Epic burn!!

See how far I've screwed myself.

Gerrard

Photoblog

Folks!

If you even come here, i have a photoblog up at my official website: www.yusufphotography.com.

Check it out!

Love the Shirley

Headbanging to Shirley at 5 am.

Up the Irons!

Isaac the Destroyer

With a 'Rrrrrrakkkk!!!!!' and a 'waaaaaaaaaowwww!!!!!!!!!' he can single handedly wreck nearly anything in the room. While his uncle, Bud Bud, looks on admiringly.

To myself

Remember today, Always.

History Boys

Today, I may have for the first time in my life, scored a complete ZERO on an exam.

Let me add some qualifiers: It may be the first time in my life that I scored ZERO on an exam that I actually didn't give up on.

This does not bode well for the day, late December 08, that I check my grades (or would I want to?)

Best Regards,
What a shitty year

Weekends at Nanyang

Is nothing like a night at the roxbury.

It is however, closer to the sensation of having crossed that border up north into the M-lands. There are several crucial differences though: No noxious fumes belching out of ageing trucks, no endless motorcycle related sounds (the bursting, popping, crackling and of course Vrooming), it's clean, and it's not sucky.

I quite imagine it to be like the romantic notion of a sabbatical, where the dashing professor takes a year off, to dig archaelogical ruins in an exotic South American country, then coming across a crystal skull and thus opening the lid of a pandora's box that involves international evil-doing and fierce Nazi women that look like Cate Blanchett. Assuming that I was not referring to the latest (and hopefully final) Indiana Jones offering, it is painfully clear that Weekends at Nanyang are nothing like I imagined it to be.

I recently spent about 5 thousand hours attempting to deconstruct my most intelligent friend's blog post about Singapore and Culture and something and Government, and predictably gave up. Depressed, I whipped open Firefox in the most 'dashing professor' manner and stylishly logged into blogger and wore my 'clever blogging' gloves so that I could at least match her level of verbosity. But alas, after 3 paragraphs, the "Flesch Readablity" rating hovers at a massive 33.0, which is embarrasingly high compared to her almost impossibly low score of 27.0. Apparently, bombastic sentence structures are not helping my Flesh Kincaid level as well, which suffers at a 10.0.

The meaning behind all these statistics? You may write big (as I am now), but without the real juice in them brains, even the machine knows. They knows, my precious, they knows.

Constructionism

I was going to insert a photo of myself in uniform to prove a point: point is, I didn't manage to upload the photo. (Well just imagine it for the time being: Gangly and misshapen, ill fitting no.3, sweat patches in unglamorous places.

What is becoming increasingly clear to me is how our self projections are nothing more than the products of our compiled life experiences up to the current point of measurement.

Take me for example: (if I may say so myself) well-travelled, reasonably educated, healthy(ish), and a couple more positive adjectives. You may also include here: alienated from the reality of poverty, not as well versed as many others to the 'real' value of money, and other less positive adjectives.

So what is the sum of all that? Me, of course. However, is it fair to judge me by that criteria? The point i'm driving at is Not the objectivity of 'judging' me negatively by the said criterion (e.g. rich, spoilt, out of touch, etc...), but judging me POSITIVELY by the same measurements. As much as I dislike being crowned with such monikers as B.R.A.T, R.B.K, etc, I've discovered recently that it jars my conscience more to be judged positively as a result of my self-image.

Who are they, or for that matter, who am I to be deserving of a positive remark? I am no more than the sum of my artificial life experiences: bought by money and all things that sprout out of money. Of course, i'd like to take this opportunity to point out to my long 'admiring' friends that their estimates of my 'wealth' are quite spectacularly off the mark. Quite like when the CIA estimated Osama Bin Laden to be sitting on hundreds of millions of dollars when the reality was quite sobering.

Lets see: Nice clothes? Money. Health? Money. Education? Money. Camera gear? Money. Cosmopolitan outlook? Money.

Take out the 'money' and I dare you to find a significant population of people who have the same opportunity and stock value as say... someone like me.

Gosh, this does sound awfully self important doesn't it?

I take the R.B.K description anytime.

Of mice and 'china'men

Has it ever occurred to you that 'our' country is slowly but surely conforming to that condition where people abroad always ask: "Singapore? Is that part of China?", then normally your response is "noooooooooooooo..... no no no no way".

Try that response again right now. Doesn't sit that well on your tongue right? Doesn't really roll off with that same confidence as it did when you admonished an ignorant 'ang-moh' 10 years ago. Perhaps its because you were raised right, taught not to lie.

I'm not going to let this rant degenerate into a racist diatribe against them northern folk, but you know very well what I'm talking about. I always had a suspicion that the Powers (austin powers) actually WANTED this to happen, to flood our land with zhongguorens and thus solidify our ties with the future superpower. Gasp! I've said it, I've conceded that in the near future America won't be the sole leading superpower: god help me.

