:: are there angels or devils crawling here? ::

:: Thursday, April 24, 2003 ::

Haven't been blogging for quite a bit.
Things in school are really picking up some mad momentum. Pressure is mounting relentlessly, especially for the history cohort.
So i'm a little stressed out.
Just a bit.

Slipped school on Wednesday. No regrets there. Its a short school day and the periods are dominated by economics. Since Miss Yue teaches economics in the gremlin's native tongue, its not altogether constructive. Besides i think i'll be getting some professional tutoring soon, thanks to Chester. At least i may have a bit of a chance with that subject now.
Finished the painting for art in the comfortable confines of home, and then realised i was pretty darn late for a very important farewell lunch.
Because Ian is getting the penultimate of all haircuts. The Army Custom Crew Cut. He's going to the army.
So he's having a buffet lunch. With Grace, Gwen, Claire and me. At a certain restaurant in Taka. Not bad actually.
Ian looked ok, in fact. He looked much worse on the day the 'A' level results were released.
i really wonder how it feels the day before you get into the army.
i sort of look forward to it, but also with a bit of dread. Because i dread the things that might happen to my knee in training, and i dread not having carbonara.
But i guess it won't be too bad. At the very least, in the army you actually get to have the perfect wife: a rifle.
A sword would probably be sexier, but nobody gets everything all the time.

But i digress. Or haven't you noticed?
So here's to Ian. For all the grime, grit, goo and gunk you - and i soon enough - will have to sludge through, Cheers. God bless.

Donq came over that evening. Haven't seen that bugger in so long. He came over for one specific mission in mind: to watch the Real Madrid- ManU match at 2 in the morning. i'm never one to care a great deal for soccer, but its Real and its ManU, and its 2 in the dead of the night. For the sake of novelty, friendship and one hell of a match-up, i'll go the distance.
The match lived up to its expectations- it was exhilarating; but it didn't live up to mine... Real lost 4-3. Whaat.
Towards the end of the match, Donq and i resembled zombies sprawled before a TV set. 4am, and we have school in 3hrs.
bleah.

Thursday, then, today.
bleah.
michael resembled a zombie with a schoolbag.
But today's Kevin's birthday. He's 18 now. And the class had quite a few presents for him. First was the apron with the words 'If Aunty Kwan can bake, so can you' splashed nicely across. And then there's the pillow conveniently in the McDonalds color theme. And some other stuff i think. So the poor little rich kid has his rich days.
And here's to you, Kwan. May he outdo the McDonald's empire with brownies and bhangra. Hell yeah.

The rest of the day did not turn out quite as well. Creffield lined about 6 of us up and treated us with her extended verbal assault. Because i didn't write one paragraph of an essay. i ought to kill myself six times over. One paragraph. i specifically told myself i would do the damned assignment. Its one measly fucking paragraph!.
Then i got a earful from Alan Dunn too. i'm not keeping up with my schedule for the stained glass piece. And i still have a clay figure. He thinks i'm skipping my art periods. But i'm not, though for some reason i didn't quite explain that to him.
And then there was 4hr two-part international history lecture. Which included the timeline i specifically told myself to do. Which i did, but conveniently forgot to bring. i seriously believe i have a problem with memory. Walking out of school at 830pm, i came to the conclusion that this particular thursday wasn't very nice.

When i found myself home, the first thing i heard was my neighbour doing her nightly occultic ritual of crying her guts out and pissing everyone off. And no, i checked, she's not being abused or anything. The 12-year old piece of shit just refuses to go to bed. And then there were my parents, whose faces were rather blackish. They had been quarreling again.
So there's no dinner. i'm feeding my hunger with some noodles from lunch. i hate bee hoon. And a bit of wine, if you haven't realized.
Quite a bit of wine.
:: Michael 4/24/2003 07:35:00 AM [+] ::
...

You are Vlad the Impaler. The man behind the legend
of Dracula. You hanged your victims, stretched
them on the rack, burned them at the stake,
boiled them alive, but mostly impaled them.
Most of your killings were politically targeted
but sometimes you killed just because you were
bored. Your "reign of terror" lasted
from 1456 to 1462. Estimated numbers of victims
vary between 30,000 and more than 100,000.
Evil Evil man. Fie on you!


