Night rumblings.

I confess I didn't feel too well this year when I decided to write my Christmas cards.

Partly, because Christmas didn't feel so festive for me this year. Probably another reason would be the friends I send Christmas cards to, I haven't seen in awhile. Awhile, meaning like five years or more.

So, which is usually the case, I start to analyse myself. Is sending Christmas cards a mere reminder to them of my existence, or an indirect hint to them to send me one back. After all, who really sends christmas cards nowdays because they mean it? You might send it to business acquaintances as a gesture of goodwill, or a gift to cultivate business relations. You might send it to friends and family simply because well, because that's what people do what.

And, yet, I confess that a beam comes to my face when the few respond to the cards I send. Perhaps in their mind, they're thinking 'hmm who's this person. sounds vaguely familiar' or 'omg. another card from Him. doesn't He get the hint already?'.

Honestly, in a few years time, I just might cease sending cards. Or I just might send to a bunch of different friends. Who knows right.

I have a board beside my bed; the kind you can pin stuff on. On it, are addresses. A useful board for when it's time to send cards. Yet, it's so hard to decide who to send to each year. Of three quarters of them, I've not spoken a word to. And, even if I were to, there's usually nothing else to say after 'Hi, how're you? How's sch?'

Am I then, one of those who have lost the ability to communicate? Nah. I'm socially skilled.

And. I can only accept the fact that people weave in and out of your life all the time. Like a cross stitch, sometimes it goes in, sometimes it comes out. Sometimes, it goes in and stays in; it doesn't come out. The various threads, they have to follow the great tapestry or design or masterpiece the owner is weaving.

The times where the thread simply refuses to go through the eye of the needle; they may not be accidental. Or the areas where the threads don't meet. Perhaps it's for a reason.

So, I confess my helplessness when I look upon these addresses in sorrow. Reflecting upon nostalgia, and revelling in memories of yesteryear.

Just a simple trip down memory lane.

Where water under the bridge shoots up like a geyser.

And sleeping dogs bark and chase their own tails.

And skeletons clubbing within closets.

Simple is such an understatement.

New Year Resolutions

The start of the new year brings about promise, and a certain mystery, to what life will be after army.

Perhaps army is a dementor in its way. Yet, in all its evil, it allows me to spell out my own Patronus, and light the way.

A new year of promise. New adventures to encounter. The start of routines, that will escalate and end in a different world altogether.

And, I already have my first new year resolution. Which is to be a good secret keeper. I could just blame it on army and say secrets are not kept but shared, all in the name of unity. Or I could just blame it on my loose tongue.

But, loose it is no more. For now. For my kids. And for my future. Well, the one that's in my mind now. That might involve confidentiality clauses. (No, I'm not becoming a patient.)

You just gotta appreciate kids. Blunt, honest and crude. Nay a hint of tact, nor agile sensitivity, they just dish it to you the way it is. And you can't fault them for it.

Thoughts Bought Noughts

The night is silent, and quiet. The wind gently rustles through the trees, blowing droplets off leaves and sending them plummeting down to earth.

Pitter-patter, helter-skelter.

Calm envelops him, whom lies within the bed of hay. The stars twinkle overhead, winking to each other, alongside the grinning moon.

Mind to matter, heart to shatter.

The frogs diminish their croakings as they sense the royal child asleep. No wailing piercing through the air, no sobbing streaming through the lair.

C the letter, T the latter.

Beneath the crib, unseen, unknown, a tiny rose it slowly grows.

H two R, he IS.

Amongst the hay, with nay a grain of soil.

It doesn't wither, doesn't recede. It just grows towards the source of light.

How to Tweet locally.

You would have seen it in papers. Twitter, twitting, or tweeting. First it was a thing of the youths, now celebrities are doing it, and no doubt some politicians too.

And, you got so excited, and wanting to be in the trend, you've decided to get yourself a Twitter account. Excellent. All signed up and ready to go? What? You've got a question?

Oh. How to tweet from the phone ah?

That's an excellent question, actually. You see ah, got a lot of applications you can use to help you tweet while on the move, and yours truly is here to help.

Starhub Mobitweet!
If you are using Starhub, and are either on Student/NSF plan, with unlimited sms, or you simply have a lot of free sms-s to spare, Starhub allows you to tweet for free!

Registration is easy and fast. Simply sign in with your Twitter account, select a maximum of ten friends to receive updates, and you're done.

In a nutshell:
What you can do: Tweet (duh!), receive tweets (only from 10 friends of your choice), and reply tweets (only to those 10 friends.)
Cost: Free.
Ratings: 3/5. Why only 10 friends?!


gladlyCast
If you want to only update Twitter via your phone, this is for you. An exclusive site only for Singapore, Malaysia and Philippine users. Each country has its own number for users to Tweet, so no worries about skyrocketing costs of international messages.

It accepts tweets in Chinese, Japanese and Hebrew too. Though why you might wanna tweet in Japanese, when it doesn't work in Japan, or tweet in Hebrew is kindof questionable. Tamil might be nice actually, since it's a national language in Singapore.

You do not need to register for an account at gladlyCast. All you need is to sign in with your Twitter account. The website will flash a certain phrase on your screen, and you have to sms that in to the local number shown, and within seconds, you are free to tweet.

In a nutshell:
What you can do: Tweet (duh!). And that's about it.
Cost: The equivalent of a local sms. (Or free, if you have unlimited)
Ratings: 2/5. (no other function except to tweet?!)


sgBEAT
If you want to update Twitter, Facebook, Plurk! and support local sounding names or names that has an SG in it.

By invitation, or by registering but accounts are limited. As of time of writing, they have yet to get back to me about an account.

In a nutshell:
What you can do: Tweet (duh!), and update facebook.
Cost: Free
Ratings: 3/5. (They offer two local numbers for you to sms to, so no worries about laggy updates)


If you're an Iphone / Ipod Touch user, you can try
Echofon
I don't use any so I really can't comment.

Two hearts are better than one.

On sunday, I saw a sister protectively hugging her little brother. He, in all his childlike innocence, irritated another kid. The kid pushed him to his sister and told her to take care of her brother.

She pulled him close, and wrapped her arms around him.

And when I looked in her eyes. I didn't see annoyance or a look of irritation, but acceptance of the fact that she was his guardian. And deep ungrudging unbias love. Maybe because blood is thicker than water, and she has accepted the fact that she is responsible for his safety. Not everybody accepts such responsibilities nowadays.

Yet she loves him simply because he's her brother.

Today, I saw the same scene. The siblings were around a decade older, though this time the roles were reversed. The brother was the older sibling and the sister the younger sibling. She helped him to his feet, and stuck by him, despite him pushing her away, in his drunken stupor.

Perhaps in the future, when she has a quiet moment to herself, when troubles overwhelm her, and darkness creeps upon the windowsill, the scene of him pushing her away might replay in her mind. She might sob, she might tear, despite her brother living oh so near.

Yet, it was with love that she stuck by him, and it is love that will see them true. Not bonded by gender or race or language or religion, but by blood. The same blood that beats within their hearts.

Two hearts are better than one.

future kids.

I was thinking maybe I should get throat mics for church.

Okay, actually that was just a random thought that came from reading Matthew Reily's book.

What I was actually thinking, was that in the future kids might probably take a step back in technology, and result to using conventional methods of communications. Not that IM or SMS would be obsolete, but see my point ah.

Kids are tech-savvy nowadays. Thus, parents are scrambling to catch up. What happens when kids today become parent tomorrow?

Naturally it would be harder for future kids to create their personal space, and maintain their privacy. Already, some parents have resorted to tracking their kids via global positioning satellite (gps) on their phones, or hiring private investigators to follow them.

Perhaps some may even secretly install key loggers, and then log in to the various accounts, simply to 'get to know their children'. But do we really need all these?

While I agree that technology is useful for bridging gaps between parents and their children, this is definitely too extreme. The onus would be on you to trust your child, without going behind his or her back.

