FIGHTING MYSELF

2007-06-14T12:41:00.001+08:00

Blog is back up. Apologies. I simply got sick of reading the archives and being reminded of everything else in the past.

www.artistrik.blogspot.com

Tokyo's calling.

T Minus 5D.

2007-04-28T00:30:00.000+08:00

5 days left to the assessment perhaps I'm blessed withe the propspect of additional time but there still is that overwhelming stench of fear that pulsates through this room like a beacon.

I collapsed in bed today, collapsed and fell through the sheets into a dark, morbid dream. It was a thriller/horror movie which Dad apparently complains is from the kind of music I listen to. How can that be when my playlist the entire morning has been nothing but Album Leaf's Into The Blue Again, Postal Service's Give Up & Panic! At The Disco? I don't know.

I saw Mischa in the dream, as Subra, Leslie & myself were sitting at the docks, tieing our boots for soccer and warming up. Soon, everybody starts walking toward the ferry. I turn around to bid Vans and Jessica farewell and goodluck as we apparently were on some project mission that we had to collect all kinds of stuff for clues. I see Mischa with her slightly amused yet I couldn't be sure. Why would she be in the least of happy's to be seeing her old chum aye? I swing and slam a gym push up bar to the floor, the least of my expectations. And I run to my ferry that brings me to the soccer game and then run back to see the other ferry departing. I chase the ferry back and forth, indecisive at whatever decision I was gonna make. I make it in time for Vans' carriage. I told her what I saw and she said "Yes. I know, I know. It's just Mischa what, relax lah." Jessica then pipes in with her draggy voice in childish chider "Yah, it's Misscchhhhhaaaa" Vans then chips in with "Besides she was with Naomi & Campbell what".

Now that's the confusing part. The one Naomi that I actually know in flesh and not over pseudo internet profiles is Agnes' Naomi. Which I do not talk to at all, I caught a glimpse of a short haired and tanned girl standing in the carriage that Mischa was supposedly in. You wouldn't believe me but my dreams have a fade in effect. An image of a guy, some tall, skinny wanker in an unbuttoned shirt & white tee inside faded in. I swear to God on my very life.

Then I run back to the ferry, this time it's full of traps, weird traps intended for you to fall down flat on your face. I cannot explain unarmed combat here but it just works something like that. I scurry through trap after trap, leap over leap. but as I approach the ferry gate. A wolf/dog appears. I'm not sure if this is actually the nine tailed fox thing but it sure as hell resembled. The colour, the teeth, the streaks but the only part I cannot assure you of my precarious mythological situation is the tails. Anyway, I get bitten and chased.

And just like every typical thriller/horror, there has to be a huge jump scene. Where the lead leaps across from dock to moving boat kinda? Yes, that kind. I do the same and that's where I woke up in jolting fear.

I got so freaked out I had to hear the first soothing voice in my head. I couldn't call Australia so I called Ally. I blurted out questions on her assessment but I really just needed someone there to ferry me back to reality. It's a strange habit that I've always had. Either that or I'll talk myself out of the dream. Thank you Ally, you still are a gem you know that.

Jesus, now after that escapade of river jumping, heart wrenching thriller/horror. I'm back to drawing the mosque I started on earlier.

Caution To Priority.

2007-04-24T04:08:00.000+08:00

Hawhaw, I got drunk today with just about 10 days to my assessment.

With 2D Final, 3D Final, Internal Final, Internal & External Drawings undone, 2D Exercises, External Test Collages, 3D Test Pieces, Internal Test Collages, Research undone.

Motherfucking genius.

I think I need another ladder, Sir.

2007-04-23T02:43:00.000+08:00

I have to run, run further than I have ever gone. I have to escape this separate dimension once again.

I'm lost and clinging unto dear life with a threaded rope that has burnt itself out too thin from my frequent tugging at it's frail compromise. The irony of it all sends raging anticipation down the narrow flow of thoughts.

I need to make it, I need to take myself a little higher.

The Horror, the horror.

2007-04-20T05:56:00.000+08:00

This constant routine of staying up till 7am and then heading to school is taking it's toll on me and within the flutter of a moth wing, the weekends are here but there is no real break. The assessment date approaches with lingering caution and all that has lingered from earlier this week has been prolonged procrastination, haunting my footsteps.

I am afraid, I am very very afraid. The competition is alluringly beautiful, they are all so hardworking, self-esteemed and glorified members of the student faculty. Would it be oh too much as to be able to impose a slight threat on their honorary gold plates?

I shall leave now, at 6 in the morning for bed. Only to arise again, later in the day to head back to school for another dreary moment enclasped in the vice like grip of my ambitions.

And stop stealing my fucking song titles, you lazy bunch of indignant scum.
It is not the rising that I fear, it is the loss of myself. It is the manipulation of my original self that has be accomplished through means of influence. I am the First of I as I am the Last of I, my ideals have left me shaking with the horror of discovery.

"I love the smell of napalm in the morning"(Kilgore) -from Apocalypse Now(1979), directed by Francis Ford Coppola

Iconic Abjection.

2007-04-08T21:10:00.000+08:00

I watched Donnie Darko by Richard Kelly this morning. It's a brilliant screenplay for an awesome script. I found myself delving deeper into Donnie's dark character. How painfully similar I found myself to him. Oh well, I shan't go on. Let's just say it was a good catch, everybody should watch it. It's available online if you look for it.

I found myself then downloading Tears For Fears' Greatest Hits. My god, what have I been missing! I knew they had 'Shout' to their name but their other tracks in their Greatest Hits are just miraculously refereshing in a world where music is all about love and depressive thoughts. They preached post apocalyptic circumstance in a voice that sparkled bravery. Just read their lyrics! Especially for 'Mad World'.

The fabric is only but a temporary element, the flesh is the manipulated temporary. When the flesh rots, the bones will degrade. We will all be forgotten once our memories have died off, we will be chances in a equation of human interpretation.

'Every creature on earth dies alone' -Grandma Sparrow to Donnie Darko in a whispering tone.

Self-Infliction.

2007-04-08T04:15:00.000+08:00

I'm listening to Ryuichi Sakamoto and Alva Noto's collaboration on Insen as I type this much longed after entry out. Not that, I have a thesis of findings to type out but rather the notion of blogging and checking in with myself was very much in my thoughts as I passed menial day to the next.

I'm in some sort of paralysis. I haven't moved about in awhile, it's tragic how something like this happens to someone of my age they say. I on the other, cannot be bothered. I don't believe it was my fault, curiosity killed the cat but the cat didn't die this time round. I must be lucky or extremely stupid to still be alive. Caution flares radiate all around my eyes everytime I find myself flirting once again with depressive thoughts that bring forth fatal repercussions.

To say I've accepted this final outcome is a bold statement. I know my physical strength and I know how my mind can take much more than the average Joe, pun intended. I'm gonna dig in the ground and shove my deadened heap forward and I'm never gonna look back.

I have a little time left before it is time for me to doze off into tranquil sleep again. There were many things I intended to say but I guess the things that I have to say will always remain unspoken.

It's difficult, to look back and know I never saw myself coming down this way.

I watched Army Daze on Youtube earlier, I remember watching it when I was younger. I remembered the old red Mazda that Dad used to drive. The Mazda that got broken into and I lost my very cool toy. I remembered the fights Mom and Dad used to have, Joshua & Jeremiah from Maris Stella, prayer meetings at Tosca Street, playing Mr Alligator with the cousins, getting my chin bashed in, playing soccer with Dad, St's Peter & Paul Altar Servers, playing basketball with the Ubi kids, Venga and the whole Indian gang fiasco, my first cigarette, my first drink, Gillian Ann Tan Pei Ying, my first fist fight, my first police case, my first kiss, Malvina, confirmation camp, Princess Gaby, St Hilda's Secondary School Volleyball Team, Wei Rong, Chek Meng, Javier, Jonathan Ling, Mr Chiang, TCP, shooting up, my first job, dumb korean bitch, Sitting In Pictures, Clearedge Productions, all my odd jobs, LaSalle admission, the day I got into LaSalle, my first assessment.

And I wish, I could turn all of that back. I wish I could be reborn, I wish I didn't have this life that I rightfully own right now. I wish I was better, this wasn't the life I saw myself having. This wasn't the me I saw at 11. This wasn't who I wanted to become.

Where have I gone? What have I become?

Where is my tranquil neverland?

Relapse.

2007-03-30T17:26:00.000+08:00

Finally, the motherfucking weekends are here. Oh but wait, there's nothing to look forward to. I have spent all my money developing my photos and buying new material. And I honestly do not even feel like going for Saturday's gig. But we Allianc-ed people must support one another.

You know what I really wanted? Cafe Del Mar with Vans, Syl, Phyza, Awool and maybe Jon. I just wanted to lie at the beach and watch everything pass me by. Get some weed from Ang and get high whilst the tide washes in gently time and time again.

And I intend to stay sober for April. You heard me?

Note to self; stay sober for April.

Lime Dimes.

2007-03-28T21:00:00.000+08:00

Two days have just passed like that, I just blinked and it went by so quick.

Yesterday, sent Celest off at the airport. It was like a film reel flashing by as I watched my childhood love walk through the gate and off to another country. Oh, see you in 3 months I suppose.

Then the importance of checking the AM/PM thing on my phone alarm resonated like a church bell. I was supposed to get up at 12 in the noon for external drawing but yeah, you can pretty much figure out what happened. Soccer with TCP till lights out then drinks with the neighbour then off to Hai's birthday chalet.

That was where the problems started. The earlier kick from e33's started coming in, there were bottles and bottles of alcohol lying around. From wine to tequila to Chivas to about 6 bottles of Absolut. And yes, I got myself very very smashed. According to Jon, he found me lying face down in the toilet with my zip undone. Now, that I really don't remember along with a couple of other things. Got home, very very very stoned in the afternoon today and I have been watching Metalocalypse since then. Dethklok!

I have a ton of things on my mind that I'm just running away from. I really should seek help for my drinking man. I really really should. It's like a maze of some medieval blur, I don't belong here man. I don't belong in this time frame at all. I should be in the 70's, the articulate distinction between the two time frames are significantly disturbing.

Oh well, the human mind will never be contented I suppose.

As Bright As You

2007-03-23T23:50:00.000+08:00

How do I put it all in words? I can't. I want to hold you again and let you know everything in my head. I miss you like missing a season but the season's gone for good.

What did you do to me?

I listened to Hey There Delilah by The Plain White T's ever since I received the file from Sibani. 'You know it's all because of you, we can do whatever we want to'.

I can't say I'm depressed. I smile and laugh too much but well enough deep inside I know it's a lost cause.

Abjection.

Mother, dry you eyes and stop crying. I will live without life but I will always be your precious little boy. Shivering and hugging you in the Australian cold; petty and grumpy early in the morning. Don't fear me, please.

Mischa, I hope you're doing okay. Even though you're gone already, we're living the lives they wish they could.

I am My Own.

2007-03-21T20:13:00.000+08:00

My theories and concepts are perfect. So they say.

My final assessment is coming up in 2 weeks and I am very promising but yet lacking in actual work done. The answer to my paradox has never been so evident but yet every mechanical wheel in my head is begging for a break.

Celest leaves on Tuesday to glorious Perth.

Athena is busy with her own issues, Sibani is well a mystery as itself, Mal is still in Indonesia. Jesus christ, what a perfect time to be all alone eh?

I'm not looking forward to another tomorrow, another cycle of endless complications. It is tiring to be alive.

My death will be decided on my own terms.

Everything.

2007-03-17T23:42:00.000+08:00

It's been on my mind ever since the day we stopped talking. Whether you really meant what you said and all the other excuses or reasons you quoted. In my defense, I have nothing. Only angry ranting to perhaps appease your enthusiasm in seeing my failure to deny your presence in my head the past few days.

I gave you everything I had, my loyalty, my compromise, my word and my love. It might have had been much to you or it might not have amounted to anything at all. But it was the most sincere, pure and human thing I have left to give. I don't have much in the material world. No car to drive you around, not much cash for late night partying or anything else. All I have is my music, my poetry, my words, my art, my honor and my heart. I dedicated them all to you. I was never going to be much anything significant to you, I was just a kiss and a couple of conversations. Somehow, I'd already known that and accepted it all as a fact. But I could not resign my senses. You were everything right in your own world of wrong, you were everything I could see myself love from a lifetime.

Now, you obviously have a new flame. A new someone or something, he's the best you say? Well, to quote the recently passed Jean Baulidard(or something like that). We say yes, because we don't believe in the aspects of No. And well, that's my agony for you right there.

So you said I was psychotic, weird, strange, freak, ugly, disturbing.. etc. And you left right there, with me clinging on to a hope that had been beaten senseless into a pulp. You destroyed all sources of possible contact, any source of regaining my pride in your eyes. You know I still have you here? Gravity always wins - You're ruining my life. I still rush and type 'ash' in my search box hoping that you'd be online or something. I still do, every once in awhile.

So I'm just a chapter or perhaps a page that you'll remember. That's about all you have of me. I remember you asking me, if I was here to stay or if I was just passing. Don't that seem like a lovely question now?

Nothing's changed. Nothing's changed in this world of grey, no colours or streaks to see the moon.

But you were passing, you weren't here to stay.

I'm sure you'll concoct some form of defense to beat me down again but even with the notion of it, you'll never respect me or that.

So I hope this will be a final goodbye though I doubt I can refrain another mention in this page again.

So, goodbye.

It's still a mystery.

2007-03-17T06:42:00.000+08:00

I totally scraped Enigma Within, too damn safe in my opinion. There wasn't a certain deep dark revelation to it which I initially thought could have been done. Did the Truth Be Known interview for Revolt yesterday, of which I had drank quite a lot plus without getting any sleep the day before. Thus, leaving me very stoned this morning.

Rushed over to Bishan straight after class with 'first-aid' for Celest. The poor girl, no one has ever had their cupids that satanic and malevolent. Hung out with her at Cone's place which is her new home since she got kicked out by her parents. Did the write up and article there as well, to which she was very very tolerant of me totally ignoring her in the process. Oh gee, haven't we all grown. 11 years of friendship man, that's the oldest friendship I have right there.

I just spent an entire 7 hours watching different seasons and episodes of the series Scrubs. It's just one of those shows that I never got tired of, ever.

Massecration got itself into another shithole. Firstly, with the cancellation of FBO. Now, with the cancellation of the Indian band feature gig, Sledge or something like that. Like seriously, fuck balls.

