo as a place where souls remain that cannot enter heaven, for example, unbaptized infants. Limbo in Roman Catholic theology is located on the border of Hell, which explains the name chosen for it. The Latin word limbus, having meanings such as “an ornamental border to a fringe” and “a band or girdle,” was chosen by Christian theologians of the Middle Ages to denote this border region. English borrowed the word limbus directly, but the form that caught on in English, limbo, first recorded in a work composed around 1378, is from the ablative form of limbus, the form that would be used in expressions such as in limb, “in Limbo.”
Monday, April 18, 2005
Friday, April 15, 2005
orbital dysfunk
you left on a roadtrip.
spinning on a beeline, trying to gather enough velocity to be thrown off that orbit you weaved with so much toxic dust.
you hitched on so many rides you never thought you'd be on.
Maybe they know where they are going. Maybe you did, maybe you had a map. But you rolled the pieces with tobacco and smoked it into harsher lungs, and flushed the rest down the drain with as much intoxication.
maybe if you throttled fast enough in that plastic spaceship, god would find more competent toys to play with. While stocks last. Batteries not included. Each sold separately.
And after all that, hey, the air suddenly smells familiar. A little devastated by tsunamis of carelessness, yes, but that washed up blanket is the same one you woke up from. Yesterday, or two months ago.
you're right back on the other side of the same place.
you have a new suitcase of masks and cosmetic lies. They are better painted by a more practiced brush. we could keep them. we should.
shut up. don't worry about that.
how the fuck do you lie to yourself if you don't know who you are.
shhhh.
if the last two months were any indication, you still have that much of yourself to murder.
sitting down, with your closest friends and a choice intoxicant, you find yourself pathologically unable to unearth the the troubles and hitches within you. How do you untie a self-binding knot in the blind?
Still can't get past thinking that your problems are only yours to deal with. Your insecurities are secured behind a lock whose key you swallowed. Still refusing to admit you're too bloodied from the punches you threw yourself every single night. Arrogant in knowing how you nip any possibilities of pride in the bud with that blunt rusty knife. Indulging shamelessly in the ironies of you.
So why put all these in words now? One thing you know, your words know you better than you know yourself. And perhaps if you wrote in second-person perspective, you could displace yourself enough to spell things out. And perhaps if your allegories get convoluted enough, you'd still be encrypted in your status quo.
spinning on a beeline, trying to gather enough velocity to be thrown off that orbit you weaved with so much toxic dust.
you hitched on so many rides you never thought you'd be on.
Maybe they know where they are going. Maybe you did, maybe you had a map. But you rolled the pieces with tobacco and smoked it into harsher lungs, and flushed the rest down the drain with as much intoxication.
maybe if you throttled fast enough in that plastic spaceship, god would find more competent toys to play with. While stocks last. Batteries not included. Each sold separately.
And after all that, hey, the air suddenly smells familiar. A little devastated by tsunamis of carelessness, yes, but that washed up blanket is the same one you woke up from. Yesterday, or two months ago.
you're right back on the other side of the same place.
you have a new suitcase of masks and cosmetic lies. They are better painted by a more practiced brush. we could keep them. we should.
shut up. don't worry about that.
how the fuck do you lie to yourself if you don't know who you are.
shhhh.
if the last two months were any indication, you still have that much of yourself to murder.
sitting down, with your closest friends and a choice intoxicant, you find yourself pathologically unable to unearth the the troubles and hitches within you. How do you untie a self-binding knot in the blind?
Still can't get past thinking that your problems are only yours to deal with. Your insecurities are secured behind a lock whose key you swallowed. Still refusing to admit you're too bloodied from the punches you threw yourself every single night. Arrogant in knowing how you nip any possibilities of pride in the bud with that blunt rusty knife. Indulging shamelessly in the ironies of you.
