Wednesday, August 31, 2005

adrenalin mixed

I stare at the screen.

H says I need adrenalin rushes.

I am not easily satisfied with my work. When I work on my computer, I feel dry and I need a drink. Right now, I feel like vodka and some apple and grape juice. But I won't, of course. What is written under the influence of alcohol will not be of much meaning, perhaps coffee will suffice.

It is actually fun, the scope of my work, it is about using mixed media in contemporary asian art. Very postmodern, and the theme we have chosen for the kids is 'Identity'.

I hope this fuels my adrenalin rush, art. My passion and my work are one. This is meant to be helpful in productivity. And I will have to fall in love with art all over again to fuel my adrenalin.

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

the mad scorpio that hears noises

Noisy and reclusive. Sociable and antisocial. Crazy but intraverted sometimes. Very rational, and insane. Favourite activities are best done alone or with just one selected other. When I look at these extremes of my personality, I recall what zodiac-nuts say about characteristics attached to time of year of your birthday. I am a Scorpio. Dark and masochistic and mad.

I am hearing noises. The buzzing keeps me insane. I try to ignore it because it is easier, and it is daylight now, not too difficult. H says its a Fight Club scenario. Cal says I have a head cold. I need to talk to my doctor perhaps.

Let's see what google says about the noise:

Hallucinations - Hallucinations can take a number of different forms - they can be:

1. Visual (seeing things that are not there or that other people cannot see),
2. Auditory (hearing voices that other people can't hear),
3. Tactile (feeling things that other people don't feel or something touching your skin that isn't there.)
4. Olfactory (smelling things that other people cannot smell, or not smelling the same thing that other people do smell)
5. Gustatory experiences (tasting things that isn't there)

But it's only buzzing, surely it can't be this serious.

...they heard non-vocal stimuli such as noises, ringing, buzzing, music, or other...
This is a study made on patients who are psychologically unwell. This is what I hear.

Tinnitus is the medical term for "hearing" noises in your ears when there is no outside source of the sounds. The noises you hear can be soft or loud. They may sound like ringing, blowing, roaring, buzzing, hissing, humming, whistling, or sizzling. You may even think you are hearing air escaping, water running, the inside of a seashell, or musical notes.

This one is the closest explanation so far, that I can accept, because I don't want to be mad!

...Colds and flu, being in a noisy atmosphere, allergy flare-up, or any variety of stimuli can increase the intensity of tinnitus noise...
Yes I have allergies, and have been having a flu for a few weeks now. But this implies I have always had this ringing, and only now is it being exacerbated by other factors.

Perhaps I just need to go rest. Hopefully someone will turn the buzzing off soon. Need to do work.


All the noise is keeping me awake.

we are all going mad

My sanatorium poem was not a joke, nor fictional like many of my posts. I really do hear sounds that are mistakes, and I see images that are not really there. Faces stare at me, I hear my handphone ring, and living music or conversation in the drainpipe.

A sanatorium is where mentally distressed people go to stay for a while. I am not stressed now. Neither am I depressed again or similar. I have just a great need to be repaired somewhat.

I really want to rest. For a long time. I wish I could go to Sangklaburi or similar again, and forget all the urbane things, and throw all the shit away, and have complete silence. If I had to stay in a village and use funny toilets, but it was revelation to be there, I will go. If I had to learn to take water from a well in order to be a member of that hillside community, I will. At least, I can be like the Samaritan woman, who met Jesus at the well, and found the man that knew her inside out, like he read her mind. All the men she had, were wasted men, compared to the Jewish King. No man can be good enough to rescue her from all the inevitable hurt those men put her through.

Of course these men don't match up. The yardstick is different to begin with. A girl will never find the perfect lover, unless he is Mr Suave - Jesus Christ. So, I will stop comparing mortal (edible) men to God. It is insane. We all have to stop expecting someone to come along into our lives, to love and rescue us from the hurt we have been carrying from our first kisses till today. Only God can perform such operations. It is a lot of baggage to clear, no man can do that. Even if you really have that man, without Mr Suave around, he will leave when he sees the mess, probably.

