clang

toss throw hurl slam

the loud crash louder than the heart splintering

this is why the world weeps

in australia, wildfires taller than rooftops of houses that have been inhabited with dreams, fancies, laughter, tears

in pakistan, another suicide bombing, during the holiest of processions

in china, a tally of executions higher than that of the rest of the world's combined

in singapore, people buying clothes coffee shoes

everyone should read haikus

classical japanese poetry is largely inspired by nature, the shinto religion, and personal expression. the earliest japanese poets were from aristocratic backgrounds.

waka
means japanese poem or song
coined to differentiate japanese poetry from chinese poetry, which was read by educated japanese.
this exists in long form, choka, or short form, tanka.
tanka consists of 31 syllables arranged 5-7-5-7-7, set out as vertically aligned characters.

renga
are collectively written linked verses
constructed in reaction against aristocratic classical tanka.
this form of poetry included ordinary speech, chinese, slang, buddhist terminology, obscenities.

haikai
is the tendency toward inelegant, comic subject matter - including sex, money, domestic life, and other commonplace experiences

hokku
is the opening poem in a renga, and

haiku
is an autonomous hokku.
it consists of 17 syllables, arranged in 5-7-5
and generally has 2 different parts to imagery. this shift is emphasised by kireji, or cutting word, which usually sits at the end of one of the phrases.
another component of the haiku is kigo, or seasonal word. many japanese words describing nature have connotative meanings.

fuga
is the injection of poetic significance to the ordinary, and this is used to convey

wabi
simplicity

yugen
beauty, mystery and elegance

sabi and shiori
melancholy and tranquility

these, to convey makoto, or the poetic truth of words.

before we meet for supper

there are some things you must know about me.

firstly, the choice for supper wasn't coincidental nor nonchalant. all that was a farce. night is the best time to feel slightly removed from the harsh realism of reality, and the best time to indulge in some semblance of romance. also, people are careless and freer in the night, none of the harsh sunlight glaring on your pimples and all that stuff. even rain seems friendlier in the cover of darkness.

so, there are somethings you must know about me. like i have seriously gained weight, a lot of it, since you last saw me. i'm talking uber blubber fats that jiggle enough to send tremors throughout a radius of five miles. no kidding. and, as part of the i-am-so-unconcerned-and-au-naturale cover, i will not have makeup on like i did the last time you saw me. which means you will be able to see my eyes are actually slitty my teeth huge my cheeks colourless my eyebrows faint and my lips pale.

and because of blubber nation in my belly ass and thighs, i cannot pull off the wear-loose-clothes-and-still-smoke-hotness look. which means i will look either wrapped like a dumpling or huge like an auntie.

so yes. these are what you must know about me before we meet for supper. gives a whole new meaning to The Last Supper.. amen.

boxing day

lunch with aya at pastamania, dessert at j.co, home and nap, curry fish head dinner with papa, library to return books and try in vain to renew loan for overdue haiku anthology (amazing stuff), walked around bought a hair clip a bead bracelet a pair of pumps for 9.90 (!)

Donal Webster - Colm Toibin

I promise you that I will not call. I have called you enough, and woken you enough times, in the years we were together and in the years since then. But there are nights now in this strange, flat, and forsaken place when those sad echoes and dim feelings come to me slightly louder than before. They are like whispers, or trapped, whimpering sounds. And I wish that I had you here, and I wish that I had not called you all those other times when I did not need to as much as I do now.

there is more to thank for

pull in to dread
pool into dread

there is opportunity to attempt
there is room to try
there is forethought for backup
there is reassurance for alternative
there is agreement to additions
there is support to bolster
there is humour to deconflict
there is accommodation for inexperience
there is extra mile for this shortcoming
there is extra mile for this lack
there is extra mile for this inadequacy.

you want to gag at yourself you can go and gag
but don't gag until you don't reach out for the cure already on extended hands.
okay.
you are not kickass and you know it but you can do this. people will help. if you cannot do it don't waste everyone's time. acknowledge your inability and ask for help. then act on the advice and check for feedback again. if you know you cannot then explain it and find a way about it.

come on. younger than people does not mean eternally subservient and inferior. education is continuous and will only ensue with effort, humility, and self-understanding. you know this. so show it.

flagellation

"there are so many mirrors in this world.. i can't do this anymore"

it is fine to not know everything,
but to not know and have an attempt that is miserable at best is just limp and lame.

suddenly all the things mingyang has ever said to me are playing real time, and it takes more than you can imagine for me to type this

i have to put down my pride

i bought a new desktop with my sister at courts

20" lcd screen
acer
wireless keyboard and mouse tt i duno how to install
ms office whose product key is invalid
2.66ghz
750gb
4gb
windows 7

1,708 with 3yr warranty

well...at least it works

the screen is really bright and really white. makes me happy

hurl and little else

kitsch
kitsch

there are many big words in this big world. existentialism, epistemology, surrealism, imagism, cubism, consequentialism, deontology, social construction, anamorphosis, orthography,

minimalism.

they could have just said,
good days will be good and bad days will be bad
cherish the happy moments to bring you through the sad
and always, always
always remember
you don't have to be another to understand where they have been
where they are at

royal disdain and jingle bells

it is no secret that i am far from perfect
it is just, that you
you are beneath me.