So why put all these in words now? One thing you know, your words know you better than you know yourself. And perhaps if you wrote in second-person perspective, you could displace yourself enough to spell things out. And perhaps if your allegories get convoluted enough, you'd still be encrypted in your status quo.
Monday, December 06, 2004
audiophilia
Zoukout
ok this is seriously belated. i'm only writing this entry three days after Zoukout.
But i had basically crashed, had a serious overdose on 10 hours of mind-fucking muzik.
had always liked house music, chillout, soul and nu beats. but i've also always been rather un-initiated to the better appreciation of such genres, until recently-thanks to Kevin, Dennis and also Andre amongst others. It wasn't until i saw such music in the works at kwan's room did i truly felt the passion behind the beats. But zoukout was like a fucking graduation.
Fontane, Timo Mass, Satoshi, Miguel and Lisa, and of course Paul van Dyk. From progressive trance to vocal house, they made the molecules vibrate in a tapestry of energy. it was even better that most of the people on that beach that night were there for the music. an orgy of audiophiles, haa...
Other than a couple of bottles of sake andre and i had, i hardly drank that night other than to quench a relentless thirst. don't need too much alcohol when you're already high on the audiopill. dre looked like he was on a mad trip, he was so into it i'm surprised he could still recognise me and heather. but i'm nobody to say that, i was pretty crazy too.
i keep trying put the night into words, but i think i'll just let images do the work. i took so many of them haa... would've did more if BOTH my batteries didn't run out.
high on sake
dre & heather
satoshi tomiie
great balls of fire...
satoshi & timo maas
midnight
dancing queen
miguel migs
lisa pa
SUGAR HIGH!
Paul Van Dyk
no really, we're not gay
Zoukout, eclectic...
The Mornin' After..
Saturday, December 04, 2004
Saturday, November 27, 2004
Forbidden Fruit
can't seem to get the damn background sound to work...
just woke up from 2 hours of sleep, which by now seems to be my weekly cure for being wasted heh. went to wala's, with a real thirst for drink and with a why-am-i-feelin-so-fucked-up state of mindlessness. without a drop of alcohol in me yet, i walked into my favorite bar as if i was already drunk haa, right into a crowd of three. ian, ames and may were already there.
hey guysh.
hey mike. you sound like you're wasted.
no, i sound like i need to be.
in my defense, i didn't really want to get wasted. i wanted to drink, a lot, i suppose. but i didn't plan on becoming a ragdoll that pukes and blabbers a bunch of nonsense. but things don't go as planned especially when you don't know what you're doing heh.
rewind a bit: i did enjoy myself though, up till the point i wasn't coherent enough anymore to recognise that. by the time i gulped down my first glass, i decided to forget why i felt fucked up. by the second, i forgot that i forgot. and by the fourth, i forgot where my third went.
haa.
i remember fun. remember a real good buzz. sharing peanuts with everybody. remember good band, good music. dancing in a non-dancing pub (what's up with that anyway). remember ames own mother coming to join the fun. remember orange coming to join the fun.
then remember getting out of wala's to baden. i was really high already, and i told myself this is good and good enough heh. then remember orange trafficking a innocent-looking shot of jagermeister to me. that was some vile vile schtuff. but it was also smooth sexy schtuff. i remember it went down so well.
then i don't remember pretty much anything anymore after that haa.
bleah. the jagermeister was quite the clincher. shouldn't have mixed that much beer with vile vile schtuff.
ian told me he had to slap me to wake me up. had to drag me out of the bar with the help of the other girls. as if that wasn't bad enough, apparently i was spewing nonsensical bullshit as well as puke. bleah.
my god, how very un-glam.
i woke up at 6 on my couch for a much needed bath, with everything still on, including a value-added sense of feeling like crap.
so now, two hours after all that, i'm awake without a hangover. but i need a little detox.
i'm going to church.