I thought about this while the images and sounds of apparitions played in the bathroom, and I couldn't cry while Clarins emulsified on my face. I just snapped - hopefully back and in place - and carried on (my shower too).

My introspection has changed; I spoke to God in imageries and they got thrown back with a 'Don't speak to Me in cryptic' response. What am I thinking? I don't need to hide feelings with words in front of my God, so why am I praying in poetry? Thankfully, God replied my later proper statements. Distilling cryptic thoughts into clear conversation, helps me. I feel the most calm when in proper conversation with my Lover.

Other times, I feel like an Ally McBeal dancing to imaginary music like 'You are my sunshine' when I am walking along Bencoolen Street. All the buzzes in my ear, like chockful of imagined wax - the sounds go on.

Wearing down, am I. Physically sick and mentally ratty, plus I have been in lack of a good intellectual stimulation for a long time.

My spirit needs to be revived. Hopefully, in complete silence and only God. Take my world apart. Send me to an isle or mountaintop, so I can finally rest and fill out. Repair my mental vulgarities. Give me proper solutions that resonate in my fantasies and fictional writing.

The room is still noisy, and my bear is alive. I need to get out of this place I am in, soon.

reluctant and yet-to-be

All the yet-to-be certainty -
the whole whole world is already sure
even her best friend calls you by
righteous name of beloved
they celebrate you
and now, so will I
finally you must admit
the cleaving has already started
your child is on the way.
I point my finger at damnation
and wipe my unformed tears
away, because
the cad is a cad;
most ecstatic love was
mine first;
the reluctant engagement
is only on your part.

"Don't treat her like that anymore, please. Even now, it is time to cut a clean wound"

slam me

Sometimes I wish I were as daring as tristefemme, who slammed her ex-boyfriend for the whole blogosphere to know. Everyone loves to read posts on the ugliness and juice of the lives of others. I found her blog heart-wrenching, and therefore, real-life entertainment-valuable. That is cheap of me I know. Now, everybody knows the story, they even know who the ex is and where he comes from. His name is extremely google-able. Just like many of us are too, surely.

Note: her site is no longer hers alone, she took that one down already. It is still valuable, please read it.

What I want to say is that, whenever I discover more secrets and lies, more about the timely-delayed infidelity that beset me, more about the wanker-behaviour of some people in certain life-aspects, I wish I had that courage to just say what I feel, like the way Elaine would when she was younger and more insensitive towards the dissonance her listeners would experience.

But I won't.

I might take it to my grave, these things, or my lovers will guess it out of me. If I never uproot and bury it well, I might take a wrong turn and have a future family life right out of the nip/tuck mould, or have a painful love story, like a reunion with my lover only in cemented death/retirement as in Love Me If You Dare, something like that. But thankfully, if God, all these remain phantom-nightmares, parallel non-existences.

But if I were to immerse in story-telling, and speak of everything, I would become, unwillingly, a drama script-writer, and everyone who reads will know the characters. Whom I must protect. Because they are nice people who just lie and hide and steal. Sounds like the thief in John 10:10 but no it's not the devil. They might really be nice people, no kidding. They have friends, colleagues and team-mates - definitely likeable.

This betrayal is harder than the last one, which I have already forgotten, and forgiven. But this current two are horridly nice people who make me sick.

I also will not tell, because standing on this end of the stick, I cannot see my own unfaithfulness as well as I can see others. No I have not been sexually adulterous in fact, but in mind, in the could-have-beens, in the maybes, probably. All the maybes. Yet, I have less of them - really. Because I do not keep secrets and hide as much, nor do I lie about the things I have done in those familiar places.


I have been watching Bleach, a Japanese anime series. The character here is Ichigo Kurosaki. He is the protagonist in the story.

Fifteen years old, orange haired dude. Quite cute lah.

Here he is, with Kuchiki Rukia, a small-sized lass weighing only 33kg (it says so on those fan- sites).

She has hair like me. No?

I haven't got to the part where they successfully rescue her yet.

There is also a cute girl with the hugest boobs - Inoue Orihime. The picture here doesn't really show them, yes, but that is precisely why I am posting this one.

Now isn't she sweet.

I love this series, the whole story and the characters are to fall for. Hope to watch more soon.