Which Imfamous criminal are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Aww. That was so sweet.

Actually that synopsis of Uncle Vlad did not quite do him justice. Let me put in my two cents worth.
Warning: Do NOT read the following if you feel queasy easily, or just had a meal. Especially a meal with oily innards.

Uncle Vlad, when in the mood, has a certain idiosyncracy that he practices when he impales his victims. He would oil the stakes in boiling lard. And contrary to what that woodcut above depicts, only the luckiest of people get to be impaled horizontally. Most of the time, he would have the victim vertically balanced over the stake, then lower the writhing subject unto it. The penetration point would be the convenient orifice in the nehther region, depending on the person's gender.
The victim would literally slide down the pike, helped in no small way by the lard. The fact that its pretty hot forces the human kebab to stay on the brinks of consciousness. The throes of painful death can last anywhere between five minutes to past half an hour.

Yeah, i never really liked Uncle Vlad either.
Inflicting agony on the human body is completely without taste whatsoever.
i personally prefer tormenting the mind.
:: Michael 4/20/2003 03:40:00 AM [+] ::
...

For some obscure reason, my computer seemed to have decided to emerge from the bowels of its electronic tantrum and actually start functioning.
To that end, i therefore believe that my computer is a female. She stopped messing things up the moment she realized nobody gives a flying fuck.

Which brings me to my topic. Christine Tan actually said i shouldn't be such a sexist.
So here's my take.
No- i'm no male chauvinist. i'm a staunch anti-feminist. There is a difference. A male chauvinist believes in the superiority of the male gender. That is the most naive and foolish assumption anyone can ever make. Especially in this day and age, where superiority is measured by your intelligence, shrewdness, pragmatism and manipulation. So step down the males, and welcome to the world ruled by females, behind-the-scenes, but dominated by females nonetheless. Because they were genetically bred to be smart, cunning, cruel and manipulative since the beginning of time. And they don't possess the males' testosterone-driven need to announce these qualities aloud. 'Behind every successful man is a woman'. Guess what that really means.
i'm a anti-feminist because i have a strong urge to beat the living crap out of anyone who thinks that there can ever be equality among the genders. Mark my words: there's no such thing as equality. The very fact that there is a God should be a good enough hint. And this is even more so in the case of the sexes. History has hidden yet another great war, and that is the war of the genders. Men may seem to have have reigned in a primitive age when masculinity, muscle, libido and simple-mindedness were the order of the day. But this 'reign' is quickly over with the emergence of civilisation, politics, laws and order. Man's weapons are his arms, his sword and his pathetic dick. Woman's weapons include her tongue, her mind, her beauty, politics, laws, 'order', civilisation and, well, men. The male's eternal curse is that thing hanging between his thighs. Call it masculinity, testosterone, libido, or lust. Its his curse. Its this that causes men to be impulsive, arrogant, sexually-driven, and ultimately be stupid. Its this that is the true power of females.
The moment the female found reason for a male not to kill her simply because he wants to is the moment the tide of war turned forever.
So if a female wants to make your life a living hell, she can, and she can do that many times over. i rank them at the absolute top of any WMDs. So actually if Bush wanted to destroy Saddam's weapons of mass destruction, he should have looked in his harem first.
That's the way i see it. Of a course, there are always exceptions.
But here's my battle plan. Its highly classified and a lot is still under a shroud of secrecy. we have to learn their game. we have to learn everything they have developed over the millenia. Then we have to play them on their grounds and beat them at their own game. Feminine traits reveal high tendencies of jealousy, envy, vanity, competitiveness and very proficient at holding grudges and resorting to drastic measures. There is the high possibility of turning the females against each other. So far the Cosmetics Branch and the Third Fashion Phalanx have collaborated with optimistic results, effectively draining female financial resources. But they have developed yet another defense line, called 'Boyfriends'. Proposals are needed for a counter-counter-offensive.

Oh, and by the way, have a happy Good Friday. Jesus had blunt, rusted nails hammered into his wrists and feets today 2000 years ago. Yay.


:: Michael 4/17/2003 09:54:00 PM [+] ::
...

blogging under GP Tan's nose.
Ok. Bad metaphor. Bleah.

