for the benefit of the few lonely webbers who check my blog for updates, its about time i gave a decent one so here goes.

Theres a story by Philip K. Dick, though i can't recall the title, about a planet where all the humans who go there mysteriously start spending all their time sitting the the fields spread out. again i'm probably bastardizing the whole story but the humans pretty much needed to photosynthesize on that planet, and thats how i've been feeling these few days, especially after being in the office for so long. I feel the need for sun on my skin, to photosynthesize some happiness. the short story can be found in the volume "Paycheck and other Classic Stories by Philip K. Dick" and i highly recommend it to anyone and everyone.

I raise my fist in a call for office mayhem and deskbound anarchy! who's with me? lets shoot staples into the air!

(_|_)

outlaw buttcrack

i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king! i am the rat king!


i
i
i
i
i
i
i
i
i
i
i
i

rat king! rat king vs. lizard king *DING DING* FIGHT! who'll win???

i've been listening to liz phair more and more and i think its because my inner-cunt is growing.

i will stem the rising tide and go do something guy-ishly stupid.

i got birthday greetings from the most unexpected of people, and did not get any from some of those i expected. so thanks and fuck you, respectively.

i had the most awesome dream last night- for those who don't already know, i'm going to NY in august/sept for a holiday and frankly i think about it a lot. i can't wait. last night was the first night i dreamt about being there about breathing the NY air that i always see on the telly; you know what i mean, somewhat smoggy but its probably partly from the cold, partly from exhaust fumes? and i dreamt i went to stef's house (i have no idea how she got into the picture) and it was so dreary and blah it was awesome to have arrived in NY and i met hunter S. tompson.

then, karl called me and woke me up.

i love my bike. it gives me a sense of infinite freedom.

i read this off campuscaper's blog-

"Thursday, February 03, 2005


After all the leave and offs I am going to take, I have 12 working days left. I mean, 11 working days left as of today. I am happy. No words can describe such feelings. I will end my entry now"


oh my god. i feel so happy reading his entry. and this time next year (maybe even a bit sooner!), mine will read the same!

as a stopgap, i've got a fever so am on a 2 day MC, and i got friday off, so throw in the new year festivities and i've got a one week break (kinda like block leave) and an extra number to add to my age. god save the bloody queen.

uh huh huh. im now an office rat, a pencil pusher, a cubicle junkie. and in the office, they have hamsters in cages. doesn't anyone find that ironic?

we're all fucking romantics at heart.

admit it, everyone of you cynical, heart-broken, jaded bitter people. you're only where you are because you're a romantic.

i think i may be bipolar. or am i just being paranoid? oh great. so im either bipolar, or suffer from paranoia. either way it isnt good. but then again while it got me really worried and in a frenzy, i took a moment in my tracks and thought about it. what the fuck man. so what if i am bipolar or paranoid? doesn't make a diff, cause that means i've been like that since. since before before, so it doesn't matter. its me baby.

i read about the treatment and the drugs. it lulls you. it numbs you. its like. like living life to the brian eno song deep blue day- muted. bah. i dunno. i will ask my parents.

not so much a coherent post but points of rememberance.

passing out this tues. fucking hell yeah!

in the communal fridge in our barracks, there are bugs. like seriously sick bugs... small and smarmy. but its a matter of perspective. after the initial shock of discovering them, they are now thought of as 'protein boosters'

we are always getting scolded as a squad, and the argument always revolves around how we have to, as senior officers, earn respect, repect is not given, rank is a blessing, bla bla bla. they need some perspective.

had the fucking best simple mix today- vodka lemongrass. yish, when you come back, im taking you there!

today is bruce lee's birthday.

this is really the cincher. you hear of people who lose their handphones right? well, i lost my charger. its like, wtf man, right? so i have a phone, but i can't bloody use it. and cause its samsung, not many people have the charger. so im kinda on-and-off contactable on the mobile, depending on who is charitable enough to let me slide my sim into their phone for moments here and there.

