Bye Bye

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it's off to army i go!

Bye bye, the 5 of you who read this. for the next three weeks at least. Everything's gonna be alright. GOnna have a good time. will write a journal everyday and draw when i can. Nobody remembers their bmt days. I will.

Heehee. So Long, and thanks for all the fish!

What The Fuck?!

I was playing tennis with this woman i don't know in real life, but i knew in the dream. Another woman and a man were playing in the court next to mine, also people i knew, but not in reality. btw, i've never ever played tennis in my life before (not rich enough).

The other two players were on my left, the woman on my side facing the man opposite me. She kept missing her shots and i was quite amused by that. The missed tennis shots would sometimes strike the table with parasol behind us, toppling our bags and drinks etc.

On my own court, the woman i was playing against kept moving closer and closer to the net. I was quite irritated by that and told her to move further back. She said she could do whatever she wanted. I said she'd miss any high ball i throw at her and i wouldn't keep feeding her balls like i was. She was indignant and stubborn about it so i just proved it to her by sailing a few shots over her head. Irritated i wasn't feeding her balls anymore, she continued to move close to the net, but asked to serve instead.

I let her. She took out a short strip of seaweed, those cut in a rectangle, thick and turgid. She served it over, i tried to give my reply but the seaweed slapped into my racket and fell splat on the ground. Annoyed, i tried to serve it back to her, but it kept sticking to my racket and sliding to the floor. How then was she able to serve it over???

THen i looked down and saw i wasn't holding a tennis racket at all. It was a Ping Pong bat.

Who's your inner rockstar?





I AM KURT COBAIN!!!! ALL BOW DOWN!!!!!

new links: my fren Singwei's blog and deviant art page. check it out.

The Bad Poets' Society

Found my Muji steel organiser today (organization of steel!). I will not talk about the embarrasing amount of Neoprints that can be found in it. Something less embarrasing, but still rather shameful, was my bad poetry i found inside.

when i read it, i dont think i was silly to have felt that way. given that amt of maturity then, it was only natural, perhaps i even owed that event of pain where i've come today in maturity... but the words i used felt soo... pardon the use... embellished. flowery. put up to tell the world "ooh hey i'm in despair" with metaphors and voabulary that took away the actual depths of sorrow i sought to convey. Here's a poem i wrote in sec3/sec4:


When the epiphany ends
when the will bends
when the odds overwhelm
when the ship's lost its helm
when the lightning strikes
when you turn on the lights
when gone is the flame
when it's not known who's to blame
when no reason is given
when here comes oblivion
when i'm without you
i crumble.


i don't know. it's wierd. it's flamboyant and flashy, not the humble simple profound insightful writing i love and seek to achieve. but wad da hell, you laugh it off and point, but when u read it the uncouth unrefined words clumsily strung together still brings to the heart experiance that inspired poetry... bad poetry from proundly fucked up experiances i guess.

bad bio clock. palindromes. catharsis.

I sleep at 7am, escaping the cleansing solaris and waking at dusk, 4 to 6-ish. It got here by way of all-night parties, club/pub indulgences, suppers with long conversations, reading Dragonlance books and Warcraft/RollerCoasterTycoon games.

I have about 18 days to get it into whack by enlistment. Army life: 10pm lights out, 5am roused to prepare for morning exercises.

Tasslehoff Burrfoot, kender of renown from the world of Krynn in Dragonlance, says sleep is a waste of time. You can't do anything while asleep. While it provided rest, fatigue should be done away as well in the first place. The only advantage from sleep were dreams, but one tended to wake to a horrible realization it was only a dream during the most exciting parts (like when a dragon almost catches you with its jaws or an ogre intending to smash your skull open with it's club grabs you by the collar), and therefore renders dreams not an advantage.


Palindromes are words that can be read backwords letter by letter and make the same sentence. A simple one is "Race Car". Another one is "a Toyota". Kristal brought my attention to these a week ago, i've been captivated since. While i've encountered them before, i never knew the names or where to find them. go to www.palindromes.org. My favourite ones are {Senile Felines} and {"Naomi, sex at noon taxes!" I moan}.


I need a catharsis. I'm not feeling enriched by these last days of citizenship before becoming a military serviceman as my nation dictates. I've tried revelry, but i just feel hollow after the mental mists of drink is burned up in my blood. I've tried learning, by means of reading, surfing, discovering new knowledge. That should be enriching right? I still am not quenched, i long for meaning, companionship, meaningful joy. Maybe it's because my break up? These last days are falling through my fingers, and i can't stem the ceaseless flow, for time to give me the catharsis i need. I miss certain friends, i long to meet them but i don't think i'm welcome, and they don't feel the same way about me. My continueing closeness to Tara pains me and comforts me still. I think creation is my catharsis, the exercise of creativity. But i've been feeling drained of late. I've lost my drawing mojo for the last month plus, Underneath#2 doesn't look to have enough time to birth before i go into army, i guess all i'm trying to do is improve my writing on my blog... except you need interesting events/conversations/insights to write about, and i haven't any really.



Best wishes for Taco the Cat and his loving queen-mother krissy!



later at 7.18am
a dream a few days back, just writing it down so as to not forget. Jason, Serene and I are standing on the roof of a house with a sunroof, and we were in an even bigger house that covered everything. Jason had big white feathery wings and i had black leathery wings but i don't think i was evil. I glided down the roof to the garden (all of which was in this huge house) and picked up an acorn. I flew back up and spied throgh the sun roof into the smaller house with Jason and Serene. There was a Christmas tree, all decorated, and the Last Transmission band members were gathered there. John Soloman, Guru, Ena, and Kenneth. I was trying to teach Serene how to accurately pitch the acorn onto John Soloman's head. She was learning intently.

I woke up before anything exciting happened though. I love how dreams can be so wierd. What can i read from this i wonder?

afterthought: I think the leathery wings are cooler. I think jason's wings suited him, he is after all a very hairy person. the feathery wings would shed feathers here and there haha. oh it wasn't an acorn, it was a huge pine cone. The size of my fist, but light, dried out and hollow. wouldn't hurt anyone really. i'd always saw it as a pine cone, but don't know why i typed acorn. hmmm.