Should you still read this, let me know how you feel about the sino-fication of Singapore. I'm sure you love it.

Best Regards,
Imouttahereassoonaspossiblepleaselmmegetagoodjobabroad

Scribblings

On a wintry morning sitting in a swanky pad, I'm struck by how far removed this place is from home. How do I ever really come home?

Pony's

Just as I was considering this option because of the incredible heat:

Older men who have retained the playfulness, independence, and vigor of youth can usually wear a ponytail to good effect, and the figure of the friendly old hippie with a graying ponytail is familiar to many. On the other side of the coin, a man with a ponytail who otherwise comes off as somber, self-absorbed, "sold out" or excessively professional (even in creative professions like advertising or entertainment) will frequently be thought of as unhip, trying too hard, incapable of coming to terms with his aging, and may be dismissed as going through a midlife crisis. Many consider the wearing of ponytails by balding men as especially pathetic.


Oh, wisdom of some random website.

Interstate Travel

In the vein of Family Guy, laugh out loud feline has nothing to do with what's going on with today's episode of 'Pretentious Rambling'.




A ridiculous dream I had several weeks ago (which I still remember, there must be some significance in that) has left me pondering what could be, or will be. Picture, if you will, an atlas with no fixed bearings and is completely fluid. You'd then realise that Syonan is just a little north of South America, which means that Argentina is just a couple of hours drive along a highway lined with friendly pushcart ladies selling colorful fruits and other third-world wares. At this point you must be thinking, who'd go to Capital of Mud when Argentina's equidistant right? Yeah so the point is, go to Argentina.

So now that you've successfully navigated your fried out Combi (flash to image of Combi)



to samba Argentina, a little hop over to the retiree's shop down the road for a cuppa tea and map will leave you with the realisation that, Holy Shite, if I were to just get on that new bridge they built to connect Argentina and Los Angeles, i'll be in the States in like, 2 hours? Wow!

So naturally, just keep on driving, and you're in fantasy LA, palm tree lined streets and wind in your hair, celebrities jogging around their estates. Let's not really go into the whole, wake up and ohmygod why the hell am I still in this place I could really feel the wind in my hair and it tasted so much better than the wind over here, because really, that's not the point.

I drew the map of the world that I invented:



The point is, isn't the Combi so fucking cool? I wanna get one.

Brutal Extreme

Amount to be studied/memorised/completely understood and ready for regurgitation in approximately 5-7 hours. Plus another subject to top it off an hour after this exam. Fuck off stupid exams, just fuck off.

Where did they go?

There's a brand new board thing where people can leave comments, apparently none so far for quite some time so i'd probably be best off believing my 'survey' where 50% of the respondents claim to have either come here by mistake or some other aberration.

In any case, let's see: it's 5 After Meridian, exactly 8 hours before a key paper, of which i've only really revised twice (re-typing out lecture notes only count as morale boosters) and with Twenty deep friend McShiggets in my tummy, it's not going to be easy to fall asleep. So supposing I do manage to hit the deck completely in an hour, I would need to chijiao (correct? on my way to failing Chinese anyway) at 11 (Shangwu Shi Yi Dian?) which is 5 hours of sleep. What a way to approach life!

I always did say my middle name was Danger. Which makes me the one and only Austin Danger Powers in this horrible little island with no natural resources and enemies all around especially those nasty hobbit-like Indonesian terroristy men with their evil disappearing powers and all. *shiver

This is madness?

SPARTA!

Poetry Shmoetry

He was old beyond compare
Saturn’s rings adorned his visage
Yet like lambs to the slaughter
They gathered around to listen

His every croak and murmur
Sounding much like the rustling of leaves
Tales of lust and murder
Did I not already hear the story of the thieves?

At sundown the crowd assembled
A hunched figure appeared in the doorway
Eager students, they resembled
Good evening, I shall start if I may

The village of Azmuth

A young child of no more than ten
She bore the mark of illdred
Born into a family of churlish men
Hers was a childhood of fear and dread

On her nape did the mark glow
One lonely winters night
Unseen to all
But for one faerie’s delight

Her disappearance was of concern to the house
For she bore terrible knowledge
They knew her as quiet as a mouse
Suspect they did, her bitter umbrage

She might have spoken
Given the chance
Alas! Her speech was broken
Her soul entrapped in an eternal dance

The mark burned beyond pain
Searing flesh and bone
As she danced around the flame
Illdred’s hold was as twisted as his throne

As she passed on into a realm unknown
The bemused faerie beheld the truth
That life was like a child’s toy
Such was the tale of the girl from Azmuth

He turned slowly and disappeared into his hovel
They fell silent and thoughtful
Some returned, hoisting spade and shovel
I remained

Forever mournful

Competency

Mas Selamat Kastari.

Yeah so by now we know all the details (or do we?)