You wanna hate me for saying something like that? Go ahead all right. Who's the one sticking their head and their time on the line doing all the PR shit. Who's the one selling the band to people everywhere, globally and locally. Who's the one who makes sure we don't look like idiots. I'm not saying it wasn't fun but just remember who's doing stuff. Yeah, call me egoistic or whatever you know. At least, I take god damn pride in being this good at what I do. I don't need a rockstar, I need someone to dig in the mud and shovel with me.

If there will be still be a band.

My heart is screaming out in denial, my lungs are giving way from all the screaming. How long more can I take this? I am sick and tired of everything that happening in my current situation. Mal's gone to Indo, Wei Ting's having her major papers, Celest is half here half there and besides she's too busy with her own issues. Jon is dealing with his usual problems that have not changed ever since the beginning of school term. Jon Progeria is forever with Danielle and all, for which I don't blame her for and all but it still gets to my head. Sylvia is super untouchable with her blood vomitting event and all. Emily is pretty much in her own world nowadays, which is good I suppose. Let's not discuss why I'm not writing a single name of the Massecration or Roughcast 'BROTHERS' in this matter as well. It's pointless to even dignify that thought with self-entertainment.

So who's left to shoulder the burdens with me man? Cookie? Jesus, fook yeu.

Rediscovering.

2007-03-14T00:03:00.000+08:00

So the whole band thing has been thrown around and tossed in the air. I used to take so much pride in telling people about Massecration. How we got the name and the coffeeshop at Potong Pasir, how we all came about and lastly, how the band was rooted strongly in friendship. But now after being tossed like a salad, I don't know how to put it. Just that, this lacklustre is getting to me.

What if I just left it all alone? What if I threw these reins on the floor? I know you'll read this so I'll tell you once more. It will not be my grave loss.

What do you say?

I reformed the old band with Reuben. There's just something about the fella that is so charming, I don't know what. Like a familiar touch, we shall set foot together again.

There are many things keeping me busy these days. The further I delve in my personal short film project the more depressed I get. I'm writing the outline completely from the bottom of my heart and from all my expressive ability. I keep walking away from the laptop while writing, with a heavy weight resting inside of me. I don't know why. I'm discovering so much about what I feel inside that I am finally accepting what I've thought about life all along.

This might be my final masterpiece, my last call right before I pass along.

Regarding Rediscovery, I picked up all my whole albums. The first few metal albums I ever listened to. Kreator's Enemy Of God and Pleasure To Kill, Pantera's Planet Caravan, Metallica's Black Album. I put them on my playlist along with all 4 Pineapple Thief albums that I own. Lying on my bed, never able to fall asleep. A lucid happiness of recollection of Reuben and I, drunk as fuck, headbanging in his house.

It doesn't help that recently TCP has sorta been reunited. This tugging reminder of the secondary school days and how beautiful they were. It all just makes me hate life now.

I leave you now with Pantera's Planet Caravan lyrics.

We sail through endless skies
Stars shine like eyes
The black night sighs
The moon in silver trees
Falls down in tears
Light of the night
The earth, a purple blaze
Of sapphire haze
In orbit always

While down below the trees
Bathed in cool breeze
Silver starlight breaks down the night
And so we pass on by the crimson eye
Of great God mars
As we travel the universe

Tangerine Haze.

2007-03-13T20:13:00.001+08:00

Cafe Del Mar is the shit I tell you.

About the short film thingy, to give a short overview; it's about how depression is the new wave pandemic that's spreading across our nation like wildfire. How relevant it is and how I see it from my point of view. Think propagandic, fist in the air, gungho kinda revelation. Don't get it? Well, I don't know how to explain it either.

In other news, I have an entire A1 piece to be handed up by this Thursday. And a semester's worth of classroom drawings to complete by tonight. So as I shall coin my latest catch phrase, I shall bid you all farewell.

Jesus, Mary, Gandhi, Buddha, Ganesh, Allah, Mohammed, Kali, hello!

Oh and Celest, time will tide all ills over. Be strong babe, take a break meanwhile.

Tangerine Haze.

2007-03-13T20:13:00.000+08:00

Tiles In Obscure Grey.

2007-03-11T23:59:00.000+08:00

Very busy lately, working on my personal short film project. It's about life, depression, pain, loss and the torment thereafter.

It's called Enigma Within; Modern Day Exorcism.

Contraband For The Distraught

2007-03-09T03:37:00.000+08:00

It's not really a question nor an answer but these days the weather seems to have gotten to my head. I've been strangely and massively affected by certain issues which I myself have no say in. Like a whispering unto deaf ears kinda tagline.

I find myself waking up in the wee hours of night to cook instant noodles, to listen to Cafe Del Mar, to find myself drawing oriental dragons and kois and writing the most absurbly beautiful poetry I've ever written in months. So beautiful that the notion of letting some other person read it feels like betrayal on the rocks.

I've basically totally fucked up school life. No critiques, last minute submission work and everything just lies on a dot before the red line. Yet, I'm not giving two fucks. I just want to stay home, draw my dragons twirling around on white paper, write my poetry till I get migraines for the lack of my seemingly extensive vocabulary and maybe paint.

This whole process of waking up early to go to school, to slog away and socialise with classmates is dry and dreary. This is not progress nor development. This is stagnating myself from true expression. Oh but wait, this isn't my life that I'm leading. It's society's, how could I forget.

What is there, really to be living for. Love? Money? Success?
It's a question that when someone finds the answer, aliens will pick him up from the skies and torment his anal openings like stepping on grapes in the vineyard.

I hope you miss me cranky in the morning, high on coffee.

Catching Splotches.

2007-03-07T23:32:00.000+08:00

When my words fail to speak and no greys explain this feat;
and everyhthing I thought I knew begins to rush red on white.

And all I can say is that tears will flow today and that's the only way;
That I can paint, that I can paint, that I can paint.

This world has lost it's charm.
This pain is something I can't bear to live with anymore.
Is there really no remedy;
No fast cure or a quick scheme.

That will let me see in colours again, that won't drop me while I'm still in pain.

And all I can say is that tears will flow today and that's the only way;
That I can paint, that I can paint, that I can paint.

And all I can say is that these tears simply fall in vain and that's the only way;
That I can paint, that I can paint, that I can paint.

Ocean Sized Love

2007-03-04T01:23:00.000+08:00

I've been listening to Ocean Sized Love on Celest's friendster page for like the 10th time already. Tired as hell, the body and mind is slowly dilapidating into a senseless and inevitable collapse.

Nothing much to say I guess. Soccer at 9 with Subra, Leslie, Shafiq, Jansher and all one year seniors. Off home in a cab, then cabbed again down to Beat Merchants for last jam with Roughcast. It's hard to put it. Alvin is so lucky as a vocalist, his band works around him instead of the other way round. Everything complements his vocals, drums to guitars to everything. Bitch. ;)

Full Battle Order was cool I guess. Horrible response but awesome sound and stage setup. Brad really took a huge risk man. I salut the fella! Salut my man! Band of the day? Rough-fucking-Cast ma'fuggers! Saluttt, honour to do backup vocals for my boys. I don't know why but that hiphop surge just came over me. I got my Flesh Disgored tee! Hell yea, SLIT THE FUCKING CLIT! And Truth Corroded's album tee. I'm broke like broken.

So now I'm all red, like lobsters on a chinese resteraunt's advertisment. Body all aching and very very poor now.

I'm turning in, for once. Lord, please give me sweet slumber from all this exhaustion. I have to stop thinking.

Are you ready for battle?

2007-02-28T17:41:00.000+08:00

Jesus christ, I got the shock of my life about 20 minutes ago. Mourning Sound Records called me and asked if Massecration can open Full Battle Order this Saturday. Somehow the coincidence is slightly alarming, why is it everytime we have a gig. It's always with our dearest comrades Roughcast. It gets scary, slightly.

Time to throw down the acoustic guitar together 'em sappy sad love songs. This is what I love doing, what I enjoy the most of every second of listening to metal.

Jesus, Imagine. Truth Corroded(Australia), Rancorous(Thailand), Meza Virs, Meltgsnow, Truth Be Known, Bhelliom and Roughcast. All the 'laojiao' bands as coined by Agnes Pomek. If we play this Saturday, I'm not gonna let a single flaw pull through man. My lord, I'm still tingling from the shock.

Yes, Truth Corroded is the band that opened for God Forbid when they toured Australia. JESUS!

Oh yeah, Mischa. That guy on your tagboard. It wasn't me. I don't know who but I suspect my favourite drama serial script writer. I swear it's not me, I don't even bother now.

I have better things to do now.

Packed Up.

2007-02-27T23:48:00.000+08:00

So this is goodbye, Dear one.

Frantic whispers that scream their way down this cold corridor,
Last minute hugs and kisses; a sight less seen in this place.
This surgery procedure has left me dangling,
Hanging on to everything but you itself.

The door creaks silently open and the skies open it's mouth.
They're taking me now, I'm off to a different place this time.
I'd love to bring you with me but you wouldn't go,
For you, I left my pride and self behind but you wouldn't know.

So this is goodbye, Dear one.
Maybe one day, your heart will beat again.
I wish for that.

So now I'm packed and I hate to go but this tormenting vacation has lasted too long,
so this is goodbye tonight and for tomorrow and for everyday that I don't hear from you.

Good morning, good evening, good day, take care, all the best, sweet dreams, sleep tight, I'll miss you.

Bye.

Inked On Me.

2007-02-27T23:43:00.000+08:00

The Nine Tailed Fox is a Japanese Mythological creature that is symbiotic for one who is diverse. It can be depicted as a sign of strength and power or as a bad omen. It can create natural disasters and bring plague to mortal men. It is also a symbolism for wisdom incorporated into merciless power.

The Nine Tailed Fox is written to have been able to change it's animalistic form into that of a women, to seduce men and then kill them. It is highly skilled in the art of deception and manipulation.

It is immortal, a being evolved from centuries. Just like this burden.

Lined On A String.

2007-02-25T04:09:00.001+08:00

I was somewhat fortunate(or unfortunate, depending in your context) to catch the Nightrider bus tonight. I know you would usually think transport services in Singapore are somewhat up to standard, safe and all. But I guess tonight, I took another sort of bus you'd rarely see. Something I would politely term as a scurry of society's neon flashing.

I was perhaps perturbed, upon first entering the bus. The strong aroma of putrid piss revolved around my nasal cavities like a tornado not content with the damage it had inflicted. I was breathing through my mouth, my hand and whatever I could use to block out the smell. Unaware, it was this dude at the back of the bus. Middle aged, probably around 35-40? Balded, dark black plastic rimmed spectacles with one of those strechable bands around th specs to keep them in place, wearing his work shirt. I guessed he worked at a factory or something like that. Pretty big, a placid glaze in his eyes that was quick to turn to amusement upon discovery that someone was looking at him. He reeked of piss, not just piss but beer-ed piss. He walked past Kadir, David, Jon Leck and myself, evidently embarassed but yet unable to do anything to resolve the situation.

Just before he left the bus, I was casually glancing at him. He gave me a weird stare, a surprisingly pained stare. Like one of self-hatred, one of pitiful tears, an eye widening look of fear and a gaze of pain. I was stunned. In disbelief, I almost felt like he had stared right through me. Like I was being watched, like he had somehow entered my mind as a separate entity. I don't know why. I felt like his eyes pierced mine and I was locked in a gaze of amazement, perhaps.

I knew his story by then. Technically, he would be a social reject. No one who smells like piss would be, actually. But I don't know why, I saw his pain through those eyes. I felt his world weigh another burden on my shoulders. I saw his world, of a cruel society. Of a worthless reaction from the world despite flailing his arms desperately in an attempt to be like normal people are. It's not what you think it sounds like. I do not look down on him. I just cannot write this out, I just can't put it into words fitting enough. But I saw his world through his eyes piercing into mine and I felt this overwhelming sadness come over me. It wasn't just sad thoughts of emotions, it was an overwhelming sadness. Like an intoxication perhaps, a fixation maybe.

I'm going to give you a string of words that come to my mind. I've turned the music volume to mute, I am simply going to type any words that flashes in my sub-conscious as I recall his look in my eyes.

Why me dont look i fine trip run hate you enough okay scared please come now no more i dont want i hate why me like this dont come near stop looking stop looking! please i have had enough no more no more! where are you sorry please no more i dont want this sorry please scared test test test test test no more no more stop stop stop falling fall further deeper i cannot get out i cannot be him i cannot break out cannot stop this please no more please stop

Slow Whites.

2007-02-23T05:29:00.000+08:00

I feel like I'm uncovering a mystery, some form of novel predicament that I've landed myself in yet again. A cross of paths, a turn of events, a kiss of betrayal, a touch of mind's; that sort of thing. I've been turning and tossing in bed for days, I've barely slept. Just hours of giving in to exhaustion and from all the mental agony I've put myself through for days.

I've been searching for answers to lead me back to the stepping stone. They twirl around dirty little street corners and bring me through time, only to find myself and where I'd earlier started on. Maybe it's the right answer, maybe I'm just creating distance from a harder path of realisation. The technicality of this complex machinery called the brain is somehow afflicted with the wanting of a delightful answer. But is this really what I feel inside?

I've yet again found questions that give me momentary solace with more questions. I feel like this solitary confinement is best for me. This entrapment of exquisite emotions is probably best. When absence makes the heart grow fonder, the mind will clear the mist from all paths.

And this seclusion is simultaneously killing me. It is breaking me down into fragmentations of a far cry from happiness. It is messing with my head. I cannot ask you to let me go and not expect you to want to be away from me as well. All I can do is hope that when I realise this sordid truth of mine that you won't be too far away from me.

It's getting harder, so much harder to run away. From questions that lead me back home, from answers that no one will really know, from places that I've longed to go. I'm a plague, it seems. Of contradiction and this very pathetic remnant of my great self. Maybe you as well.

People are more important than places.

2007-02-22T11:58:00.000+08:00

I chanced upon this short film by the Vancouver Film School, it's entitled 'Who Wants To Be An American'. Set in anti-democratic Russia, this one stings a little.
Enjoy my friends.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=__qWoUeU6tI&NR

Backoff.

2007-02-21T00:17:00.000+08:00

I just got home. I have my Pineapple Thief to listen and I am overjoyed. 137 is a great great, awesome awesome, power power, magical magical album. The style deviates alot from Variations Of A Dream. But nonetheless, the Pineapple Thief signature remains. Bruce Soord is a God. The Porcupine Tree influence is also slightly visible this time round, with the alternate tone pitching in vocals. Dual presence effect, perhaps.

Dinner was good, conversation was a little dry. Till it all picked up later. Tissue paper lover and I certainly needed to catch up. It had been way too long. Went to Georges for drinks after and then we took the bus back to Tampines.