just woke up from 2 hours of sleep, which by now seems to be my weekly cure for being wasted heh. went to wala's, with a real thirst for drink and with a why-am-i-feelin-so-fucked-up state of mindlessness. without a drop of alcohol in me yet, i walked into my favorite bar as if i was already drunk haa, right into a crowd of three. ian, ames and may were already there.
hey guysh.
hey mike. you sound like you're wasted.
no, i sound like i need to be.
in my defense, i didn't really want to get wasted. i wanted to drink, a lot, i suppose. but i didn't plan on becoming a ragdoll that pukes and blabbers a bunch of nonsense. but things don't go as planned especially when you don't know what you're doing heh.
rewind a bit: i did enjoy myself though, up till the point i wasn't coherent enough anymore to recognise that. by the time i gulped down my first glass, i decided to forget why i felt fucked up. by the second, i forgot that i forgot. and by the fourth, i forgot where my third went.
haa.
i remember fun. remember a real good buzz. sharing peanuts with everybody. remember good band, good music. dancing in a non-dancing pub (what's up with that anyway). remember ames own mother coming to join the fun. remember orange coming to join the fun.
then remember getting out of wala's to baden. i was really high already, and i told myself this is good and good enough heh. then remember orange trafficking a innocent-looking shot of jagermeister to me. that was some vile vile schtuff. but it was also smooth sexy schtuff. i remember it went down so well.
then i don't remember pretty much anything anymore after that haa.
bleah. the jagermeister was quite the clincher. shouldn't have mixed that much beer with vile vile schtuff.
ian told me he had to slap me to wake me up. had to drag me out of the bar with the help of the other girls. as if that wasn't bad enough, apparently i was spewing nonsensical bullshit as well as puke. bleah.
my god, how very un-glam.
i woke up at 6 on my couch for a much needed bath, with everything still on, including a value-added sense of feeling like crap.
so now, two hours after all that, i'm awake without a hangover. but i need a little detox.
i'm going to church.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
...deja vu
i've been here before.
the collision of kronos and kairos in my very own microcosm.
i've never quite fled from the narcotic pain i've craved and despaired of.
but its different now i suppose. in the past i tried to escape because of the pain.
now i'm leaving because of the drug.
i have been so veiled in my own blindness i have never dared to touch the colours that fluttered before my brow.
i've been here before.
would that i will end up somewhere else, on the start of other journeys.
the collision of kronos and kairos in my very own microcosm.
i've never quite fled from the narcotic pain i've craved and despaired of.
but its different now i suppose. in the past i tried to escape because of the pain.
now i'm leaving because of the drug.
i have been so veiled in my own blindness i have never dared to touch the colours that fluttered before my brow.
i've been here before.
would that i will end up somewhere else, on the start of other journeys.
"i want to play a game."
found the i-net room in camp.
yay.
the uip here is coming to an end, thank god. this whole week so far has been nothing but talks and lectures. i've sat on that damn chair in the lecture room so frickin long each day it probably has my dna imprinted on it. i don't know what it is about officers that instills in them such a perverse urge to yap relentlessly about the same old subjects in the same old monotone with the same old jokes. the army already is as interesting as a generic pile of cow dung. how much can there be said about bullshit?!
bleah.
at least they do leave us alone when they do.
watched SAW with dennis during our night out yesterday. despite the reviews i've been reading, i found it rather impressive heh. never trust critics in singapore, anyway, they just about have no idea what the fuck they're blabbering about.
"i want to play a game."
i don't think he means tetris, heh.
what do you call someone who murders people by letting them kill themselves, never having to get his own hands dirty? a psycho, a killer, a genius? sometimes the line between these blur.