Excerpt from news report: Acknowledging that "many questions have been asked about how the escape happened", DPM Wong Kan Seng said yesterday that some answers (emphasis added) are expected "within a month or so" from an independent Committee of Inquiry set up to "get to the bottom of this matter".

So firstly, as the Minister of Home affairs, nobody told him exactly what happened, and therefore he can't be forthright with us. Fair enough. Why must you tell your big boss everything anyway right? Secondly, take a look at his "Independant Inquiry" team. Mr Wong expects a "objective and balanced" report. Yeah yeah everything the government does it objective and balanced, with major qualifiers. As explored by Mr Wang here, Dr Choong is currently Ministry of Home Affairs deputy secretary! How balanced do you expect a report on Lee Hsien Loong by his deputy, Wong Kan Seng? I shall leave you to your own conclusions.

Moving on, lets get to his 'apology'. "This should never have happened. I am sorry that it had," he said, adding that security at the centre had since been stepped up.

Say I've just broken another player's leg, ala Eduardo Da Silva. "This should never have happened (leg breaking). I am sorry that it had", adding that he has since been working extra hard at the training ground to get his tackles on time. Sincere? Taking the blame for his department? Let me get something straight here. We pay these ministers (OUT OF THE) World class salaries for presumably (OUT OF THE) World effort and output. We were given repeated 2-4 page spreads in ST everyday extolling the virtues of our ministers and their salaries vs private sector etc to convince us that yes, it's worth it. So whenever a ministry gets something right, who takes the credit? Not (for example) DX10 Tan Choon Yong or CPT Eddie Goh (all fictional names), but the Head of Department. In this instance, Wong Kan Seng. When JI folks were being rounded up and herded into the detention centres, great work by Wong Kan Seng and his team. Now at this point, who do you think will take the blame when the 'objective and balanced' report emerges? Some Corporal (ghurka name) will be sacked, another general and foggy apology, and end of story. By the next elections, which is far on the horizon, all such issues will be forgotten. OR, this will be flogged again to highlight how dangerous the world we live in is, and how we have the police to thank (and therefore the excellent guidance of Wong Kan Seng) and the ministry of Home Affairs. How can we live without the PAP?

Some people (I find it hard to believe this is a real person) seem to find DPM's 'apology' so sincere he practically creamed himself with this letter to TODAY.

Kudos for apology, shows accountability:
Letter from SOH YEW PENG
I AM impressed by the apology made by Home Affairs Minister Wong Kan Seng with regards to the escape of Mas Selamat Kastari. Instead of a standard official statement issued by the ministry, the Deputy Prime Minister said in Parliament: "This should never have happened. I am sorry that it has." This shows his willingness and courage to account for a lapse of diligence by his subordinates. (what about when he takes credit from them?)

In recent years, other high-level Asian officials have also apologised publicly, some examples being Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh in 2006 to Pakistani human rights activist Asma Jehangir for an "inconvenient" security check; Japan's Prime Minister Shinzo Abe in 2007 for the country's use of women as sex slaves during WW2; and most recently, Australian Prime Minister Kevin Rudd's apology to the Aborigines of his country.

The courage to apologise is a treasured universal value. It is respectable conduct when it is genuine, done in the right context and spirit, and in a timely fashion. It demonstrates the desire to be responsible and accountable. Ultimately, it is about the integrity and credibility of a government.

I hope heads of government agencies, statutory boards and ministries can learn from Mr Wong's "crisis management" example.

-end-

Doesnt the last 3 paragraphs sound scarily like "standard official statements issued by the ministry" that this guy is talking about? If this is what I really think it is, I sure hope our government has not gone back to ghostwriting in the media to prop themselves up.

Anyway, who ever said internet media is not 'more' liberal?

Jeez.

There's so much more fun to be had

than spending a evening doing goddamn assignments. 

If I could rent a monkey for an evening, that would be more interesting. I'd leash him (gently), and bring it for a walk. 

If i could borrow Chawang from the Zoo, I think that would be well thrilling. I'd use him as my personal transport, a taxi of sorts. Just me and my Chawang, sauntering along Nanyang avenue on the way to school at 9 in the morning. We'd be the 'must-see' segment of anyone who cared to notice. "Hey, look, there goes elephant man"

Or what about Omar the white tiger? It's unlikely that we could share the same bed at night, unless i sleep on him or vice-versa. (at this point, its painfully obvious that I read the papers today: thus these crazy notions of endangered animal ownership)

That's the sad reality of an existence in Pulau Nanyang. After pushing an essay under the Master's door, you run back to do another one. 

And when the long break comes? Go absolutely brain-dead and lose all motivation. There's something fundamentally wrong here when all the fun goes out of doing what you (said) liked. 

As each day goes by, I cast my eyes on some imaginary watch i'll be wearing 10 years from now. Thing is, the time's not the same as anyone left on this island. 

Oh card of green-ness, stop tempting me. 