I'm certainly astounded at spousal/girlfriend abuse. Like what the fuck's gone wrong in your head man. You don't hit a girl do you? You dipshit cunt!

I love my Pineapple Thief, I love Bruce Soord. I love Pineapple Thief, period.

Darling, you have a distinction in manslaughter.

2007-02-20T15:59:00.000+08:00

This refusal for acknowledgement is eating away at me. I'm being chewed, nibbled and gnawed at the very bone itself. I feel barely there when you're around anymore. Yeah, I'm an absolete object of inequity. I know, I know.

I am slightly aware that you are just simply pulling my strings, working me like a woodwork puppet. Jolting at your finger's twitch, crumpling back down when you're bored of seeing me move aimlessly. I'm a fucking doll to you am I not?

I've had more than enough of my spill and it's getting to my head.

Yesterday was steamboat 'party' at Lun's. Ricky, Fionette, Adimah, John, Alvin, Mel, Agnes, Sheng Yuan, Adrian, Hakim, Ina, Lun, Joanna. Makan many many, food was good man. Basically we bummed around Lun's place just like old times. This time with Hakim around with his shaved head and very tanned face. I cannot begin to appreciate how I miss the old group so much. Jamming at Boon, Slacking at 333, Early morning escapades in Alvin's car. Now John's going to NS. The group will be a little less entertaining, a little less. Massecration's definitely going to face trouble.

My only consolation is in the fact that I am what I am.

Memento Mori.

'Jolly good times'.

2007-02-19T00:37:00.000+08:00

So how did I spend my Chinese New Year? At home, with Dad at the very least of consolation. It's tiring to keep explaining to others why I'm not out. Why my family issues are complicated and this line is towed with me sparking off into a possible fist fight with anyone who tries to step in the light that dons upon my respect.

Only consolation today was watching 'Sepet' on Suria. It's a beautiful beautiful show. Beautifully tragic and painful. These are the kind of films Singapore's industry needs to produce. To show our the other side about us that is not singlish, that is not about laughing at our expenses.

I've been collaborating alot with my other half recently. In deep thought and calculation, I have found stale, dusty thoughts. Why isn't there another explanation, another reason, another way?

Anyways I'm off. Mentally and emotionally beaten to a pulp. Happy CNY to all my friends who read this sickening and morally unjust page.

Recovery Stage One; Best Chums.

2007-02-17T00:00:00.000+08:00

Pineapple Thief's Little Man is a must have. It is very different for 2002's Variations Of A Dream, less electronic I suppose. But yet beautiful music nonetheless. I cried, a little, listening to the whole thing over and over again till I reached Temasek Poly.

Reuben and Shawn reacted well with my romantic plight. Organising a soccer meet up for TCP. Leslie and Isaac couldn't make it, sadly. I must say, from spending nearly every single day for 2 years with that bunch. The meet up was beautifully and yet macho-istically nolstalgic.

I guess some skills you don't lose entirely. TCP held strong, prideful boasting perhaps.

I'm off to sleep. Gig tomorrow, and I'm unprepared.

I'm a complete mess these past few days. You must know.

Entrapment Installation/Collage.

2007-02-15T22:21:00.000+08:00

This was Entrapment, done for last term's assessment. Shall paste the write up bellow. This is for all of you who keep asking for pictures, coincidentally took them after seeing Mal's installation thing. This one's especially for Mom, I love you. Please indulge in commenting me.

Self-entrapment.

I’ve always wondered what a person encounters with his own self behind bars. Being trapped in a bare cell, with nothing to distract the mind other than that of one’s past actions, present plans and thoughts. Would it be worse off than that of a long bus journey home or would it enlighten one’s mind like a textbook.

Unaware, I had always been trapped in my little self made cell of regrets and assumptions. Regrets of a forgotten past and assumptions I’ve had for years to come. It was only through listening carefully to Oasis’s Don’t Look Back In Anger’s lyrics that it gradually dawned upon me, the little walls that I had built around my fears. How discreet I had always been to avoid conversation on topics discussing one’s biggest regrets and so continues the list of self-improvement discussions held in secondary school that I labeled very aptly, ‘Psycho talk’.

What was inside my little cell?

I shall spare the details and just give the main ideas of my ‘entrapment’.

Family, Addiction, Childhood, Regret, Hatred, Music, Time, Vanity, Secrets.

I decided to use words, after a visit to the school’s Gallery. Where an artist put up catchy phrases, some offending whilst some begged for deeper understanding. I found it most interesting and appealing. One phrase that caught my eye especially, “Dead pigs don’t scream.”

The collection of items mainly came from an artist that I researched heavily on the internet on. Joseph Cornell. His work “Grand Hotel Semiramis” was one that caught my eye. I was instantly amazing by the power of a glass window, box frame and the things you could put inside it.

I collected several items, some bought, some gifts from friends, some from my junk box collections.

I made a hand figure out of twirling metal wire. My main image came from something I had written in leisure about a month ago. About understanding serenity and the post-effects of loneliness. The line which I took the idea from was “A cold shriveled hand, reaching out in an almost robotic fashion”. Thus, the idea of using a hand sculpture, reaching out.

The hand holding the headphones to me was the most significant gesture of all. With the message, “Please listen.” I imagined what a inmate would think about, what he would desire most. I think it to be an understanding from the people who judged him earlier. Be it, family of his victim, his own family.

The clock with it’s numbers all reversed in increasing order. To me, time only passes in normality. That’s when you actually count time passing. But in abnormal situations, such as in perhaps an accident, a kiss, in alcohol induced states, in fear, in bliss. We rarely ever count the time passing by. My little abstract interpretation perhaps.

The Barbie and broken mirror, vanity. The ability of keeping up with one’s looks so as to be accepted in today’s pretentious social groups. Barbie to me is the most symbiotic in representation when it comes to vanity. Not some celebrity advertising for a make up company or even models. Barbie’s blonde(stereotypically), pretty, perfect body and guess what? The user dresses her up. She comes in different sets of clothing, variety of hair colors and there’s even one for every race. It’s amazing what kind of social warfare young children are put through at such tender ages.

Beer can, spilt pills, dirty syringes. Well, it’s really just symbols of addiction. Substance abuse and so on.

Words were all chosen carefully after much thought and brainstorming on teenage angst, woes and lingo.

Liberation!

Miasmic Urban Disorders

2007-02-15T21:40:00.000+08:00

Miasmic Urban Disorders

Tinted lights and crouching yellow,
blissful paranormal sights and moving shadows.
Crying babies and drooping walls,
Caging in, moving towards me as I fall.

My softened fall? My captor's disguise?
I took a taste from her lips,
Gently soft like a feathered pillow.
And I fell deeper, following into darkened hollows.

I held her gently in my mind,
Tinted lights and crouching yellow.
And she slipped further and further,
into those deepened and darkened hollows.

Trouble sleeping, she says.
Trouble living, I scream.
I scream endlessly for hours; comfortably to my senses.
There is no ignition in me, it absolved through deeper, darkened hollows.

Laying beside the hard, engineered floor,
I am rested but yet I am falling in my sleep.
Transported to memories, where she lay beside me.
As I fell deeper, following into darkened hollows.

Smack that up yourself.

2007-02-15T17:34:00.000+08:00

I went to the extremes, just desperately hopeful for a reaction. For a finalisation to this conclusion of some sorts. It was drastic and it feels tragic. It is unbearable, your lengthy silence.

This wasn't what I wanted.

Trauma Inflicted; Plundering Further Into Her Core

2007-02-15T00:42:00.000+08:00

I sense a certain weight coming over my senses and knowledge. I feel like I've been transported deeper down into a sensitive spot, where my nerves tingle with excitement and my pores vibrate with hair standing. Like I'm being brought against my will into some sort of transit terminal; a changing phase of some sort. I feel the changes taking place, I feel these horrific tremors under my feet and above my head. It is in my surroundings, it is creeping fear that's wrecking my psychological state. Like my online moniker, 'I sense my calm is wrapped in numbing fear.'

I literally feel my words. I feel myself crumbling inward, collapsing in a state of final resting. I cannot survive under these conditions anymore. Perhaps I've been lying to my sub-conscious state for too long; this reprising of events and past decade of emotions have been submerged too long. Like the rising of a tide, it is not caused by a singular and conclusive event. It is the collection of too many turns of fate's wheel. Something's not right in me, I know it. Deep down to the precarious little bones, something's coming over and taking charge of all my physical and psychological actions. It feels like a weed has grown in me, some form of parasitic condition. It feels like hell to be here, all my conceptual knowledge perhaps has had it's final toll. All my ideas and philosophies on life as we all know it and all my visions and all the words that come to my head. They've had enough of letting me make use of them. They call the final straw, the seal's been drawn and marked.

I'm spiralling. There is no absolve to this situation, I believe. I feel like a explorer today, examining all the dusty crevices of my past memories and I have not found out why. There's something wrong. Something I dare not even tell my dearest family, so now my Mom will know. There has been something wrong, all this while. Perhaps it was what all of them used to call 'smarts' or my intellect. Perhaps it was that x factor that they all said I had, it's going off.

Every other day, I get this curdling sensation of 'Me' being scraped off a surface. I am analysing myself, my current situation. I am weighing my odds and sitting in a chair calculating the risks and timing the sequences. I'm tired, sick and fucking tired of having to do anything. Sick and fucking tired of having expectations set upon my head like some sort of royal decree. Sick and fucking tired of being put upon a pedestal in full view of passerbys, awaiting their critics and ideas of what I should do and be.

I'm deprived of what I call solace. I found it but there's nothing in my will strong enough for me to make it stay. The path to solace is also fraught with dangerous skeptics. Solace is not a home, it is beyond terrifying. But it is the only peace I know at the moment. It is a constant reflex action, a twisted dementia of defense mechanisms. It is horrible to be in there, my solace that is. I am constantly in thought and through those thoughts I am constantly struggling with different ideas and variations for a solution.

It is a constant race, life. It is a neverending cycle of defeatist movements and a plague of actions. It is a whirlwind of decay and for those like me; who think beyond comparison to simple ideas. It is a curse, a lesser reason for prolonged existence. I cannot imagine immortality, I cannot begin to appreciate the concept of living as long as you can anymore.

Trauma Inflicted; Plundering Further Into Her Core.

What begets this foolish escapade,
This constant circus charade of dire consequences.
Which begs for more attention, a lost life or a lost mind;
Trapped in constant torment.
Badgering for salvation, solace, heaven perhaps.

I trace these circles, that start as they end.
I trace my footsteps and this is where I've stood for years.
Permanently fixated in confusion, meandering along sanity's fine lines.
Just a whiff will blow me down, just a star will be my light.

This gift is as well my plight, this curse is my gold.
Enslaved to my Master.
Whom I depict; Whom I serve.
I am a cage of caged within; I shall twist that turn.
I shall shallow these sands beneath my feet;
Where I will sink and disappear into, where I find absolve.
Her beauty reeks of rotting disgust;
Plundering further into her core.
Where I find absolve.

Where my solace lays asleep, where I find absolve.
Where my solace lays asleep, where I find resolve.

Behind The Looking Glass, Touching Shadows.

2007-02-14T19:16:00.000+08:00

My skin is now sun burnt, sensitive to the slightest touch. I missed the glorious feeling of sweat dripping and it's euphoric exhaustion washing away. So many nights, I have never slept soudnly but I am almost sure that tonight. I will lie in a bed that sinks inward for my collapsing body as I fall away to slumber without even the slightest chance for trouble concocted thoughts.

Everybody has massive plans today. All those trendy wankers are happilly celebrating this lovey dovey pink and red day. They will have romantic dinners, have drinks and then make glorious love for hours and hours till the sun hits our dawn. I shall pay careful attention to girls who walk with difficulty tomorrow, very close attention. ;) And then I will pay attention to guys complaining of muscle cramps, not enough sleep or just those who seem extremely and extravagantly joyous. One cannot help but feel jealous when it comes to matters of sex and sexual prowess. Sadly, I shall spend my Valentine's with guys. No, I'm still not gay. I just feel girlish inside and I have no date.

Spent the earlier half of the day with Jon Progeria, playing basketball and what not. We had dares of whoever did not score the 3 pointer to do hardcore dancing in the middle of the basketball court. Now, it shall be spent with Syed, Jon, Naz and whoever else feels lonely enough to spend it with us. Hilmie, perhaps?

I cannot yet again stress how irked I get when people start quoting slight coincidences as works of a greater being. I cannot stress how unbelievable vulnerable you are, how weak and dependant on the unknown you are. You are an indignant disgrace to the intelligence and perservering aspirations of self liberation's efforts. You are scum.

I have no qualms about anyone having faith. Just those that exclaim every single coinciding incident that went along with your will as God's work for you.

I believe in self-liberation, self-dependence, the power of one's whole will and the power of one's mind and thoughts.

AOTS mentioned Massecration in their interview with Agingyouth! Interview can be found at www.agingyouth.com

Somethings in life I have regretted; addiction, mental weakness, losses, inability. But one thing that I will never apologise for is for my undying passion for musicianship. It is not a lifestyle, hell no. It is not a trend, it is not a passing phase. It is not for you to criticize another's cup of tea. It is a notion of expression; It is a fairytale of emotions, It is a collective of one's thoughts and soul. It is individual and it is massive. It is universal. It is FRIENDSHIP, it is UNITY, it is RESPECT.

No idea why I'm so fisted today.

Hyperion; A Confession For One's Own Rememberance.

2007-02-14T10:59:00.000+08:00

I am a matyr, I am a God.
I am disability, I am taught indecency.
I am numbers, only painted for gold;
Numberous for a matter that pose like stones.

I am the world, justified by my Master.
We are hours away from tides that turn.
We are hours away from the finale,
Where he goes on but I must stay.

Where I will locate myself permanently;
Away from the distractions of the world.
And be revered and noticed for ages.
But only to the great minds that have not failed.

I am a matyr and I am a God; who shall I be to you?

Fraught With Tension.

2007-02-13T22:31:00.000+08:00

Fraught with tension; I call ye.
You know my fears, my hidden tears.
Bleeding crimson ever so evidently;
Seeking courage out of visceration's call.

I wish I was more beautiful; more graceful like a pretty bird. I'm not. I'm a horrible creatures who roams about in the night. Hiding from your gaze. I'm thankful we don't meet that often.

I wish I could make you fall flat over your heels like those pretty boys. I know you like them, I know I don't offer much. So Mischa, just go while you can. Have them.

I defeat myself today.

Understand.

Turn Tick, Turn Tock.