I foresee future generations would be walking forward watching their back.

There are, in my opinion, a lot of firsts to be experienced while growing up. First stead. First kiss. First sexual exploration. Okay, maybe not that one. And, to some, the first time you lie to your parents about your whereabouts.

Come on, there's a bit of fun in that okay. Besides, it's all in the spirit of teenage rebellion and all those shit.

But, back to my point. Because our kids now will be parents later, (I don't mean it as later literally) future kids will find it hard to grow up with tech-savvy parents, who may install hidden softwares on their gadgets, and track them with gadgets and all, they may actually resort to using conventional methods to grow up. Passing a physical letter instead of sending a text. Using invisible ink to write secret stuff, and exchanging notes in class. Writing in a physical diary under physical lock and key, instead of a virtual blog with a virtual restricted access password protected system.

Seriously, I think something might need to be done about our current kids, in that we grow them well, such that they won't be like us now.

Don't you think so?

The Anthem

Memories.

I cleaned up a couple of drawers today. Perhaps I'm a sentimental guy. I like to keep stuff that are remnants of the past. Not that extreme, like keeping a mummy or sand from beaches of places I've been to, but more of events or people that entered my life.

Example: class photos. Or other such memorabilia. Some might say this is being too materialistic, and I tend to agree. If I could go back in time, I would travel back in time and create a 3d model of my primary school. How else to tell my kids about the joys of playing catching or zero point or hopscotch. Their version of playing catching would be pressing WASD on the keyboard. And maybe hold on to the shift button to sprint.

And among my 'artifacts' I found a notebook. One that I used during BMT and includes poems and prose that I wrote during free time.

One you can view here http://monkeytuba.blogspot.com/2008/10/step-forward.html>http://monkeytuba.blogspot.com/2008/10/step-forward.html

The other one, I shall post below. If my memory serves me right, I wrote it in an effort to combine stories with a friend of mine. But she probably might have forgotten about it already, though she did have a flair for writing exceedingly well.

-

Take the dagger, stab me twice
But, be warned, I'm as hard as ice.
Royal blood that flows down south,
Down the ancient mountain's mouth.
By the rising of the sun,
Power and your will be done.

'Sixty-four days', He uttered to himself as he etched another mark on the cave with his self-crafted dagger.

He had woken to find himself chained to the bars, caged up like an animal, along with other children. He had pleaded with his captors to release him, but they only looked at him unfeelingly. He spoke in all the languages that he knew, including dialects from neighboring tribes, but to no avail.

It soon became a routine. They would travel to a new town every week, to be displayed like fruits at a fruit store. At every sale, he hoped eagerly to be bought and freed, but at the end of the day, nobody wanted him.

Perhaps it was because he was thin and bony, and in the eye of his prospective buyers, he would be useless and a burden to the household.

But what could he do? Bread as hard as rock was given out thrice a day. Some times he dreamt of taking the bread and throwing it back to them and knock them out.

Them that feasted every night. The children would look out from the cage, with lifeless eyes. The new 'additions' would lean towards, hoping for some merciful captor to throw them some scraps. Any scrap.

He would know. He did that for the first week till he realized it was just a sport to them; to taunt the children and feign pity.

The only thing he looked forward to was the bath. He noticed the trend on his thirtieth day. Every time they were about to reach an urban town, the children would be chucked into a river for a bath. They would be stripped out of their rages and given new clothes. He always hoped with bated breath at every town, hoping to be bought. Every town that he left, he held on, thinking 'the next town, perhaps'.

It never came. Something life-changing happened instead.

A new kid. Fear and sorrow overflowing, but a glint of hope still remained.

She spoke his dialect too.

-

Youths aren't gracious? Really?

I find it very very very discriminating that most people tend to point the blame on the younger generation. I mean, come on, nobody thanked us for widespread use of shortforms or other youthful, i mean useful, stuff like making a change to the way Chinese is taught.

One thing I realize is that the youths are actually very very very helpful and have a lot of initiative. Granted, me being a youth myself, that sounds totally bias. It would be like NTUC complimenting themselves, or Starhub saying Green is The way to go. Literally.

Just yesterday, I took a train to Bugis. In the midst of the journey, at three consecutive stops, an elderly couple would board the train at each stop. As they enter, a couple would give up their seats for them.

It actually took me by surprise. After all, everybody's complaining about how youths are gracious enough. I actually looked around to make sure there weren't any cameras rolling, just in case it was an advert for a gracious society campaign.

Youths are gracious as a whole. We were brought up with those values. It's just that a few rotten apples spoil the whole barrel. Either that, or perhaps the same few who don't give up their seats happen to get stomp-ed a lot.

But that's not the point. The point is, does the shame campaign really work? Will posting pictures of youths not giving up their seats, or people feigning deep sleep change the community?

Of course not. Putting photos of cash won't make us any more eager for cash than we already are.

Maybe we should change it. Why shame, and not fame? Perhaps we should put up more awards or recognize gracious acts. Or have a fame panel or page, where such photos can be stored. I'm sure we all wouldn't mind taking a photo of somebody doing a good thing right? If we can snap photos of our idols faster than me typing this, taking a snapshot of someone doing the right thing wouldn't be too much of an effort. Or we could just place photos of cash on the web page to encourage citizens.

Grocery Store Musical

Weird Weather

I went to bed
The sun glaring upon my head
as if understanding my difficulty
and fatigue level
after guard duty.

A clap of thunder
woke me up from my slumber
I looked around groggily
To see.

Rays of sunshine piercing through
cascading droplets of water
What a beautiful sight.
Like a hybrid of weather.
Behold a view, like no other.
If only I had a camera.

Mindless rhythms.

Waking up earlier than the sun
though neither breathing fire
nor having fun.

Pick up plates and set them straight
so that cars can go ahead
take a picture, take a look
lemme see what's under yer hood.

Join the cables, tie them neat
Black and blue makes a sticky fit
Turn on power, turn on switch
Be careful of the overflowing ditch.

Lights, camera, action!
Wait.
Just twitch that pole a fraction.

Shove your feet firmly in the ground
Dig your heels, and lean back down
Pull and grunt with all your might
Mind over matter, power over sight.

We back, they near
Shouts of encouragement in my ear
Then we slip and gone is the chance
We start doing a hopeless dance.

Going to bed when the moon rises
high in the sky
oh this wretched feeling
of muscle ache in the thigh.

dont cha

A little girl sat in front of me at a nasi lemak restaurant yesterday.
She went up to the plastic chair, and whacked it a few times before sitting on it.

And it gives me hope. that the uhm customs and traditions of the older generation will not be lost to the ages of time.

dont you think so.

who knew.

I enter your pool smoothly
having done this already so many times.
You lay down, ready for my consummation.

I start with the legs.
Long, and just nice.
Not too bony, not too fleshy.

Nom nom nom.

Gently nibbling on them,
and tasting your
wholesome sweetness.

Heavenly your taste is.
Orgasmic the experience is.

I slowly proceed upwards.
You so tender
Open. Relaxed.
Awaiting me.

The juices that pour out of you
I nearly choke
The sensations are overwhelming.

Who knew?
Frog leg porridge could taste so good.

Nay

I passed by the bus stop I travelled to
frequently a while back.
Nay.
some time back.
the times of sweet nothings.
loving caresses, palm upon palm.
Then it strikes me.
Am I like a lone wolf howling at the moon
Or a dog pining for a lost flame.
Nay.
Who then is the creature in the mirror.
Heaps of sores upon its body.
Its gender remains a mystery.
Does our inner person need sex?
it snorts and hot air steams out
and those around cough, sneeze and wheeze.

you.