Liverpool couldn't hit the side of a Barn-door even if it was right in front of their face.

But Barn-sley can!

Lost in translation

The shoulder-pole is wide, the bench is long.
The shoulder-pole wants to be tied on the bench.
The shoulder-pole is wide, the bench is long.
The shoulder-pole wants to be tied on the bench.

London's Marilyn bought a qipao for her mother.
Moscow's Fusky fell in love with beef couscous* noodles.
People with skin of all colours, people with hair of all colours:
They mouth and speak the increasingly popular Chinese language.

For how many years have we slaved away at English pronunciation and grammar?
These few years, it's their turn to learn how to roll their tongues and learn the different intonations.
The Chinese are such smart people, and the Chinese language is so beautiful.

The shoulder-pole is wide, the bench is long.
The shoulder-pole wants to be tied on the bench.
The bench refuses to let the shoulder-pole be tied on itself.
The shoulder-pole insists on tying itself on the bench.
The bench simply refuses to let the shoulder-pole be tied on itself.
So in the end, is the shoulder-pole wider, or is the bench longer?

An elder and younger brother sat on a hill.
On the hill there is a goose.
At the hill's foot a river runs.
The elder brother says, "The river is wide."
The younger brother says, "The goose is white."
The goose wants to cross the river; the river wants to carry the goose across.
It is unknown if the goose crossed the river,
Or if the river carried the goose across.

The entire world is learning Chinese.
The language of Confucius is becoming increasingly gloabalised.
The entire world is speaking Chinese.
The language that we speaks, commands respect from the world.

New York's Susanna opened a Zen-styled Lounge Bar.
Berlin's Wolfgang uses an Erhu as an accompaniment to his electric guitar.
People with skin of all colours, people with hair of all colours:
They mouth and speak the increasingly popular Chinese language.

For how many years have we slaved away at English pronunciation and grammar?
These few years, it's their turn to learn how to roll their tongues and learn the different intonations.
The Chinese are such smart people, and the Chinese language is so beautiful.

There's a child called Little Du;
He went out to buy vinegar and cloth.
After he bought his cloth and vinegar,
He turned around and saw an eagle snatching up a rabbit.
Putting down his cloth and settling down his vinegar,
He dashed forward to catch the eagle and rabbit.
The eagle flew away, while the rabbit ran away.
The vinegar was spilled, the cloth got wet.

The mouth complained about the legs, the legs complained about the mouth.
The mouth complained about the legs, for vamoosing at the slightest hint of trouble.
The legs complained about the mouth, for boasting too often.
Moving just the mouth, and leaving the legs untouched.
Moving just the legs, leaving the mouth unused.
If those are the cases, we may as well not grow legs and mouth.
In the end, did the mouth complain about the legs, or did the legs complain about the mouth?

Feline Desires

Watching two cats chase each other around my room gave rise to a strange desire of mine (never expressed before). 

Silly kids movies aside, what probably goes through a cat's mind in a typical day? 

0600: Man, it's dark. And im hungry. I think i'll sleep a little more until someone feeds me. 

0800: Still sleeping...

1000: wtf, damn bright sunlight! I shall shift to somewhere shady. I'm still hungry. *snore

1200: Just ate, someone put out a bowl for me, then disappeared. Bastard, doesnt he know how hungry I am? I shall run around and look for more food. 

1215: Wow, awesomely sleepy. *snore

1500: Great, looks like everyone's sort of coming back from school... where's my food? *Meow*

1700: I feel strangely satiated. But why am I sleepy again? *snore

1900: What the hell? Why are you sniffing my anus? *chase

2100: *still chasing

2200: I've just been abducted and locked in a room. At least there's a comfy bed. *snore

0600: Repeat....

So you see, it's not too bad to be a cat. No need to consider stupid things like Coase Theorem, damn economists and their un-social view of the world, AUs, banner painting, long pointless meetings, embarrasing defeats to bitter rivals, hoping that liverpool lose (which they usually do), and generally other, well, human stuff. 

*Meow*

'

It's official

Spurs are the greatest team in the whole world. Real Madrid should change their white jersey in honour of them, how can they dishonour spurs by always wearing white?

That is all.

Anticipation

This is somewhat premature, but I'm brimming with anticipation of yet another foray into the unknown. 

Oh, the boundless pleasure there is to be had, roaming foreign streets alone, a stranger with no reason to be there. To amble along endless boulevards, listening to the sound of dry leaves crackling under my feet, and from time to time catching the curious eye of an aborigine, bemused by the look of bliss permanently plastered on my face. 

To roam and roam, to listen to the strains of a familiar tune echoing down long train tunnels in the Tube. To gaze and be amazed, by the endless corridoors of the Louvre. 

To park myself in a cosy corner and perhaps indulge in a rare cappucino (what does that taste like, i wonder) while savouring the sights and sounds of a lazy Paris afternoon. 