There are more characters, of course. Might collect more of these pics and put them here. Here is another: Tatsuki, a childhood friend of Ichigo, though they are not very close.

She is quite cute also. Protects Inoue as much as possible, and also looks like a boy. I like her too!

I like this anime a real lot.

Love Song by Third Day

For Enid

I've heard it said that a man would climb a mountain
Just to be with the one he loves
How many times has he broken that promise
It has never been done.
I've never climbed the highest mountain
But I walked the hill of calvary

Just to be with you, I'd do anything
There's no price I would not pay
Just to be with you, I'd give everything
I would give my life away.

I've heard it said that a man would swim the ocean
Just to be with the one he loves
All of those dreams are an empty emotion
It can never be done
I've never swam the deepest ocean
But I walked upon the raging sea

Just to be with you, I'd do anything
There's no price I would not pay
Just to be with you, I'd give everything
I would give my life away.

I know that you don't understand
the fullness of My love
How I died upon the cross for your sins
And I know that you don't realize
how much that I gave you
But I promise, I would do it all again.

Just to be with you, I've done everything
There's no price I did not pay
Just to be with you, I gave everything
Yes, I gave my life away.


makes me feel calm
at the thought of
checking into one

somewhere on the hills
like Naoko went to get
better a place where there

is real quietness

because lingering sounds
of similar frequency
I am misled to check my phone

instead of myself

Monday, August 29, 2005

then that I knew

Now, innocent places
are bad memories and purges
they are hate-pools
because you protect me


just now i was typing
one of the longest posts i have in a while
it all disappeared
stupid blogger
anyway, at least I know what it was. true-blue introspection aye.
- i have to console myself that it was not time all wasted.

they did this to my Sylvia Plath post too! ahhh

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Hard-boiled Wonderland and The End Of The World

I finished the third of my 'Buy 3 for 2' Haruki Murakami books.


Now I need to feed this book to others so that I can talk about it with someone without adulterating anyone's experience of the book! If you haven't read it, I can't talk to you about it! I have already spoilt H's experience of it by telling him the entire story, minus the details about librarians, beer, whiskey, cigarettes and INKlings.

The sci-fi in this book is rubbish, highly rhetorical, and as impossible as it is to teleport human beings. Hah.

The protagonist, is classic Murakami-style. Cat-lover, abandoned husband, avid drinker of whiskeys, reader of classics, and devours jazz music. Nameless loner. Typical of dear Haruki.

He sees beauty in the simplest of beauties. Sounds like he could fall in love with me. Sigh.. Haruki...

Murakami is not afraid to tell of his weakness. Reading him, I find it easier to write as a man without having to be egotistical and chauvinistic as a regular male. Apart from heart-wrenching emotional dependence on lovers and such, he writes about his sexual weaknesses. He talks of being unable to have an erection when he needs one - in this book, I believe is because he is losing slates of his consciousness in this world. Also, in the Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, he talks of giving in to BJs by unknown women in his dreams - and waking up to the damp aftermath of it. As an 30-something adult male. Both protaganists sound sheepish admitting to these happenings.

Ultimately though, my favourite Murakami novel, is still my first -

Norwegian Wood.

Kizuki, his best friend, Naoko, his best friend's girlfriend, and Midori, the girl he met that brought him out of his depression.

Simple things like friendship, the crazy girl-next-door and everyday happenings, make Murakami's protaganists happy men enough.

After reading Hard-boiled, now, I really feel like whiskey, beer and jazz. H will smoke and read the classics for me, since I really abhor Somerset Maugham and have only truly enjoyed one classic author - D H Lawrence.

In the meantime, enjoy the music on dearie Haruki's website. Enchanting. Keemin found it for me months ago.

Many thanks to Edmund, who fuelled my passion for Murakami because he let me know there were other of his fans around.

my short hair

Here is the first pic I have in my short hair! I look like a boy! Yay.

This was taken in Eujin's car and Cal was in the passenger seat, pointing his phone to the vanity mirror above.

It was a rainy Sunday that day, and I had just washed my hair!

Monday, August 22, 2005


I recently stumbled upon technorati.