SAW may be a horror flick and a whodunnit, but the who, how, what and why in this film are sometimes glazed over. i tend to think thats cos it doesn't matter. it is more concerned about other themes, i feel.
the film delves into a moral gray area, one that most people would really rather not dwell in. would you kill someone else to save youself? to save your loved ones? what is the greater good, or the lesser evil? how would you value your own worth against that of another person, how would you judge yourself or him?
you couldn't judge, i'd say. i am worthless, and i have no right to judge. but that doesn't mean i'd choose to just die and let the other live.
is it still a moral dilemma if one does ultimately make a critical choice and come out of it alive?
and yeah, it does have a powerful twist at the movie's end. personally, i am usually a hard critic of plot twists. ever since m night shyamalan's Sixth Sense, so many films have been trying to pull off the most-unexpected-twist-of-the-century. Most of them have resulted in pathetic mindfucks, poorly setup and usually with very little structure relevance to the story. even shyamalan's recent films seem to have a plot twisted squeezed just for the sake of having one.
SAW, however, clearly puts forth its story and themes in the foreground. The twist is well-conceived, subtly weaved within the scenes and ultimately serves as the icing on a good cake, rather than a cream overload with no substance.
i'm lauding this film quite a bit heh. in moderation i'd really say that while this film is truly well made, it is not the best of its genre. To me, Se7en will forever be a classic example of great filmmaking- strong and complete plot, acting and dialogue, powerful themes and image system, and one of the best endings i've seen in a movie. SAW still has certain minor plot loopholes, and less-defined themes. but thats not taking anything away from it.
yay.
the uip here is coming to an end, thank god. this whole week so far has been nothing but talks and lectures. i've sat on that damn chair in the lecture room so frickin long each day it probably has my dna imprinted on it. i don't know what it is about officers that instills in them such a perverse urge to yap relentlessly about the same old subjects in the same old monotone with the same old jokes. the army already is as interesting as a generic pile of cow dung. how much can there be said about bullshit?!
bleah.
at least they do leave us alone when they do.
watched SAW with dennis during our night out yesterday. despite the reviews i've been reading, i found it rather impressive heh. never trust critics in singapore, anyway, they just about have no idea what the fuck they're blabbering about.
"i want to play a game."
i don't think he means tetris, heh.
what do you call someone who murders people by letting them kill themselves, never having to get his own hands dirty? a psycho, a killer, a genius? sometimes the line between these blur.
SAW may be a horror flick and a whodunnit, but the who, how, what and why in this film are sometimes glazed over. i tend to think thats cos it doesn't matter. it is more concerned about other themes, i feel.
the film delves into a moral gray area, one that most people would really rather not dwell in. would you kill someone else to save youself? to save your loved ones? what is the greater good, or the lesser evil? how would you value your own worth against that of another person, how would you judge yourself or him?
you couldn't judge, i'd say. i am worthless, and i have no right to judge. but that doesn't mean i'd choose to just die and let the other live.
is it still a moral dilemma if one does ultimately make a critical choice and come out of it alive?
and yeah, it does have a powerful twist at the movie's end. personally, i am usually a hard critic of plot twists. ever since m night shyamalan's Sixth Sense, so many films have been trying to pull off the most-unexpected-twist-of-the-century. Most of them have resulted in pathetic mindfucks, poorly setup and usually with very little structure relevance to the story. even shyamalan's recent films seem to have a plot twisted squeezed just for the sake of having one.
SAW, however, clearly puts forth its story and themes in the foreground. The twist is well-conceived, subtly weaved within the scenes and ultimately serves as the icing on a good cake, rather than a cream overload with no substance.
i'm lauding this film quite a bit heh. in moderation i'd really say that while this film is truly well made, it is not the best of its genre. To me, Se7en will forever be a classic example of great filmmaking- strong and complete plot, acting and dialogue, powerful themes and image system, and one of the best endings i've seen in a movie. SAW still has certain minor plot loopholes, and less-defined themes. but thats not taking anything away from it.