To wear a light sweater, and to shrug it off my shoulders when the breeze subsides, when the cool air tickles the mercury at the right spot. 

To leave this goddamn place, bit by bit, my soul disconnects from this land of pointlessness. 

Sweet Dreams

Ushering in the new year with the Top Four, the way it's meant to be :)

A Little

I've been a little disappointed by what's been happening in the days past, both internationally and closer to home. 

Knee jerk reactions to Bhutto's death are that it's definitely by Islamists, but that's counterintuitive, because they oppose Pervert Musharraf. However, being enemies of the same person does not make one an ally, does it? 

Now, her 19 year old son has been declared 'party leader'. However, he's still in school so daddy's gonna hold the fort till university is over. What?! I wouldn't even trust a 19 year old to make sure there are enough rations for field camp, much less head the largest political party in Pakistan.

Closer to home: I'm feeling mostly ambivalent about my results, by no means is it an accurate marker of what's to come in the next 4 years for sure. Generally, I've come to expect a little too much in some departments and a little too much from others, and in the end, it all becomes like slush; part ice, part dirt. 

Where's my favourite outlet when I need it? A little patience won't do any harm, well mostly anyway. 

First task at hand, hope that City gets something for their formidable first half heroics.

Cheerio. 

Testing Using Blogger with dashboard Widget!

Wow this apparently works! All hail mighty google!

Stupidest movie ever

Spend

True to the capitalist inspired consumer ethic, I've purchased a totally unnecessary new keyboard. It's the least I can indulge since it's hard to afford any Apple accessories.

Real reason is that the old keyboard is too sticky to play Fifa 08, so when i want to execute a last-minute tackle it's always a split second too late and some prick like Torres manages to score (impossible isnt it?) against my magnificent defence.

Well, no more ridiculous goals for ridiculous teams, DEFENCE!

The real need for speed

I have been waiting 3 weeks to get back home to play this, and I find out that it doesn't work on Leopard.

However, click here to see that Apple actually sells the game on their website.

So as you can see, it's like buying Microsoft Office, only to find out it doesn't work on Vista!

*Clap Clap

Stevie "asshole" Gerrard

Some things you just have to applaud. Here's to you, Stevie G, greatest midfielder ever . Frank Fatpard doesn't even come close.

Fear and Loyalty

Greetings, Dear Reader

I block quote because, 1. I didn't notice the function before 2. I haven't updated this website since Henry packed his boots and decided to sleep with the folks from El Marca.

To be honest, I was attempting to disconnect (quite literally) from this provider and move to one, far 'cooler' and 'personalised', called .mac

After being seduced by the 60 day trial and all the bells and whistles (whizzbang!), it struck me that 99 was not SGD but USD. So much for that.

I've migrated to a state of existence where I am constantly reborn each day. In a sense that, "OH SHIT ASSIGNMENT DUE TOMORROW?", or if I'm lucky, "OH SHIT ASSIGNMENT DUE DAY AFTER TOMORROW?", or if I'm really lucky, "OH SHIT ASSIGNMENT DUE NEXT MONDAY?".

If I'm particularly unlucky its, "OH SHIT ASSIGNMENT DUE TODAY?".

Makes for an exciting existence, this.

It gratifies me to see my files overflow with notes, line after line of pink/red/purple streaks that lose their meaning over time.

Significantly, I paid .33 pounds for In Rainbows. Remember, don't download music illegally. Always pay for it.

OH SHIT ASSIGNMENT DUE TODAY!

watch out

i finally made it....... not

We regret to inform you that bzzeeetttttllaaaaaaaaxxxxxx.

The Admission Selection Committee has evaluated your application very carefulllabbabbeeeezzeeeeeetttllaaaaaxxxxxx.

Thank you for your inreeesssakkakakakakkaka and best of luck in your future endeavours.

Yours Sincerely,

(Unreadable Squiggly)

Assoc Prof Xxxoaoooappappapapa
Dean of Admissions

Hello,

I saw your profile i decided to send you this message however i will
like
you to read all the message i sen't you then you get
back to me.

I am Mrs.Grace Kabila, from Democratic Republic of Congo. There is an
information I would like you to keep very confidential There is sum
ammount
of money my Husband Late President Laurent Kabila, deposited in a
security
company in Abidjan Cote d'ivoire forsafe keeping. Before he was killed
by
his Eldest Millitary Son.

The squable happened as immediately we returned back from our London
trip.
My husband married us two.I am the second wife.I will not be able to
give
you the full details that led to that urgly incidents rightnow.

The Eldest Son is the current President of our country now JOSEPH
KABILA.
For now I am staying in Abijdan, the capital of Republic of Cote
d'voire,just to save my life,with my three children. The money in
question,
is 17, Million U.S.Dollars.