Can't get online on my home computer. Can't use kazaa. Can't blog.
Saturday and Sunday last week were two very significant days. i really have to thank those people who i asked to pray for me- no questions asked. This is michael in gratitude.
Some things are resolved, some questions answered. That's for the best under the current circumstances, i suppose.

And i finalized the song, with a third and final verse. Here's the lyrical version.

I Pray
pass me by, another day
find me lost, losing my way
and there's no one to care
about my quiet pains
and nobody to call
when it rains

Bridge:
and my friends tell me that maybe
there is someone up there
waiting for me

Chorus:
And i pray, i pray
i want to believe
But the world is not so black and white
(love is not so beautiful)
like the Bible says
~

i wouldn't know the reaason why
bad things happen, good people die
'cause i'm not God
i'm a foolish man
there are things i will
never understand

Bridge; Chorus

so pass me by, another day
and my part, i will play
'cause i'll keep on walking
i will keep on falling
till the day that i find
my goddamn meaning

Bridge

so i'll pray, i'll pray
i want to believe
the world is not so black and white
like the Bible says
But still i'll pray, i'll pray
i want to believe
love is not so beautiful
like the Bible says

But still i'll pray
~
:: Michael 4/13/2003 11:17:00 PM [+] ::
...

This particular Wednesday did not turn out well.
Bad, bad day.
Nothing to do with going back to school though. The pressure is up but thats inevitable and everyone's prepared for that. i'm really trying to get down the grime and grit of mugging, and for the sake of irony, i'd say that to an extent the quarantine effectively veered me back on track. The hours of listening to the grass grow actually got me
wanting to get back to the rhythm of things. And the quarantine also allowed a time for me to tie up loose ends.

What sucks is this.
my computer fucking crashed this morning. So everything is gone.
E.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g.
my portfolio of writings and art. Gone. Information, references, notes and material i gathered. Poof. Martial arts and weaponry research materials. Gone.
Say "Fuck." Say it and that's a sinful understatement. Fuck.
Mum was pissed too. i wonder why, 'cause her documents are always saved in a CD-RW anyway. At that time, there's just mum, the maid and me. Guess who mum chose to vent on? Dingdingding! You got it! Yours truly.
Uh. i'm sorry mum, but i thought crashing the comp and kissing my stuff goodbye WAS JUST A BIT OF BLEEDIN' FUN!

Lets move on to the main course, shall we?
An old friend called. He's having "girl problems". In his defence, he is a great guy. Very sentimental and sensitive. But i don't believe i'm the perfect candidate to consult on how to make relationships work. Thats equivalent to asking Dr Mahathir for tips on how to keep one's mouth shut. It doesn't work.
But he's a friend. He needed a talk and i suppose i could offer a bit of help, based on the charming experiences i have. He was in the region and i pointed him to my home.
And here's the soup of the day. When i went to pick him up, Cecile was with him. i had a bad feeling the moment i stepped into the station. In a weird way, i knew she'd be there. But i would never have known what seeing her would do to me. Ever had the feeling when your heart feels like spontaneously combusting while its slowly being ripped apart by a blunt rusty knife, and your stomach corrodes in freezing acid, your intestines play hide-and-seek and your brain changes places with your butt?
Of course thats an exaggeration.
My brain will never change places with lump of fat.

Fact is, i'm writing like this because i have to detach myself from the pain. It hurt. A lot.
She handed back a book i lent her when we were still together. We didn't have to talk, i knew the book had nothing to do with this coincidental meeting. She proved her point.
My friend had nothing to do with it. i know that because i know him, and i definitely know her. And he knew i would have wrung his neck dry of blood if he got involved.
We did manage to solve his problem. He just had to be less wishy-washy. That was that, and he was off to see the girl in question.

The book happened to be "Hannibal" by Thomas Harrison. How appropriate. And clamped within its pages was a letter. i might talk about the letter someday, or i might not. Suffice to say it did not help things. Its not a good time ever for doubt and weakness.
i would say this though. The film Casablanca is a beautiful classic and would always rank as one of my favorites. And one famous quote went "Here's looking at you, kid." Its a simple line, and people who never caught the film would never know, but it meant so much more. i said that once to Cecile, and she didn't know what it meant then. But now she knows.
Too late? Or just on time? i pray to God its the former.
:: Michael 4/09/2003 05:19:00 AM [+] ::
...