Saturday, November 20, 2004
chill~
been a silly week at camp. couldn't wait to book out.
mainly cos i got a bhangra performance in the making for me heh.
the jcats trial and all the push ups were all fun and good, but when i left, i was in a hurry. got to jas' place at about three and did some last minute rehearsals for the evening event. Deepa-raya celebrations and stuff.
and i realised just how much i missed dancing bhangra and basically hangin out with these guys. Real good to see kevin and kp after waay too long, heh. my last performance was eons ago, and in my stagnancy, chakdey ac had seriously evolved into a much larger group and with a greater potential and zest for the stuff we do than when we first started. And sammy actually joined up with sheri punjab, and now she's doing every gig thats coming her way. Plus she's a frickin dholee! haa, wow.
we reached marine parade cc at 7 plus, and i just got told its so pretty and huge because its basically sm goh's home cc heh.
because kp and kev would leave at 8 something, we did darshan first, followed by the legendary "track 22" (thus named cos we had no idea what its title actually was). i thought the crowd was a little too docile, and the music a tad too soft at first; didn't matter though- i went out like a manjan with a vengeance. disappear into the music. turned out, our performance was fucking awesome. if i may say so myself, judging by the video cherie took. or at least it was good enough to interest the cc to actually propose an interest in sponsoring us for future events and also to provide a studio.
wow.
really glad for jas, cos i think he really has something going on, and this would be a good boost for him and chakdey ac as a whole. it also means we can represent the cc in any future events. which is cool, cos i might just be able to squeeze a few book outs out of this deal haa...
so kudos to jas, kp, sammy, cheryl, tash, cherie and jonong, heh, for a great show and for de-rusting my bhangra moves.
cabbed with sam to town, she's got dinner with family, and i got a much-awaited date with ms alcohol. had a good chat with sam along the way. and i may end up going to her church tomorrow, haa, just cos mum is really screaming for me to go (any church heh), and maybe i just ought to visit Him and keep off his to-torture-and-despair list for a few more heartbeats.
ended up on an extended chillout with andre till just an hour ago. started at starbucks, and heather was there but she left early. then played really really screwed up pool near hard rock cafe for an hour. then we just about tried to go to all these silly places with a minimum age limit, hehe. andre got this sudden urge to check out all those sleazebars (ugh, yep sleazebars) in orchard towers. we spent more time guessing if she was a he, than drinking or doing anything else. then we actually got into a milder bar and had a deal to go in for the duration of one glass of beer. felt like a freakshow to me, cos you had ughly caucs and fugly he/shes trying to feel beautiful and sexy. then you had extremely bad service and bad music.
beer tastes bad, but seldom quite so bad. and never that i finished it in a hurry despite them being sorry, chemically-fucked-up liquids. we got out in a hurry, feeling suddenly quite at peace with the world with who we are, heh, at least until we got to alleybar. it was rather evil to judge anybody like that, i realise, but then i never accused myself of being anything but evil haa.
alleybar's just about the best bar for chillout and great drinks, i found out. good service, elite music (gotan project!), and just about the most ambient design.
andre had tons of crazy ideas tonight, and one would be going to rouge next door. i had thought not to club tonight and save some cash, but i also thought what the hell, just go with it.
bleah. thank god we got in free, cos rouge was soo bad. its weird, cos the music and everything were really ok , but there's simply no crowd. maybe they all scooted to the fhm girl-next-door finals.
or- and methinks its this one- they got word i was coming along. so, wishing to spare themselves from visual disgust, they decided to evacuate ground zero heh.
whatever. eventually the best place to hang out turned out to be my void deck. we just sat there- no drinks, no music, absolutely no ambience and no chicks- and talked real long. about almost everything. honestly, when i first met andre, i would never would have thought he would become so much more a friend to me, until tonight.
and so as it turned out, the void deck was to be the best bar we chilled at tonight.
mainly cos i got a bhangra performance in the making for me heh.
the jcats trial and all the push ups were all fun and good, but when i left, i was in a hurry. got to jas' place at about three and did some last minute rehearsals for the evening event. Deepa-raya celebrations and stuff.