I'm grateful.
Really.
To you who just yawned while looking at me.
I know my hair style is rather boomz and something uniquely Singaporean.
and short. (but army ma)
Yes you sitting directly opposite me on the train
Don't look away and pretend you didn't stare at me
stare at you cause you stared at me.
You whom just opened your mouth wide at me and gave me a great big yawn.
And I'm indebted to you.
For a split second there i considered being a dentist
If all my patients could open their mouth as wide as yours when you yawned, conducting dental operations would be so easy.
If all my patients had such dark black interiors as yours, I'll earn a fortune for my cleaning up fees.
But then I realize such dark black crevices probably has a nasty fungal smell to it too, and that really turns me off.
But I'm still indebted to you. See, I was thinking about a theme for next year's halloween party, and you just gave me the idea.
Dark and creepy.
Don't worry. You'll be invited.

who that man is.

He sits by the window, pondering what to write;
Wondering which thoughts to pen.

He glances out the window and sees trees
Green and fresh, brimming with life,
Birds chirping and flying to and fro,
and the cat lazily sprawled across the floor.

He sees the construction workers
taking their lunch break
resting, eating, talking
before going back to work
to put the bread and butter
on the table for their family
back home.

He watches the maid following the student
Carrying his school bag, and following.
Not leading. Not beside.
As he leaps and runs at the front.

Is it a child totally dependent on
his family's helper
for his physical needs
or simply one unaware
of his surroundings
and simply enjoying
his life at the moment
smelling the roses by the
side of the road?

Then a fly buzzes in
to his world.
and his phone vibrates
with a new message incoming
a question to be answered
a friend to be comforted
or accompanied
or simply to be replied
because thats what friends
do to their friends
dont they?

And he gets plucked back
to reality
and he looks at the
man in the mirror
and wonder who that man is.

Funny Video

21 years of life...

21 years is to some a milestone.
Perhaps it is.
21 years of remembrances.

I've watched SBC to TCS to MediaCorp.
I remember watching cartoons on weekend mornings.
Animaniacs, and power rangers, amongst sesame street.

I've progressed from using fare cards to ez link cards.
Gone were the days I had to slot in the card and press the amount to be deducted.
Or to queue up and buy a monthly concession sticker to paste onto my student id and flash it at the bus driver every time I board.

I've lived through the rise and fall of Hello Kitty, Bubble Tea, Digimon, Pokemon... and probably more to come?

I remember playing
hopscotch
five stones
zero point
soccer
sepak takaw (how to spell?!)

I remember
come chinese new year, I would make
love letters with my mum at the common area
of a house I once used to live in.
We would delicately curl it into a roll
and make it crispy.

I remember asking my mum once
why she married my dad.
Security she said.
And that's the crux of any
relationship.

I remember us chatting at 4am,
your sweet voice helping me to
start the day right.
Then it fell apart.
My heart cried.

Am I holding on to you
as my ex did?

I remember doing more good deeds
in a span of four to six years
than in the past year.

I remember You.
Thanks for the remembrances.

Humor

Humor can be a sensitive issue.

If a tragedy occurs, and you are a victim,
some might theorize you are using laughter
as a way to express your grief,
and might encourage you to
laugh out loud.

However.

If you are not a victim, you just might
be lambasted for being insensitive,
incorrigible and unsympathetic
to others.

Speculation

Speculation was rife
Was murder done without a knife?
Or was it a simple end of life,
A leap off the board, a fatal dive?

Michael Jackson Tribute Video

Is it?

Random musings.

Glistening of lights across the water surface,
sound of rushing blood through my veins.
Yellow mixed with white and green and red upon my gaze,
colors within white strips marking lanes.

Gusts of wind that ruffles through my hair
Speech and actions they mock me everywhere
Living what appears to be a dare
Once I start I can't stop and frankly, I simply don't care.

Double laughter, it takes no trouble.
Huddle cuddle then burst like a bubble.

Longest Words

Haha! This is so cool!

Sometimes.

Sometimes I wonder what if
you didn't the misconception
the illusion
would we still be together?

Sometimes I think of
how easy we clicked
like peas in a pod
like a dial in ipod

And then it comes to mind
how easy we got together
was how easy we became each other
and thus how easy we became some other.

Would we still be close
or time would drift us on its tide
in the natural course
of ebbs and flows of life

Or might we have stuck together
two planks drifting in the sea
who knows?

Sometimes I miss you.
I really do.
But I know.
We'll never be.

Light.

What good is light if it is not
strong enough to pierce the darkness
but bright enough to be viewed as a light
by another light?

Can it still be useful like
a grain of salt of the earth
as with its cleansing properties
so light with its visibility?

Or is its usefulness limited
by the proximity of another light
With the combined properties of both
greater works might be done?

Yet, can a single source of light
be useful if it can't even
illuminate through the darkness?

Or is it that the darkness
is too tough and too strong
that it overpowers the light?

Otherwise how would it be able
to be seen by another source
of light?

strips stripes strobes

Sometimes I just sit in the bus and stare into space
my eyes are glazed
perhaps my face looks dazed.

But it's a different world within my mind.
The me in my mind is doing handstands
with the feet holding onto the handguards firmly
the me in my mind is doing
splits on bedframes
and somersaulting
over duffel bags
placed neatly on the floor
like speed regulating strips
on the strips of Singapore.

Caffeine.

Many a penny lost to the woes of love.
Many a hope raised upon the wings of a dove.

Trickle trickle
Flow through needle
Blood that flows from vein to pack,
blood that one never seems to lack.

Some fear the stench of death
Others fear the face of wrath.
And some they fear not able to
distinguish right from left.

This is what happens when you have a caffeine mood swing in the night.

Jumbled trains of thoughts
criss-crossing each other.

hipless hero.

Imagine you're a super hero seeking lost treasure. You fell through a hole in the ground and landed in a dark and somewhat creepy place. You use your trusty flashlight and you see a room ahead. You go towards the room but halfway your flashlight goes out.

Damn! What a time to go out!

With a flashlight speed holster, you don't need to worry about that. Able to hold three different batteries, this would definitely grant you enough light to seek and find the treasure.

If only they named it the Enlightenment Holster.

But be warned, you shouldn't try diving through flames with this, seeing that batteries are flammable, and you wouldn't wanna be the hipless hero, do ya?

http://www.coolest-gadgets.com/20090910/flashlight-speed-holster-holds-spare-flashlight-batteries/

Just Accept It

I took a cab today, with a friend to the army open house. But that's not the point. The crux is three words the taxi driver kept emphasizing over and over again.

Just accept it.

The moment we entered the cab, he starts chatting non-stop. While I'm using the word chatting, which usually implies a two way exchange of dialogue, the real situation was more of a one way street.

He kept talking about how good it is to serve the army, and encouraged us to get a degree after army, and said three words 'Just accept it'.

Those were what he told the earlier passenger who wanted him to go slightly faster because she was late for a meeting. He told her, "Too bad, and just accept it."

Blunt, but true. Many a times in life, we don't really accept it, and so we try to change the outcome.

We spend amounts of money for chemotherapy struggling to give the person a fresh breath of life, but we fail to spend the time with that person, choosing instead to seek doctors, and written reports and percentages of success and failures.

We sit at the corner and sulk, unable to accept that our loved one just ditched us. Or that we just got retrenched. "It can't be. I've worked for twenty years. I've got the Best Employee Award for five months consecutively."

And perhaps, life would be simpler, with us just accepting every stone thrown our way; every pothole looming ahead.

Perhaps I'll just accept 'just accept it'.

Yet.

A year ago,
me you shattered
my nights you tormented
into pieces.

You never really explained
the reason for leaving
the reason for drifting
gone with nay a word.

Perhaps it was a fling
as common as a blink
Yet you never leave me
not thinking
as if it were yesterday.

Sometimes I travel through
your area and it triggers
such a response as this.

A certain yearning within the heart
a certain hurt that never really healed
a certain feeling of being trapped
in an avalanche.

Hurt, not angry.
Sad, but not in despair.
yet.

Only Time.

Who can say where the road goes,
Where the day flows, only time?
And who can say if your love grows,
As your hearth chose, only time?