But I have no idea how to use it. Now I have this funny thingamagicky in my sidebar. What does it do? Help.

Sunday, August 21, 2005


have I mentioned this before:

I really like this guy Calvin.

Takes my breath away.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

I fell in love with a one-night stand.

She was charming, but I only realised that to be brutally true, in that dark street-lit room after. All the while, I was hardly thinking, just passionately driven to fulfil a need. Years have graduated my hunger from being merely sexual, to becoming a search for a blissful antidote, for my loneliness and lack.

Every night I spent alone, I spent in wasted hunger.

I can't describe this. Nothing beats this kind of intimacy with a woman. But tonight's woman was different. She was so special, hardly sweet, to many men, she would be crass. But to me, I found her to be as sweet as spring water, as from the mountains, the ones I saw once in France when I was a young boy travelling with his family. No woman could beat that. The rest I've had, always left a sour taste on my lips, like the way milk does on your palate, a creamy sour.

When she invited me home, I knew nothing. But a point scored - now I know, I am but an empty man.


Dark, street-lit room. There is this thing about the first time with someone new, the room always has to be dark enough. Every one of them the same.

I saw her smile, when we were lying side by side, she on her front, and I on my back, while we both looked at each other. Looked at each other in that piercing informal way. I couldn't help myself, I was charmed into the aura of her.

I cannot let her know this.

As we lay there, it was to me, a moment frozen in our human warmth. Cleaving in our souls for that one living moment, breath crystallising in another time and place. Suddenly I realise, I was acting like a man who had fallen in love.

You must know the feeling. Like it were a lost cause to gain control over that magnetism to that person, the object of your foolish gaze.

It cannot be - she is a fling. I sound like a cad when I say that, but my being here was meant to be a one-time affair. This is our armour. Engage-detach-repeat with another stranger.

But suddenly, I cannot detach properly. I lost myself.

I have to talk to her, but I am so awestruck by her gaze of her presence still, from that moment in that night. I have to see her again, as it were, re-visit a lover. I can't not think about her anymore, she came and took a place in my consciousness. But if I see her again, she will know this craziness in me, and I will have taken the plunge of risk in letting her know how I feel.

This aching longing in me, I cannot rid myself of. Every fantasy now, is of her, of the things we will do to each other, in that same street-lit room. Same old, same old, never felt any better with anyone in this way.


To be continued.
(as always)

retrospective justifications - muse

Today I completed devouring the no.2 of my Borders 'Buy 3 for 2' Haruki Murakami novels. If you do not already know, he is my favourite author at the moment. I love him.

So obviously, this is not the first time I am reading him. Oh I love Haruki...

I already have Norwegian Wood (makes me cry a lot, three times every time), The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Wild Sheep Chase. I just bought South of the Border West of the Sun, Sputnik Sweetheart, and I am going to read Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of the World soon.

I love Haruki Murakami. Oh yes I have already mentioned him before in March.

Anyway, I ended re-reading Sputnik Sweetheart because I finished it while I was out and about, and we all know how we avid readers need to have something to devour while travelling and eating by our lonesome. So I had to flip the book back to the front and re-read it.

Suddenly I see parallels being drawn in the beginning to the end and other parts of the book.

Which makes me wonder:

How we sometimes justify certain things that cannot be undone anymore. Just so that we no longer carry that regret.

Everyday, that's how I ensure a regret never surfaces, or re-surfaces -

Retrospective justifications.

Aren't we full of it. Even your silence bids it.

retrospective justifications

You are wrong.

For me, now is better.

I make you wrong

Because it is too late.

I can't help saying this,

Because retrospection is always


To love this way

Friendship and comfort are perhaps

truly the next best thing to God himself.

Thursday, August 11, 2005

amazing grace

Because of our sin

Because of our weakness

Because, even then, God's love is above all.

And courage that is not due us, will surface, for grace.

secret to an empire

For all the times I get discouraged about my work, I always turn to God for comfort, to best friends for counsel or support.

What a man needs really, is revelation. Or for that matter, a woman. No pun intended there.

Comfort, counsel and support can only take you that far. But revelation, can build an empire.