and i realised just how much i missed dancing bhangra and basically hangin out with these guys. Real good to see kevin and kp after waay too long, heh. my last performance was eons ago, and in my stagnancy, chakdey ac had seriously evolved into a much larger group and with a greater potential and zest for the stuff we do than when we first started. And sammy actually joined up with sheri punjab, and now she's doing every gig thats coming her way. Plus she's a frickin dholee! haa, wow.
we reached marine parade cc at 7 plus, and i just got told its so pretty and huge because its basically sm goh's home cc heh.
because kp and kev would leave at 8 something, we did darshan first, followed by the legendary "track 22" (thus named cos we had no idea what its title actually was). i thought the crowd was a little too docile, and the music a tad too soft at first; didn't matter though- i went out like a manjan with a vengeance. disappear into the music. turned out, our performance was fucking awesome. if i may say so myself, judging by the video cherie took. or at least it was good enough to interest the cc to actually propose an interest in sponsoring us for future events and also to provide a studio.
wow.
really glad for jas, cos i think he really has something going on, and this would be a good boost for him and chakdey ac as a whole. it also means we can represent the cc in any future events. which is cool, cos i might just be able to squeeze a few book outs out of this deal haa...
so kudos to jas, kp, sammy, cheryl, tash, cherie and jonong, heh, for a great show and for de-rusting my bhangra moves.
cabbed with sam to town, she's got dinner with family, and i got a much-awaited date with ms alcohol. had a good chat with sam along the way. and i may end up going to her church tomorrow, haa, just cos mum is really screaming for me to go (any church heh), and maybe i just ought to visit Him and keep off his to-torture-and-despair list for a few more heartbeats.
ended up on an extended chillout with andre till just an hour ago. started at starbucks, and heather was there but she left early. then played really really screwed up pool near hard rock cafe for an hour. then we just about tried to go to all these silly places with a minimum age limit, hehe. andre got this sudden urge to check out all those sleazebars (ugh, yep sleazebars) in orchard towers. we spent more time guessing if she was a he, than drinking or doing anything else. then we actually got into a milder bar and had a deal to go in for the duration of one glass of beer. felt like a freakshow to me, cos you had ughly caucs and fugly he/shes trying to feel beautiful and sexy. then you had extremely bad service and bad music.
beer tastes bad, but seldom quite so bad. and never that i finished it in a hurry despite them being sorry, chemically-fucked-up liquids. we got out in a hurry, feeling suddenly quite at peace with the world with who we are, heh, at least until we got to alleybar. it was rather evil to judge anybody like that, i realise, but then i never accused myself of being anything but evil haa.
alleybar's just about the best bar for chillout and great drinks, i found out. good service, elite music (gotan project!), and just about the most ambient design.
andre had tons of crazy ideas tonight, and one would be going to rouge next door. i had thought not to club tonight and save some cash, but i also thought what the hell, just go with it.
bleah. thank god we got in free, cos rouge was soo bad. its weird, cos the music and everything were really ok , but there's simply no crowd. maybe they all scooted to the fhm girl-next-door finals.
or- and methinks its this one- they got word i was coming along. so, wishing to spare themselves from visual disgust, they decided to evacuate ground zero heh.
whatever. eventually the best place to hang out turned out to be my void deck. we just sat there- no drinks, no music, absolutely no ambience and no chicks- and talked real long. about almost everything. honestly, when i first met andre, i would never would have thought he would become so much more a friend to me, until tonight.
and so as it turned out, the void deck was to be the best bar we chilled at tonight.