2007-02-13T08:04:00.000+08:00

I reached home yesterday from school, in a glaze of some sort. A washened tiredness fresh, dripping from my pores. I had just enough time to put The Fray's How To Save A Life on 'acquiring' mode then I headed to my room. Slammed my creaking body unto my bed and slept. I slept the hours away and I have just woken up. I jolted up in the fear of having not done a single drawing for external(which is today). I am supposedly required to hand up the entire semester's work. In the span of less than 4 hours, I honestly doubt my efforts will do much to salvage this very tainted situation.

Is it my fault that the teacher is biased against me as well?

I certainly do not think so. And I have had enough of old people who like to take advantage of society's well cushioned priveleges for them. I am sick and repulsed by the opportunistic aged and greyed.

I am sick of the meaniality of this world.
My mind begs for your tenderness, for your gaze of beauty and grace.

Dusty Souvenirs; Twist that bend a little more.

2007-02-11T21:22:00.000+08:00

I haven't been blogging. Honestly, there has been no desire to. I've retired to a lazy slump of core rotten mongrels with skull shattering screams for neon survival. I've become an insect, crawling on the floor. Avoiding detection at all costs, for fear of death. I cannot help feel the scrutiny of public objection and the clamour of public opinion. All my thoughts lead to a deranged, maddening despair, a disappointment perhaps.

In myself and in the figures of numbers that surround myself. In the shadows that observe me yet they never make themselves known. I know I am being noticed, observed and led under a microscopic evaluation. I am just saddened at my weakness in curving behind the bends and blending inward with the shadows of common ones.

Strength, I beseech thee. Possess my mind; strength.

I've found solace, I need will.

Cinnamon Sprinkle

2007-02-10T00:50:00.000+08:00

Hey, read you're going on a slight vacation. Well, you know I'm always here when you need me all right? I'll be here okay, I promise. Take the best care, you know I mean it. You're the only one.

Rays.

2007-02-08T17:31:00.000+08:00

To a certain friend/accquaintance;

What must we all say before you proclaim self indignation again? What terrible atrocities must be enforced before one decides to call his/her own bluff. We know, we all know. Out of our own respect for you, we decide to remain simple.

It does not help that you have a whole world of imaginary entities and realities in your head. Do you not find it difficult updating them and sticking to their former charges of glamour and royalty? You have intricately designed and sourced out a dimension which is beyond our own. Yes, you are one of us. You are one with me but you choose to ascend yourself beyond this world, our world.

Reality bites, bitch. And you're getting on my nerves.

I'm gonna bitchslap you so hard you won't remember where you left your titties at.

Tangled, pulled.

2007-02-05T23:33:00.000+08:00

Everything's horrid for me today. Everyone has turned less appreciative, less caring and less patient. I feel almost alone in here. This house feels no different since you left a week ago, even that you're back. It's so quiet and dead in here I could cry. It's a far cry from what we used to be, a family.

Let's not say that it was anybody's fault. I'm willing to take all the blame and watch myself crumble into a shaterring of millions of pieces.

And the one reality that I depended on solely for renewal of life has gone.

School isn't helping much with the large amount of work undone. I don't feel any of you here tonight. None of you. And this night, feels exceptionally cold. I am especially alone.

What's else to wish for after all the ones you felt so close to, decide to leave you, bit by bit and fragment by dying fragment.

Forrest.

2007-02-05T20:38:00.000+08:00

I've been screwing around despite my determination to do well this Semester.

Have some faith in me, my friends and parents. I'll be right back to pull through another miracle.

Mom, I miss you.

Dad, I miss you.

Take care the both of you.

I just had to say that.

Where is my love?

Screaming At Walls.

2007-02-03T16:14:00.000+08:00

This gaping distance can't help but be noticed by my weary eyes. I can't blame you for not wanting to get closer but just so you know, I really need you here. I've put these restraints on myself, just so I won't bother you. But if you hear my Siren song, if you feel my way. You got to come over sometime soon, I'm losing myself at a terrible quick rate.

I don't know if you even hear my Siren's call. And I won't blame you if you don't come. But Mischa, you stand at the otherside of this dimension. And I'm dying to reach you.

Literally.

Movie Marathon

2007-02-02T06:40:00.000+08:00

I just spent the wee hours of today watching movies on dailymotion.com. I am pretty much drained but strangely awake.

Beerfest was hella funny. Very dangerous comedic antics used though, like Germans vs Jews and such. It's a hilarious craft that everyone should watch. I must warn you though, the amounts of beer that they consumed on tape is alarmingly tempting. Not to mention Germany being the Motherland of all strong beers.

Saw III was as usual a masterpiece. Always been a fan. I especially loved the part where Jigsaw(aka Jack Cramer)'s counterpart Amanda screams 'Fix me! Fix me, motherfucker!'. It seems like the story is going to continue then. The screenplay was terribly 'Oh, no. That's gonna happen!'. Very precariously predictable. Also features a more detailed explanation of the very very abrupt ending of Saw II.

Well, it's 6.45AM now. Perfect to jog. Operation Minus Belly has commenced.

Her Perfect Victim; Surrealism In Mischa's Glorious Enterprise

2007-02-02T00:21:00.000+08:00

Her Perfect Victim; Surrealism In Mischa's Glorious Enterprise

Hold my hands and we'll fight this war,
Surpass those fears and we'll ride this storm.
We have not known what lies beyond,
Take my hand; at what's beyond.

Greet those scars, I'll fight them all;
I'll take those wounds and still stand tall.
Mist lays beyond all that heed Life's call;
Take my hand and we'll fight this war.

I believe in your eyes;
We'll fight this war.

You don't have to hurt again, Rely on me, my wings will defend.
We are gods of death; we won't ever fall.
We will never fall.
Let's soar in this grey absolute, take my hand, we'll fight this war.

War, we'll fight this war.
We'll fight life for as long as we have to.
I'll fight this war, we'll fight this war.

I hold you in my arms, I'd steal away your tears.
In the darkest of laughs, you can throw me all your fears.
Because it's only you & me alive.

Bleed.

2007-02-01T23:23:00.000+08:00

I've turned into a whining french baby. I guess you're busy and all lah.

Well, I miss you. And it's weird without seeing your nickname pop up on msn.

Bonne Saint-Valetin.

Parallel.

2007-01-31T23:20:00.000+08:00

So Desmond, Vin, Hazwan and Sham leave for Penang today. Somehow, an odd premonition beckons me. Nothing severe, hopefully. But I cannot deny the nagging thoughts at the back of my head.

You know what. Since the world's going crazy, I shall too! I am actually sitting here, in full preparation for sweat. I am going to run my beer belly off. And hopefully this determination will last long enough to make me look normal again. Determination, Ave!

Fat-ist!

Beams.

2007-01-29T23:35:00.000+08:00

You can have all your pretty boys behind your pedestal, you can leave me in the lurch in the wake of night. Like you always have, like you always have. And I have always been right here, a fool amongst the midst of knights in silver shining armour. A crying shame in the wake of public, a violent drunkard in the late of evening.

A peasant boy walking next to his Princess. A valiant palace guard standing on guard outside the Princes's chambers.

You can have them all, one by one, two by twos. But you will never be able to find what I have offered in them.

Those handsome men don't know love. Only a fool will know love.

I miss you, I love you.

But the question really is 'where' are you?

Forehead Kisses again, I'd do anything.

2007-01-29T06:51:00.000+08:00

So I sang your songs, I sang 'em loud. I kept myself up the whole night, knowing if I fell asleep that I would immerse myself in depressive thoughts of family and love all over again. I watched Bleach, nearly teared. I just got back from walking Cookie, watching all the secondary school kids scurry for the bus. It was warmly nostalgic, crimson's fond absence.

I miss those morning. Like when you wake up, the sky's still dark and blue. The last time I saw it was working on that Raintree film's set.

I wish I could fascinate like a anime serial. I wish I was more interesting to you, that you would spend your lifetime learning all about me as I would for you. You don't see how important you are to me, how special, how precious, how beautiful, how brave and daring. You don't see how I feel, that if you go I'd lose everything I know about love.

It's been a couple of hours but the house feels like it's been dead for hours. Greetings lonely home, be nice.

Who says size doesn't matter?

2007-01-28T20:17:00.000+08:00

I am overjoyed. I finally have gotten my Audiotechnica ATH-FC 7's! And I'm telling you, it doesn't compromise on sound quality. Comfy speaker cushions, great compact fold design, beautiful sound.

I'm sorry, I'm one who likes to be completely drowned in my music. Normal earphones won't do, sound leaks with them.

Sony Ericsson also offers a Equalizer with their phones, so double plus. I just up all the knobs. Shiokness.

Dad wrote me a rather touching goodbye letter that he probably didn't expect me to read. For someone that barely shows much concern, it is a milestone to remember. Aww, I love you pops.

Time to embrace hell.

Zephyr

2007-01-28T17:12:00.000+08:00

They say only fools love. I think they're god damn right. Dad leaves Singapore today for a week. Silence home, what's there to not get used to.

Come on, jump with me.

2007-01-28T14:52:00.000+08:00

Spin, spin, spin. The wind pushes my wings on in a blood-rushed frenzy of surging disaster.

Fall, fall, fall. Further and faster as I hit the ground, face first into the reality of the situation of it all.

The escalation of pain is firstly derived from the elevation of the subject. It is a simple understanding. Action is equal to the forthcoming reaction. The higher a person climbs, the more like to become a fatality if he jumps. He steps off the edge, arms flailing, left foot over the edge. In a second, his right foot leaves the ledge and his body is suspended in the air for a mili-second or two. It is due to the overcoming of the inital inertia. It is then affected by the earth's gravitational forces and surrounding wind speeds. The subject suspended in air, is helpless in fighting against the forces that are now in control of his body. As he has no footing on the floor, or gravitational energy that sets his feet stable, his centre of gravity is hence; useless. He propels downward, gaining speed as he accelerates towards his plummeting demise. Largely dependant on issues such as wind speed and course obstacles, the general accelerative is roughly 10m/s.

The body splatter is then dependant on several variables; weight, surface area of end flight destination, surface area of subject matter, kinetic energy gained in acceleration and potential energy transformed in pre-flight. If the subject matter lands on a concrete surface with his head first, it will most likely have a burst-fire effect. A usually centralised flow of brain matter unlike the generally messy and wave like chart flow. Limbs will usually be entirely shattered upon impact. Paying attention to the main joints of course. As any distanced pivot and axel, the force generated against both sides of the beam will act against the joints at the end. For example, if the subject lands on his wrist, not only will his forearm be shattered but his elbows and shoulder joints as well. This domino like effect will work only if the subject decides to lands on all fully extended fours.

Maybe I should be a primary school science teacher after all.

Hey there, can you see me from up there? Haha, cool. My back's broken I can't move and would you mind calling an ambulance? No, come on don't walk away. Wait a minute, what're you doing with that rice cooker. Don't throw it down, don't! Noooo!

Pinch, twist and pull.

2007-01-28T03:20:00.000+08:00

Take me up, tear me down.
But before you leave, turn my bedroom into a 18th century medievic battlefield.

Cheers mate!

You're a jester at her favourite act and I'm just your number one fan.

Greatest of luck to your new found love. I sure hope you won't be this cruel to him, have fun mate! And remember, everybody bleeds and hurts. Not just you.

I'm a piece of thoughtless, unfeeling, prime cut.

Bon Appetit, madame Gorgeous. I'm sorry, my thigh wasn't grilled in proper. It's a little fatty, filled with gushing fresh meat juices but a little burnt. Tender, however. Apologies and tell me if you want an arm instead all right madame? Sauces are on the side and please, leave the bones on the 'unwanted' plates. Scrap them to the dogs but leave a bone or two for burial will you? Thank you. Please, enjoy your meal.

Sinking.

2007-01-28T00:48:00.000+08:00

Okay, this is my mental picture of my current state. I'm like a massive blob, and I'm gotten stuck somewhere between halfway and completly in this just nice hole. So I'm not really entirely sinking or perhaps at a rather slow rate.

Your words sting. Like a tattoo gun, like a blade.

You are still that perfect beautiful goddess, Ashley Mischa Amily Chia Yan Ling. I miss you so much I need these solvents just to escape thinking about you. You are still that crazy feeling, you are still the one I would do anything for.

Don't go.

Reminder to self; die today.

2007-01-26T08:31:00.000+08:00

Dearest blog, you are apparently a boring whore.

Well, my head and my heart aches today. Slightly spinning, some reggae song, inside's a broken mess. Like a cordoned off murder scene.

'Sir, he's in there. His insides are all over the place, you might not want to go in.'

My computer says, Outbreak Alert; You are not protected against 1 rapidly spreading threat. Oh well, it's too late now isn't it? Bloody genius, if you were so damn smart and technolog-ified then why didnt you save me a little earlier. You fucking git!

But I honestly doubt you can save me, I really doubt it. How does something in circuits break down to bleed down.

I laugh at myself, knowing how pure my intentions were. Almost mocking my intelligence, it does. Last night was a glass bottle shattering, remember that sound? Yep, I mean that sentence. Last night was a glass bottle shattering, the chipped remnants of my well being is numbed beyond any sense of escalation or feeling.

I'm broken, just like the Pantera song.

I slept on my right ear plug today. So it is very sore and swollen. So, there's nothing in it now. Wow, I can think of another place also.

And my reputation around this neighbourhood is really really blown now. I'm worse than an Indian drunkard. I'm like one.

I used to find those minor threats adorable, almost insatiable. Ask me now.

My blue heaven, where are you now? My goddess of pain, the Siren song.

The Right To Choose.

2007-01-25T03:57:00.001+08:00

Mischa, I know you'be been really bothered about people and their perceptions recently. So I decided to be a darling and draw something for you. It's themed after this phrase, 'Don't cry, I'm the one who's hurting'. It really ain't much and neither am I of an artist. Hope you'll like it anyway. I miss you.

It's the line drawing or a tattoo needles at the tip, joined to a pen cap, then connected to a Niagra Falls inspired stream. The stream flows down one main course then at the start and end of the stream branches out several times in alternating directions.

I really don't have to explain it. Afterall you are a genius what. ;)

Hope you like it anyway.

The Right To Choose.

2007-01-25T03:57:00.000+08:00

Expressing In Absolution

2007-01-25T03:12:00.000+08:00

It's amazing, how beautifully composed and natural I am around you. How careless to let loose, to reveal my flaws, to not have my guard up. I have never felt so lifted, so joyous and so amazed at it all.

As we lay on the floor, I felt so perfectly conjoined to you. I wasn't sticking our your side, I felt like I was already inside you like we shared one entity's space. It's a precious moment, so critical to my well being. It felt so right, it felt very much like love. It must have been.