Tuesday
i tried to stay put at home for Tuesday.
i really did.
But when i found myself in Sentosa with Shaun and Pam, i came to the conclusion that i probably didn't try hard enough. It wasn't even a good day to go cycling. The rain clouds loomed everywhere we went. So much for a tan.
We were almost cycling in a perpetual state of dampness. The rain barely stopped when we rented our bikes and started off. Shaun only just learned how to cycle, and the slippery tracks, muddy pools and wet brakes didn't help. But i have to admit it was fun. Watching Shaun trying to tame his bike was like watching a mobile comedy show. Hilarious. i always thought that the best way to learn cycling is to crash at least once. Shaun was probably out to prove me wrong. He had tons of close calls, but never really got close enough to a real vintage graduation collision.
i love the rain. Especially if i'm in my room watching the raindrops fall, with a cup of coffee, good music and maybe a book. Because its not nice to be in the rain. Unless, of course, you are stuck in a rain so heavy it makes you go mad with delight. i say this because towards the last mile, the heavens just puked their watery guts out. It wasn't raindrops, it was rain-Who's-Yo-Daddy. We actually thought to take shelter, but seeing it as the last mile, we went what the heck and tried to break for it. Pam and i just shifted to high gears and plaunged down the mudtracks. We can't see shitspitch, but we did manage to get back to the rental kiosk.
Then we looked around. "Where's Shaun?"
"Oh shit."
"Where's Shaun?"
"Oh shit. Haha, oh shit."
We waited a full minute before seeing a miserable figure emerge out of Niagara. Shaun looked like a 3D looney tune with too much watercolour. Hilarious.

The kiosk belonged to a really nice uncle. We took shelter there and he offered quite a bit of help, and some banter. i was slightly peeved though, i had some books in my bag that got a little wet.
Anyways, i'll have to do this again soon.
:: Michael 4/09/2003 05:07:00 AM [+] ::
...

About 1am on Monday morning.
i write at my best at this hours. Working on Godspeed. i just cleared a stump in the plot.
Almost there. Two weeks tops.

Became an AFUA member today. Thats 'Arts For Us All'. It started when Grace got the president and me to sit down at the Holland V Starbucks to talk about Godspeed. Apparently Edward's interested in the idea of having a film under the AFUA banner. He could find me much better equipment and a camera crew. i only wonder if i can work well enough with them.
Will talk to him again when i finalise the script.

AFUA or not, i really do want this film to be out by the end of this year. A personal project maybe, but more of a self-demand. i'm already 18- i've got to do something. Yet so much is not up to me. Even with the script out, there could be problems every and anywhere. A lot of commitment is needed, not just from me, but also from the cast and crew, and a lot of support too. Again, its all up to God.

Its strange, Lord, i know. For all the bullshit You had to tolerate from me-- this one's for You.

So Godspeed, akan datang...
:: Michael 4/06/2003 10:01:00 AM [+] ::
...

Shaun came by at 5pm. There was supposed to be a trip to Sentosa with Jas, Chia and him. i believe its mainly because Shaun is looking to polish up his newly-acquired biking skills. But for some reason it was called off.
So he came by- Plan B, i think. When he came knocking, it was raining quite a bit. We were planning to go for a run together, so i suppose it was rather appropriate, no? So we goofed around with the weaponry in my room. Then we settled for shooting this stupid drawing stuck to a board, Shaun's rendition of a RJC boofus, with a BB gun. The damn pellets went everywhere but where we want it.
By then the rain hiccuped to a stop.
So we geared up and went off. Shaun had on my camelbak with his player in it.
It wasn't a very good run. That's because Shaun lost in touch with his brains. He barely recovered from his toe injury, his knees were creaky and he hadn't been running for quite some time. Even then he tried to go full out. Madness.

We'll be running again though. Next time its on his home-ground- his turf. Something to look forward to.
:: Michael 4/05/2003 06:41:00 AM [+] ::
...

Shite.
School closure extended due to SARS. JCs reopening on 9th April.
Whaaat.
i have to get back to school. i have to be dissed and cussed at by teachers. i need to have a workload i can't finish so i won't bother. i want the world to start moving again and quit making me feel guilty about my own inertia.