Friday, November 19, 2004
Antoine "Flash" Howard 1975-2004
first of all, in memory of the great 'Flash', Antoine Howard, who left us this year in march.
streetball absolutely captured my imagination, in every sense of the word, ever since i watched the first mixtape, even more so than NBA. The posse of hot sauce, 50, skip to my lou, AO and flash had me back on the court heh, wanting to own the ballgame like i used to. been in a 3 year coma from the court ever since my injury.
streetball absolutely captured my imagination, in every sense of the word, ever since i watched the first mixtape, even more so than NBA. The posse of hot sauce, 50, skip to my lou, AO and flash had me back on the court heh, wanting to own the ballgame like i used to. been in a 3 year coma from the court ever since my injury.
Friday, November 12, 2004
between a rock and a hard place
has it really been just four days since the last post?
got enough happening theses days to last me a month.
or at least until my next drink, heh.
coincidentally or not, my first entry here was when i just got posted to 3SIR. i've been aiming to get here ever since i heard about the third singapore infantry regiment in sispec. i was dying to crawl outta that shithole that was sispec foxtrot, that literally anywhere you go as long as its out was good fuckin news. After being rejected for an entry into ocs, being stuffed into foxtrot felt as if i'm going to jail for trying too hard heh. and i was looking at 3SIR as a good place for me when i get my stripes. It had a hefty reputation as the defending best unit, and its gonna be the one unit to experiment with the new urban ops trial- which i love.
But as people do say, wish for something hard enough and you might just get it.
heh.
At least thats what i felt the first day there. "Freshmeat days" in their lingo meant they were out to shake us up- by way of introduction heh. They did a nice job of that too, some people already wanna get the hell out. There was so much negativity in camp that by the end of the day i was even feeling slightly down about the whole thing heh.
The next book in though, righted my thinking a bit. Although we slept at midnight, setting up the parade square and the field, and expected to rise at 4am i had a good time by book out of Friday evening heh. Scorpions Challenge, or games day, gave me a chance to take a look at the kinda people at 3SIR who were eventually gonna become my men. Heh, and boy this buggers got spirit. They're rough, verbally-abusive and have issues with authority. Could be a problem, but i could definitely lead these men. And the RSM did talk to us ultimately in a more civil manner, and he did resolve some problems and questions we freshmeats had heh.
i should seriously babble less about the army. Not too many people care about the world of little green men.
Friday night was rather crazy though.
Got home, touched down and left for Ian's place by 730 that evening. Joined him, Gwen, his cousin and her girlfriend for a little gathering. Which meant vodka and such for me. Had plans to go ChinaBlack with Andre later in the night, and apparently Gwen's going too. So at the end it was Andre, Ian, Gwen and me going there.
"s'gonna be a great night!" says Gwen.
Time's like these, irony's a bitch.
Long story short, the night didn't go well at all between my friends. Worse, i feel as if i'm really caught in the crossfire launched from an intangible web of waay too messed up emotions. That one night made FRIENDS look like Seasame Street. bleah. i'm actually surprised the only one drunk that night was gwen. But then i've been trying to keep a leash on the daemonica alcoholimus inside of me these days, heh.
Though it hurt to see them like that. i don't think i've ever seen ian quite so fucked up before. and i've known him for some time.
Love's a biatch.
she's been that way 5 years ago, and she sure as hell still is...
got enough happening theses days to last me a month.
or at least until my next drink, heh.
coincidentally or not, my first entry here was when i just got posted to 3SIR. i've been aiming to get here ever since i heard about the third singapore infantry regiment in sispec. i was dying to crawl outta that shithole that was sispec foxtrot, that literally anywhere you go as long as its out was good fuckin news. After being rejected for an entry into ocs, being stuffed into foxtrot felt as if i'm going to jail for trying too hard heh. and i was looking at 3SIR as a good place for me when i get my stripes. It had a hefty reputation as the defending best unit, and its gonna be the one unit to experiment with the new urban ops trial- which i love.
But as people do say, wish for something hard enough and you might just get it.
heh.
At least thats what i felt the first day there. "Freshmeat days" in their lingo meant they were out to shake us up- by way of introduction heh. They did a nice job of that too, some people already wanna get the hell out. There was so much negativity in camp that by the end of the day i was even feeling slightly down about the whole thing heh.