in other news,
if you love me and yes you do

give me these:
1. lots of money for my fyp
2. the portrait of dorian grey (chengs, virgin suicides is promising but not worth buying)
3. haiku books
4. poems by robert hass, margaret atwood, thom gunn, mina loy, e e cummings, or wallace stevens
5. notebooks. preferably muted colours with odd splashes of colour
6. red satin dance heels, min 3inches
7. photography book on either paris, vienna, tibet, vietnam, or africa

be still my love

it was 6am and sleep was fraught with nightmares, so i woke
it was 8am and the world started spinning, so i slept
it was 11am and the world was accusatory, so i slept
it was 1pm and the sighs tears fears threatened to explode, sunshine fireworks
so i slept
it was 3pm and the ceiling had many new details not there before
it was 4pm and the ringing phone was frightening
it was 5pm and the door was so far away
it was 5.30pm and the face in the mirror ugly as always
it was 6pm and well meaning people interesting news compelling tunes hard work's evidence swam in pools of texts on the screen
it is 6.30pm and the darkness beckons again.

save,
me

Still Life - Thom Gunn

I shall not soon forget
The greyish-yellow skin
To which the face had set:
Lids tight: nothing of his,
No tremor from within,
Played on the surfaces.

He still found breath, and yet
It was obscure knack.
I shall not soon forget
The angle of his head,
Arrested and reared back
On the crisp field of bed.

Back from what he could neither
Accept, as one opposed,
Nor, as a life-long breather,
Consentingly let go,
The tube his mouth enclosed
In an astonished O.

After the Gentle Poet Kobayashi Issa - Robert Hass

New Year's morning -
everything is in blossom!
I feel about average.

A huge frog and I
staring at each other,
neither of us moves.

This moth saw brightness
in a woman's chamber-
burned to a crisp.

Asked how old he was
the boy in the new kimono
stretched out all five fingers.

Blossoms at night,
like people
moved by music.

Napped half the day;
no one
punished me!

Fiftieth birthday:

From now on,
It's all clear profit,
every day.

Don't worry, spider,
I keep house
casually.

These sea slugs,
they just don't seem
Japanese.

Hell:

Bright autumn moon;
pond snails crying
in the saucepan.

Geometry - Rita Dove

I prove a theorem and the house expands:
the windows jerk free to hover near the ceiling,
the ceiling floats away with a sigh.

As the walls clear themselves of everything
but transparency, the scent of carnations
leaves with them. I am out in the open

And above the windows have hinged into butterflies,
sunlight glinting where they've intersected.
They are going to some point true and unproven.

Root Cellar - Theodore Roethke

Nothing would sleep in that cellar, dank as a ditch,
Bulbs broke out of boxes hunting for chinks in the dark,
Shoots dangled and drooped,
Lolling obscenely from mildeweed crates,
Hung down long yellow evil necks, like tropical snakes.
And what a congress of stinks!
Roots ripe as old bait,
Pulpy stems, rank, silo-rich,
Leaf-mold, manure, lime, piled against slippery planks.
Nothing would give up life:
Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.

anyone lived in a pretty how town - e. e. cummings

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did.

Women and men (both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed (but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
with by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men (both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird - Wallace Stevens

I
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of a blackbird.

II
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.

III
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds,
It was a small part of the pantomime.

IV
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.

V
I do not know which to prefer -
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendos,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.

VI
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.

VII
O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?

VIII
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.

IX
When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.

X
At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.

XI
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.

XII
The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.

XIII
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.

hearts out

5.34am

novels and notebooks and heels and blazers

wahhhh

u love me and u know it.
dish!

!!

!!!!! !!!!!

!

!!!

i hate stationery shops

and this is a perfect example why!!

this was what pings the guo said: "eh new stationery shop near the escalator"
the innocent pretty girl: "ah, where roxy used to be huh?"
pingguo: yes. very nice stuff!
the innocent pretty girl: dowan laa if i see something i like i sure damn sad one la!
cunning lady: no la, we will control each other k
the innocent pretty girl: ok loh..

The Evil One Ended Up Buying Clear Rubber Stamps And Ink Pads.
And The Innocent Pretty Girl Dwelled In Eternal Sorrow Pining After The Nightingale On Tartan Inspired Textured Notebook With Blang Pages. Blank Pages!!

yeeeaaarghh

if stereotypes were true

this is who the originator of ethics of care would be like:

old
yellow
ugly (warts and stuff)
fat
loves brightly colourful flowered print shirts with loose biege pants and sandals with thick straps
religious to a fault
talks only to fellow man haters
outwardly pleasant and courteous
inwardly judgmental and narrowminded
"what does it matter whether i'm a virgin or not? just because i'm 76 does not mean i am any less attractive a lady and i refuse to build my worth upon my partaking in such a base act as copulation!" -->aka
yes, a virgin.

this is why the world will come to ruins

i just posted a mudder long post on media law's discussion board to a video post about a man who was imprisoned for his opinion for 20 years. but just now, just just now, i went to your page and saw was written and all i am thinking now is, it used to be me.

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

folk song(s)

the side, the side, the side the front the back!
the side the front the side the back
the side the front the back!