when did the concept of owning a phone become ubiquitous? i spelled that wrong didn't i. anyway. yeah. when the fuck? maybe we should all throw our phones away. maybe we will be happier. or at least, we will be more at ease with ourselves, i think.

just brewed a new batch of beer. its supposed to be a kilkenny-clone kinda brew, but then again... we all know 'supposed to' rarely ever comes out as it is.

going against popular opinion, because that makes me feel special, i will raise my hand and say that Adore was the Pumpkins best album. Second would be Gish. then Mellon Collie, siamese dreams, pisces iscariot, and finally deux ex machina. discounting of course the box releases, because we all know thats just for coins in the coffer. do you need my reasons?

full metal jacket was a let down. cinematic masterpiece my ass. sure there were striking scenes that were kick ass, but the whole movie seemed to spiral out of its central theme and become more of a collection of shorts. clap clap for kubric in that respect, holding the rein in at the very damn edge. so its either his genius, or his tomfoolery. but lets not split hairs.

platoon was a more enjoyable movie, but apocalyse now, though a bit tough at times, sears itself into my memories. i will do a tribute, because thats the closest i'll come to. at this point in time.

its very late and im not sure why im blogging, but i seem to be fighting back sleep for some inexplicable reason. in cursed ubin island, all i wanted was my comfortable bed back home. and now, im delaying that very moment i yearned for so much. well. anticipation was always the better of the two.

i wish. i wish i had a movie room! i recall when i was a kid and i loved staying at one of my cousins house because he had one of those rooms set aside specifically for movies, you know, with the big big speakers and super big screen. and i recall i loved watching that la bamba movie on it, cause it was one of my favourites. and i loved to sing karaoke too- 'i'm on the top of the world....' and a hot air balloon would float across the screen. the shag carpet was tan colour with a few dark stains from coke and other miscelleaneous misdemeanours. it was a very safe room. it was like a hug.

sigh. yippie yai yay i'm back.

The junior cadets have come in and brought with them the phenomenon of the Tekong Shit. for the NS-uninitiated out there, let me tell you out and out- Tekong Shit is no joke. It clogs toilets and reeks like satan's armpit. For some strange reason, recruits having just left tekong have shit that is the consistency of adamantium, which we all know is the strongest metal on earth. So now, since we share the toilet with the juniors and having once been a junior, i can from first hand experience tell you that by the end of this coming week, only 1 cubicle out of the 12 we have will be working. the rest will be clogged with shit. Already, its only been one week and they've bombed 4 cubicles out of action. Shitting now has become a game of russian roulette, the 'mystery door'. What will i find behind this door? a shit splattered hell hole or a haven of white porcelain waiting for me to deposit my faeces.

how does one draw music?

The junior cadets have come in and brought with them the phenomenon of the Tekong Shit. for the NS-uninitiated out there, let me tell you out and out- Tekong Shit is no joke. It clogs toilets and reeks like satan's armpit. For some strange reason, recruits having just left tekong have shit that is the consistency of adamantium, which we all know is the strongest metal on earth. So now, since we share the toilet with the juniors and having once been a junior, i can from first hand experience tell you that by the end of this coming week, only 1 cubicle out of the 12 we have will be working. the rest will be clogged with shit. Already, its only been one week and they've bombed 4 cubicles out of action. Shitting now has become a game of russian roulette, the 'mystery door'. What will i find behind this door? a shit splattered hell hole or a haven of white porcelain waiting for me to deposit my faeces.

how does one draw music?

i hereby declare Waterloo Sunset as the best song of the past millenium. It is melancholy in a nutshell and it is the hope of happiness so tangible. 'as long as i gaze on/ waterloo sunset/ i am in paradise'. Fuck the stones and the beatles and the who. okay maybe not the beatles. but fuck the other two bands. kinks baby. kinks.