I can not make the withdrawal of this fund, because my husband
registered
the Beneficiary of the fund as his (Foriegn Bussiness Patner) and also
(Family valuables as the content of the deposit)The documents of the
deposit
are with me.


What I would want you to do, is to assits me to get the consignment
withdrawn from the security company, and we shall open a small account
in a
Bank here in your name, and transfer the money to your country, through
the
account .We shall replace the name
Foriegn Patner to your own name, because the code was used forsecurity
reason. I will give you the 10% of the money for your assitance.There
is no
risk in this transaction.

I will use the remaining balance of the money for an investiment in
your
country for the future of my children. If you are intrested, and can
maintain the very confidential of this transaction,you e-mail me
immediately
for more clearification, and also note that I am a refugees in Abidjan,
Cote
d' lvoire becuase of the assasination of my late husband,and the civil
war
going on in our country,Democratic Republic of Congo.

Reply immediately you receive this email for further information.



Thank you very much.
Mrs Grace Kabila.

A Real Compelling reason



to allow camera phones into our camps

3-4th June, will be a sleepover of sorts to mark the passing of yet again another birthday in my notch-post of years gone by.

If you wanna come then just come.

Of Meaningless Rhetoric

"How may I Help You?" has been a phrase preying on my mind of late. It springs on me in the most unexpected circumstances, such as answering the phone at home, or bumping into someone of the more unfortunate kind on public transport.

HMHY, or How may i Help You? for short, is the new Good Morning. Good morning has simply gone out of style. Who wants to hear a greeting when all the really want, (presumably) is help? Thats the cut and thrust of things. I want help, so offer it to me, Now.

Picture a scenario.

Person A: "Good Morning!"

Person B: "I want to kill myself"

Person A: "hmm"

As opposed to,

Person A: "How may i help you?"

Person B: "I want to kill myself, please"

Now you see, as demonstrated above, meaningless rhetoric, e.g "Good Morning", is as I have clearly shown, Meaningless.

Society as a whole should just run through our mental vocabulary and erase, line by line, all meaningless rhetoric.

Stupid Phrases like, "You look sick", "You sound worried," "You seem nervous", "Don't worry, there's no sugar (borrowed from an even stupider advertisement)", Should all just be replaced by, yes you've guessed it... "How May I Help You?"

There's a definite ring to a phrase like "HMHY", at once deliberate yet cautious, direct yet polite. Just remember to plaster a grin on your face, one that your even your blood mother would be ashamed of, before proceeding to vocalize, proudly, "HOW MAY I HELP YOU?"

CAPS are, of course, rude.

Time
to go where im going to 'suffer' and 'whine' endlessly

:(

*whines

The Sand, The Stone, and the Metal Tools

It was as though the mighty legion of warriors had ceased to move and were felled in one single, mighty blow, never to rise again to interfere in the troubled waters, where conflict was in great demand and bitter words were being tossed into the vast ocean with no great consequence, and so huge was the natural immunity from disastrous events that her puny neighbours could do no more than to grovel at her feet to attract attention and plead for independance and self rule from years of hard to forget memories of persecution, and then suddenly put up a bold front and behead with patriotic passion all those who deigned to trespass in their sacred ground, considered profane by the bewildered commoners and outsiders unaware of the great boiling pot roasting on the stove, it's insides melting from the insinuating heat but the lid firmly held shut by the captain of the sinking ship, soon to explode and engulf all in it's vicinity with white hot ashes of immense greed and arrogance, burning those unfortunate enough to feel its holy touch down to their very core, the very essence of their being, and in time they shall be born again, much like the phoenix, refreshed and anew, maybe now is the chance to learn how to live and love, but the lasting imprints of their brief encounter with Hades shall never leave them, should they try to resume their old ways of sloth and vice, and of the infernal knobbly rods they swing with their hands with an air of complete satisfaction at the expense of an innocent life or two, and these are those that shall never again remember the joy, the superfluous happiness of cradling a child in their wrinkled arms, but only the guilt and pangs of infinite regret of the deaths, day by day growing greater in number until the eye feels sorrow, and for no apparent reason, the once loyal in their unwavering support, now wilt and fall, with a new seedling failing to take root, instead evolving in their own mysterious way, fuelled by grit and an unfathomable desire, the determination to fulfill the curious prophecy, that they will one day be destined to take over the helm of what was once the greatest empire on earth..

HARDCORE

Red Light, Green Light. Red Light, Green Light. span>

Red Light, Green Light. Red Light, Green Light. span>

Red Light, Green Light. Red Light, Green Light. span>

Red Light, Green Light. Red Light, Green Light. span>

Red Light, Green Light. Red Light, Green Light. span>

Red Light, Green Light. Red Light, Green Light. span>

Red Light, Green Light. Red Light, Green Light. span>

Red Light, Green Light. Red Light, Green Light.

watch as the bitter foes of united states: north korea, iran, venezuela, etc... all offer help and money to the victims of katrina.

