tapping left heel with bent knee and nodding head

i am too psyched to sleep. it is the inter-tertiary dancesport competition later!

hello, hello, hello
:let's see how far we've come - matchbox 20

there are not enough friends nor friends' friends who are interesting enough and blog regularly enough. the regular bloggers are "oh today this and this and that and that" (okay june you're the exception because you are zzpy) and the rest just do not write enough.

can you chronicle each moment of your perception and perspective on anything and everything the mash and mesh of your existence and dreamy whispers and silenced breaths and forbidden sighs, oh do let me into that inner sanctum, do! hush and shush i promise i will.

now it's over for me and it's over for you
:let's see how far we've come - matchbox 20

the first line of the novel read, "red peonies grow between the concrete slabs." and i, i will walk against this conjured gale for all imagined eternity to reach that withering bloom and kiss its wispy petals. except, was it ever there?

whirr

Rebecca laughed again, the rich flamey bourbon was making her laugh. So many surprises in this room, that had gone to her head. She was short of breath as if she'd been running.

She was in Tignor's arms, and kissing him recklessly. Like one throwing herself from a height, falling, diving into water below, blindly trusting that the water would receive her and not crush her.

She opened her mouth to his. She would have him now, she would give herself over to him. She hated it, her soul so exposed. The man's eyes seeing her, that had seen so many other women naked. She could not bear it, such exposure, yet she would have him now.

Her body, that was a woman's body now, the heavy breasts, the belly, the patch of wiry black pubic hair that trailed upward to her navel, like seaweed, that filled her with angry shame.

:the gravedigger's daughter - joyce carol oates

this is the love story

that flowered from a fairytale, bloomed in smiles, and withers with time. through no fault, with no regret, but, still, and still, with tears.

who would have ever predicted an existence of monotony for themselves, and yet how many can live the lyrical life so beautiful and breathtaking? i read with my hands clapped against my lips to stop the wispy butterfly from escaping, before i can reduce it into lilting prose. and yet when i finally let go there is nothing left except stardust from a stellar explosion lightyears away and close to heart.

if you close your eyes and stand with me on this precipice i can almost promise you everything in a moment, but i forgot that my eternity is only as long as your chapter in my novel. and as each begins with a twirl, another ends with poignance. each cherished, each precious, each etched.

silly girl, you, for dreaming such and dreaming so

shush

nothing like a 39 degrees fever and a throat ulcer the size of king kong to remind me of my gross mortality and base humanity.

i have to say, i have the best sister in the world. and THE MOST irritating brother.
and my dad is just..spastic.

and i love them to bits.

zero capacity for any attempt at intellect. let me share my grand total diet for the past few days with you instead. (it rhymes!)

10 ritz crackers
1 bowl of porridge
1/4 slice of bread, no crust
1 bowl of soup with veg, mushrooms, about 2 sotong balls
5 million cups of water.

from monday until now!

each time i fall seriously ill, i learn a little more about myself and the people around me, and this time is no exception. this time it is one hell of a painful one - even breathing hurts, and swallowing is like stuffing a porcupine down your throat - but no less enlightening.

i think this holidays have been one of the most enriching and revealing ones so far (pun intended), and definitely definitely i cannot forget this. do not normalise! no more normalisations, they are the root of all this seemingly inexplicable gnawing emptiness.

No More Normalisations.

it is astounding how it takes 3 days of delirium to drive the message home.

huimin i love you. boyboy when i say laughing hurts and i ask you not to make me laugh, DONT MAKE ME LAUGH DAMMIT
and papa stop laughing at me, it is really not funny.

many loves, loves

objectively speaking, figuratively

art breeds thought breeds analysis breeds appreciation breeds thought breeds nostalgia breeds appreciation breeds talk breeds thought breeds intellectual conflict breeds discussion breeds thought breeds fatigue breeds delirium.

i am loving the opporunity to be exposed to such lovely people and their lovely thoughts and i am picking up the pieces of my fried mind and burnt heart.