Who can say why your heart sights,
As your live flies, only time?
And who can say why your heart cries
when your love lies, only time?

Who can say when the roads meet,
That love might be ,in your heart?
and who can say when the day sleeps,
and the night keeps all your heart?
Night keeps all your heart.....

Who can say if your love groves,
As your heart chose, only time?
And who can say where the road goes
Where the day flows, only time?

Who knows? Only time
Who knows? Only time

Han's coffee.

Imagine.

The wind blown in
cooled by the rain
soothing thunder
and unaffected by
pulsating lightning

and not being able to sleep
because of a cup of coffee.

Well, at least it gave me enough ideas
for a couple of blog posts.
(the two before this)
And. maybe if i need ideas
i should drink a cup of
Han's coffee. :)

Dreams.

Dreams. Are they

Desires within the heart, or
Reminiscence of memories bittersweet, or
Entertainment of the mental nature, or
Apocalyptic prophesies, or
Mindless television, or
Sensory perceptions.

You decide.

Raindrops splatter on our screen as torrents of rain cascade down in front of us. Looking down from a bird's eye view, we glimpse busy intersections and the occasional train in the midst of its route, struggling to meet its stringent timing. 7 minutes off peak, 3 minutes during peak hours. But we digress.

We swoop down gently for the comfort of viewers, and land on a pink van that promises to vanish and forget stains. So we poop. It's quite hard to forget the stain though, since it doesn't vanish just yet.

Bobbing to the edge, we leave the relieved fowl, and dive into the world of escalators, save the earth plastic bags, and shops of every race, language and religion, broadcasting the same hit song. The one we've heard a million times before.

We glance to our left and focus our attention on a male in his late teens. Using his left hand to rapidly fire off several text messages, we shift to his right hand sporting a paper cup with condensation forming on its exterior.

We zoom in on the condensation and follow a droplet's slow descent to the bottom of the cup. With a slight victory jig, it free-falls a couple of metres before landing on a spider on a green metallic railing, dealing it a fatal blow. 'Death by Water' the headlines scream in the following day's Spider Times.

We look up, feeling a little oozy from the fall. In our sight, a black strip of rubber glides at a gentle ascent. We pivot to our right and observe a couple stepping onto the escalator, the female first, the male behind, both within the yellow box and hands firmly on the handrail.

Leaping forward, we land on the black conveyor belt between their hands, still watching them. In his early twenties, the guy smoothly leans forwards and murmurs into the girl's right ear. "Has anyone told you how gorgeous you are?" his tone soothing and with an air of self-confidence.

She turns away, looking into the distance, perhaps at a loss for words, or simply waiting to hear what he would say or do next. He doesn't say anything. His hand moves forward and gently entwines his fingers with hers. Her hand jerks slightly, only visible to the observant eye, but she does not speak nor glance at him.

Freeze screen! Now we ask ourselves how this should end.

Perhaps the female is mute, thus unable to speak and this is a story of a love that transcends senses.

Or this is a tale of seduction by a guy who aids his friends with love advices, but is unable to find the love he seeks.

Or a girl who dreams of escaping her troubled upbringing, wishing for someone to believe in her, that she can turn her lofty dreams and high aspirations to reality.

You decide.

quiet time daily.

I think I should change my blogskin.
Perhaps when I can get my hands on my sister's stylus.

Damn, I just love my kids.

And darn. guard duty on sunday.
means I won't attend church for like three sundays.
Gah, I'm backsliding!!

Then again, I'm still reading a chapter a day.
Which I hope 'You can surrender dough'
is keeping her promise of doing quiet time daily.

MY kids.

Many a nights during the past ten days,
as I ponder whether I've lost a muse I hold dear,
and the lack of power we have over control of our lives,
I count my blessings.
Or try to, because there're so many.

And, I thank God for my kids.
Not actual kids cause I may not be able
to be a good father
But, then what constitutes being a good parent?

I used to have three kids. Now I have two.
And you know the thing about kids,
is that they aren't crude or harsh,
but just truthful.

(Of course, being called fattie isn't truthful, you know who you are)

There were times I felt really really down
and my kids actually cheered my up unknowingly
It's not about the huge things they do but
the little stuff.
Like reminding to say grace before meals.
Simple things you know.

To be honest, I'm surprised I can still hang out with them.
Differing lifestyles, age gaps, and I only see them maybe once or twice a month.
If I wake up early on Sundays.
One would have expected to drift and simply be like
strangers.
Hi and Bye, and that's it.

But it's not.
True, we're not as close as I would like us to be.
And there're times I'm hesitant on starting a convo
for fear too much time has passed
and the awkwardness settles in
of simple chit chatting.

But a game of crocodile at the playground breaks all ice.

And every time I count my blessings,
I never fail to include my kids.
And if there're five people I meet in heaven
They would part of the five.
And if they ever need me.
I'm here. :)

now whats that word.

perhaps people help others isn't cause of their
- what's that word. it'll come to me. i once took two weeks remembering the word fickle.
it just got lost in the mind. -
or generosity but more so that they can avoid
harping on themselves.
and ignoring their own problems.
denial of sorts.
like a denial of service. that affected facebook.
deny them self-service.
maybe.


[edit. i was reminded of the word. altruistic.]

randoms.

hmmm are you or are you not.
i would have said you led me up
but then your words have always been
ambiguous
what i always liked about you
and now a date
but i shldnt jump to conclusions
come on isnt it obvious
is it really
are you dumb or are you dumb
are you on her side or mine
maybe you should go jump... on the second storey
oh yea, like that would make you happy
well at least you have kids
and so i do. and i cant say and so what
cause they mean a lot
hell yea they do. they mean more than you.
well you never cared much about me anyway
yea who gives a shit about you
but thats all you are anyway
the shitty part of me
that will never fade
and that will occasionally
rear its head or so
sink sink sink sink in the dark
to blow out all the bulbs
nobody said we needed love to live
but nobody realized we needed a life
to know how to love.

me and me and me.
you and you and you.
never be.

tsunamis of feelings
crash and burn
against the sand
trees get bent

bawl.
roar.
darkness hides flaws
till light reveals it
will light reveal a partner .
i wonder.

Mcdonald's I'm Yours

unceasing.

And so I stand at the crossroads.
And I lack the will to live.
How come pushing myself off the ledge
feels like a second definite
but falling twelve storeys feels
ten times that duration indefinite.

Could it be I've lost my will to live?
But to live is to will.
By faith that will in me grants me
strength to live.
Yet it is but a day's worth.

The will starts the day but
by the end of the day,
the will liveths no more.

Could this be the end, where
the will to die is hampered
by the faith of living?
Could life be simply closing my eyes
to will with death and to open
with a will to live?

A circle of life unceasing?

Two sides to a coin.

If you're walking along the only path on the desert,
can it be considered that you're walking aimlessly?

AFter all, you're just following the path
wherever it leads you.
You don't really have an aim in a directional sense.
But you have a purpose which is to follow the path.
And that's an aim, and perhaps yours.

So, there are always two sides to a coin.
And we always forget this.
We think our way is right;
our opinion is law;
our words are conclusions.

We overlook,
the creative guy who is soft spoken;
the eloquent speaker who is incompetent;
the conscientious worker who is a rumormonger.

Don't be so quick to leap to conclusion
lest you misjudge the distance and land
instead on an illusion.

Josh Groban

When The Saints Go Marching In

Voca People

Canon Rock

Messenger turns 10.

And the humble messenger that is now used widely around the world turns 10. And they have a video to show.

Chris Daughtry Lady Gaga

I like this version better than Lady Gaga though. Would her future kid be Man Googoo. Nah, since we already have the goo goo dolls. gigi then. oh but we have gigi leung. Gee, what a pity.

Terry Fator

Terry Fator is such an awesome guy. Though I supposed his kids would think their toys possessed, by it's probably just their dad's voice. But he is awesome. You should check out his playlist on youtube or something. I can only show so many videos here.

Busty Heart.