Out of goodwill? It'll be the end of the world before political powers help each other out of goodwill, it's actually saddening because the united states will ease off the pressure they were putting on the 'axis of evil' as a Thank You gesture for the wonderful help and assistance.

Seriously, with a military budget that just flows into the seas of the middle east and israel, you'd expect the united states to be able to handle their own shit. People, stop donating, every cent you donate means their military budget stays where it is... killing and maiming and every single atrocity you could attribute to worldwide americanism.

Sure, fly there and help, but don't fucking donate.

After a day of listening to overhyped nonsense, (electrico etc...) I thought i'd come home for a nice relaxing evening, you know... me and my iTunes, real music not some emo-ed shit or punk rock (suck my dick im american therefore i Rule).

GROARRRRRR.

The plan failed, rather unspectacularly due to the fact that I was half expecting it. The bike rack was conspicuously empty. As I said, I half expected it. The magnificent seven of stolen bicycles. A double hatrick + 1. 7-0.

One day, I shall come home and see a long haired mat/beng/foreign worker fiddling with my lock. I shall not say a single fucking word or make a single fucking noise. But i shall come upon him like republicans to arab muslims. I shall be merciless. It would not be complete if he doesnt end up lying on the canal floor, either drowning or slowly dying from broken vertebrae.

You better fucking watch out asshole. But if its a girl i'll just drag her by the hair to the police station. That would be nice.

Me jam? HAH!

Each day as I trudge home from work, my mind visits a million different places, the things I want to do, the places I want to see, the achievements i wish to, well, achieve. And as I daydream, music is pumped into my ears via pro-2 headphones. A veritable mixture, of blues/metal/rock whatever, all of which I can proudly admit to NOT BEING ABLE TO PLAY.

I turn the knob on my door and am greeted by my room in the same immaculate state (i just cleaned it up), and in one corner a mass of cables and pedals on the floor, and a fender guitar with rusty strings (testament to how often I play it). It's almost as though by my sheer inability to wrench a decent sound out of it, I have abandoned it. It betrayed me. It promised me the admiration of millions, and their millions in my pocket. And now it just lies there, a 6-stringed symbol of broken promises. Fuck you fender.

And fuck myself for not practising which probably wouldn't do any good anyway. How fatalistic my thinking is. How appropriate. Perhaps I should pick up some emo punk riffs. If I did, you have the license to shoot me... in the head.

What do we really want?

Do we look to fatten our wallets by whomsoever's ill/well gotten gains? Or do we intend to pursue the utopian way of life? What is utopian anymore? Could it be just chasing dollars (forget cents its too miniscule a value) and then suffer from depression and loneliness, then chase china ass in geylang? As it was poorly put in The Matrix: Cause and Effect
Does an employer feel, that as a result of being poorly treated in his/her youth (i.e overworked, underpaid, ridiculous hours, mindless accusations) he must then impart such kind treatment to his employees when given the opportunity to? If this said employer were to have several children, and were to dream of a beautiful world for them to inherit, wouldn't they then suffer the consequences of the wheel of employee torture, perpetuated by their monstrous parents?

Raising a tea cup to the heavens each time you eat a meal and claim that 'all our hardwork is for the future generation' isn't going to make the fact that you do have a substantial amount of money to live on and your company isn't doing too badly go away. It merely shows how greedy you, as an employer, can really be and would be willing to sacrifice the efforts and (dare i say lives?) of your employees for, well, the future generation.

Your future generation, or the future generation of your employees? Are your children going to grow up and begin to search for these broken people, old and haggard and POOR, and thank them for working like a slave in a pharoetic empire? "Thanks for sponsoring my good life!" they'll say and sprinkle you with a few coins.

I say screw you. I say screw yourselves and your selfish desires. (People say fuck you and your selfish dreams but im not so nasty) Think of the human's basic needs. Food and shelter. If you pay them elephant food, how do you expect them to afford to build any form of savings? If they aren't going to go home for dinner ever because they're stuck in the office till some ridiculous hour, how do you expect them to afford meals out of home all the time? In fact, how do you expect them to do anything else than lick your toes?

Grow up. Vengeance is not yours to give, didnt your parents teach you not hit back at the bullies in school, but instead to stand up to them without exacting violent revenge? Maybe not. Because if they did, you would hit back at your cruel employers who are probably already rotting in their damp graves by treating your employees well. Start your own good wheel of fortune. Your kids will thank you for that.

Stupid Bastards.

Children. The innocent, angel like forms that seem to replicate cupid with their rapturous laughter that brings a smile to anyone without lead in their hearts.

Or not.

Today I ate a packet of rice. With my hands. Now that may or may not shock you, depending on your upbringing, or whether you will turn out to be just the same as the 20-odd children who clamoured to form the tight circle around me as I ate, the minority race shit skin colored boy who ate with his hands.