旁边, 旁边, 旁边 前面 后面!
旁边 前面 旁边 后面
旁边 前面 后面!

tepi, tepi, tepi hadapan blakang!
tepi hadapan tepi blakang
tepi hadapan blakang!

ondruum, ondruum, ondruum munadi binadi!
ondruum munadi ondruum binadi
ondrum munadi binadi!

the oath, the oath, the oath the oath the oath!
the oath the oath the oath the oath
the oath the oath
the oath

hais

sian

tilt

my head back and gaze
up
the white ceiling
textured with waves like layers of smiles, or grimaces
water sloshing into my mouth
the inviting tongue, awash
with liquid
squint and smile
hands aloft and body poised like a ballerina while life's essence pours forth and fills me then overflows and streams from the corners of my lips like
tears

first the cold

then, the darkness
again

heart's all over the world tonight

everyday we (should) learn something new of ourselves and the world. today i learnt i am really quite predictable and i am, really, quite predictable. i cannot really account for the pendulums that days are, between and within each, and i cannot really remember why last night was so bad but tonight is good, but when it is so comfy among the clouds i fear the spring that may (will) snap and the whistling wind about my ears before a soft splat

- twisted smile garnishing twitching limbs.

now is good and safe and silent,
i am thankful for tonight that is good and safe and silent,
please let it stay good and safe and silent

refrain

from being so utterly breathtakingly beautiful, it makes me want to grab you
bite you,
hiss at you, and
slice you. maybe, i will even
eat
you

so don't be too beautiful
don't be so intriguing
don't be so fascinating
just Stop!

or maybe, death cab for cutie does strange things like that to people
(but we can't talk about it now)

parody

is allowed substantial imitation of the original so as to aptly portray a convincing subversion of it; now picture this

a smiling self not above self-deprecating jokes to cheer up sorrowful friends skipping along dancing eating strolling texting gazing typing calling doing many things just many

many
actions, eyes wide open and lips in a closed smile, many
many actions,
in

general and then upon closing the door very firmly and very softly an
other self emerges

with closed lids on which flickering light from a television programme equally meaningless as the previous plays and the only difference is during this particular worthless show the left sleeve on this self is wet from being stuffed into the mouth to silence sobs as meaningless as the current programme which is as void of value as the one before. there is a very slight trail of slobber caught between the left ear and the left side of the neck, which is quickly wiped away with the back of the right hand - the startling sound of a phone call

and sunshine erupts to reveal a smiling self, not above self-deprecating jokes to cheer up sorrowful friends

the small boy song

i am small boy
so small
smaller than you
ha, ha

such a moment does not occur often

unusual. unusual. unusual, unusual. unusual. unusual.. unusual

unusual (unusual) unusual, unusual, unusual...

- unusual - unusual - unusual - unusual

unusualunusualunusualunusual

unusual
unusual
unusual
unusual;

un gracious

today is the 2nd time i heaved mu laptop and study stuff to tampines mall's starbucks. didn't get a seat, moved outside to wait, sprinted in at the first sight of the couple leaving (the seat i was at last week, no less).. to be encountered with a slightly accusatory pair of eyes.

"erm"

"erm"

"sorry"

"sorry"

"sorry we wanna move here"

"huh?"

"sorry, we wanna shift here."

"erm. but i wanna take this seat."

"er.."

"yea. sorry."

i don't think i have ever been so ungracious recently. oh my goodness. so it's no surprise when i saw a better seat to move to, they weren't exactly cheering when i went to tell them they could have the seat instead.

the thing i was originally going to post was about my first trip to timbre last night, at city hall with acbc gang for steppy's belated birthday celebration. first live band place since molly malone's, and the first song they played was hot and cold by katy perry.

well.

borders sale :(

margaret atwood
joyce carol oates
a beautiful mind
neil gaiman
veronika decides to die
elizabeth bishop
robert hass
the hours
virginia woolf
sylvia plath
michael longley

:(

read (it) and weep

where it is anything heartwrenching,

nervewrecking,
mindblowing,
breathtaking,
heartbreaking.

there is a certain comfortable, gratifying catharsis that comes with emotional response. ask me, i would know. and yet can somebody please tell me why this cynicism that is creeping in like a late, uninvited guest that you purposely left out because the last time the guest was there there was chaos and havoc and you only want silence.

you only want peace.

and it is all well to encapsulate and eternalise that beautifully tragic moment where a family grieves the loss of a son or where the heartbroken man finally accepts that the woman most beautiful to him in the entire world looks at him with sincere nonchalance, this is all well, except, there is the excruciating monotony that happens after

and do you know of that? do you know that there are bills to pay places to go and people to smile at?

heartbreak is an ugly thing. it is pretty in pills that you can ingest at those odd moments you choose to glance away from your fairytale land from. but for the heartbroken, it is endless.

it is in this breath you take.
it is in this breath you take.
it is in this breath you take.

and living becomes less painful than it is embarrassing. for what point is there when they only want more painful pieces from you

tenderloin, or rib's eye?

the connoisseur of sorrow, bon appetit

when i was 4, love was

“When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn’t bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all even when his hands got arthritis, too. That’s Love.“
Rebecca – age 8

When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.”
Billy – age 4

“Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other.”
Karl – age 5

“Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French Fries without making them give you any of theirs.”
Chrissy – age 6

“Love is what makes you smile when you’re tired.”
Terri – age 4

“Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK.”
Danny – age 7

“Love is what’s in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.”
Bobby – age 7

“If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate.”
Nikka – age 6

“Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday.”
Noelle – age 7

“Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.”
Tommy – age 6

“Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken.”
Elaine-age 5

“Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day.”
Mary Ann – age 4

“I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones.”
Lauren – age 4

“When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you”
Karen – age 7

"i'm trying already. don't you know?"

"do u know what i do the moment i enter the lecture hall? i take out my phone and talk into it and there's nobody on the other line.

"do u know what i'm doing when u have lunch with your friends? i sit in the toilet cubicle and wait for the break to pass. do u know this? and what are u doing?