tiptoeing fingers
linger on your lids; they paint
dances, whisper dreams

you don't know how lovely you are

insert a night of frolicking and a day of work and a ride on a crowded bus beside a smelly middle-aged man who keeps edging his thigh closer and thinking about the book on japan and westernisation and the loss of tradition and the incorporation of new ones and a servant who has sez with her employer who used to be a useless student at the teahouse and going for a break that came too late and just sitting for awhile before noticing the ogling fat caucasian man while beside, a teenaged boy named jason tan has 2 parts legs and 1 part body with distorted facial features and a hunchback of a right shoulder and mops the floor but he put too much mopping solution and the entire expanse of black tiles is frothy and thinking how much pain does he have to go through to mop the floor and returning from break and packing all the cigarettes into cartons and sneaking glances at the tall senior manager while deciding if promiscuity is something that can be pinpointed by other means than social or societal agreement which has proved countless times to be totally fallible anyway and thinking if the issue is but self-delusion and coming home with abrasion in the nether regions and considering and forfeiting the possibility of doing another brazilian;

can you tell which are the lies and where is the truth? does it really matter? is a blog supposed to be only about the truth? how can informational value be reconciled with artistic expression?

have you tried macdonald's onion rings?

the serviette was infront of me and the pen on my right and i did not pick it up to write, and now i have lost the words i wanted to say. permit me my moment of astounded silence, when you nonchalantly strolled right across the fence of indignance.

"hello robert"

"hi, how are you?"

"erm. good enough"

"good enough for what?"


and i fall in love again, in a sense.

documentation

hello goodbye

many farewells this summer. some short, some long, some quick, some drawn, some lost, some longed, some missed, some torn

and others, others silenced. silenced silence, silent silence

tell me you love me, come back and haunt me
oh and i rush to the start
:the scientist - coldplay

it was not a breeze to attend the funeral of someone so young. it brought back many sad memories.

"all of you must cry out to jiahao, the louder you call him to come home, the sooner he will"

"jiahao, hui jia, hui jia"

the chorus of voices was almost too much to bear. and alone at an empty table there was nothing to distract me from the tearing faces and tearing hearts. i bit my lip and clenched my fists and i did not know him personally and my heart was broken for all the broken hearts around me,

and all came to naught anyway because i cried alone on the bus.

nobody said it was easy
oh its such a shame for us to part
nobody said it was easy
no one ever said that it would be this hard
:the scientist - coldplay

hush now my dear, hush now and sleep
hush now my fear, hush now and sleep
hush now my tear, hush now and sleep
hush now, hush now

row, row, row your boat - gently
down the stream
merrily, merrily
merrily
merrily
(life is but a dream)

echoes

i am determinedly, purposely, foolishly, singlemindedly, gladly, hysterically, blindly indulging in the most parasitical of holidays i have ever had, yet. this is my sweet valley summer.

opportunity cost

always, moments of momentous, momentary clarity that are technicolour in truth and altogether too glaring for comfort. and always, always, at the weirdest of times. after latin class and beehoon goreng and prata on a walk back home 7 hours before work, for example.

there is always more than one reason for any one thing, and the interaction and intersection of each aspect with another is essential to the construction of the whole. for example, the choice to buy a branded top of a particular brand entails influences from the particular shopping companion, the time of year and month and week and day, financial status, the current read, the issues in newspapers and the news recently, educational level and course of study and clique, among others.

this complexity is the reason for simplicity's existence, because simplicity is crucial to constructing and completing individual tasks in everyday life.

...it is late, my brain is not functioning anymore. let's leave this to another day, i hope i made sense. i know at least 1 person will understand what i said.

goodnight

do you have skin on the side of your fingernails

forgot to hold my breath while reading and now all the words are lost once more. tell me again why you fell in love with me when you knew you would fall out of it, and i am left standing here on an annynomous mound of lost sighs guarding a dying smile. i am sorry, i am sorry, a trilling thrilling distraction trilled to me and i got lost, now i'm somewhere i don't exactly know where and i can't find my way back/

\song to the desert sands part two wish you were here

unintended

ring a ring-o-roses
a pocket full of posies
a-tishoo, a-tishoo
we all fall down.

the touch of your fingertips on my trembling eyelids will remain vivid
but, still.
in those stolen moments of reverie i danced an\other untangling tango
only this time, i return to no one.
with a relieved sigh i turn in slumber and mouth:
"colour me beautiful, or colour me null"