Absolution. That's it. That must be it because I know no other experience that can top this one. No other romance ever so blissful, so amazingly childlike.

I can't help my fears. But I can try, I will.

All I'm thinking about now is just 5 more minutes, a few more words. I couldn't bear to see you walk away. I wish I could hold you in loving embrace for hours to come. Till the sun touches the skies, till you feel so bothered by me. I would never need the world, the riches, the clothes, the popularity. All I need is just you near me. I miss you already, I'm pining for my Fairy Goddess riding on her ticklish cloud. Every fraction of my being is crying out for you, every single molecule, every single hair, every single part of myself.

As I wished this was forever, it will be. In my mind, fresh memories. I know I will fall sometime and I know you will too. If it's anything, than today was a beautiful portrait. And I shall visit this portrait and lock myself in it every time I find myself broken. I will revisit this feeling of perfect belonging.

I'm there now again. Can you feel me?

Mindfreeeeek.

2007-01-25T01:19:00.000+08:00

Maybe I am really overly paranoid.

Happy, beautiful thoughts, tree swaying amongst the nightsky. I want to die in this moment, I want to die in this moment.

Lalalalalalalalalalalalallalal.

Beef or Chicken?

2007-01-24T03:56:00.000+08:00

Medium! Yarghhhhhh.

I feel like a jerk. I feel like a striker who just missed his one shot at game, a singer hitting the wrong note on American Idol, an artist getting drunk on his exhibition, a rockstar being sober and saying everything wrong.

I wish we were sitting under the stars, where we block out the world outside. Just trapped in our grey backdrop, chatting away like children discovering the world.

I miss you like hell.

Inequity.

2007-01-23T05:10:00.000+08:00

I feel like a dying battery for a radio, left on for hours. I am dying out yet my functions keep the radio going on. It is soft and it is barely audible but I'm still there.

I said your name close to a thousand time in my stroll just now. I walked and thought, I walked so far I nearly did not recognise my surroundings. I walked back, speaking your name. Talking to an imaginary you, my brain computing all of your possible answers. I think back about all those beautiful conversations we had on the phone. All those moments that I captured in my imaginary bottle, that I'll keep for a long time to come.

All the way, in my pespiration soaked desperation to escape this. I was awaiting to hear Trouble Sleeping on my phone. That somehow it was all a misunderstanding, that you weren't angry at me. I was hoping, for a sign. Any sign at all. I tried and I tried so hard to contact you or rather to resist the temptation of calling you lest you think I was a psycho. You know how much it hurts everytime I hear that? I cannot help myself Mischa, I worry too much. I'm sorry.

I listened to Blackfield's Miss U on the walk home. My initial thoughts hearing the song when I first got it were terrifying. I was so afraid one day, I'd have to type out the song's lyrics via SMS or msn. I was terrified. And I knew someday I would have to.

"And tomorrow you'll be gone and I'll miss you."

Nothing captures my emotions right now more than that fucking song. Nothing better than that pathetically painful song.

I'll be right here waiting, that I can promise you, will be absolute.

Blackfield - Miss U

They said you're in love again, I'm not trying to hide my pain.
I was burried in my bed, with your pictures in my head.

You're living the novel life, it cuts me like a knife.
I'll help you understand, I'm the one who's left behind.

Tomorrow you'll be gone and I'll miss you.
Yes, I'll miss you.
Yes, I'll miss you.

They you said you're in love again and my eyes start to burn.
Wherever you are now, I wish you could hear my silent sigh.

It's not that I'm trying to blame; It just kind of rained again.
I'll help you understand, that I'm the one who's left behind.

Tomorrow you'll be gone and I'll miss you.
Yes, I'll miss you.
Yes, I'll miss you.

Grey splattered with traces of Black, White and Maroon.

2007-01-23T03:22:00.000+08:00

I don't know what to do now, you won't talk.

I don't know what else to say, what else to believe in, what else to prepare for next. I am broken, wrecked and torn beyond belief. You are a drug, how long more must you test me? How many more agonizing nights must I be dragged through by my heels before you will understand that I am just another fool in love, with you.

I'm lost, lying on this floor of turning spaces. Like a movie set off an aeroplane undergoing turbulance, I am. Everything around me is moving, changing, twisting and contorting but here I am again, just sprawled out defenseless and unmoving on this wretched floor.

A painting, rubbed down with the artist's hands. Then he beats his fists unto the cement floor till blood drips down his swollen knuckles. After that, he pounds endlessly unto the canvas. Smearing blood and flesh unto the once beautiful dream that he had created on paper.

I sat in the lazyboy chair, with Pocupine Tree's Mellotron Scratch and the song that you said you think about me when you hear, coming off my handphone. I saw notes of bright brass, floating out the speaker. I felt ticklish tears streaming down my eyes again as I felt myself helpless beyond the imaginary gaze of yourself I put in front of me.

You say you're the mess. But no, you don't know me yet. You don't know all my pent up mental rampages that I have hidden from all of this world. How I have ever been so successful in lying to myself, deceiving my body and mind and I endure pain, playing trickery on all my senses. But I cannot numb out the pain in my heart and it is my Achilles Heel. It is the only one sense that I cannot ignore. Why do you think I drink? I can fall 3 storeys and not feel any pain, I can't beat my fists senseless against cement walls and not feel the cuts, I can be kicked in the gut and still stand up but I just cannot ignore the issues that plague my emotional senses.

I am a fucking God as well but I cannot erase my emotions.

My mind can control everything but my heart.

And you're in it.

2007-01-22T02:29:00.000+08:00

Your pictures, that I have stolen off the internet bring me hope. They do, and I have quite a few. :)

Whoooooooooppppps.

In My Eyes

2007-01-22T02:01:00.000+08:00

We all feel alone. The ringing of silence resounds through our rooms, we sit in our chairs as the sky outside gets darker and darker, the emptiness of it all emits itself from all the furniture.

We all feel discouraged. The repulsiveness from our work screams out for our correction, their words sink down our hearts like anchors in water, the cruelty of society and it's expectations hit us down like hammers.

But we are strong, because there are things, experiences and people that make it all worth going through another day. There are people that make you treasure every second you spend with them like Arabic jewels. There are heartfelt emotions, not ink on paper nor text on monitors that vibrate through your body, that make you feel like life is worth living. Fuck society, fuck what people expect of you.

But in the eyes of love, all my pain absolves. It melts away in the fear of love. Just like your Father's eyes bring hope and despair to you, that power is uncontrollable. So powerful, we have dictated the demise of our civilisation by the means of classification.

We, are afraid of what we do not know. Therefore, we classify. We give it scientific names and italic fonts. We decide how everything should be treated, how every action is met with a reaction in fear of liberation. We control, everything. We never let anything run free.

We cannot because we don't want it to disappear. We cannot because we love life too much. We cannot and it will cause our end eventually and we will willingly fight everyday with a cause of continuity. We don't want us to disappear, we want to prolong. We want to be around long enough to know everything and I say fuck society for that.

Why know? Why expect and why predict? Why can't we all allow nature to take its course. To allow risk to overcome failure, to let loose for once, to be human and not live like a computer system.

It is the only thing we have left. Our precious emotions, our precious scars that will bring us through another day. Wiser and stronger. We must never give up, because we want to live for as long as possible on this crazed drug like emotion called love. A love for humanity, a love for family, a love for one. It is love that we all have left and it is love that will bring you through.

Don't blame yourself for being intelligent and educated. This place is vile and escape you shall, I will bring you across mountains of care and joy and oceans of time. I will always be here.

I don't know if this is enough but I love you and you are what brings me through days. You are my pillar of hope and joy, my everything that I understand and that understands me. You are like no one ever, you are like an angel. You are like a soulmate.

Black/Nazi/Skin Metalheads are actually friendly.

2007-01-21T01:41:00.000+08:00

Just came back from a supposedly deadly, chinese mudering Nazi/BM gig. I wasn't there to witness the throat squawking and guitar rampaging noise. Well, I was originally. Ended up helping Syed with the sound and fog machine.

It was fun as usual. It's surreal, how something as simple as knob tweaking and fog machine operating can be so damn enjoyable. Just seeing the crowds headbanging amongst the fog, delighted at the sight of their local music heroes appearing in a cloud of mist. Everything was okay, I was actually slightly on my toes when Tottencoff went up to play, the guy has a fucking Nazi emblem on his left chest. I shan't go on to say how the emblem and him is a total contradictory disaster that could get him killed elsewhere in Europe and all. He was nice enough to not boss me around in the soundman's box.

'Yo, soundsman. Guitar louder uh bro.'

Exact words. I was pretty pleased, shocked slightly at this pretty warm response. Considering their strong and undying hatred for us chinese people to play metal. It's strange, how so diverse our ideaologies are yet how united we are in what we enjoy most- music.

Black Torture's drummer Hilmi was performing as well. Considering he and his bassist is always so deadly brutal and kvlt in school. He's a nice guy, appreciative of my very mundane efforts to ensure he slews the crowd with his music. The organiser, Razly was warm as well. But during the gig, he was kvlt as fuck. He had a metal as hell face but after it all he came up to thank me and I guess being my very warm, receptive and smiley self, I smiled and said thanks. Can't remember, all the throat squaking black metal vocals plus me having to listen to the main monitors so frequently left my ears ringing like a cellphone on max output volume.

I took some pretty kickass pictures of Necroholocaust's set. I really enjoyed taking them, the guys put on such an awesome show with simply amazing stage presence. Am looking forward to hearing their stuff, plus the bassist, Firdaus is fucking nice lah.

So that sums up my day. Sorry fairy goddess, my creative juices have gone dry from the moshing that my stomache took. An elbow in my gut, not intentionally of course. I promise to be more creative soon. Sorry lah.

Choices

2007-01-18T22:10:00.000+08:00

I pondered as I held the pen over the blank spot. A chaotic battlescene of thoughts in my mind, as the ball point tip hung over the white sheet of paper, filled with names and their hopeful ambitions.

'Film, or Art History?'

I thought with that sense of predicament and fear, of never knowing what lies ahead of our weary feet. I called, hoping to find some resolvement in this begging closure. No response. I guess I shall really have to become in this challenge.

I wrote in bold, blue ink. Film. I handed the paper up, nearly in full resentment. I wish I had more time, I wish I could do both, I wish I could have been interested in graphic design. Well, it certainly adds to the neverending list of 'I wish's'.

I'm cold with decision making and this paranoia that I guess is the cause of it all. Or could it have been the lack of sleep? I can't think when I feel like I'm falling and creating a mess.

Dinisha, thanks for being there for me. You're a great friend when friends are needed. I guess we should all never question what we cannot control.

Cheers all.

Mom, I love you and miss you. Take the best of care and I would send you money to buy more roach traps if I could. Your boy, always. I send you the sweetest and most purest of love ever sent across oceans in internet relay. It's me and you against the world remember? Stay strong.

Perceptive Anomaly

2007-01-17T15:29:00.000+08:00

This stomache pain has wrecked my body for too long. I stopped painting about half an hour ago, it's too great. Unmeasurable in it's valiant deeds.

I was browsing myspace profiles earlier. I was thinking to myself, if everyone has their own perception and identity of themselves. What is mine? I find myself a confused shipwreck of musical preferences and fashion. I think I will soon head down to Peninsula, get a short sleeve black jacket or shirt and paste all those band patches all over.

Dark Funeral, Malevolent Creation, Nasum, Lamb Of God, Deicide, Behemoth, Nile, Absu, Keep Of Kallesin, Enslaved and all the other cult or kvlt bands there are out there. Patch 'em all on my shirt. Would I be metal enough then?

Then, I'd go to Topman and get that part of skinnies, then I'll go fareast and go a new pair of the same Vans first ed I have.

What I evolve into then? Half emo half metalhead? I was rambling on to distract my stomache pains.

Listen to 3:06 on Blackfield's Epidemic. I noticed something very strange and un-rockish.

Novel Disasters & Tribulations.

2007-01-17T03:16:00.000+08:00

So what is it like, in this modern society to be seen, appreciated, scrutinized and worshipped? Everyone begs for some recognition, I'm here to give you that. I won't speak in riddles and I shan't make you beg for virtuosity.

I reek of a vile stench, so composed yet so potent in all it's rememberance. I wish I could fly away. Yes, I'm having those thoughts of escaping again. All I relive in my little dreams are weird stares and genuine introductions. I wish I could walk right into those brand new doors of unfamiliar faces and reenact the entire scene countless times in my adrenaline rushed paranorma of introductions.

I do these thoughts, alot. In my head, on the bus, in school, when I'm drawing.

I would say.

Hey, I'm Joel. I'm an aspiring filmmaker, studying in art school. 19 this year, hopefully things go my way and I'll be around to make films till my hair grows grey and I'll don black rimmed spectacles for that classic intelligent look that all the film greats have. Like Martin Scorsee and Steven Spielberg, just like them. I love reading and writing, it's all I've ever enjoyed doing besides screaming and making indistinguishable noises into a microphone. You see, I'm a death metal vocalist as well. I have several projects, mostly relatively unknown, for now. I've had dreams of becoming like a rockstar since I was 15 you see. I'm an only child. Yes, it gets pretty much very lonely over here. I'm currently single, chasing the skirt of a philoshphical mythological Greek being. I enjoy the overly occasional beers, live music, drawing and playing the guitar. I sing songs about life and love because it is all we have left to understand and study. We are scientists, engineers but we are never truly complete. We don't understand the very vital remains of our lives. We are everything but poets and artists. Those who say they are, live the lifestyle but it is to not conform, to not plagiarize. So therefore we aren't. I could talk alot more but I guess this introduction will linger on with food, drinks and music. Thanks for your time.

2007-01-16T18:22:00.000+08:00

Ingesting my own saliva disgusts me, the blood coursing through my veins are begging to let. The very act of breathing alone is taking so much toll of my mental strength that I would gladly undertake a painful, slow death. The touch of my own skin is a recollection of painful bitter memories.

I am disgusted with myself, I am dwelling in my own shadow of self-hatred and vile responses.

I do not deserve this pain, I do not deserve this slow motioned replay of pain and sharp edges.

I hate what I do, what I have done, what I will do. I detest my own life with a hatred so severe and with a devotion stillborn in it's premature womb. It is a distant replay of my own hatred inherit from others that I now have for myself.

I have failed.

2007-01-16T17:11:00.000+08:00

How is it, that I could have gone ahead and hated the world and not have figured out I am a victim of it's plague as well. Premonitions of hugging and telling everyone I love them mock my former self.

I am just like everyone I diss. I'm a fake, I'm nothing like I had perceived myself to be.