"i'm going to school for the sanity of this family and for yours ah. at the expense of mine ah.

"please do not insult me by saying how i don't go and find u

"don't u know that every second i wish i was the one going to find u?

"when u don't even know anything about my life, please don't insult me by saying that i don't care. you have no idea how much i do ah

"i don't care whether u love me or not. i just love u."

"because i am not interested to be stuck in that stupor ah. because that would take about 50 episodes ah"

"imagine this

a world where there are no secrets,

no anxieties,
no resentment that stems from anxiety,

no gossip, no social judgment,

no irrational fear of haircuts,

no fire, no smoke, no broken families,
no autism,
no depression,
no extra marital affairs,
no hatred,

(no love masked carefully by hatred)

no self-despise,
no ideological rigidity that originates from selfish desires for convenience and social acceptance,
no negative discrimination,

no poverty,
no deception, no child labour, no prostitution,
no need for child labour, no need for prostitution,

no shame upon the financially poor,
no financial inequity,
no inequity"

and if that constitutes,
"imagine a world without us"

what are we worth, really

The Spring And The Fall - Edna St. Vincent Millay

In the spring of the year, in the spring of the year,
I walked the road beside my dear.
The trees were black where the bark was wet.
I see them yet, in the spring of the year.
He broke me a bough of the blossoming peach
That was out of the way and hard to reach.

In the fall of the year, in the fall of the year,
I walked the road beside my dear.
The rooks went up with a raucous trill.
I hear them still, in the fall of the year.
He laughed at all I dared to praise,
And broke my heart, in little ways.

Year be springing or year be falling,
The bark will drip and the birds be calling.
There's much that's fine to see and hear
In the spring of a year, in the fall of a year.
'Tis not love's going hurt my days.
But that it went in little ways.

selective sorrow

"...that even though i will accept u as a friend unconditionally and as u are, i would be genuinely frightened of the prospect of my brother being a homosexual. i think we all just want our loved ones to fit into this...mould of social acceptance, so that we can carry on living our lives with minimal disruption. and only, to accept deviance in those not so immediate to our existence."

"i know, many people are like that too"

"and does that make u sad"

"..yes."


it is so much easier to, for want of better expression, deal with sadness when it is not so near us. of the deviant, the depressed, the deluded, the delineated. just, distanced from this great celestial society that all hail.

and, i admit. being not as near makes for an easier fluffy existence. no need to account for the tears the screams the cries the knocks bangs cuts wails

the silence.

but love, affection, friendship, is not supposed to be categorised in such manner. convenience is actually really really irrelevant to emotion, isn't it? there is only fear for things that actually matter to us and instead of being scared and leaving it at that and thereby leaving someone we supposedly care for alone and helpless, each attempt at communication, assuming failure for every one and meeting disdain when the said loved one is not in the friendliest of minds, at least is a try.

mockery should be the last of concerns when what is at stake is loneliness. right? so we should all at least try to understand, to speak, and most of all, to listen. right?

this is the night

before the rest of my short-haired days..! se.rious.ly. i got the hair seminar thing, soo...tmr's the hair colouring at which maybe they'll do a preliminary cut (cause my hair is really THAT long) and friday will be mo-gu commencement.

i told sarah, life's for living! on the edge. she said living on the edge doesn't mean u have to be ugly!

ha. ha. i love my supportive friends.

hello junejune.
hello chengs.
happier days await you.
love.

for now, fingers crossed for cooler days with cooler hair.

therefore it would be nothing short of silly silliness to be presumptuous and think that you would

all this time

i've been making excuses. too busy, have tuition, got errand to run, ritual to prepare for, assignment to complete, project to do, casting to coordinate, people to call meet consult email essays to pen readings to read heartbreaks to mend families to heal siblings to help father to love - but, i have come to realise

maybe i just don't really care.

rainbows,

green fields with
fresh
flowers
swaying to the bright sun
shine - like a happy child
smiling, jumping
flying, or at least, believing that they can
fly

beautiful faces with
beautiful hair, and
beautiful legs
that skim the floor, closer to floating
nearer to the skies
than to here
than to me

nugget

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 paragraphs i typed about what happened today, deleted in an instant. somehow it is just so gross to publish such a post, though i know i would enjoy reading how life was like as a 22 year old (oh me gut can i really be any more ancient than this).

some secrets so huge they silence you that no words ensue and all the world thinks you have disappeared and thus leaves you. and you, thrashing against these invisible and invincible bonds, unnoticed.

oh no baby you, can't you see? i'm hiding in your arms

eyes are shutting. forensic science is no joke after 5 years of pure arts education. totally stunning to the max. polymer, chromatography, phenolphthalein..? like kindergarten acquaintances i've to write recommendation letters for. jitao bloody stun.

thanks be for the cool breeze and the silent night and the peaceful solitude. this is the tranquility; it is guilt-free and it is gentle and it is mine.

a smile

so wide and sparkling it can only be made of glass.
clear, transparent, convincing,
sharp edges melded together like lovers.

wish to disappear
please do not look at me
wish to dissipate
please do not see me

oh, oh oh ohm (gentle is the night)

i have shared my food, clothes, underwear, toothbrush, bed, toiletries, but i have never shared a table with anyone before.

this is a fact i truly appreciate tonight, together with realising that physical distance can be actually a blessing. being a million miles away i can spare you my monotony and daily toils and troubles and repeating woes. still repeating, still on repeat. if i confided you a year ago today i would confide in you tonight of the same thing.

