[Anarchy@RAV] (BOAT QUAY)
PASSPORT: babes >>>>>>> FREE ENTRY.
guys >>>>>>> 10 bucks.
DATE: 17th April
DRINKS: 1 Standard drink +
FREE LIQUOR SHOTS WHOLE NITE!
MUSIC: RNB TILL LATE
then techno freaks can come alive..
ENTRY: FIRST COME FIRST SERVE.
2004-04-08
2004-04-04
2004-04-02
2004-04-01
get the facts straight. when you refer to someone as an idiot, you are implying he has an IQ of 0-25. a moron would be between 25-50, and an imbecile 50-75. the least scathing of all would be 'mildly retarded' which lies between 75 and a 100.
got that, asshole?
(which implies that well, you're an asshole.)
(source: ouyang)
Jesus Sightings!
while crossing the street from forum to wheellock yesterday at about 7 p.m., in front of me, from out of no-where, walked a man about my height, wiry to say the least, with chicken legs and gaut cheek bones peppered with stubble and long dark brown hair, dressed in a black shirt, green bermudas and leather sandals (!).
seeing him gave me an overwhelming sense of serene calm, and the leather sandals (i.e. jesus sandals) are dead giveaways of his identity. and doubts were allayed by the fact that his long tresses were flawless, devoid of any split ends or fly-aways, putting even the Singapore Dove Shampoo Girls to shame. surely, one would say, an act of the divine.
noelle recounted similar incidences of such 'Jesus sightings'. is Jesus in Singapore to catch the release of 'Passion of Christ'? or is he here on buisness? or is the new 'Uniquely Singapore' catchphrase really that appealing that even He came for some R&R?
report further sightings to jesus_i_saw_you!@jeebusfoundation.com*
*this is fictional, you cow.
got that, asshole?
(which implies that well, you're an asshole.)
(source: ouyang)
Jesus Sightings!
while crossing the street from forum to wheellock yesterday at about 7 p.m., in front of me, from out of no-where, walked a man about my height, wiry to say the least, with chicken legs and gaut cheek bones peppered with stubble and long dark brown hair, dressed in a black shirt, green bermudas and leather sandals (!).
seeing him gave me an overwhelming sense of serene calm, and the leather sandals (i.e. jesus sandals) are dead giveaways of his identity. and doubts were allayed by the fact that his long tresses were flawless, devoid of any split ends or fly-aways, putting even the Singapore Dove Shampoo Girls to shame. surely, one would say, an act of the divine.
noelle recounted similar incidences of such 'Jesus sightings'. is Jesus in Singapore to catch the release of 'Passion of Christ'? or is he here on buisness? or is the new 'Uniquely Singapore' catchphrase really that appealing that even He came for some R&R?
report further sightings to jesus_i_saw_you!@jeebusfoundation.com*
*this is fictional, you cow.
2004-03-31
lat-long 1.3232 103.8389
thats the latitude and longitude of where i stay! yes, 39 chancery lane, villa chancery! cool innit? go to Maporama. its like, this fucking cool map for the world. kinda spooky too man... what if they included real-time satellite images in the future? very enemy-of-the-state, very state-of-the-art.
thats the latitude and longitude of where i stay! yes, 39 chancery lane, villa chancery! cool innit? go to Maporama. its like, this fucking cool map for the world. kinda spooky too man... what if they included real-time satellite images in the future? very enemy-of-the-state, very state-of-the-art.
Along Liang Seah Street
Ah-mah Smoking
the most excruciating part of the whole process was not the editing, but the posting of the photos. and only two are up! well enjoy, hope you like it.
ching said i'm an owl, and i kinda like that. i could live being an owl. c00l.
Ah-mah Smoking
the most excruciating part of the whole process was not the editing, but the posting of the photos. and only two are up! well enjoy, hope you like it.
ching said i'm an owl, and i kinda like that. i could live being an owl. c00l.
2004-03-28
i want to curl up into a ball and tuck my head between my knees but still it isn't enough. i feel very weary. again i ask, which comes first? music or melancholy.
i just filmed this short vid which i really like entitled 'blimpy boy'. do you remember the floating plastic bag scene from American Beauty? its something like that but not too similar i hope. if anyone knows of a way to stream/post videos online, please do clue me in.
ever since watching that particular scene (in american beauty), i can't help but notice the beautiful spirals the leaves trace in the air as the wind heaves and dies and the helpless leaves are dragged off kicking and screaming, nails scratching on the pavement in protest.
i just filmed this short vid which i really like entitled 'blimpy boy'. do you remember the floating plastic bag scene from American Beauty? its something like that but not too similar i hope. if anyone knows of a way to stream/post videos online, please do clue me in.
ever since watching that particular scene (in american beauty), i can't help but notice the beautiful spirals the leaves trace in the air as the wind heaves and dies and the helpless leaves are dragged off kicking and screaming, nails scratching on the pavement in protest.
suddenly, i don't feel very much like taking photos. maybe its just i've nothing to say, or too much.