Perceptions, I'm a victim as well.

I hate myself when I'm drunk, but often it's too late. I hate myself because every little thing I do warrants attention. Apologies to all that I have affected one way or another during my druken stupor. I can already think of one fine example, sorry okay.

I skipped school today. Was feeling really really under the weather and all that nonsense. Watched Kill Bill Vol 2. I loved the last part.

How Bill was talking about Superman and how Clark Kent was his critic on the entire human population. How we try to blend in and adjust our personal selfs to mould neatly around the edges of our society. Like wrapping your christmas gifts, like writing cards, like looking up to see if anyone noticed you walk by, like holding your cigarette in that way, like talking differently, like walking in a certain manner, like replying in a certain fashion, like smiling in a certain way, like wearing that pair of jeans, like dressing nicely.

We are a critic of our own kind, do you get me? To blame, is to know. To know, is to be. I hate our civilisation and our fucking perceptions on everything. My goal is to not have an identity, it is to lose mine. And that shall be my identity. Because I am not like them, I am separate and I am opposed to anything that is like yours.

Something like that, rant.

Save Your Spiritual Self!

2007-01-14T03:23:00.000+08:00

The article below, was copied off Colin of the death metal band Vile. In a bulletin message on their myspace, do some thought. I did, it may sound cheesey. But think MTV; think.

Psychic dictatorship in our midst
I hope you guys enjoy my rants. If not, just go on with your business. :)

Of course, we all love Myspace. Its a fantastic and free way for us to communicate and share ideas and music from vast distances. But there is something else going on here, and indeed all over the mainstream media, that is designed to hurt us. And hurt us in the worst way.

Because Humans are not commonly recognized as spiritual beings, malicious attacks on their spiritual growth are not usually recognized. I have discussed in the other blogs that there is a campaign in progress to destroy us from the inside out. A new world regime is being put into place and it requires complete obedience from us, the Monkeys. In this "New World Order", individual expression is heavily curtailed. But before that can fully happen, we must be destroyed spiritually. We must be placed on the lowest vibrational level possible. Once this is achieved, it will not take much to herd us right in.

Myspace was acquired recently by Rupert Murdoch. This is when you started to see all the ads for sluts everywhere. You started to see all the inane little games like "Shave Santa's back and win a prize." You started to see Myspace choosing the the most superficial types of profiles to be selected for the "Cool new people" category. You saw an increase in the ads for the worst movies ever made coming from Hollywood, etc, etc.

What is going on here is that Rupert Murdoch and his gang are working for the folks that want to reel in this new regime. His job is to lower humanity to a lower level spiritually. To get us to react with our 'base' emotions. To train our 'Reptile Brain' to respond. The things that make the 'Reptile Brain' respond are sex, food, violence, low level animal instincts.

Humans are unique because they are capable of so much. We can actually view ourselves as separate from our environment, look back on ourselves and contemplate the deepest mysteries of the universe. We can tune ourselves into our environment and into the universe on a personal level. We can realize that we are each a different type of godly manifestation and we can explore this unique connection. We also have a soul that is regenerated time and time again and we can use our physical selves as a vehicle for this journey.

Now what do these concepts and aspirations have to do with the new Prison Break show? What do they have to do with any of the mindless crap that is rolled out before us constantly by Murdock and his ilk? Nothing. In fact they pose a direct threat you and your spiritual survival. Every time you respond to one of these ads, every time you recognize one of their faux 'experiences' as real, you go lower. You descend to a lower vibrational level. Every time you watch a show that honors the worst aspects of humanity, you give power to that concept, to the makers of it and you lose respect for yourself and your soul's journey.

Do you understand this? You are being shot at. There is a psychic dictatorship in our midst that is trying to kill us every minute of every day. But when we recognize this, and when we realize what this sick game is, we become so much more immune to it. When we reject the inane, low level attractions we become free. We become free to pursue what matters to us, why we are here, what we individually are doing on this planet. We can then turn inward for the answers that are already there speaking to us. And we finally become more powerful than the perpetrators themselves.

The perpetrators are shattered inside and they want to have a world full of others that are shattered inside. Only they want to control you, they want to be on top. They cannot have their victims be healthier than they are. That would not work.

I suggest that everyone who reads this send a little note to Murdoch or Myspace. Or maybe Tom's comment page. But remember Tom is not in control anymore and has nothing to do with this assault. If anything, thank him for inventing Myspace because it is a god-send. But let's pass on a little advise to Murdoch and his crew. "We're onto your psychic dictatorship, your attempts to lower us to our base instincts. We know you are soulless and barely human yourself and you have no power over us unless we give it to you. You are now being officially served. Get out and stay out!"

Colin

Lalalalalaloveisadrug.

2007-01-14T02:09:00.000+08:00

I'm sitting here, on this smelly chair, my eyes sore from wearing my lenses for too long, with Skinless blasting Overlord and I'm worried about my incomplete work.

I have, let's see. Plaster cast of hand and one body part(Get creative!), 3D Research and idea development, 18 charcoal drawings of natural organisms and 2D's Acrylic paintings and final a3 piece.

I don't know about you darlings but it sure is a lot of work to do.

Let's see, recent addictions; Death Cab For Cutie, Trouble Sleeping by the Perishers, Caliban's disografia, Hatebreed's Destroy Everything and Defeatist, Blackfield's BlackfieldII! And definitely, thinking about jamming.

It's sad to see, something that was mechanised to run perfectly towards success- begin to fall apart. I'm gonna be hated when I say this but I make things work. I make people believe, I make people see success and we work together. Sadly, I don't know where the next step for Massecration is going. Only one person of the band might read this and I'm sorry to say this. But I'm not the captain that's gonna stay before the rest jumps off ship. I don't stay on sinking vessels. But we'd still be friends, I think.

I want to learn illustrator(hint). Tangy from Myspace has such beautiful pictures!

She's writing now, I wish I could peek into her brain. Just delve for a minute in that creative genius. Yes, it's you. ;)

Dear Mischa, listen to my heart's voice.

2007-01-11T16:31:00.000+08:00

I was asked to write something interesting but it is just when you want to that your mind runs a whitewashed blank. I shall write like I always have, from experience and the heart.

I was constantly perturbed by thoughts of giving up today, during Sawn's PPD lesson. The overwhelming sense of a storm to come completely took over my senses as I feigned smiles usual; something I had adapted to ever so quickly since I was a mere infant. This pretentious gaze of not knowing and big bright smiles. I don't know if it happens to others as well but I've grown so accustomed to this defence mechanism that I forget myself. Only to face full reality of the raging storm after, in sleepless nights and druken speech.

It was starring right me in the eye; the mist covers the paths. I don't know where to turn, the shroud of mists blocks out all visibility and I don't know where to go. I only know what's for sure and it's you. Ashley Mischa Chia Yan Ling. The only one who keeps me from falling deeper and darker into my abyssmal depression. The only one I can talk to without holding any guards up, the only one that I can make known my 'other' side. I don't know if I should take up Art History, Journalism, Advertising or Film but I do know where my purest intentions lie, and it's in you. I don't know what is it exactly, but you retain all of me yet I can always run free in our conversations and gaze.

I would lie forever, next to you on the wet and muddy grass. I'd shield you from all the tremors from the lies they tell, I'd be there to catch you falling everytime you want to break down.

I don't know what to write anymore, you make me feel like painting even though I hate to paint. You make me want to splater colours and rub them down with my bare hands. You are all I know right now, all that I'm certain of.

It might not be this month or the months ahead but as long as we're talking, I'm certain of a hope and it's all that's enough to keep me here. But I'd always be a friend for someone who has given me so much life and will to keep on going.

So don't give up just yet, it might come soon. Stay for the advertisments and the trailers, we have a movie, a novel and a fairytale to live.

I hope you are fine, and I miss your voice and eyes already.

Take care.

2007-01-11T07:40:00.000+08:00

I woke up to the beeping of my alarm clock this morning. I snoozed it once, waking up a crude 12 minute later. I woke up, thinking to myself if only everyday would have been this perfect.

I dreamnt of Mom, Por, Alvin, Dwayne last night. Can't really remember much but it was like the Tampines days. Por, Mom and me.

Ashley, you don't know how much you brighten every dull day for me. Everyday, it begs to die. It begs to release itself from all this trauma but you have the power to keep me here.

Have a good day my fairy goddess.

I wish we could lie on the grass and talk about the sky as well, more than ever.

2007-01-10T18:06:00.000+08:00

Spiralling down a pauper's release, I find myself numbed for an existence that's begging to end itself in it's heresy and self pittance. It turns to a blackened page splattered with blood, with the remnants of a seemingly beautiful piece of art. I have drawn for hours to come, writing commentry and visual ideas unto paper for so long, my fingers beg for some salvation. I am in a twisted, purple world of self absorbtion and I pity myself.

The piano hits a snazzy number and the light dawns on the luscious singer.

She sings like a bird, never forgetting the falsetto notes just like we never forget to fall to our addictions; sipping whiskey on the rocks and smoking like an Irish chimney. She sings more beautifully than ever as we slide down a mysterious hole of blackened desire and morbid fantasies. We lose ourselves, eventually. And are carried out the door by muscled men in tight black shirts.

For a single moment, a combination of our loyalty and admiration was conjoined at our hips in a single purpose of reluctance and pumped up gazing.

That's my image. I can't draw it out in a design. Damn it.

2007-01-10T12:27:00.000+08:00

Been pretty busy with getting back to school, readjusting to waking up in the morning,going out and stuff all school related. Thus, the lack of regularity here.

I have been pretty okay, mentally stable and on an emotional high. Thing's have been good these days.

I start to notice all the slackers in class and I am so tempted to drop my form but no, I shan't. I must strive.

I shall, then.

Fairy of All Fairies.

2007-01-08T16:31:00.000+08:00

You have me immersed in beautiful thoughts about beautiful times;
In the dawn of day, at the lowest of moments.
I have screamed all I could in my recollection of a cruel world
and now I realise where all my angst must end.

Your eyes bring me to places, I could have never been.
A dimension of happiness and pristine thoughts and neverending sun.
You are the nemesis from my works,
The alpha of my desires; the end of my hatred.

I see you in movies, romance novels and songs.
My perfect escape from my falling self.
Beseech me, leave me not,
In friendship or with romance; for I will never leave your side.

You could be the Sun and I just the Moon,
Never close enough to touch but always feeling my core.
And I would be content, to spend, ages and generations;
Basking in the comfort of your radiance.

Till galaxies collide, and stars fall;
Till oceans divide and the wind stalls.

When everything turns a little quiet.

2007-01-07T08:23:00.000+08:00

I had a silent breakfast with Dad today, an awkward silence. Not the usual, stoned/hungover silent silence. I held back tears knowing that I've done it again, that I've hurt someone with my intentions again. I held back tears knowing that the only family member I have left here cannot face himself to speak to me.

He has given up on reprimanding me, all he said in his defence was for me to never tell him anything about what I'm gonna do again. I could feel his hurt, his prideful intentions turned sour. Just like before, I saw his dreams of a perfect son; an altar boy, an A student, a sports talent, a upright man to be, a filial child. Like before, I saw them all crash, burn and fade into the diminishing light of his happiness. I watched slowly as they burned out in the flicker of parental obligations and then extinguish in his sigh of disappointment.

I then will watch him turn away and pace quickly, perhaps hiding his tears. I will then follow behind his footsteps, that resentment of a crushing feeling residing ever so permanently in this pathetic shell of a heart. I would beg silently, in my mind that perhaps someday I would make you proud of me again. I love you, more than you ever know. I never hated you for the divorce, I cried myself to a numbed slumber every night of the separation. For you were my hero, my idol, the one I looked up to. And then, you were gone.

I prayed silently every night that somehow something magical and mysterious would happen and I would watch my two loving parents return in embrace and shower neverending love on me. Like a monsoon shower, I watched disappointment and anguish rain down on my hopeful dreams.

I only have a few notions in my defence, Father. Will I ever change so much in character that you will shun me out of your life, Will you be embarassed of me in public or rather, have you already been. Will you not acknowledge me as your boy, donning his goalkeeper's uniform in pride as you watch me dive and grovel in the mud. Will I never be the same child, returning home from sweaty basketball matches? Will I never make you as proud as you were of me, when I won my prizes in golf? Will I never make you as proud of me like when I passed my assessments? Will I never make you proud of me when I make you breakfast? Will I never make you understand that somehow deep inside, I am still that little boy of neverending smiles and a glaze of cheerful smiles, just that I am different now.

That I have lost so much in return for being myself. That I have been kicked and knocked further down into the ground just plainly trying to seek my own comfort, my own reality, my own perception.

I am doing this, simply to remember. That throughout this life, you lose so much of yourself to painful memories and to the society around you. I'm doing this to remember that I was once in love, in maddening love. So proud to bear my scars and hurting, because I am in love with myself for being in love. This is for me to never forget that there was once I would give all of myself in devotion, only to be silently turned away. Just like how you see it around you, that you feel it yourself with Mom.

I will tide the consequences, with my strength and your love.

It's the depiction of Hanya. A Japanese character, who waits and dies slowly in the winter cold, awaiting her loved one to return to her side. I must remember it on my skin, this perfect bliss of being so carefree, so appreciative. I love you Dad, and I always will. I hope you will too.

I know we haven't had a heartfelt conversation in ages to come. But you always know that your boy never has given up loving you. And I applaud your patience and willingness to love me. That perhaps as I have changed in my age, my appreciation for my doting father has never altered in any dimension.

Forgive me.

2007-01-06T12:25:00.000+08:00

The pounding reenacts in my head, the cabinet doors tremble in shock. I hear John shout, 'what the fuck is that?'. I turned away and all I see is Mal's grostesque human circus display. She's crying and I want to help but she's a mutant animal and fear has it's vices over me. I'm stuck in the middle of these two realities I don't know where to run.

I'm not drunk this time you sick motherfuckers, I was completely sober. I can't understand people and their perceptions. It's real, like the a living piece of bleeding flesh. It was real, I swear it.

I cannot escape this repeating nightmare as I type those decrepit images are replaying on loop in my fucking head. My fucking head isn't mine, where's help? Where are you?

I need to break.

2007-01-06T12:18:00.000+08:00

I had a terrible nightmare. It was so graphic that I puked hot bile out, the images are still in my head. Fuck, I can't eat or sleep. I can't, it's stuck in my head.

I feel crazed, like a sadomasochistic dream. It never washes away, I feel disturbed.