on the bed on my side across the room i could not read the screen but i knew it was you. and it was you.

if you asked, i would tell you: yes, you are lovely. and i would lean in enough and close my eyes to inhale a thin, long, sincere breath, and immortalise your scent in an imprint on my heart.

but well there are many happy people who are nice and helpful and concerned and companiable and reliable, and there is nothing wrong with sharing a table because i get smiles and hugs and friendship - it is just, i am not lonely so long as i smile and am happy.

and so eternally gleeful i must be

sugared peanuts

as of now:

school
1. modern poetry - stanza & prose analytical criticism. readings. upcoming presentation.
2. media law - readings.
3. forensic science - midterm on wednesday.

fyp
pending wardrobe contact
pending props list breakdown
collate 2nd casting applicants
contact people for 2nd read
meet jessie to enquire about equipment

oath

this great big giant word fills up my mouth and the expanding balloon it is, there is no space left for me to explain my absence. please understand that i am too busy wrapping my tongue around this great big...thing.

and secret as it is huge i await the moment it will explode as suddenly as it materialised, and then all that is left behind will be the aftertaste of gunpowder and an inexplicable emptiness.

maybe, then, we will meet again.

is this what it is like

shiny, sharp-edged, possibly valuable but most probably of negligible worth. in order to conceal its gaudy countenance i place in my mouth, mindful of arching my tongue over it to soften pricking. i smile at you, it is slanted, you think it insincere and i deem you cold. we each misconstrue the other and take another mini step towards the cliff of a harsher world -

everything is so painfully obvious on hindsight.

in other news, i felt my first tremor today alone in the house. everything swayed in an elusive reverie, leaving me only with fresh fear. gagging as at the sight of the eyeballs of a gutted fish.

the people of 9/11 must have been so frightened.

my first thought was: if the building falls, my family will not be here, i am glad.
my second thought was: i want mingyang to know i love him dearly.

there are days i lay in bed and dizzy from fatigue i stumble to the toilet. lately i realised this must be how she felt being in bed for four years = one thousand four hundred and sixty days = thirty five thousand and forty hours = two million one hundred and two thousand and four hundred minutes = one hundred and twenty six million one hundred and forty four thousand seconds

as mind boggling to type as it is to read as it is to imagine, enough time in bed for me to get my degree

such obsession. as meaningless as it is futile as it is late

at least it's this not that

i implore you to not read this

just a random preoccupation with bleak novels and sad friends but in the end there is nothing worth saying or said.

i wholly, utterly, completely abhore who i have to be now to achieve these ends. chirpy and chatty are loathsome and nauseating. but i am not talented enough to pull off efficient nonchalance, so too bad. suck it up and relish the taste.

a friend asked why is your blog always so emo i turned and laughed at least i am emo and i type to the computer and i don't throw things or cut myself.

what better way to make yourself feel better than stamping on others.

i currently hate me, so feel free to do so too. the strangest thing is the only thing holding me grounded and allowing me to be level-headed now is whispering to myself my mother is dead and i am alive and this fundamental jarring unpoetic but truthful truth is the nougat of purpose i can squeeze in my palm because there is fyp and there are midterms and there is a relationship to save a sister to console a brother to tutor many friends to meet and a very live father to cherish.

my mother is dead and i am alive
my mother is dead and i am alive

mingyang

We are all meant to shine, like children do. As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously inspire others to do the same

sunshine and smiles

i'm safe up high nothing can touch me

it is extremely annoying when the same thing is repeated over and over and over again.

1, 2, 3, 4
1, 2, 3, 4
1, 2, 3, 4
1, 2, 3, 4

enough counting to make the second hand do a lap around the clock.

(every 4 seconds, a child dies)

1, 2, 3, 4 - should i buy that top?
1, 2, 3, 4 - do i look fat today?
1, 2, 3, 4 - what was your grade on that quiz?
1, 2, 3, 4 - fashion isn't a privilege it's a right

words

lovely. lyrical. lilting. clouds. poem. love. shimmer. lily. ethereal. swirl. sigh. melody.

strange, splendid.

inspired by Emily of New Moon - L. M. Montgomery

this is why i am not in love

you don't even affect me all that much, all i feel with the lack of your self in the room is a dull ache in my tummy that has nothing to do with hunger. it isn't even a sharp pain, you don't even affect me all that much.

i used to listen to all the songs you sent, i had a playlist with your name as the title. now the tracks are separated and each alone in different playlists, and the ones i don't like i have even deleted, and i only listen to one track at a time on repeat. you don't even affect me all that much.

the nights are bearable and i sleep well eat well laugh often sing sometimes, i have begun not holding my breath and squinting my eyes shut every time the bus passes your stop. you don't even affect me all that much.

you are no longer all of my world, you are no longer in my world, you are no longer here
you are no longer here, and
this
is why,
i am not in love.
you, you don't
even
affect
me
all, that. much.

flowers and fields and

other things,
lovely things

there was a stream

in which there were ripples between which there was a bottle in which there was a rolled up letter in which there was this

i always knew, i kept it locked up like the deepest secret, held close to my heart like the most precious child. i always knew that one day you will finally know that i write about you. you probably thought, suspected, surmised, maybe hopefully even hoped it. well, now you know.

one thing you must first inhale before exhaling that sigh of yours that i have memorised is that this is nothing like you have ever known. i can barely hold my hands around this enormous..thing. that was probably the only reason why i did not throw my arms around you.

a million featherlight kisses! could anyone float up in happiness? i believe so.

and now, it has come for my time to pass. and now, you know.

i write about you.