The next book in though, righted my thinking a bit. Although we slept at midnight, setting up the parade square and the field, and expected to rise at 4am i had a good time by book out of Friday evening heh. Scorpions Challenge, or games day, gave me a chance to take a look at the kinda people at 3SIR who were eventually gonna become my men. Heh, and boy this buggers got spirit. They're rough, verbally-abusive and have issues with authority. Could be a problem, but i could definitely lead these men. And the RSM did talk to us ultimately in a more civil manner, and he did resolve some problems and questions we freshmeats had heh.
i should seriously babble less about the army. Not too many people care about the world of little green men.
Friday night was rather crazy though.
Got home, touched down and left for Ian's place by 730 that evening. Joined him, Gwen, his cousin and her girlfriend for a little gathering. Which meant vodka and such for me. Had plans to go ChinaBlack with Andre later in the night, and apparently Gwen's going too. So at the end it was Andre, Ian, Gwen and me going there.
"s'gonna be a great night!" says Gwen.
Time's like these, irony's a bitch.
Long story short, the night didn't go well at all between my friends. Worse, i feel as if i'm really caught in the crossfire launched from an intangible web of waay too messed up emotions. That one night made FRIENDS look like Seasame Street. bleah. i'm actually surprised the only one drunk that night was gwen. But then i've been trying to keep a leash on the daemonica alcoholimus inside of me these days, heh.
Though it hurt to see them like that. i don't think i've ever seen ian quite so fucked up before. and i've known him for some time.
Love's a biatch.
she's been that way 5 years ago, and she sure as hell still is...
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
regenesis i
ok.
its been, what, almost one and a half years now.
Feels like a million fucking years since i scarred the net with my thoughts in the other blog.
Way too long. so much has passed between now and the last entry, so much has changed.
and then the army happened. dumped into this mess of the brawny, bawdiness, brainless, bald and just plain bad, i could feel whats left of my individuality dissolve into stagnancy.
scared the shit outta me.
this cryogenic freeze of the better of my brain cells since then had been scalding me real bad. creativity is so damn stumped nowadays i'm surprised i can still doodle on my standard-issue memopad.
i need expression heh. need to scrape the sludge off and start finding myself again. find that narco-nirvana i used to be such a sucker for when i could write, draw and shape the extension of my inner angels and demons. art, i belief, is ultimately the creation of the being, sorta just like when god created man in his image- art is of man...
So i think i know the answer to the question why god created the world and us and all that: cos its just so fucking addictive! and the army is one helluva cold turkey.
gee. thats a lotta crap i just said haa. i hope i'm making sense.
yay. i'm gonna be writing again.
So this prodigal one has found his way back to this particular addiction.
i need the rehab now heh.
its been, what, almost one and a half years now.
Feels like a million fucking years since i scarred the net with my thoughts in the other blog.
Way too long. so much has passed between now and the last entry, so much has changed.
and then the army happened. dumped into this mess of the brawny, bawdiness, brainless, bald and just plain bad, i could feel whats left of my individuality dissolve into stagnancy.
scared the shit outta me.
this cryogenic freeze of the better of my brain cells since then had been scalding me real bad. creativity is so damn stumped nowadays i'm surprised i can still doodle on my standard-issue memopad.
i need expression heh. need to scrape the sludge off and start finding myself again. find that narco-nirvana i used to be such a sucker for when i could write, draw and shape the extension of my inner angels and demons. art, i belief, is ultimately the creation of the being, sorta just like when god created man in his image- art is of man...
So i think i know the answer to the question why god created the world and us and all that: cos its just so fucking addictive! and the army is one helluva cold turkey.
gee. thats a lotta crap i just said haa. i hope i'm making sense.
yay. i'm gonna be writing again.
So this prodigal one has found his way back to this particular addiction.
i need the rehab now heh.
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