Matthew 16:13-19

Tuesday, August 9, 2005

He protects me

He protects me by hiding in
trees of the forest leaves
and hides

Secrets again but now it
no longer is important to keep
because of the courage to pierce

a best friend, whom I love so
wearing those mud boots
going clandestine saying alone

but not anymore, for I know
even then, it was her.

the internet

Today I wanted very much earlier on, to come online and blog a meaningful post. But the internet connection was choppy and I have only just fixed it. So I guess the meaningful post will have to wait.

about drinking

Today, I chatted with my primary school friend Vance on ICQ, and one thing we mentioned was about how unhealthy for us (my body, his wallet) it was to drink so much.

I have to say this. I have only been pukey-drunk three times in my life, out of which, only two times I really did puke, and once only was I on the point of forgot-all-happened-last night, even then, only nearly.

The first time, was with my parents - between us we had three bottles of red wine. I puked and hungover, worse ever also cos it is wine. The second, was when somebody put something - hard liquor of sorts, source unconfirmed - into a jug of beer we were drinking. This was in JB with my Citibank ex-colleagues. The third, was when I still was yet to be very steady at drinking a collective variety of alcoholic drinks in one night. It was Flora's hen night with my ODAC friends from JC. Mingzhao mis-heard a drink order of mine and anyway, it was a party night meant to be blown out anyway. The next day, I went to work and sold unit trusts like the trustworthy banker I was. Anyway, those were instances years ago.

Right now, I can do all of the above, and remain rather sober at that I believe. Okay, meaning I will be happy, crazier and clumsier than usual, but I will not puke nor get a hangover (unless wine, then I get a tummy ache).

Which means to say, I have become someone who drinks too much. It has to be more than enough, because otherwise how else am I now able to hold my liquor so well? That, I regret, because it really is unhealthy. Such a habit is something my best friend H will rap me about. Also because he wants me to save money.

Which I do because I can drink at home.

At my home, I have a bottle of Glenfiddich single malt from C. He and I both love it. C will drink it neat, and I, on the rocks. Sometimes I put it in my beer. Also, I always have beer in the fridge, and there is a bottle of white wine in there too, a gift from another primary school friend Joseph. Jan has a bottle of Absolut vodka, which she hardly touches. I am not keen on vodka either but it is cool sometimes, for the sake of it. Right now, there is also a bottle of Sheridan's coffee liquer from another primary schoolmate - Junjie. Which I haven't touched since the party at my place.

All that said, I enjoy having a drink at home just to chill out at night. Usually just one, and not every night. But yes, this is something I do enjoy, and it has become somewhat of a 'hobby' to me.

My cell group asked everyone what we did to relieve stress.

This is one thing I do.

Apart from writing. But, at that point when I was asked, I only said, being alone, and writing - that is what I do to chill.

- I couldn't tell everyone present that night at cell, because my cell leader will (be the only one to) disapprove, because he comes from the school of thought that Christians cannot drink. At all. No touch, no try.

Which I disagree, because, it is like the concept of money - that it is not evil in itself, but loving it is. Or in this case, becoming drunk on it is.

So, which I mentioned, I don't get drunk easily anymore, because I can have 6 drinks in a night, all different, and make it home very happily, no puke, no hangover. Just enjoyment of tasting and consuming them, like they were coffees or teas - which I also love - it is wonderful enough, chill bliss to me.

Sunday, August 7, 2005

nothing again

I think you will realise by now, if you are an old visitor, that lately I have not been posting anything of much substance.

Refer to 'I have nothing to say'.

Because really, right now, I have no muse to spur me to write orgasmically, the way I would love to, the way I enjoyed it. I hope I spur myself to come up with something and help myself.

Meantime, enjoy the mindless rambling will you.

You Are Bold And Brave

But daring? Not usually?

You tend to like to make calculated risks.

So while you may not be base jumping any time soon...

You are up for whatever's new and (a little) exciting!

Confession time

I have to admit this. Whenever I miss my breakfast for the day, I end up craving for supper.

Tonight, I cooked Ramen 100 instant noodles (extra spicy) to eat and I am now through my second packet as I type this.

Also, I am awake, eating, even though I should be asleep as it is a work night. This is unsettling.