Not for the weak-chested, that's all I can say.

Ageing romance.

When you're young, romantic might mean cycling in the park with your gf between you and your handlebars.

When you're old, romantic might mean pushing your wife on the luggage trolley around in the airport.

death.

I had this idea for a website just now. I don't know why such ideas just come to me suddenly. Okay, I'm kidding. I actually do know where it came from. From watching Ghost Whisperer. Majority of the episodes were simply about telling the living loved ones that their deceased loved one loves them.

And it got me thinking. Usually we never tell the people around us how much we love them till it's too late. And then we only tell them when we divide our inheritance in our will.

So, imagine a site, where you can write testimonials for your friends, only for them to receive it after your death. Perhaps a word of encouragement or some advice. Or where the key to the safety deposit box is.

But it doesn't have to be limited to just mere compliments. You could write notes of apology for past mistakes too. Just because you're dead doesn't mean you can't make peace with the living.

Like a death note.

The site just might work eh. If only I had a web designer bed buddy.

Edit: Dang. My friend just told me the idea somebody else kope liao. Check out http://mylastemail.com

freelancer brainstormer.

I've been thinking how come commercials are entertaining for only a split second. I could watch reruns of commercials from other countries and still be amused by their novelty, but not here.

And perhaps the designers are getting overburdened with trying to come out with new concepts and ideas for product commercials. Or maybe product companies are too narrow minded.

Whatever the cause, perhaps advertising companies should have a pool of freelance brain stormers. After all, there are probably lots of untapped creativity being unleashed in the world. Just not in the right sector.

The way I'm thinking is, the advertising company notifies its pool of a product, and the target market, but not too specific information, just to protect confidentiality and all that. If the freelancer is interested, he/she/it just applies and receives more info about the product, and each idea submitted and vetted to be a good idea gets cash, and the idea chosen gets more cash.

Simple, and easy way of making money, don't you think.

handwritten printer.

Perhaps one day someone would create a printer that prints out letters in your handwriting. So I could type a letter, and print it, and it would seem as if it were a genuine letter painstakingly written word by word, instead of being typed out.

After all we probably type more than what we write.

To love.

I've been doing slightly serious thinking recently, after a couple of situations occurred. One was my buddy asked me whether I preferred my secondary school days, or my poly days. And the other was his girlfriend remarking on my optimism and carefree attitude that would result in more cons than pros in the future.

And I thought about it for a couple of minutes and I decided I couldn't really compare both. The former, I helped a lot. Played the role of adviser and mentor. The latter, I enjoyed being myself. Played the role of assistant and entertainer.

How do you compare two loves of your life? Feelings by which no scale can balance?

And so I left it there. Not completely answered, but settled for the time being.

Then I bumped into my course mate in town today, and it brought back sweet memories.

And I realize the answer to that question. It's not about which part of life I prefer, or for that matter, which part of me I prefer, since we are a different person at each phase of life, it's about loving who we are and what we're doing at that point in time.

You don't have to love to study, but you can love who you are - a student. Love its privileges and trials and challenges.
And that should be the creed of many, and even more, in this age and time, where death lurks around the corner.

To love who we are, who we're with, and what we are doing at that point in time.

Time-ing.

Boom boom.
The heart gains a steady tempo as
his feet gain their momentum.
Sweat that started off as beads now
evolves into streams
neverending.
Boom boom.
He looks around.
Nothing but blissful silence
save for the galloping of his feet.
Boom boom.
He lowers his head slightly and
sprints forward with a sudden burst
of speed and leaps
over
the edge.
(Image freeze)
(Narrates)
And here the question arises.
What lies at the bottom of the cliff?
Sharp edged rocks as numerous as the stars?
Or the sea with its infinite cycles of life,
the never ending ebbing and flowing
of time-ing.

Grow Growing Grown.

Perhaps growing up is about hiding your flaws.
Your imperfections.
Your secrets.
Your addictions.
Not lying or denial
but simply hiding.
A simple hiding place.
Till the place exists no more
And you're true to yourself
And you can tell yourself
you have grown up
out of growing up.

anti stab

To stab or not to stab, the knife's the question.

And just when you thought it was safe to assume all knives would make good stabbers,
front or back, somebody comes up with an Anti-stab knife.

Designed such that the top side is blunt, and the front can only catch on clothing, with the sharpest part of the knife able to cut skin a little bit, the knife is purportedly anti-stab.

I suppose some guy would invent a anti-fatal gun, or some anti anti anti anti stab knife.

Weird world, we live in, Yoda says.

http://www.coolest-gadgets.com/20090616/antistab-knife/>

Whose Line Is It Anyway Bloopers 3

Whose Line Is It Anyway Bloopers 2

Whose Line Is It Anyway Bloopers 1

Wow.

What a remarkable voice. One by one all these good singers come out eh. There was Colbie and now her, and perhaps many more to come.

Voice of steel, indeed.

Deacon joke.

A deacon is in the hospital and his good friend, a preacher, goes to visit him.

The preacher notices all the medical equipment attached to the deacon. He kneels by the bed.

The deacon motions to a pad and pen on the nightstand. The preacher hands his friend the pad and pen, and the deacon begins to write. Suddenly, the deacon dies.

At his funeral, the preacher delivers the service. He says, "I was with him when he died, and as a matter of fact, I have his last thought in my coat pocket here."

The preacher pulls out the paper and reads, "Please, get up. You're kneeling on my oxygen hose."

Slogans nobody would use

Slogans nobody would use.


No kid like Nokia.
Can off like Canon.
Tune it like iTunes.
Send me some Zen.
Age with HP.
Fill me with Philips.
Absolut Epson.
Knight with Nike.
Liar liar, fox on fire.
Soul me Sony.
Pear up with an apple.

mangosteen shirt

If mangosteen juice cannot be washed off
how come nobody tried using that to design
shirts
or bags
or walls.

No worries about it being washed off
or color run
right?

er ner gee.

My stomach still gently grimaces
at the taste of a cocktail
then a mocktail
then half an hour rest before
two cans of milo.

At least it didn't erupt.
That which I'm grateful.
Though now it sets me thinking.

Can cows compartmentalize their stomachs
for maximum efficiency?
Like, decide which foods or drinks go to which
stomachs.
And if it could be done, is it by classification
or by a first come first served basis?

Perhaps Cows could drink a lot then.
A stomach for beer, another for wine.
One for carbonated drinks, another for others.

Or perhaps the different types of grass go to
a specific stomach.
Wheat grass, tall grass, short grass, long grass.

What?!
Don't limit your mind to facts.
But let it unleash on its unbounding
unending
unceasing
un un un
un neh na neh na neh na
eh eh eh.
eh ner gee.

Parody of Wonder Girls

Nobody

cycle of life.

I see the kids in slippers, and some barefooted,
some as young as seven riding motorbikes
with no helmets and with a pillion
and I wonder,
how does one improve life?

On and on we talk about improving the life of others
and so we give to charity
to the best of our ability.
But how sure are we that we want to improve their lives?

How do we know when their standard of living have risen to ours?
By the burgers and the fries,
or the corruption and the lies?
Do we really want to give them electricity and
a light bulb for every home?

There are people
whose lives are simple and carefree
and filled with back breaking work
but one thing is for sure
day in day out
they follow the rising and setting of the sun.
Do we want to break that cycle?
If there's light, then we work.
Some follow that principle of life.
If by giving the gift of light,
aren't we breaking their cycle?
And simply making them live to our cycle
and follow our way of living?

Thailand.

To look up and see the wide expanse of sky
Glittering stars, under the watchful moonlight.
And you wonder, when that day comes,
when one third of the stars will shine no more,
and one third of the moon will be as blood,
the Fear that will prevail
with the onset of the darkness plague.

Under the sweltering heat, in sweat-drenched fatigues,
and one wonders, what in blazing hell am I doing here?
But one walks on, to fulfill a minimum of 60km.
Though one definitely exceeds the minimal.