我没说什么

http://www.haoting.com/htmusic/29486ht.htm

2.37am, or Writing Poems in the Night

alliteration is
a short sweet song to
hum
harmlessly, hopefully
happily
.
.
accidental
adoration

suicide by rash: a chinese song of winter

this time it starts with a rash. a growing itch, festering like an unseen and largely unperceived wound for a week before someone sights it and gasps in horror - it is contagious, frightening; indeed, disgusting.

the book is ironically opened to "Suicide by Fitness Center". almost you imagine a fantastical construction, it must have been planned, such poetry is surely not spontaneous, that would be unfathomable!

the song that plays on repeat is wintry, chinese, emotional, orchestral. oriental and thus exotic as we are apt to term anything asian.

there is a red stain of the unknown skin ailment on her left eyelid still, this slight blemish will have some murmuring in softly admonishing tones of the blight.

such words, such thoughts! you conjure and shiver in the safety of imagination. turn over and sleep on your other side and your back, turned against all the world

child, you spoke (and i feel you slipping again)

do you love, do you need love

fringe

should i cut my fringe into bangs again? or leave it as it is long and convenient to be tied up so i can easily sweep hair off my face for work/study/times of frustration? should i dye my hair red? should i dye my hair black? should i start using fake eyelashes when i put on makeup?

should i get braces? should i get my nose done? lipo my thighs? shrink my nostrils?

how much a person changes before a person changes

if you feel you can no longer talk to me anymore because i am not me anymore i am truly sorry for your loss and i sincerely hope that elsewhere there is an other more worthy of your friendship.

if the question is whether i love you still, of course i do.

(twitter silences people because u say so many things in snippets that nothing is left for the long form writing as this)

你掌心的痣我总记得在那里

http://www.haoting.com/htmusic/24930ht.htm

belly buttons and cured computers

or, Why I Am A Horrible Friend To Have And Why You Should Ignore Me

have some have none

i wish you were all happy and stopped screaming at me

surely few others are as compelling as the unfathomable purity of a child's voice

(although i can't say i endorse the visuals for the music video; the melody - mesmerising.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b61z7jCTahs

the beauty of otherness

seeing you through an other's eyes i realise how beautiful each of you are. we all see many things, it is only that few truly look.

and in the moment when you do, the world transforms into a breathtaking wonderland of pure possibility

the tweats of tweeting

kian boon is not the only friend who has professed skepticism for twitter being something else than explicit narcissism. and i only just recently hopped lightly (and kindda accidentally incidentally) off that wagon.

it is true that having gone through the history of communication studies and the media management and the communication research modules, my interest in social networking platforms has vastly increased compared to the past. it remains so novel really to understand from various perspectives how such avenues are viewed and used. from an outsider; an insider with a stake; an insider with a particular objective; and the nonchalant/skeptical bystander. the different reasons for, as an example, perceiving worthlessness in a platform as twitter - because of a preconception of the objective of users as having certain excessively self-expressive tendencies in using twitter, or that there is negligible differentiation between twitter and other social networking platforms as facebook thereby repetition being grounds for proof of narcissism. or, that the sheer indulgence in such immediate self-expression is too much self-disclosure and essentially redundant because of a lack of tangible, justifiable, founded rationale for such.

naturally, that is only one possible direction to understand the phenomenon of twitter, or any other social networking platform.

it is nonetheless always an eye-opening reminder, when faced with individuals who follow closely their own opinions, that the ability to see things from multiple viewpoints is not a talent nor a habit as much as a sustained effort to constantly review possible variations in perception, and to grasp the nuances of the wherefores and why-nots.

anyway i bought the most gorgeous long pencil skirt ever from forever21 today and it was for $25. and a killer pair of 4inch black stilettos from mondo for $9.90 (i know right!!!). catching up with the vans and having long chats at random cafes is The Love. rocks.

im\print

they have taken a toll on me and there are no words left

conversationalist

talking to different people really gives insight to different perspectives. the worried mother nonchalant son wholly adolescent brother and random projectmate.

so many voices and such high hopes but so little time to pass around...

in any case if anyone readsmy blog at all please go to home club on saturday 8 august 2pm to 8pm. it is chengs' flea market stall day and she must earn many money to buy much stuff.

goodnight, all

deromanticism

when they inject general anaesthesia into the iv drip on the back of the wrist, please do not be mistakenly expecting some swirling slumber descending upon your self like fluffy clouds; it is liquid pain coursing luxuriantly slowly through your arm towards your heart.

you squint uncontrollably and wince, a dreaming drunk wrenched from the comforting darkness and suddenly exposed to glaring sunshine. worst of all, you don't even have the decent civility to scream. what ensues instead is some strangled, warbled, surprised gasp punctuated by slightly frothing spittle.

twitter tweet tweet!

twitter.com/dreamsandsuch

this entire social networking thing is getting into my head, i swear. i am absolutely, irrevocably, unquestionably and unquestioningly, completely and uncontrollably addicted to rambling about various things on the many platforms open to me. i just posted a note on facebook; i write in a diary that mingyang reads because i want to let him know what i think about (oh the horror of such self-disclosure you cannot imagine), and i tweet

goodness gracious me. am i becoming mainstream? for the love of all things marginal and poetic i sincerely hope not tankgyor.

cambodia was a much welcomed respite, really. really really.