4 days after POP and i'm starting to feel very lennard again, which is comforting to know. i thought i'd died but no i was just... just taking a break.
my helmet, after weeks of usage and no washing, smells very much like vinegar. which reminds me of fish and chips in australia or vinegar kettle chips. yum. how oddly we remember.
i would like to try a bruce-ish kind of entry but i think lets leave the writing to the writers and the blogging to the bloggers and voyeurs to themselves.
4 days after POP and i'm starting to feel very lennard again, which is comforting to know. i thought i'd died but no i was just... just taking a break.
my helmet, after weeks of usage and no washing, smells very much like vinegar. which reminds me of fish and chips in australia or vinegar kettle chips. yum. how oddly we remember.
i would like to try a bruce-ish kind of entry but i think lets leave the writing to the writers and the blogging to the bloggers and voyeurs to themselves.
2004-03-20
notebook.
it doesn't really matter where we're going, does it? after all, its the journey that's the destination, innit? A to B, B to A, its in the to part that things happen. kapish?
It was lush, with wild vegetation growing untamed and cumbling paint flaking off the wall like a bad sun burn, revealing its raw under-skin. There was a sprawling jackfruit tree in the middle of it all, standing like the middle finger of mother nature giving a big 'fuck you' to urbanization. It was also like nature's umbrella. Creeper vines veined the wall like ebola. "I could start a garden here!" she exclaimed. I imagined gothic skeletal chairs and a rusted table would fit right in.
maybe, God doesn't love you.
I am thinking of. A hazy day. Its dry, and chilly, windy. The kind of day when you breathe, your breath comes out like a long drag on a cigarette. autumn maybe. Toxic love. Maybe I will get drunk on love. or its many substitutes. Love is a reason in itself isn't it. What is love to you? I can't find my own answer to that, so help me cheat. Give me your answer.
I'll make it mine
thought for the day- you know. if satan were named anything other than lucifer, say, bob. or stan. it'd be so sad
Eighteen januaries later, discovery instilled within me a yearning for the sea. Without scientific ado one falls short from understanding how the glass is clear and the body is blue- tritely speaking it is a concept romanticised by ignorance.
The human whole however bureaucratic is governed by two organs- the desert of a mind in which all thoughts are meticulously laid out to dry and the ocean of a heart in which all thought subsequently drowns. Therein lies the divine parody in which all men have a part to play.
There is something sorcerous about the snowglobe and how it surrenders your life in short takes- that a jingle would throw its world into disarray; that a disarray should spring into view its world. What magic suspends the glitter and glass is the watchful weightlessness of water.
It is believed that paint on canvas is the universal expression free from translation and open to intepretation; that writing is flawed in language and imprisoned by cultures, subjected to perspectives and warped from fear. For this alone I embrace her.
it doesn't really matter where we're going, does it? after all, its the journey that's the destination, innit? A to B, B to A, its in the to part that things happen. kapish?
It was lush, with wild vegetation growing untamed and cumbling paint flaking off the wall like a bad sun burn, revealing its raw under-skin. There was a sprawling jackfruit tree in the middle of it all, standing like the middle finger of mother nature giving a big 'fuck you' to urbanization. It was also like nature's umbrella. Creeper vines veined the wall like ebola. "I could start a garden here!" she exclaimed. I imagined gothic skeletal chairs and a rusted table would fit right in.
maybe, God doesn't love you.
I am thinking of. A hazy day. Its dry, and chilly, windy. The kind of day when you breathe, your breath comes out like a long drag on a cigarette. autumn maybe. Toxic love. Maybe I will get drunk on love. or its many substitutes. Love is a reason in itself isn't it. What is love to you? I can't find my own answer to that, so help me cheat. Give me your answer.
I'll make it mine
thought for the day- you know. if satan were named anything other than lucifer, say, bob. or stan. it'd be so sad
Eighteen januaries later, discovery instilled within me a yearning for the sea. Without scientific ado one falls short from understanding how the glass is clear and the body is blue- tritely speaking it is a concept romanticised by ignorance.
The human whole however bureaucratic is governed by two organs- the desert of a mind in which all thoughts are meticulously laid out to dry and the ocean of a heart in which all thought subsequently drowns. Therein lies the divine parody in which all men have a part to play.
There is something sorcerous about the snowglobe and how it surrenders your life in short takes- that a jingle would throw its world into disarray; that a disarray should spring into view its world. What magic suspends the glitter and glass is the watchful weightlessness of water.
It is believed that paint on canvas is the universal expression free from translation and open to intepretation; that writing is flawed in language and imprisoned by cultures, subjected to perspectives and warped from fear. For this alone I embrace her.