The sound of squitch accompanies me
step by step
the dripping of camo paint mixed with sweat
drop by drop.

Music that soothes and thumps through the forest
Beats that permeates through the mud-streaked boots,
and the thick cotton veil on the feet
- a popular sand fly feast -
and rises to calm the heart
that yearns for home.

The cows carefreely shake their tails from side to side
like a swinging pendulum
as the dogs bark harshly
but run as we advance.
All bark and no bite.
Or perhaps they have a certain fear of the walking green.

Barbed wire that cows squeeze through
upon our arrival
and eager smiles
for rations or food of any kind.

Communal bathing, sweltering heat
and lots of cow shit.
Makes one weary and wise.
As one dreams of the cool mist
of packs of dry ice.

Do you?

A movie.
Purposed touches.
Feelings exchanged through touch.
Do you feel what I feel?

A walk.
Mutual murmuring.
Thoughts expressed through words.
Do you know what I know?

A parting.
Missed.
Emotions expressed through thoughts.
Do you?

Chain yourself up in shackles.

If you ever felt like chaining yourself up in shackles just so you can study, well perhaps now you can.


Study Ball Forces Study

Small, not big.

I bit myself during a day last week.
Not out of frustration or suffering but to simply distract the mind from the endurance.
It worked. To an extent, cause it brought back memories.
Bittersweet ones of being bitten.
Twice.
It was a casual friend that bit me, and while I have no idea if she remembers it, I know I do.
There will always be stuff that you've done, that nobody around deems it significant or noble or memorable but you know you will always remember it.
In fact, it's the small nitty gritty things you do that you remember and not so much of the big stuff. You will feel better with and at yourself doing small little deeds that seemingly sprout little rewards, than doing gigantic stuff, like saving the world or finding the formula for world peace or perfecting the solution to immunize against all strains of influenza.
These small deeds, no one really knows them. In fact, most would probably forget them till you bring it up. Or per chance, they remember for that brief moment, and mention it to you.
Then again, majority of these deeds would be them at their weakest points and most probably a defunct personality.
But the point I'm trying to bring across is that, you don't have to do huge deeds to feel happy or proud of yourself or glad. Many small cuts fells a tree. Small seeds grow to be big trees.
So if you ever despair, or feel discouraged, or think you're not really worth a lot, cause you didn't make it to the top of the class, or secure that very important contract, or win the competition, don't.
It's the small things you do. You just touch your heart, and reflect a little, and focus on these deeds, and the feeling of human kindness and warmth that radiates from your heart, let it flow through you and make you glad.

Wrap your light around you

Visualize a wad of chewing gum.
Now imagine it's emitting and radiating
a nice, warm and friendly light.
Now feel it.

There's this lamp called the iLamp (Why do all new products have an 'i' in front of them nowadays?) that can be bent into any shape you wish to, whether it be naughty or nice, and you can use it as a reading light.

Wouldn't mind using this as wallpaper, though my electricity bill would most probably be a rather hefty sum.

http://www.coolest-gadgets.com/20090507/ilamp-lighted-chewing-gum

The 4 Horsemen.

The Book of Revelation

and a new day.

A multitude of sweat
glistening and
raining down on the ground
mixed with several
sparkling drops of blood
that seemingly diffuses
through the stones.

Stepping on stones
that cut through open skin
what ever happened to the boots
or to the shirt so drenched in sweat.

Fatigues they call it,
and it is fatigue it induces on its wearer.
The waves of lalang that flows and ebbs
like the tide
except to conceal
a movement within
like seek and hide.

On damp ground they lie
shivering as the beads of sweat cools
and the fatigues get wet
like sleeping in the rain
only to wake up and find it is winter.
What ever happened to spring?

And so we trudge on
to a rendezvous we know not where
to a place that's 'somewhere there'
and a gesture in the general direction
under the dim flare of red.

The gentle and calming fragrance of jasmine
like a soothing massage
that brings temporal relief to
the body mind and soul.

The sun breaks out of the darkness
and a new day begins.
Fast by the hour
yet a crawl, by the minute.

hobble firefly

Hobble hobble
me poor knee's trouble
that only help would swiftly
come on the double.

Fly light, fly bright,
first firefly I see tonight.
I wish it may, I wish it were
that bad memories can pass by in a blur.

Bra bullet.

Story

If the underwire from a bra can deflect a bullet, maybe they should start issuing soldiers with bras, to be tried-and-tested bullet deflectors.

Or maybe issue underwires. Perhaps then we need to come out with an estimated of male cup sizes then.

Or perhaps, just follow the old Western Cowboy way, and issue all with two bibles, one for the left breast and one for the right breast. It'll stop a bullet.

Ain't sure about the second one.

Attorney jokes.

Something I found online.


ATTORNEY: Are you sexually active?
WITNESS: No, I just lie there.
_______________________________________________
ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.
_______________________________________________
ATTORNEY: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: And in what ways does it affect your memory?
WITNESS: I forget.
ATTORNEY: You forget? Can you give us an example of something you forgot?
_____________________________________
ATTORNEY: What was the first thing your husband said to you that morning?
WITNESS: He said, 'Where am I, Cathy?'
ATTORNEY: And why did that upset you?
WITNESS: My name is Susan!
______________________________________
ATTORNEY: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo?
WITNESS: We both do.
ATTORNEY: Voodoo?
WITNESS: We do.
ATTORNEY: You do?
WITNESS: Yes, voodoo.
______________________________________
ATTORNEY: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?
WITNESS: Did you actually pass the bar exam?
____________________________________
ATTORNEY: The youngest son, the twenty-one-year-old, how old is he?
WITNESS: Uh, he's twenty-one.
________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Were you present when your picture was taken?
WITNESS: Are you shitt'in me?
______________________________________
ATTORNEY: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: And what were you doing at that time?
WITNESS: Uh.... I was gett'in laid!
______________________________________
ATTORNEY: She had three children, right?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: How many were boys?
WITNESS: None.
ATTORNEY: Were there any girls?
WITNESS: Are you shitt'in me? Your Honor, I think I need a different attorney. Can I get a new attorney?
______________________________________

ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated?
WITNESS: By death..
ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated?
WITNESS: Now whose death do you suppose terminated it?
______________________________________
ATTORNEY: Can you describe the individual?
WITNESS: He was about medium height and had a beard.
ATTORNEY: Was this a male or a female?
WITNESS: Guess.
_____________________________________
ATTORNEY: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?
WITNESS: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.
______________________________________
ATTORNEY: Doctor, how many of your autopsies have you performed on dead people?
WITNESS: All my autopsies are performed on dead people. Would you like to rephrase that?
______________________________________
ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
WITNESS: Oral.
______________________________________
ATTORNEY: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
WITNESS: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.
ATTORNEY: And Mr. Denton was dead at the time?
WITNESS: No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy on him!
____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?
WITNESS: Huh.....are you qualified to ask that question?
______________________________________
--- And the best for last: ---

ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for breathing?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
ATTORNEY: I see, but could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?
WITNESS: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law.

It's so easy.

It's so easy to fall for you.
And to ask for you to be mine.

If.

If something attracts your eyes, is it love at first sight?

What if.

He bursts out of the door, with two goons chasing him. One reaches out to grab him, but slips on a wooden frame and falls. The other leaps over him and continues the chase. He dashes forward and turns at the corner, only to stop in his tracks. In front of him, lies a ten metre high stone wall, and no other exit.

Halfway around the globe, a man dressed in a nondescript black shirt and blue jeans appears on a toilet display set. Onlookers gawk through the window, as he stares blankly around him in disbelief.

[Camera zooms in to the brand beside the flush button. It reads 'Jumper'.]

He disappears and we see him at a counter, with a brightly-lit Hotel 81 sign hung on the wall. The receptionist asks for his name, and he replies, 'Bourne. Bourne Lah.'

[Cue: Hotel sign fades to Movie title: Jumper Bourne Lah.]