OK, now that that's out of the system.
i finished half of Tim o'Brien's book in one night yesterday. i'm searching my limited vocab to give justice to his writing- its phenomenal. There's so many things i love about his work. First and foremost, i find myself constantly flipping to the title page that says: The Things They Carried; a work of fiction. Fiction. Yet he writes with such authority and authencity. The real Tim may have been in Nam, but he did not drive up north. There's no Elroy. He didn't kill that wanna-be VC mathematician with a grenade. Shit, he didn't even had a daughter named Kathleen. Yet when you read it, it feels genuine, it feels real. It is a stark, searing and powerful protayal of the war experience.
Dammit his "work of fiction" sounds more real than anything Edmund Blunden could cough out.
But TTTC plays with the idea of Truth in the literature of war. For me at least, Tim is saying that in war, nothing is absolute, and you have to go by the feel. What's written may be fiction, and sharp imagination; but as long as it feels real, it happened. Because a war story, "if truly told, makes the stomach believe".

Literature text or not, i'll be re-reading this book and dissecting it myself.
:: Michael 4/04/2003 08:07:00 PM [+] ::
...

Didn't have a good night's sleep last night.
i was looking for my journal last night when i realized i left it at Coffee-Bean that i hung out there that afternoon. Let's just say i slept with my heart swimming in the digestive juices at the pit of my stomach. Not a nice feeling.
i scrawled so much of myself in that inexpensive, non-descript tome. To lose it like that, to be as foolish as to forget to pick it up, is equivalent to self-imposed amnesia. i could curse and swear and beat myself up over it, which i did for a while, but then i took a more proactive approach to the matter- i prayed.
Then i went to the cafe this morning and got my journal back. Is it not interesting how God works? No complains there though. Never look a gift horse in the mouth. Literally, too.

Amy Ng actually sent me an email today, after i handed up my essays to her yesterday. She had all these nice, flowery things to say to me about my commendable working ethics. In other words, she dissed me to high heaven for procrastination. Well, love you too babe.

Whatever. This is one boring Thursday. Uninspired, dank and frustratingly monotonous. Staying home is also bad for health because my mum keeps feeding me. And i heard they might just extend the quarantine in view of the increased spate of SARS cases.
What the hell.
I'm going for a run now.

:: Michael 4/02/2003 11:46:00 PM [+] ::
...

i can't believe i just did that...
Neutral? Peaceful? Harmony and Balance?
i piss at you.

There's only one line that makes sense for me. Go figure.
:: Michael 4/01/2003 09:45:00 PM [+] ::
...

Neutral:
Harmony and balance is key. You don't look at the
world in a negative or positive way and you'll
never judge or assume a situation- you just
look at the facts. People like you are peaceful
and accepting.


What color do you see the world in?
brought to you by Quizilla

:: Michael 4/01/2003 09:43:00 PM [+] ::
...

Monday.
Spent most of the day trying to finish the international history assignment. It would have been easier and faster if not for a few factors. i did not get my notes back from school- they're still in that file. And there's always the domestic distractions- computer, music, guitar, tv, news, food, blah. Its done only after what seemed like WWIV.
Bought a Camelbak on Sunday. Always thought running with good music pumping your eardrums are the way to go. Cost quite a bit, but it didn't matter that much- i didn't have to buy coffees and overrated pieces of steak in school for the next week. So after sending the assignment to Lam on email, i set out for another run. With my SlimX in the camelbak. i know there are people out there who think running with a camelbak, especially one with a player in it, is stupid. Well, screw off. i liked it well enough. Took the same route to school, did the same detour, then decided to take a slightly longer way back home. Again, exhilarating.

Tuesday
Had a cwc gathering at my place. Felt like whatever i burned off yesterday, i regained today. i couldn't help it- curry, you understand. Watched The Hours, and i thought its a beautiful, intense film. Its drawn a powerful cast- Nicole Kidman, Ed Harris, Meryl Streep and the like. i could also go on about the cinematography, directing, screenplay and stuff, but i'd like the film speak for itself. Good shit.
Just realized we had to hand in some Hist1 essays yesterday via email. Dammit, i completed them but its on paper, and even if i scan and hand them in today i'll be in crap anyway.

Wonder what i ought to do tomorrow. Maybe run again.

:: Michael 4/01/2003 04:59:00 AM [+] ::
...