i feel more like a woman these days. hopefully this is not a bubble because i am rather in disdain of and eager to shed the hesitant, occassionally stuttering, excessively apologetic and altogether not entirely attractive, girl i have been for so long. and goodness knows i have enough shit under my belt to warrant some semblance of maturity la please. wah lau eh.

school is starting and so is fyp. you know how cool my project is? it's so cool that watching films and reading people's blogs and listening to love stories of how such-and-such got together/broke up/patched up are relevant and necessary material, and doing all these is doing work. that's how cool my fyp is.

now, let us hold on carefully to this exquisite burst of enthusiasm and hopeful idealism and attractive maturity and insight and pray it does not extinguish

Creep - Radiohead

days of our lives

是我选择了懂事
而你的回应是放纵
我会冷静看着你
离开我的世界

heart throbs

we are essentially alone in our individual agony and if the world does end it will be the end of much pain and much sin. i will remember you will you remember me

backlog

i am in a limbo now sorry my friends my fyp mates my students my tutorial mates my dance people my loves if i disappear suddenly and call you and ask you where is my mind, where is my mind

things i MUST do
1. settle all outstanding administrative stuff for mama
2. start on fyp
3. resume money earning
4. prepare for school (and questions and concerned hands on shoulders and sympathetic gazes and pitying tsk tsk i'm so sorry for your loss i heard are you okay do you want to talk about it???)

undies too tight; not for the gutless, at least not at night

lenka's we will not grow old is momentary balm in this time of loneliness and this time of night. 7th night, i'm pretty sure mama would be back, except, papa is here, and guan yin niang niang is not covered like in wai po's house. is that tingling sensation i kind of maybe do feel in my right ear, her gaze at me through the window?

nope. just turned my head (just a teeny weeny bit reluctantly) to check. no mother's teary/furious/frighteningly distorted face peering back at me.

it is just so ironic that today happens to be papa's birthday too. and tmr, hui min's bday. do you know how to write your mother's name in chinese characters? i didn't until i did. too late to show her i guess unless this afterlife thing is true, in which case tonight is the night she returns did i mention? except papa is here too and guan yin niang niang is not covered like at wai po's place.

boy boy hasn't returned from his bball training, i wonder if he will bump into her. mama loves (loved?) boy boy the most. we all know this.

there are so many people to thank. my aunts, uncles, cousins - the garang guni man horn has been sounding sporadically for some time now, and i just realised...it's midnight, garang guni don't come at night. and i just felt a very light cool breeze.

erm.

ok anyway (since i may as well be productive while i'm freaked) there's so many people to thank, each of them, for the concern and support and texts and calls and food and lifts and company and love and understanding.

a very very very significant change i have undergone is that i am no longer able to hold on to the many words i kept tied up in a sack, cause now the sack has to be used to contain tears. so i rant and ramble and just mumble to myself 24/7. unstoppably ceaselessly continuously persistently...yea. you get the idea.

should i open the door and sit outside? so. you know. out of the range of guan yin niang niang and maybe she can talk to me and all.

somebody give me a hug please. like now. i cannot do this brave girl shit. i'm fucking scared. can?

.
.
.
.

i guess not

surreal \ so real

On the way home Mary Lou said, "Some things are so sad you can't say them."
:haunted - joyce carol oates

do you love - natalie imbruglia

text. text. tears. need company, no company. cool glass partition. hot forehead. hair on face. bursts of tears. sporadic shivers. heavy eyelids. stinging eyes. three hours walking everywhere nowhere. sudden seat before traffic. each, step, a, difficult, one. gastric, headache, stinging eyes, oh all this will add to a stronger me (but why won't you comfort me even for awhile)

hush hush hush hush hush hush hush hush hush hush hush hush hush hush hush hush hush hush hush hush hush hush hush hush; softly sob this lullaby

un adorn

places i was at yesterday

kk hospital
tan tock seng hospital
yishun street 81
din tai fung @ takashimaya
bakerzin @ paragon
orchard central
ntuc @ tampines mall
kopitiam @ century square
pasir ris drive 1

unbidden

is the glance at your sudden smile; the tears at the impending death; shivers at the upcoming operation; swaying to the same song playing for the hundredth time. the dreams of us together holding hands running through lavender fields to light breezes, our laughter filling the air with more sunshine

Heaven's Loft

a place of supreme happiness elevated above the main hall
where daydreamers seek quiet time for inspiration and fun
lovers look for adventure and love

"aahhh uuuu"

Bizarre Love Triangle - Frente

1, 2, 3, 4, won't you stay a little more

swing

now the days alternate between raging angst and (relatively) wise(r) acceptance. either way there is no point spilling my heart out telling you anything. please tell me, where's the sense in that? there is none. we love each other or at least, like, we do, only there are no words that could bring me closer to you. there are none.

well wishes and uninformed optimism are quite similar actually. groundless useless and pointless.

i await the next swing into purposeful denial and fluffy glee

bondage

since that day the winds whirled and swirled about me and my world has become more silent. in prioritising, you will be surprised just how many words are redundant, that don't need to be said.

i don't care. why would i care, i hate her. i don't give a shit
save her. save her and take me save her please save her
oh comfort me i'm scared and the nights are frightening and the dreams are unnerving and my sister is scared too so i cry silently but would you could you just for one moment care just one moment would do
please speak softly my heart is broken

words and words and words that don't mean anything to anyone anyway so why should i utter them, i have not do not and will not. i refuse.