A chorus of "eeeeeeee" broke out as I merely touched the rice with my finger. A small cute girl of merely seven turned to her friend, her eyes wide with disgust and whispered urgently in her ear, "so gross!". Ah yes, thank you for being ever so polite while I'm eating, don't even try to conceal it, it's really fine thank you.

Nearby, a friend attempted to salvage the situation. "Don't you eat burgers with your hands?".

"Yaaaaaaaaaa but thats different!" (but being children, the illogical is their domain so no fruitful argument can ever be sustained)

My friend persisted, "Don't you know he's Malay?"

To which a flurry of barely concealed whispers (the irony) conveyed words such as "malay", "indian", smelly. I mean like seriously, what could be smellier than a bunch of malay and indian men/women who probably shower three or four times daily and especially in the morning before school.

Then the most unbelievable sequence of answers I have ever heard from a mouth so angelic and young.

"I wouldn't be friend with any Malays or Indians in school"
"The rendang looks like shit. Eeeeee"
The very girl gave up chocolates temporarily because she was convinced that it would render her fair skin dark. (i.e extremelysuperfuckingugly like all dark skinned women) *authors note, if you got offended by the comments in the () then you must be supremely stupid or superfucking supremely stupid.

There's no other word that comes to mind but a resounding Wow. I know that everyone's a little bit racist, whether or not you like it. But at a pre-school level? And at a level that's scarily adult? Who teaches them these things?

Oh. I know.

Today I was awaken rudely by some loud 'music'.

Music favoured by Chinese youth, the male species resembling 'golden monkeys' and females resembling well, I dont know how to describe them better than by the use of the word "lian".

Techno. Loud thumping beats followed by synthesized everything: bass, keyboards, strings, vox. How it appeals to anyone is beyond even basic logic; it's just looping and looping and looping? why? WHY?

It leads to several interesting questions... perhaps it is a genetic affection to Techno applying only to specific species of human beings, i.e Beng + Lian. How would this genetic aberration occur? Perhaps from their embryotic days... picture a pregnant mother sitting next to the radio blasting wkrz, the thumping beats permeating the skin of her belly and into the sub-conscious of her innocent child.

Born a techno lover! Just like that!

But simply, we need to find the motherfucker who invented this genre in the first place. I imagine he must have been severely depressed, a result of having all his nails plucked out one by one by faceless nazi SS soldiers, his wife consequently sleeping with the aforementioned soldiers and then leaving him but not before emptying his savings but leaving a penny as a token of appreciation for 10 years of faithful marriage. Then he had a nail hammered into the inner workings of his ear, puncturing his eardrums and rendering him nearly deaf, (didn't stop beethoven from manufacturing classics). At that point Mr Techno realised that there wasn't really any point in persisting to exist, so before taking his life he laid down the foundations of techno and sent a sample to WKRZ

TECHNO RULES!

And if I have to wake up to that shit tomorrow morning I shall write a stern letter to the owner of the house telling him/her to turn the shit down or I shall be very upset and write another letter. Bah.

adjustment

I had a theme in mind actually, and I wanted to organise a "Two-piece clothing party", meaning you cannot enter the party wearing more than two pieces of clothing.

And if you wear a hat, you get a door gift.

I don't think everyone's game for that though, so let's make it such that everyone wears at least a piece of pink! Ok no pink then red also can. =) If you don't have either, you shall have to be the person doing the barbecue. Wahahaha!

For my friends who are coming, please RSVP by today (I have not invited everyone yet and I apologize to people who messaged me on my starhub as my phone is spoilt and I can't see it - but it is ok now).



p/s: I said blog readers can come if you want to, but I cannot allow you guys to all stay lah, coz of safely reasons. =) Sorry if you guys misunderstood! But then again, what's the fun of coming if you don't gatecrash? So no, don't come ah! Cannot come!

Have you seen where the fun went?

How strange it is that when school (the epitome of evil) ends, the fun and excitement just seems to fall apart. Everyone's got a job, some people have the luck of beginning their 2 year jail sentence earlier than the rest.

What, you may ask, am I doing? The large blot lying in his parents house, more aptly known as a bum. His friends have a life, his bicycle donated to the international thief's association, his computer surrendered to the recurrent nokia installer bug. The television, once used by the xbox federation, now blown out and emits a feeble red flash of distress whenever an attempt is made to switch the damn thing ON.

So at a 4pm on a beautiful thursday afternoon, he lies on the floor, waiting for something to happen. Hopefully it isn't sleep again.

she's gone 

i'm a little teapot short and stout 

quote "i'm really a nice guy" 

who said he's dead 

happened to bump into them at the convenience store 

aiii 

they say he's a nice chap 

Fists of fury 

river thames again 

tower of london 

yo  

Swan Orgy 

scv, please get mtv2 (again) 

scv, please get mtv2 

differenciation 

Powerful workhorse of the UK motorways