It's not that hard to imagine.

Imagine.

And so, another mass dance in a very public place, meant to look spontaneous, but you and me and the whole worlds knows it's been rehearsed.

Though you wonder, if perhaps, in the not so near future, there might exist a spontaneous dance within the masses.

So, if every very public place produced such a video, can one sue for plagiarism of idea? But the moves would be different, as well as the setting.

Now if only somebody did this in Singapore. At like say, Changi Airport, or the Esplanade rooftop. And make a fantastic production of it. With an aerial view camera, as well as others.

I'm imagining.

random posting.

Teeth. They cause you pain.
Physical.
Emotional.
Financial.

Investment in calcium.
Would it payback?

Perhaps I should train up my running.
Then I can say Ran run till Ran ran.
Or something like that.

Army ruins cells.
Infiltrates terrorists cells.
Destroys brain cells.
And I suppose some bio student could continue that
on what other cells are affected.

feline

I come back home
and its not the warmth or comfort of the bed that appeals
nor so much the technology
though I admit it helps fulfill the need
to socialize

but rather I look forward to the feline
To scratching her below her chin
as she rubs against my leg
in delight
and purrs.

Oh, the simple pleasures of life.
Why complicate it?

Touch.

Touch is a very sensitive thing no?
It could get guys into trouble.
It could get girls into trouble too.
And, best of all, it gets hearts into trouble.

A simple touch could mean intimacy
or the fine and slow art of seduction.
In a simple touch, feelings are exchanged,
and perhaps slight intentions.

Intentional forebodings
or accidental discharge.

A touch could be but a slight brush of fingers
Or as complex as a kiss.

Gentle yet rough
Sensitive yet harsh
Well-meaning yet invasive
Addictive yet corrosive
A mere parcel of life.
A gift life brings.

turn

I turn my head to the east
I don't see nobody by my side
I turn my head to the west
Still nobody in sight
So I turn my head to the north
Swallow that pill
that they call pride
That old me's dead and gone
But the new me gonna be alright

what would ye say?

And for a brief moment, in a small hole the size of the thumbtack,
in one's shining armor,
one becomes afraid of the future.

What would happen to these photos hanging on their frames?
Burnt, thrown, forsaken? Or digitalized, and uploaded?
And CDs. Would they still exist? Or be defunct?

For surely, these wood, metal and glass that surround me would
fade, or rot, or simply melt away,
into oblivion.

Yet, it is these physical surroundings
that our memories are based on.
If there is no house, would we have a home?
If there is no school, would we have education?
If there is no camp, would there be camaraderie?

And yet the memories linger on
in the mental constraints of our mind
and it faces a different enemy in there
that of time.

And time says. Why build up your wealth just to soak in
metal, glass and wood,
that would melt, shatter and rot?
Why not make each day more meaningful than the day before,
not cavorting around in denial or self satisfaction,
but making the most of every second, minute and hour
of every single day, month and year.

For as time gently gnaws at our memories,
so our time becomes lesser.
And then what would ye say
when ye have looked back at time yonder?

Imagine.

I was thinking about the future the other day. Imagining when I have kids.
And they'll go,

"You mean you actually had to press on the keys to type an sms?"

"You used LCD monitors?"

"You owned a 1.3 megapixel phone camera?"

String Quartet.

There's something so transparent about this quartet. =X

Rent A Person

Another video from the same dude that did Validation. I would advise a M18 for adult themes though. Or maybe, just PG, in lieu of how open today's society is. I wouldn't recommend you to watch this, if you're dining or chewing something.

Sandstorms.

Life's like sandstorms.
They come suddenly and fade off
into oblivion as quickly as they
surface.
And you think they've left nothing
behind, til you look down and see colorful
grains of sand.
Their remnants.
memories.
Artifacts to be placed down memory lane.

Cool Advert.

Nothing like a trip back in time, just for beer eh. :)

Songs.

I don't know about you, but recently, I realize there are more male singers singing covers originally sung by female singers, and vice versa. There was Run by Leona Lewis, that was originally by Snow Patrol. (I think.) Then, there's I Told You So, originally by Randy Travis and now by Carrie Underwood. It's so bizarre, they might as well start writing songs for the other gender instead.

Not that I'm a sexist at heart, or strictly regimental and believe if you're a male songwriter, the song you write can only be sung by males, or somewhere along that line, but surely each song is meant to express a certain degree of affection and feeling meant for a certain range of voice. Besides, if you're popular, and you start to simply do covers, wouldn't that mean that it's cheaper to simply pay royalties instead of writing and composing your own songs.

Perhaps, they should think about reviving the oldies with the new artistes instead. Imagine Leona Lewis singing I Can't Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley. Or David Cook singing Chapel of Love.

Smile

This might take awhile to load, and it might be awhile to watch, like around 16 minutes. But it's definitely worth your time. And, remember to smile :)

As gentle as the deer.

The grass glistens as the deer cocks her head
and listens.
A gentle rustling of the leaves
but along with the wind
strange new sounds carry along.

A human voice!

She leaps and bounds
tramping and treading
agile with minimal disclosure
to safety and to yonder,
to seek refuge within
fawn and fauna.

And many miles above her,
beyond what her mind can comprehend,
a rainbow lights up the sky,
as gentle as the rustling of the leaves
as gentle as the cub cuddling with its mother
as gentle as the native tending to his horse.

Swear and struck by lightning, but lives!

The next time you swear to God, just be careful. You might get struck by lightning. Also, don't hold a metal rod into the sky.

On Aug 26, in Fujian Province, China, an upset Wong decided to visit his friend Xu’s house to collect an unpaid debt.

3 years ago Xu borrowed 500 yuen (about $70) from Wong for his wedding and never paid the money back.

Wong showed up at Xu’s house with a bat in hand demanding that Xu pay back the money he had borrowed. Xu then pulled out a metal rod he had laying around to use in defense if Wong decided to attack him.

Xu denied that he had borrowed any money from Wong and asked him to prove that there was a debt to be owed.

Wong finally “told him that if he dared to swear to God that he didn’t owe me the money, then I would waive his debt.”

Xu, obviously seeing a way out of paying the debt, then pointed the pole straight up in the air and shouted “if I ever borrowed money from Wong, let me be struck by lighting.”

Less than a minute after shouting those words, lightning struck the outstretched pole and passed through into Xu’s body.

Xu was taken to the hospital but survived the incident.

No mention as to whether this proves Xu did indeed borrow the money or if he has any plans to now pay Wong the money he owes.

http://www.weirdasianews.com/2008/09/21/man-actually-struck-by-lighting-for-swearing-to-god/

Mirror.

Once there were was a beautiful glass mirror. And in it, its owner saw the most beautiful face she saw. Her full beauty, she felt, was complemented by the mirror, and only with it, was she perfect and made whole.

Then, one day, the mirror shattered. (Perhaps the beauty was too much to behold. Who knows?).

And the owner wept bitterly. For no more could she see her beauty. And with no other did she feel more compatible with.

But instead of moving on, and getting another mirror, she chose to stay by the shattered pieces, holding on to each piece dearly, not letting go.

And thus, the mirror that she was meant to have bought, remains, dusty, unused and left on the shelf.

Nothing

Nothing sweeter than a bottle of lychee juice
Nothing purer than the color of white.
Nothing gentler than a sheep's soft baa
Nothing cleaner than a string of a guitar.

Sound Asleep Pillow

If you need to listen to music, before dreamland grants you a one-night visa entry, you might consider getting a pillow. Not any ordinary pillow though; just the Sound Asleep Pillow.

Self-explanatory, one would think. Just lie on the pillow and *poof* one falls asleep while listening to sounds. But hey! Snoring is a sound too!

And that's the beauty of this pillow. You don't have to plug in any supposedly- comfortable-and-canal-fitting ear phones just to get a good night's sleep, and wake up with sore ears.

Simply connect your media player device to the pillow, and instantly fall asleep, with surround sound of your most soothing and relaxing melodies.