It's not leaving my head. Help help help help help help help

2007-01-06T08:10:00.000+08:00

There's something in all of us, that died a little more inside everyday.
A childlike escape, a lost memory, a rememberance of liberation.
Lost amongst the rubble of society and past failures;
I would give anything to remember myself.

It is a sign, a mark for me to remember. This emotion, this surge of creative energy and brainwaves.

Murder in Romanticism;
Like my mother, who loved with all her heart and faced the adolescent fury.
Like all who have been great and kind and had their faces turned away.
Like the ones who never remember, that always forget, that were always forgotten.
Like my blood that will drip unto the floor, much closer than any ties that you call friendship; for I am I and I live for only I.

Like all the times you've loved and had your heart broken and as you writhed silently on the floor; intoxicated with agony and desperation, the beauty of your fighting heart that always fell prey. Becoming a delicate, softened, creature that knew no evil thoughts. The beauty of giving whole heartedly and never wanting anything back in return; with no wanting to take anything but to give your all.

That's what I want to remember, my mark shall be permanent and it shall be bold. But so is something that you barely feel more than twice.

Will I be any more different? Will I be any worse? Will you think of me the same?

Will I be a different son, a different friend, a judged individual?

Splatter your thoughts like a grey paint, collecting on it's canvas.
But I shall take my hands and paint you my heart, with colours, blood and greens and blues.
Till you understand this sanity, the only thing that is keeping myself alive.
The only reality that I can live in.

Perceptions.

2007-01-04T22:56:00.000+08:00

They call me an artist, a poet, a writer but all I am is in love. They call me alcoholic, a drug addict, a slave to addiction but all I love is to escape. They call me a freak, a satanic lullaby, a call for attention but all I enjoy is pain, self-mutilation, heavy music and a masochist.

I was inspired by Sony's ad. The one where the guy is a robot and he turns human when someone(conincidentally beautiful) and he turns human(coincidentally beautiful).

I wish we were all robots. A plague on humanity. So we would never judge, we would never compliment. I wish no one had perceptions. I wish I looked just as good as you, I wish I could hold her beautiful hands and walk under the rain without the protection of an umbrella and be soaking wet without a care of the world and their fucking perceptions.

I wish I could kiss your forehead endlessly and never have to worry about the world around you. Fuck killing innocent people in wars, we should be killing perception.

Liberation!

A word all of us have forgotten. A word that comes to us in dreams and wishful thoughts. Do you know what I'm thinking about? Do you feel what I feel? Do you yearn to touch me and hold me? I do, I do, I do. All I'm begging for is to see you again, another 45 minute escapade in a reality that did not exist. Just to see you and hear you again like you never knew how I felt.

I'd hold on to you forever. Like absolution in the mist, something you can't see. I'd hold on.

I think of you so much like a NNB CCB C.A.B

2007-01-02T15:11:00.000+08:00

C.A.B = Chao Ah Beng

C.A.B:how ishh euu? i ishh tinkingsss ofz euu lykz crazziiee le.

We ended yesterday on a horrible note. At least worse than the normal goodbye goodnight. I hope everything's fine, I've been driven a little more psycho than usual today. I spent the last hour at my friend's drawing but all the mental images in my mind were of trees and you. So I drew a really scarred tree and another cartoon attempt of you which I must add that is really really horrible. I will never draw nice cartoons, unless I do something really really hardcore extreme abstract. Like stickmen, one boy one girl running around an oak tree in the chilly winter.

You say not to call you a Goddess. You are, and I'm your humble servant so madly in love with you but always hiding her affection in fear of a headless cremation. I don't like my head on stakes and I sure as hell ain't thinking about dying anytime soon.

Schoolwork's crazy(or crazzieezzzz.), I'm short of so much stuff and I won't be finishing tonight for sure. Will probably stretch into the wee hours of 3rd January. Isn't it so much easier to count when it's at the start of the year? Hahaha, I think people get so lost counting up to 30's every month that we forget the days. Well, I haven't forgotten. It's been about 14 days since we first started really talking and I'm still in the craze. You keep me so alive it's almost as though I've never lived. It's been so long since I've felt this way. Oh well, you hate the mushy shit and I shall not chase you away in disgusting affection.

I wonder how's your day been?

I wonder if you're feeling okay or still pissed off.

I just ate, have you eaten yet?

Oh yeah, today a very old secondary school classmate talked to me on msn. I was so shocked, like we haven't had any sort of communication over months and months and all of a sudden she talks to me on msn. Haha, that warm sense of friendly fuddy duddy is in me. She was a good friend, surprising that we got so far apart. She was actually in Singapore Idol but the Top 40 or something like that. But long enough to have been on tv lah. You know Singapore Idol compared to American Idol is so so tame? And so much more entertaining, it's probably the one thing that we can really show ourselves. Besides totally ripping of the show title lah.

My eyes are so tired, I'm gonna nap. Then it's back to my full fledged homework assault, I hope.

22-2-22-33 444-7777 66-666-8 7-444-4 22-88-8 999-666-88 2-777-33 33-2-7777-444-555-555-999 8-44-33 6-666-7777-8 222-44-444-666 4-444-777-555 2-777-666-88-66-3

33-88 777-666-999-666-777-9999 6-666-444 7777-666-222-55-999-999-999-999-999

Mutated Fairytale One.

2007-01-02T11:38:00.000+08:00

He was always the jovial character, the brightest mark of any glooming day, the blossom of a rotting flower. He was always smiling, to strangers, to friends, from innocent babies with blushing cheeks to old women who stood so brave amongst the train crowd. He was a matyr for all things happy, a soldier fighting humanity's greatest war.

Then, in all too tragic a spiralling twist. He sets eyes on a beautiful flower, one that shook his mind and threw his body in convulsions. She held gazes like a bee to a flower. She walked through the crowds like a neon sign, a shimmering streak of hope to a unfortunate world. She help so much hope in her eyes, so much kindness and neverending goodness. Like an angel, she floated amongst the masses of admirers. Never stopping to allow them the slightest of conversation. He wondered in amazement, even the most dubious of princes and the richest of merchants had not been able to steal away her attention.

He was astounded. Walking away, to the green pastures. The ones that help undulating richer greens and the surface a more sickly, nauseating green. He walked in time, with her on his mind like a magic spell. He saw her running across fields of golden corn, only turning around to ever so playfully taunt him with her eyes. He surges forward in dreamlike ecstacy and glee. They ran about in her acres of garden and floral heavens for hours and hours till the day came to a darkened grey and they left for home.

Smiling he awakes, numbed in sleeping thoughts and the beautiful dream. He realises the pain of waking and the bitter aftertaste it holds. He takes a stroll, he does not believe his weary eyes. There, she is. The flawless flower of beauty, she is sitting in the grass. Her dress dirtied, her cheeks sore, her knees bleeding. He rushes over and helps her to a dry log.

She had been robbed, of her most precious of gifts. Her emerald necklace that had been inherited from her Heavenly heritage. Who would do such audacious acts in Merryland? He wondered in disbelief and amazement. He held her hand but she pushed his away, she was fearful. Oh so fearful of yet another thief, how could anyone have known a thief's face by it's features and expressions? Afterall, couldn't it all have been an act to steal her other jewels or an attempt to kidnap the precious daughter of Merryland?

Then she looked into his eyes and saw his heart. His strength and his good nature. He looked into hers and fell into a dream. Golden dresses with sparkling silk tunics, she had the most beautiful gown of all. Her hair twisting so beautiful around her back in a grace of a Swan, her eyes like doors to the heavens. As she walked, the area behind her darkened till only she could be seen. Everything around her turned dim and there she was. Standing in the lonely light. They danced the night away till their feet grew tired and the wine had brought them a happiness no night had ever witnessed.

He kissed her in farewell and held her close to him. If only he had known, he would have held her closer and would have not let go.

He left home to witness a tragedy that only evil witchery could perforn.

End.

2007-01-02T06:06:00.000+08:00

It's 6 and I'm not really that tired since I woke up at like 11?

I want to make a public apology to all that I have forgotten during the passing of 2006. Happy new year guys!May 2007 hold more beer than 2006 did.

I fucking miss Dwayne and bunch. How we used to drink Heineken's(the big coffeeshop bottle) like it was water. 10 each, a bomb spent every single time. How we started discovering this whole world of body modification and tattoos together, how we worked together at Timbre, smacking some slap into the faces of high and mighty. Aiyah, plus we live so near each other.

I also fucking miss my secondary school chums. I wonder how they're doing. Gee, must it always be someone's birthday for us to meet up to chill? I saw Kenneth Liew in the bus in the other day. Everybody's changing so quick. To think we were bloody bitter enemies in a love triangle, to think he actually got Daniel Li to punch me in the face. Gee, Chee Hong has already gotten his bike. I ride the common bus.

Have a great 2nd Jan everybody. I will drown under my homework. Damn it.

5 minutes to midnight!

2007-01-01T23:56:00.000+08:00

I was starring at some new clock my Dad bought for me, it has all that big digital numbers and stuff. Pretty cool. I then realised it said 11:55. I was transported in memory to Bedok jetty, yesterday. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh, you made me more happy than I'd ever been.

I'm sorry, I don't have much time. So, it's gonna be easy this one.

Everything's like a crazed painting, splotches of black amongst the pink, messy yellow and white lines on the flower petals. I have so little time left to complete everything and deadlines are coming. Plus Amande just sent me next semester's clay workshop timetable. Gee, will I even make it that far? I wonder. I hope you will understand? I wish I could hear your rants and be there to talk cock with you all day long, trust me I'd rather do this than anything in the whole world. I hope all's fine, stay strong. And besides, you kinda need the time too.

It'll always be you from now on, from which if you were actually even referring to me. I had to take a chance so yeah.

To wire bending and mad sketching!

01/01/2007

2007-01-01T23:34:00.000+08:00

I just got up not too long ago. Handphone was a mess, missed calls here and there and most importantly. I missed the message twice! I feel like a stupid midget who stood under the sky as wishing stars flew above my crown and I never had a clue.

7777666777777999, 4 9666885553 3666 266999844-444664 8666 22244266433 4448. 444 44666733 99966688 277733668 2664777999.

644477777777 99966688 5554445533 266 244 2233664.

Handphone's ringing again.

Oh, tonight is full fledged homework assault!

00:00:00

2007-01-01T09:51:00.000+08:00

That was a beautiful, beautiful time. Close to being the most wonderous and fufilling thing that happened in oh so yesterday's 2006. I was in a land of dark skies, falling stars and fiery unicorns. I was trapped but had never felt so free, I was bound but never restricted. Oh, I would love to paint this portrait of a heavenly place with vocabulary but I apologise. My eyes are failing to stay open, my body is wreck with fatigue and my mind is 5 minutes from shutdown.

Let's just say I 'spent' the passing minutes of 2006 and the inception of 2007 with a very special person, over the phonelines. Right now, I love love love love love Starhub for not cutting me off and Sony Ericsson for making phones that last for the most importance of moments. Well, kinda. I could be a real big bitch but I am nice because I am happy.

Here beautiful,
School work preparation is horrible, FIRST ALWAYS HOLDS THE REAL PRIZE.

Make me a writer;
I shall never forget all the times.
Silently, watching the Neverend.
Charismatic in all her charm,
Having been lost in her eyes.
A lullaby to my ears,
,

You expected a lonely poet.
Opposed to reconnection;
Under the starlit nights.

Monstrous, I shall walk again, in, your gaze.
Admidst your starring crowds;
Dis-symmetry.
Escaping, the ogre must hide.

Menancing, your beauty scares.
Empowered by my fear.

Thee have crossed thy admirer's heart.
Hallowed by Cupid's arrow.
Embracing in dancing embarassment.

Harps, hear the harps.
As you watch these golden ribbons;
Persuade forthward.
Persist, I must.
In all that hearts hold, I trust. It;
Emulates the purest of emotions;
So heavy in sadness,
Tilting reversal in glee.

Belong; Who do we?
O' Sweet love.
Your heart holds mine.

To bleeding days;
Oh, we shall embrace.
Darkened nights with chilly howling;
As we watch the moon dying,
You shall then fuel the sun.

Little Twerp.

2006-12-31T18:27:00.000+08:00

I'm actually dedicating a portion of my concentration and energy to writing a hate entry on personifying a little twerp like creature. I can't believe that my all loving soul has a spot of hate inside of me to churn out vicious thoughts and malicious intentions to hurt this person emotionally. Oh well, I hope I don't get too good at this.

Well, twerp. I'm not going to be one to watch you if you fall along behind so start running faster, yes? Catch up Senor? Si? Si. You are a trampled disgraced of what has been known of friend. You have walked over my head and others like Jesus walking on fucking water. You have pushed my patience to all new highs and I guess little bitch, this is where I put my book down and smack you right across the table. I will not subcumb to any of your infantlike whining or behaviour anymore. Not everyone will treat you like your mother, with the patience and love that only someone who has gone through 9 months in labor to regurgitate your living breathing shell can give. I apologise for the rude languange, no, maybe I don't. You know I'm referring to don't you? You're the friend abusing little bitch who starts stepping on all of her friend's heads. Oh yes, there, there, hiding in your pathetic little excuse for a shadow. You stick out like a sore thumb, like a sore cactus, all right?

Yes, we used to be friends. I'm sure of that, emphasis on the past tense. I'm not one to pick up those who fall(well, not all. Just you in this one.), if you're too fucking stupid to piss me off and all then stay on the ground. Stand up and I will see that you will hit the ground again(You being a little female twerp will not be physically harmed by me, I will humiliate you and bury you beneath my feet.) and that you will stay down when my eyes roam your gaze.

I am a crazy, emo, bastard(Yes, can't believe it? Well, is this big enough a clue dumbfuck?), great. Well, with all due respect. You are a crazed, psychotic, lying, self-repulsive, physical disaster of a homo sapien(that's what we're called scientifically, darling.). If you actually started thinking about living life and actually coexisting with others, we would not derive at this conclusion.

So, you deleted me from MSN? Well, fucking thanks. That's about the best thing you've ever done for me. It was a favour that you should have done actually, from the start. Do you seriously not know how fucking repulsive and in denial you are? Little 17 year old twerp? Do you not know who the fuck you are? Do you not?

And if I for one second think about what we did in the past, I would dismember my fingers and bury them under the ground. Jesus, you actually took my hand and held it? Jesus fucking christ fucking mary sally wally and annie, the audacity. Well, if it's any help identifying yourself again(I'm dropping too many clues, almost intentionally but not entirely, yeah.). You took your O levels this year 2006? While all of us your 'friends'(It could just be me.) were trying to push you to work harder, what the fuck did you do? How did you respond? Well, little baby you wanna suck on something? Take your thumb out and stuff your naive beliefs in. Fuck you and shut your fucking fanny trap. Take your fat bitch's ass downtown and sell your goods, smack that right up. Oh not your ass, silly. Smack that fucking excuse for something you look in the mirror in. Smack that, oh wait. Do you get me? Hit yourself and hopefully you will knock yourself out. For the few 4 hours, 4 hours of pure bliss. It would be the best of your life, the best, I promise. Oh yes, I'm getting all high on my anger now.