2004-03-14
ok yoon this's for you.
grenade throwing isn't all that its made out to be. my sergeant described it as an event that will 'wa lan make your balls go to your throat sia!' and the he recounted events of recruits with shaky hands, that scared they were.
but instead, the day passed like any other and the grenade went pop rather than boom. okay. i'll be honest. maybe more of a POP than a pop but my balls stayed where they were nonetheless.
a hasty entry but its time to book in so cya girl.
grenade throwing isn't all that its made out to be. my sergeant described it as an event that will 'wa lan make your balls go to your throat sia!' and the he recounted events of recruits with shaky hands, that scared they were.
but instead, the day passed like any other and the grenade went pop rather than boom. okay. i'll be honest. maybe more of a POP than a pop but my balls stayed where they were nonetheless.
a hasty entry but its time to book in so cya girl.
am i really that bad at good-byes?
i think Ocean's Eleven has one of the most poignant parting scenes without threading into cringing mush. after the heist has been made, there is a silouette shot of the whole team against a fountain and one by one they take their leave and get on with their lives. no good byes, no stay-in-touch-take-care-i'll-miss-you and in short, no lies. as it should be.
i think Ocean's Eleven has one of the most poignant parting scenes without threading into cringing mush. after the heist has been made, there is a silouette shot of the whole team against a fountain and one by one they take their leave and get on with their lives. no good byes, no stay-in-touch-take-care-i'll-miss-you and in short, no lies. as it should be.
2004-03-13
i had one of those 'oh-my-god-what-am-i-doing' moments today. i was sleeping in the rover (i.e. car) waiting for the sergeant to collect the grenades when i woke up and looked at the jungle around me, my helmet in front of me and the driver sleeping in the driver's seat. then i thought to myself 'oh-my-god-what-am-i-doing?'.
noelle called it a reality check.
noelle called it a reality check.
2004-03-06
i just bought the Motherload Of All Disinfectants. not only does this disinfect clothes, floors and freshen the air, it can also be used to remove clothe stains, relieve muscle aches (yes, spray directly onto your skin!) and insect bites. From Lido Basement Supermarket- Eagle Brand Eucalyptus Disinfectant Spray.
get yours today!
get yours today!
2004-03-05
so it was the latter so oh well i will probably be retaking my A's. strangely i'm not sad or depressed or anything. i guess its just what you just call just desserts. on a lighter note, i passed chinese B.
had my 3-day SIT test this week. (read: 3 days in jungle again.) sparing the technical details, and on to the juicy part, i had to take a shit on the 3rd day. this is a BAD thing. because by now, the shit area is a veritable mine field crawling with stink bombs. but i'm getting ahead of myself.
-
JUNGLE TOILET 101
let me explain to the un-initiated. in the jungle, there are no toilets. so, you pee into the trees/grass* and dig a hole and shit into it and cover it up. and all this is done in a designated area.
-
ok now back to my rant. so by the third day, a company of 200 recruits have been using the same 10x10m area to shit/piss. what do i mean by mine field? when i take my shovel to dig a shit hole, alas! i UNCOVER a previous shit hole! wa lan its damn sick and smelly la. then while you're shitting, you must keep swatting your pantat to keep the flies and mosquitos away. and there are other people shitting around you and you can see all kinds of shit. deep brown, light brown, reddish brown, long, short, skinny and fat. the mental image... ugh. if you're some kinda perverted sicko into that kinda kinky shit then you'll be in heaven man.
so my advice for recruits to be- shit early on and then avoid it after that like the plague.
*my section mate was unlucky enough to prone (i.e. lie down) in a grass bed of pee during training.
had my 3-day SIT test this week. (read: 3 days in jungle again.) sparing the technical details, and on to the juicy part, i had to take a shit on the 3rd day. this is a BAD thing. because by now, the shit area is a veritable mine field crawling with stink bombs. but i'm getting ahead of myself.
-
JUNGLE TOILET 101
let me explain to the un-initiated. in the jungle, there are no toilets. so, you pee into the trees/grass* and dig a hole and shit into it and cover it up. and all this is done in a designated area.
-
ok now back to my rant. so by the third day, a company of 200 recruits have been using the same 10x10m area to shit/piss. what do i mean by mine field? when i take my shovel to dig a shit hole, alas! i UNCOVER a previous shit hole! wa lan its damn sick and smelly la. then while you're shitting, you must keep swatting your pantat to keep the flies and mosquitos away. and there are other people shitting around you and you can see all kinds of shit. deep brown, light brown, reddish brown, long, short, skinny and fat. the mental image... ugh. if you're some kinda perverted sicko into that kinda kinky shit then you'll be in heaven man.
so my advice for recruits to be- shit early on and then avoid it after that like the plague.
*my section mate was unlucky enough to prone (i.e. lie down) in a grass bed of pee during training.
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