Sound Asleep Pillow

Don't bother me.

The train rumbles on as she gazes out of the window. Dressed in a pink top with an ironic statement, and a pair of yellow shorts, with a bottle of DOM in a clear plastic bag at her feet.

Then, for no visible rhyme or reason, a tear wells up in her right eye, till gravity takes control and gently over the cheek it rolls. Her hand rises and swipes it away swiftly, but not quick enough for the tear that rolls down from the other eye.

And below all these, the statement printed on her shirt - Don't Bother Me.


This I witnessed with my very eyes and ascertain it to be true.

Truly,
Ran.

Cool.

If only SHWO would do something like this for their 10th anniversary for Impressions. It would be foremost and utmostly cool.

Need to, or want to?

If you attend a birthday celebration of a friend you've known for a long time, do you go because it's basic courtesy and as an expression of friendship political peace and stability, or do you go because you want to?

Need to or want to?

Noise, cease thy existence.

Cars honk, then screech and crash. People yakking on their phone, announcing to the world their grumbles. The dude in the next cubicle blasting his techno remix as you struggle to do that math problem, or complete that last summary for your thesis. Noise can be a hell of a problem, in this busy world we live in, ain't it?

Now, there's some respite. And it would probably be cheaper than the $100,000 you spend annually on your sabbatical to the middle of the rainforest.

Some cool dude invented an Iphone application called the SoundCurtain. Instead of trying to block out all unwanted sounds, what the app does is to convert the noises into beautiful music. Kinda like an ugly duckling into Prince Charming. Or something like that.

The app uses the microphone on the Iphone headset to 'listen' to noise and then using advanced algorithms, converts it to soothing and ambient music. Cool, don't cha think?

That kid screaming at the top of his voice could sound just like a cat meowing or those aunties gossiping in loud and audible whispers, could merely sound like the waves gently crashing at the beach. Or a million birds chirping with water cascading behind.

Story Link

Colors, and a companion of our own.

Waves go crashing
And fish come flying.
Cars go flowing
as people pass me by.

The skies are green as
the blue wind blow
the orange petals above
the red grass.

The guy dressed in pink
is not much feminine as compared to
the girl in blue
is not much masculine.

Enjoyment of time together,
the shedding of the skins
that we put on every day.
To be open, warm and free
which is how we should be
But we aren't.

And so we are only,
with a companion.

Fallacy.

The fallacy of humans.
To judge others and ignore the flaws within.
Superior inferior
Like interior and exterior
But without architecture.

Harmonica.

Nothing like a good rousing harmonica to jolt one into reverie. Nearly makes me feel like whipping out my ol' harmonica and doing just the same. Nearly.

Hilarious

80s / 90s

You know it's not a matter of feeling old or getting nostalgic, but a question of how old one is, when one recognizes / hums / sings along to tunes from the 80s and the 90s.

As easy as a blink.

Be careful the next time you flirt with a wink or a smile, Womanizer by Britney Spears might metamorphosis to Whatever You Like by T.I.

A new Japanese gadget allows its users to control electronic devices by detecting changes in your facial expressions. Any stranger passing you by would assume it to be a normal pair of earphones. Inside your ear, however, is a set of infrared sensors that measures minute movements caused by various facial movements.

So the next time your mahjong kaki starts smiling suddenly, or winks repeatedly, it's not that she has a shi san yao. She's probably just changing songs.

http://www.physorg.com/news155728914.html

Casual Games

I had the opportunity to sample two casual games recently, Youda Farmer and Ice Blast. One's farmed a flop and the other blasted off rather nicely. I always found casual games more captivating than hardcore games. Their ability to not be moulded into genres but rather in specific categories, like Match 3 or Hidden Object.

That said, I was a tad disappointed in Youda Farmer. I played their previous game, Youda Camper, a mix of strategy and time management, and found it be rather innovative. After all, which game allows you to run a campsite?

The aim of the game is to garner enough crops in the shortest time possible, and then sell it at the town center as soon as possible. A simple point-and-click game that would require no brains. The only thing it exercises would be your finger.

The game, however, brought up a flaw of casual games which is its limited levels. There's only so many levels till you complete the game, and even though the price for a casual game could be as low as one quarter of a hardcore game, a hardcore game lasts longer than any casual game.

Perhaps somebody should come out with a casual game rental system. Why not charge a lifetime membership fee, and then be given the chance to play all games within the database? Okay, so maybe the game developers won't earn much. So, insert a variety of options to ensure that the game developers get some profit as well, say, a time cap on each gameplay, or only games within the same category can be played or cap the number of games to be downloaded in a particular frame of time.

The other game that proved rather satisfying for me was Ice Blast. In it, you control three female heroes with each a unique talent for well, blasting ice, as the name suggests. No surprise there, but what makes this game stand out is the emphasis on strategy and time management and not a game of fastest-clicker-first.

Well, if you wanna have your sample of both games, you can download the trials at the various links:

http://www.bigfishgames.com/download-games/4707/youda-farmer/index.html
http://www.bigfishgames.com/download-games/4160/ice-blast/index.html

Cheers,
R@n.

Flealow.

"Flealow, flealow" he said. "You come here, put to reverse gear then flealow back to thats line."

It took me awhile to realize he meant free roll.

One can only use the half the time to learn the basics of driving, since the other half is spent deciphering the words spoken.

flawed logic

If people say that all the good ones are taken
and the only ones left would be the singles
and nobody is the right one
so the good ones are the right ones
so the right ones would be the singles no?

Flawed logic.

What if...

What if you found a girl pretty
and said so
and people mistook it as you had a crush on her
and teased you
though you got mesmerized by her looks.

And during the next few years
occasionally you would wonder what happened to her
where she went and how she was doing

And nine years later
you see her in a facebook picture
of a friend from primary school
who added you
from a godsister since primary school
whom letters were exchanged
for seven years

Peanut Butter Slumdog Millionaire Mashup

Gmail and uploading

Well, I only just realized this cool thing a while ago while uploading a file via Gmail. Ain't sure if you'll call it a function or a bonus or something pleasing to the eyes.

Gmail now shows the status of your file being uploaded! It's cool, though I think they should have thought of it sooner. Gone are the days where I'll upload huge files and sit and stone at my desk waiting for it to be completed, not even sure if it's even being uploaded.

Now that they've done it, me thinks Hotmail will soon follow suit. Sorry, I meant Windows Lived. Sorry, Windows Live.

Imagine.

Nothing like a rousing enthralling bollywood dance scene to end off a movie. But this is always the case is it no? A bollywood movie without a dance scene is like a jackie chan movie without fights or a horror movie without blood. So what's the fuss all about?

Some say the dance scenes is anti-climatic to the movie. Or perhaps they aren't used to bollywood movies. I bet, if the film was an English one, made in America, the ending would probably be a marriage ceremony between the two main leads, or the movie would end with a shot of the evil dude *spoiler alert* still being alive despite being shot. 'Cause that's how most American films work. They try to produce sequel after sequel. But bollywood movies are short and sweet. Romance, action and dance.

Perhaps we could produce our own bollywood movie, here in Singapore. All in the name of racial harmony. Why limit to only Indians? I bet no one has seen a crowd of different races dancing together. Well, I haven't. And why not?

Most of our local films feature the local social life or the different social classes or sink into issues that every Singaporean can identity with. But what about the Singapore Dream?

Is there one in the first place? Most would have heard about the American Dream, more popular during the World War Eras, where America was the land of gold. Somewhat.

Imagine a movie with a dance scene. Teenagers to adults to senior citizens, Chinese to Indian to Malay to other races, dancing to the same beat, dancing the same steps, and incorporating different genres. One people, one nation, one national movie.

It's not that hard to imagine.

Good

Nothing like a good end to a good start with a good night's rest with a good dream :)

Guitar medley.

Cool dude. He sings well, and plays well. And kinda looks a little like Utt.