im bored and restless because i feel there could be something else or something more. this cant be it... can it?

i dont know what i want but i know what i dont and this aint it! 

“What a useful thing a pocket-map is!” I remarked.

“That’s another thing we’ve learned from your Nation,” said Mein Herr, “map-making. But we’ve carried it much further than you. What do you consider the largest map that would be really useful?”

“About six inches to the mile.”

“Only six inches!” exclaimed Mein Herr. “we very soon got to six yards to the mile. Then we tried a hundred yards to the mile. And then came the grandest idea of all! We actually made a map of the country, on the scale of a mile to the mile!”

“Have you used it much?” I enquired.

“It has never been spread out, yet,” said Mein Herr: “The farmers object: they said it would cover the whole country, and shut out the sunlight! So we now use the country itself, as its own map, and I assure you it does nearly as well. Now let me as you another question. What is the smallest world you would care to inhabit…?”

things i've learnt:

1. dont skip breakfast
2. one good meal a week is good for the spirits
3. alcoholic spirits are good for the soul
   
4. soul refuelling: once a week. that includes church
   
5. relax with design - its like a souffle. it'll come soon enough
6. when stuck, just do something. floor plans static? do a section. section immobile? do a massing. massing boring? look at the site.
7. oscillate on the matter people. always.
   

thing i miss at the moment:

1. poptart nights with the boys. shrug and a sigh, cest la vie. hearts on fire, kisses for everyone.

Take care of the short term the long run'll run itself.

oh yeah, yeah yeah yeah.

we all go in chest thumping with hearts on fire fearless of the after burn because its carpe diem we're men after all lets seize the day. and the fall out is like a nuclear bomb, the hiroshima of the heart. what can we do we were men reduced to boys and then we'll wallow for a while before we suck it up and move on with a shrug and a sigh - "cest la vie".

no one told us to expect to feel this way. maybe its not so much the pain but the shock of it that gets to us. a catch 22 because if you do expect it then why bother in the first place my brother.

the truth is more complex in a dumb way that can only make sense to you, so my wish to you is that you'll dig that out soon.

i heart you, you know i do.

and they all ride like Valkyries galloping to the rising roar, a guttural vibration that clears the throat to hock out all expectations - a loogie.

like racehorses, you see, the hands of Horowitz

its like that surreal feeling with your brain floating in amniotic fluid. to draw a parallel perhaps its how Krang feels, a separation between mind and body.

"architecture is a discourse of knowledge.
I project what I imagine people could desire -
I have a delirious vision on what this might be,
I don't design for myself - I don't follow my own needs."

woot.

it gets dark early nowadays. a condusive cocoon to work and everything else.

i love how from afar the los angeles sprawl looks like a carpet chandelier and the lights from the staples center spray spotlights into the sky pathetically try to mimic starlight. sparkle, points, mesmerize.

its important for me to theorize but i think its even more important to speculate.

neither engineers nor artists. we're speculators. imagineering is my job. "what if?" is the big words, "what will be?" the million dollar gamble.

i am bored/terrified with the design. maybe its the generic nature of it or the finality of it. theory and speculation end in design. design ends in the build object. maybe thats the test of the initial validity of the question and the strength of one's answer.

A little lipstick, a dab of rouge.

we could all be sexless gods on a carnal collision with sin.

How did the word "muse" mutate into "amuse"?

"a sound like someone trying not to make a sound."

never ever. never never ever. never never never never open the door in the floor.

Yoon is Dr. Seuss.

yesterday i was cycling.

along the coast at sembawang, it started pouring. in buckets and spades. along the coast the wind blew the rain and you could see the rain forming patterns on the floor, like the metronomic sine line of a heart meter.

in the distance of the sea you can see giant rigs, with protrusions like the eiffel tower or horns. the heavy rain blanketed this vision, muting it. it shimmered in and out of focus through this white noise. static in 3-d.

it was strangely beautiful in an apocalyptic way. it is beautiful in the same way Blade Runner is beautiful in its own defeatist way.

"chaos" is a deceptive term. it denies the capacity for order.

"complexity" is better, i think.

its times like this when i feel the insatiable desire for unrepentant freedom.

and when i think of that i always imagine myself in a car, top down, driving down an empty highway (route 66? haha) with the lads and music blasting (played from a tape, of course). Calexico, Deep Down. or the Libertines maybe. We are the likely lads after all. (whatever will become of us?)

think thelma and louise, but with balls. beer drank from glass bottles, jeans unwashed for weeks and matted mottled hair. with stubble, if i had any.

where there's no where to go but anywhere. where theres nothing to accomplish but everything to do. you know, where you can howl into the night and it doesn't fucking matter.

think fear and loathing in las vegas.

yeowwww.

Rumour has it that it was the beat that his heart skipped that killed him. Another rumour says that we breathe in pairs except at either ends of our life.
It's like custard pies all sweet yellow and creamy made with filthy hands.

He's reaching out to his dying ideals. "Horowitz with his hands like a race horse." At the very end, its only tasted through a proxy. An "approximate".

ok so submission is done with and over.

after that, took a break and went to vivocity where i ended up watching the covenant. this has to be the most accurate and hilarious review of the movie so far, courtesy New York Times:

“Hey, what’s up? I tried calling you last night.”

“I know. I was at a movie.”

“What’d you see?”

“ ‘The Covenant.’ ”

“What’s that again?”

“It’s that movie about these guys who are witches, and they go to this creepy school, and there’s this new kid — Sebastian Stan — who’s, like, the bad witch, and they fight and stuff. It’s super lame.”

“Are they cute at least?”

“Totally. The main guy, Caleb — Steven Strait — has, like, these big lips and sexy eyes, and he drives a Mustang, and everything. And he’s friends with this crazy, like, blond dude, who looks kind of gay, and this motorcycle guy with long hair and some other guy. Actually, the whole thing is kind of gay. I mean, they’re on the swim team, right? And there’s this scene where they’re all in Speedos and everything.”

“Awesome. I think I saw the commercial. That’s the one with a car that explodes and gets put back together by magic, right?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much the coolest part. The effects are super cheesy. Like at the end, when Caleb is fighting the evil transfer student, they fly around a barn and throw magic Jell-O at each other. I’m totally serious.”

“Is it scary, at least?”

“There’s this one part, where these spiders crawl all over this girl and go in her nose and stuff.”

“Ew.”

“Super ew.”

-

seriously. those guys are hot.

day blurring into night and night melting into day.

hello all. am rushing a design project for a theater, deadline - 35 hours left. tick tock.

its kinda embarassing but the theme song of the moment is... Paris "Thats Hot" Hilton.

Clutching at straws that never were there. Sipping from empty glasses that never were filled.

We're past critical mass, hurled into hyperspace hardcore.

at-choo

The Squid and The Whale, "if you know what I'm talking about".

Because its better to be a whale than a squid. Whales inspire major novels.

This time last year I was in New York. This time this year I'm in my basement wishing I was in New York. This time next year, perhaps I'll be in New York wishing I was back in New York, "if you know what I'm talking about".

Because New York isn't really New York unless you're not there.

Perhaps no-where, or -body, really is unless one is without.

(Belafonte/The Whale/Jacques-Yves Costeau/Calypso)