the nights now are no longer tearless, they are merely sleepless.

congratulations to you if you can have all the sunshine and happy days in the world, and i always knew i was not meant for such days. but good for you, hurrah for all of you, and i guess given the distance between us i can meet you in the next lifetime.

and don't tell me to cheer up if you don't fucking know what it means to cheer up. to cheer your own self up like putting makeup thick as a clown to be beautiful.

aiya. type and type and rant and cry in the shower at home in the toilet during lunch at work at night walking home in the cd store hearing the song she love(s/d?), averting my eyes from pictures of happy people brochures of places i would like to go people i would like to know all this is Fucking Useless Shit.

if i cancel all the redundant words there is nothing left for me to say.

pillar

the smell of the pink antiseptic handwash stays on my hands long after i have left. it endures through this cab ride too.

first you rub your palms together, then between the fingers, then the back of your hands, then your thumb, then the space between your forefinger and your thumb, then rub your fingertips againsrt your palm for both hands, then rub your wrists in a circular motion. rinse and reach out for the handwipes just above the sink. sometimes the automatic tap doesn't work and i can feel the soap seeping into my skin while i wave my hands infront of the nonchalant sensor.

dust has only just began to fall
spin me round again and rub my eyes
(this can't be happening)
: hide and seek - imogen heap

i remember many times that i have cried alone and in public and suddenly and gradually and in the day at night at dawn at dusk and in timeless enclosed rooms stuffing the pillow into my mouth again.it is false that time erases things. it just dulls it into a repetitive and at least predictable pattern of pain.

there are so many things to be said about..i don't know. a sad love story 25 years old, an internship 6 months long, a relationship 3 years since, a crush 4 years through. a betrayal 5 hours old.

let us be silent and weep. or dance. let's just go dance. we won't speak because talking is ridiculous and we won't cry cause wailing is tiring. let's just dance the world dead and the pain off.

and after that - a sleep long enough to take us far, far, far away from here. hush now, hush now and sleep. hush now hush now nobody is listening anymore hush now hush now nobody is listening anymore hush now hush now let their rainbows glow and their sunshine illuminate hush now hush now hush now and sleep. hush now hush now hush now and sleep.

Moonlight shadow - Groove Coverage

it will lull you deceive you seduce you tempt you haunt you it will free you

On A Night Like This - Kylie Minogue

and i could almost love you; i may even miss you

psychedelic and other fun words


there was a rainbow, it disappeared even as i glimpsed it


and forever wasn't a possibility it was the only way


when it drizzles her voice haunts you again


bare (bear)

bejeweled barbequed chicken wings tuttees with nose piercings a la mr moo and hair that takes forever to dry

Hot N Cold - Katy Perry

long lashes pursed lips bobbing shoulders

mindless songs cappuccino wafer rolls forever friends mug iced water
15 hours in office for 3 days straight and vague memories of an earlier self
with red lips red thighs calves ass back elbows ribs neck jaw ears eyelids forehead
and a monthly elogbook and a pi report due in slightly more then 48 hours

late nights are love, and hell weeks are lover

this is the reason all the girls have secret smiles at night; sweet senseless songs to which you sway

If You Can Afford Me - Katy Perry

anomaly

"if you didn't love me, you wouldn't consider speaking to me at all. maybe that's why i've hung on even until now"

and though i know that inside there are but grains of sand,
through your eyes you see a pearl
and that is why i love you

ridden

with rash, riddled by guilt.

on facebook koon yen wrote love is love is love

essence

there is courage and there is courage.
faith's unwavering faith always amazes, as does the striking similarity between us all
i wish you well.

he said, and she said

how was dance? you must be sweaty and sexy now. slurp

yea. sweaty and hot and sexy. you like that?

surreal is

looking through your inane mindless worthless rants and then seeing this hot young thing who could just have not been possibly in the remotest sense have any similarity with you whatsoever

but my goodness gracious me such hot young sexy blood. to lick it off my lips i would relish its fervour its passion its delectable youth.

to think i wondered at the slightest reading ms kon's facebook status shoutout about a delicious 21 year old. it is the most natural thing in the world! it must be!

(this is not lust, this is connoisseurship. this is an unrevealed art hidden from the prying eyes of the jaded world.)

i would scorn nudity. you need only whisper implicit travesties softly to me; my lips, my skin, my breath, my eyes, my fingers, my tongue; no smiles, only smirks

it will weaken my knees, just remembering this night

kaleidoscope

diver. cyclist. bummer. dreamer. photographer. christian. dancer. enigma.

sit and listen, sit and listen

mad world.mp3 -

let us; dense sin

Livin la Vida Loca - Ricky Martin

it whispers to me softly (come and play)

cause i'm falling, i'm falling for you

oh darling it's finally true

(and no, i don't know who i'm kidding either)

a year ago today

i would have said exactly the same thing and deserved exactly the same response. today is the first day of this month's menses. it always makes sense in retrospect. the nocturnal emo, daytime emo, 24/7 emo. needless fury, verbal diarrhoea, persistent hunger, chocolate cravings (and unfortunately the satisfaction of these cravings because of the birthday celebrations)

gotta rethink reflect and revise my self. not necessarily to become a more wholesome person which is just boring and..yea. boring. but at least to progress from year to year.

a year later today i will look back on my self today and be able to laugh in knowledge that i have grown. that the experiences in the intervening 365 days have been woven into the quilt.

and faster than you can follow me from this lonely place

Running Away - Midnight Hour