You will never ever, walk into my eyes as a friend. Don't you ever fucking try to contact me again, don't you ever fucking try to apologise, don't you ever fucking try to let me hear you bitching about me behind my back. You will incinerate in the ashes of www.theblogcalledit.blogspot.com and every internet profile I can make, I'm talking friendster and myspace and SOFT.com.sg and sgcafe and whatever websites you haunt. I will consolidate my anger and give it all to you if you even try to piss me off again.

Well, did you expect quote crazy emo bastard unquote to fucking cry and sit back? Well, I would have but you've pushed me too much. If it isn't good enough that I'm depressed and that I snapped then fine. You had to push me, you just had to. Look at my fucking msn nick. It reads, what does it feel like to die tonight, what does it feel to be the only one that's feeling alive. Do I sound like I'm in the mood for sarcastic snide remarks? Do I, really? Let me tell you something, I haven't slept for about 2 nights consistently. I have been a quote crazy emo bastard unquote. Well, since you can fucking read and type. Does that really mean I'm in the mood for your shit? Look, tell you what. Turn around, yes turn around.Stand on top of your table, and jump. If you jump continously from your table to your bedroom floor for like close to a thousand times. You might understand what I'm trying to say. Suck on that, bitch. No wait, I meant tranny. Gee, I'm evil.

Well, itsy bitsy spider spun it's little web and you're stuck in it. Get the fuck out of my life you indignant piece of trash.

Thank you.

2006-12-30T04:23:00.000+08:00

Thank you for making me feel ever more alive than before I met you. Thank you for the perfect nights, for your time. Thank you for filling my veins with dreams of a future, for hope is what keeps us all going. Thank you for forever, thank you for being so demure and alluring. Thank you for not just saying no straight to my face, thank you. Lastly, thank you for taking care of yourself in the future. Please.

I have great pals. I called Sylvia about my decaying plight and she reacts like a fireman. She calls Jon and Andrew down to accompany me. I don't know what would have happened if they did not come to meet me. I was on a high so badly I didn't even feel my legs. The cough syrup hit me like a bomb, the effects are still lingering. Never really leaving, just like me. Never really leaving. Thanks guys, for the concern, love and for watching over me, Thank you.

I watched my empire crumble before me, on my golden throne of immortality. It was so beautiful, the way you pillaged and rode away in the shimmer of moon light.

A verse from Copeland's Brightest.

If you find yourself here on my way of town, I pray that you would come to my door.
And talk to me like we don't know what we ever fought about, because I don't remember anymore.
I just know that warms my heart and knows what all my imperfections are.
And she said I was the brightest little firefly in her jar.

Goodbye, hope still surges through my veins.

Dusk And Summer

2006-12-30T04:21:00.000+08:00

Dashboard Confessional - Dusk And Summer

She smiled in a big way
The way a girl like that smiles
When the world is hers And she held your eyes
Out in the breezeway down by the shore
In the lazy summer

And she pulled you in
And she bit your lip
And she made you hers
She looked deep into you as you lay together
Quiet in the grasp of dusk and summer

But youve already lost
But youve already lost
But youve already lost
When you only had barely enough to hang on

And she combed your hair
And she kissed your teeth
And she made you better than youd been before
And she told you bad things you wished you could change
In the lazy summer

And she told you laughing down to her core
So she would not cry
And she lay in your lap as she said
Nobody here can live forever
Quiet in the grasp of dusk and summer

But youve already lost
But youve already lost
But youve already lost
When you only had barely enough to hang on

She said No one is alone the way you are alone
And you held her looser than you would’ve if you ever couldve known
Some things tie your life together
With slender threads of things to treasure
Days like that should last and last and last

But youve already lost
But youve already lost
But youve already lost
When you only have barely enough of her to hang on
Hang on
Hang on
Hang on

Hit me.

2006-12-29T16:16:00.000+08:00

My counselor/therapist/conduct officer told me that I should write more to express myself and emotions, rather than bottling it all up like a psyched stillborn. I don't know what else to do anymore. I didn't mean to take up after some sneaky bastard who uses such cheap methods to get your attention. I apologise again.

I have been through a pretty crazy night, it was heavenly and perfect. I have been through enough in that one night to construct an entire novel out of it. It has the tragic ending, the rejection, the mutilation and the cry your eyes out parts.

I'm on my way to author-dom. I won't be posting it up here, it feels a tad naked to do something like that. However, I'll send to the respective involved and of course to the special people. Thank you for your concern, I'm good.

I feel like a punching bag.

2006-12-29T12:12:00.000+08:00

What's forever, what's absolute, what's tomorrow that will be from today. Believe it or not, we were for a day. We were untouchable, we were divine, we were whole for one night. We didn't feel the emptiness that everyday life brings, I was there for you and you were there for me. I starred deep into those eyes from the prying world and I gazed into a world. A world just like mine.

Nothing's forever, nothing will be absolute. There is no next year from this year but there is what we shared. Not forever, but it is absolute for as long as you want it know. The fairytale will continue and I will take the writing pen, you can end your share of it all. You can leave it all behind, just don't ignore me. Please, don't ignore me.

Heaven is here and you know it.

Grasping.

2006-12-28T03:56:00.000+08:00

I thank you for being so understanding. I'd hate to just leave things on such a flimsy note but you have to know that we both have issues that we must solve through our own means first. It's hard for me to just drop things like that even in my situation. I've never been a vindictive person and you know me as well. I thank you for being so thoughtful and that maybe someday. After all the hurting's over, we can meet up and talk about old times. :)

I sat myself upright, my chair facing the window, spewing in cold rainy blasts. I sat there montionless, so tranquil with the rain splashing on my face in sober awareness. I almost felt like I'd been transported to Australia. Like it was those cold, shivering mornings where I would brave the chill in my pajamas for an early morning smoke. Usually, Ann would be there. We'd exchange greetings and a smile. Talk about the day or rather days to come and so on. She's the elite few of the group I call old people, that truly charm me. Then, I'd return into my mom's dorm room. Shivering, warmed by the glow of her early morning smile and coffee. She's made breakfast, usually cereal with milk and a dab of yoghurt. I'd sit there attentively, watching like a puppy watching his master's every action in loyal admirative gaze. We'd then eat, usually I'd be the only one eating. Apparently, Mom's never the breakfast person, She'd have her coffee. We'd watch the morning telly, usually the news. In Singapore, I'd never bother. But over in Sydney, I followed every article religiously like a pious follower in search of enlightenment. I'd then wash up. The strangest thing about taking a bath in that kinda of weather, is that no matter how hot the water is, it always feels superbly good and also that once you step out of the bathing cubicle, you start to freeze almost immediately.

We'd then change, get ready to head out. I'd usually be smoking again, waiting for Mom to put on vanity's wonder powder and such. We'd step out, occasionally meeting Ben, the landlord. Brief greetings and exchanges about the weather and about life back in Singapore. We'd walk out, very comfortably. Comfortable, the very meaning mesmerizes me into a trance like state. That's how I feel whenever I'm with my Mom. Comfortable, secure and most of all, at peace. We'd walk against the glare of the afternoon sun, talking about art, philosophy, religion, the past, the hopeful present, the life we once shared. We'd be so comfortable talking that it would almost feel like we were locked in maternal embrace but we were just walking side by side. It felt and feels so real, that feeling of security and love.

We'd fall out of it once in awhile. I can be a very spoilt baby at times, always quick to err and complicate issues with my instinctive pride. But we'd always fall get through it by the end of the day. We have a, argue before the day is over policy that I have never quite lost grasp of.

I miss my Mom so much, I hurt inside without knowing. I ache so badly, I actually feel my heart break. I'd swear over and over never to betray her trust but yet again, I find myself contradicting my former words of brave filial respect.

I bought a $200 bag today. It's some Manhattan Portage bag, I feel horrible. I feel like shit, retail therapy does not work for me. I'm sorry Mom, I should've known. I'm so sorry, I never learn. Thank you for never leaving me to wallow alone, I miss you so much and I'd give anything in the world right now to just go over there and spend one last meal with you. The one that I missed on the day you left, the lunch that kills me inside everytime I think about it. I'm missing you.

Oh sweet lungs, don't fail me now.

Hybrid Rebellion.

2006-12-27T07:32:00.000+08:00

Here's the most recent accidental snap of the night(Or Morning) after Rudy's Christmas Gathering, decided to walk a couple of bus-stops to get all the many thoughts out and letting them battle each other in a Contender series of thoughts and something I snapped long long ago on the set of "The Light Year's" at Sentosa.

So I got up really early today, sleeping for like a couple of hours. I was doing a 2 step dance with woozyness and I decided to just get the fuck up and do something. So here I am.

Copeland's 'accquiring process' is finished, Malevolent Creation's 'accquiring process' is also about up.(Quote, Unquote Jon Yang x1000000).

Apparently, my little primary 5 cousin typed in joel heng sheng dao in google and found my blog. Not too sure if it's this one. If it is, well helloo Cherise and Nicole. You people are too shy of me, I'm nice big and friendly. Like the BFG, in a fat way of course.

I haven't dealt with reality that she's in a faraway land, shivering in the cold, eating breakfast with Caleb right now. Partially, she's still staying at Toa Payoh at her friend's. Partially, she's somewhere right around the corner for me to run to.

Oh gee, I am a fucking baby am I not?

Here's the most recent accidental snap of the night(Or Morning) after Rudy's Christmas Gathering, decided to walk a couple of bus-stops to get all the many thoughts out and letting them battle each other in a Contender series of thoughts.

2006-12-27T03:24:00.000+08:00

I swear you bring the tears, the laughter, the pain and the joy.

I really really wish I could be somewhere else.

Deflated.

2006-12-26T20:39:00.000+08:00

I feel defeated today. I don't have that sense of male pride and machoism in me anymore. I feel greyishly empty in a world of bright neon lights and white flashes. Even the crowd over at Loyang Point(The very heartlander shopping mall near my place) seems to be in higher spirits. I have a reached a certain low, not a low caused by petty little squabbles. I feel a low like I've probably never felt, it feels like a deflated rubber ball, thrown away to squander meaningless time in unsavoury abandonment.

Yes, I feel like my mom has abandoned me. For her dreams and what not, I deserve it anyway. I was the horrible teenager that drove her to Sydney. I feel so sorry inside I would do anything to turn back time and just live life back in that old dirty rented flat in Tampines. Just my mom, grandma and me. I would gladly give up my tattoo and earlobes just to relive those happy days. Happy as I proclaim it but Lord knows how much I screwed up everyone's life in that scrubby apartment. I wish I hadn't left, I wish I always kept my cool and struggled onward with my Mom. I wish I could sleep in my Mom's lap like I used to while watching tv.

You guys know? My Mom has always supported everything I've done. Every damn wrong thing other Mothers would label as the habits of a ahbeng or some satanic motherfucker. She never forbade me to explore my own interests. Like body modification. Every modification she was there with me, fetching me a cup of warm and specially diluted soup when my tongue was sore or getting me iron tablets or forcing 6mm plugs down a 4mm ear hole. She never told me no or that I was a disgrace. My Mom has always been proud of everything I've done. From pursuing my career in film to helping me get the actual contacts. Now that I think about it, she has always been the one who's pushing me from behind everytime I want to drop everything to the floor and scoot away.

And now, she's gone for another year. All I have left with her the moment she walked out of sight from the airport entry gate is overseas calls and messages. Fuck life. It is cruel beyond any form of mutilation and I can't say I love it at the moment. The only people that keep me alive are rapidly decreasing by the number and I am going to be the sole survior in a land of flesh eating bacterial vermin in no time.

I feel defeated. Lost to some alter ego of my own, in a tragic battle of wits and physical strength. My chin is too heavy to lift up or turn around anymore. I am defeated.

For now, leave me alone. I just feel like being by myself. Let me wallow in my selt pity and hatred. I will wake up from these masochistic nightmares in a second too soon for my own good.

Sadly, no.

2006-12-25T06:19:00.000+08:00

I just came back from MOS and Devil's Bar. In a surge of relentless 18 year old teenage hormones, I walked right through those dark doors. Did I have fun? Well, kinda.

But do I understand what the hype on clubbing is about? Still, not really.

So my guests, that was how my 'illustrious' Christmas Eve was spent. I wish it was more meaningful and special but sadly, no. For a day that once held so much meaning to me, like a mad rampage of festive feel-goodness and a love for a deeper understanding. Sadly, no.

Today marks the first yearly anniversary I first met the group of friends that I call my 'brothers'. I wish I spent the evening with Hakim, the guy is a joy to be around but sadly, no.

I wish I could go to my aunt's house and celebrate christmas with people that I spent so much of my days with in my younger years but sadly, no. I'm the blacksheep in their eyes, the only inheritance to the Heng surname that has turned into a masochistic, drug abusing, alcohol abusing, smoking gangster. My pride turned me backward from your door and like I swore, I will never return into your accusing gaze, not even for a funeral wake. The things you've done to put me and my mother to shame will cost you a forebearance of my hatred inherit. Thank you but sadly, no.

I hope everybody's fine. I miss the church people, I really do. I wish I could go back to SPP and St Mich like a long lost brother that they'd embrace in their arms but sadly, no. I would go back to St Mich's and sit a couple of seats away from the perfect ex-girlfriend and give her a slight smile. But after all that she's done to push me away in return for my ignorance, sadly, no.

I make things complicated. I guess that's what all our lives are for. For the very important task of complicating other people's lives. You see, that's the only way a person grows inside of his conscience and character. I could derive at a million theories at how life is unimportant. I have become a near expert at the subject with my own voice in my head.

Starlight trickles that spread across our ashen sky,
A deeper understanding of our chemistry and I;
fail to grasp your hand in a gaze of heroism.
Hope spreads it's black wings in flight of failure.

Caution, reads the neon signs.
Common sense spirals downward in it's malevolent demise.
I know I shouldn't but I must.
Spread my black wings in flight of failure.

2006-12-24T05:08:00.000+08:00

I want to remember this moment, I am reliving that experience again and this is something I never wanna forget.

The feeling of being lost, that constant urge to make a certain decision but never having the willpower to do so. That anxiety, that fear, that loss of confidence.

I feel like I'm 14 again.