please please please do me a favour, open kazaa, imesh, napster or whatever program of piracy you are using at the moment and in the search bar, type the following- 'the kinks waterloo sunset' and if you're feeling generous, 'the magnetic fields sunset city' and send that song to me, cause i can't seem to find a working version on my P2P network.

to put it simply, we're too damn bloody young to be old. so get off your lazy ass and do something.

in classic singaporean kiasu-ness, and with the recent spate of PMS-ing weather going from sunny to rainy then to rainy AND sunny, i decided to bring more underwear into camp i run out of fresh underwear. and as a contingency, i brought even more underwear in case in some freak occurance some underwear goes missing. and for the final nail in the coffin, i thought 'what the hell' and just packed in even more underwear.

and so now its the weekend and i'm back and home and i'm feeling great, except for the fact that i have no underwear to wear.

-

last night the rj fuckers came over to do what we do best, which is to drink, and now smoking has been added to our list of talents. as usual, jlum was his camel self and downed whiskey after vodka after whiskey and still was sober enough to tend to the drunkards.

in classic scholarly logic, since most of them had to be home early for various commitments they had the next morning, we hit the 'fast forward' button on the night and by 930 isaac was already stoned and tzi spouting shit out of his mouth like the foul bastard he is. panadol and alcohol is not the magic stoner combination we thought it was. quote of the night? courtesy tzi- 'YOU SACK OF TITTTIESS! SACK'A TITSSSS!!!!'

isaac hurled like out of the exorcist and my ash tray was totally pack full of cigarette butts. sure signs of a killer night.

superficially i think the appeal of Belle & Sebastian is in their seemingly innocent tunes and ditties, and the singers airy sing-song voice, remiscient of a by-gone time. and ominous lyrics, in stark contrast to the tune, serves as salvation from mindless pop-happy songs.

however, there is more to them. they are the embodiment of a fairy tale. Seriously. Think about it, they are deceptively simple and straightforward, and they spin tales about them. Each album sleeve comes with a simple story, tho ficticious, is still beautiful. It enhances one's enjoyment of their songs because the band becomes bigger than themselves, if you get what i mean. i guess this sums them up, from 'If you're feeling sinister' album- 'play a song to set me free/ nobody writes them like they used to/ so it may as well be me'

i can scarcely believe myself. last night i went to pre-rouge with some friends and it seemed to be well, a lost night. lost in the sense we all know- thats its too late to start anything, too early to call it a night, and the moods too tragic-mellow to enjoy the nothingness of it all. and this guy came up and told us to go up to rouge and gave us all red bands to wear on our wrists. no its not some hollywood fad 'i support cancer/aids/bird flu research' kinda thing. it was... a magic red band. if you have the red band and go to the bar anytime before 1am, they give you a free beer! can you believe how powerful it is? if it were a magic card, it'd have a fucking 12 mana casting cost or something like that. and we got it for free! you can imagine the paradise i was in. after one when the free flow ended, i have no idea what the fuck rouge was thinking, but they gave us a free jug of beer. I drank so much damn beer, the next morning my piss smelled of beer.

hmm. maybe its a new form of buisness marketing, where they take the moral highground and walk away 'spiritually fulfilled' through their generosity.

god bless you rouge.

okay so re-reading my previous post, i think its terrible. absolutely terrible. i guess i would call it a heroic, or idiotic, attempt because only someone so brave (or stupid) would post such a badly phrased entry. i thought i had an interesting idea for a post and i guess with a bit more time i could make something more decent of it but i've neither the time nor the talent to so i'll do what most modern writers do and write an entry that is 'inspired', when the actual word should actually be 'plagarized'.

anyway, below is a text i wrote 'inspired' from T.S. Elliot's 'The Wasteland'.*


What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the deal tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is a shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
Frisch weht der Wind
Der Heimat zu.
Mein Irisch Kind,
Wo weilest du?
"You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
"They called me the hyacinth girl."
-Yet when e came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Oed' und leer das Meer.

i feel so much better now.

*if you don't get it by now, its an excerpt.