if words had gastritis

Again and again. On and on.

2010-09-08T23:53:00.000+08:00

I love starting with a question.

What hurts?

You don’t know the depth of your selfishness till the wounded lies dead, eyes rolled back, before you. And to know that, cocooned in your ego, the world is made a white expense by the yarns spun by you. Yet you’re really sitting in the middle of mudslides, also of your making, by your hands, at your behest, with glee, with knowing, without.

What gives?

When the tears fall, who was the grief meant for? Who do you feel guilty towards? How sorry are you? Would you ever? Would you never? And then the puzzle unravels – to a naked you – always you.

Do you feel as if, should time reverse, you’d make up for some wrongdoing or error, some ever-present vanity? Why, yes! And you shiver, stand corrected. You make amends, plain words rapidly forming, overcompensating. The sorrow washes over you and calms you as it pass, fading to a shadow of a memory.

And then what happens?

You rinse and repeat.

To remember, to remember.

2009-07-02T21:20:00.002+08:00

The problem with people is that we forget. We forget the good times if they were superseded by the bad. We forget contentment of our achievements when we see new heights to scale. We forget the simplicity of cherished tender moments as they drown in loud words. We forget the beauty of living with gratitude and repays benevolence with anger.

I’m not taking the moral highroad here. This is a critique of me as much as it is a general observation of people.

If one gift could be offered to mankind, I ask that it be of remembrance. Memories fade and what's gray will too often befuddle. When the bad is remembered alongside the good, surely better judgment would come out of it. I'm endlessly frustrated by the grievances and injustice that happen around me. So perhaps it would do me some good to remember the good times more vividly.

I can only hope to never forget I said this tonight.

Holy Hotness!

2008-07-20T00:25:00.009+08:00

I'm panting in my head, if such a thing is possible, because all I've been doing for the past hour after coming home from Hellboy 2 is perving Prince Nuada!

Sheesh, this character embodies everything that I love: He is an elf, has killer bone structure, peerless skills in martial arts and the voice that makes me go all weak in the knees! Prince Nuada, you're such a hot villain! He first appeared in the movie half-nekkid *swoons*; deftly leapt on and off walls in gravity-defying spear fighting moves - his daily workout routine *howls!*; and all this happened in the dank, wet and rancid sewers. Yet he still oozed gorgeoness and sex appeal. My heart was all aflutter and my soul was his - in an instant.

Why, all my heros are villains! They tend to be so bad and so darn drop-dead gorgeous. If pale-like-death and long white locks aren't exactly marks of beauty for you, well then, they absolutely are for me! They are my weakness, my achilles heel. They completely disarm me, make me cry and moan in pleasure!

Check these out:

He is exactly the kind of guy makes me sit up and pay attention! Time and time again, the only characters that send the same chills down my spine (in an absolutely delicious way) looks just like this. Let's see:

There was Sephiroth...

He passes all the pre-requisites: Long white hair? Check. Sinister, dramatic makeup? Check. Elf-like (some say effaminate - you're just jealous!) features? Check. Bad, bad man? Abso-fucking-lutely!

And not forgetting Raistlin, Master of past and present, true master of the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas:

Check on all counts, except he amps up the heat by wearing his skin gold, and traded your run-of-the-mill colored contacts for hour-glassed ones. Try to beat that AND still be a sex-symbol!

All of them are villains, but are they really rotten? I beg to differ. They are my misunderstood anti-heroes. They refused to be posterboy to the masses and carved out their niche by doing things their own way and the world faults them. But if they weren't despised and spurned, they probably wouldn't have turned out to be some of the best damn villain the fantasy world has to offer.

I say 1 to evil and Nil to good on this one. *sighs wistfully*

It is done. I am at peace.

2008-07-17T10:12:00.002+08:00

At peace with myself and with the world (who really owes me nothing to earn my rage against it). With my thyroid ripped from my body, I can literally feel the angst drain away. A chapter closes and another opens. What will tomorrow bring? I crane my neck, albeit hurting my wound - still raw from the incision - to peer into the blinding sky. Looking for omens, for signs and whatever else that could guide me forward.

But there will be none. I need to stop looking outwards and start seeking my answers within. Life propels me forward relentlessly and I've wasted time enough dawdling and wading in ankle-deep muck.

Ever onward. Never stop.

Coaxing and Cajoling my thyroid

2008-04-12T09:42:00.004+08:00

It is infuriating. I’m in a murderous mood right now when I am supposed to be a master of zen. I’ve got Graves’ Disease and I am willing my condition to stabilize just so the surgeon could cut me up and remove the offending organ from my body. But not everything is going as planned.

My Graves’ Disease has induced hyperthyroidism. And the driving engine behind all this mayhem are my antibodies. You see, Graves’ Disease is a kind of auto-immune disease, meaning my antibodies are attacking my body and in this case the unfortunate victim is my thyroid. If you’ve heard of Lupus, it is not dissimilar only in Lupus’s case the antibodies are less discriminating about their victims. Anything from hair follicles to your lungs can be attacked and you simply won’t know when.

So there. I am sick, somewhat. But I refuse to brand myself such. I had to sit at home for 2 weeks in the name of getting better for the impending surgery which has been twice-postponed due to the instability of my condition. It’s unacceptable. Seriously. I’m scratching my own eyes out and pulling my hair for sport because I am stuck at home and forbidden to do anything that would excite or upset me. I sleep most of the time because the medication knocks me out and the doctor preached that sleeping is the best thing for me right now.

It’s ironic how I’ve planned my schedule to perfection and have to bear witness to everything crumble and fall. I’ve been on the same medication throughout my most stressed months of Feb and March, yet my condition then was the most stable throughout my history. I’ve planned for a surgery in April because work schedule simply didin't permit me to disappear for weeks on end before but alas, now that downtime has come my body is in rebellion and seemingly smug about it. Just slit my throat already!

Hungry Go Where?

2008-02-23T21:39:00.003+08:00

That's a question that's never far from a Singaporean's mind. I ask that question while having breakfast, mentally fast-forwarding to lunch time and bemoaning the lack of food choices at my work place. So I thank god for the peeps behind http://www.hungrygowhere.com/

Finally, a place where foodies can unite and share in all our gastronomical rant and raves. So instead of condemning an establishment inwardly while warning all your friends to steer clear, now you have a platform to reach more people who care enough about food than treat it as mere sustenance. Conversely, wax lyrical about great service, insanely good food and just stop being plain selfish by keeping your favourite restaurant an insider's secret.

share the love! I've just started with reviews on Marutama (drooools) and Kuriya (swoons). More to come from me. My belly's never full. :D

My Marutama rave made me today's star reviewer. Sweet!

Lust, Caution moves me to the bones

2008-01-02T02:13:00.000+08:00

Some of the most erotic moments of this movie didn’t belong to its much talked-about and controversial sex scenes. It was Tony Leung’s gaze at Tang Wei’s character, upon her invitation to have a cuppa at her residence; Tang Wei deliberate, languid strides, accentuating her curves wrapped under luxurious silk. This movie is all in the details! It was slow for some, but just about the right pace for me so I can drink in every moment, every nuance and still have time to watch it as a movie. I appreciate that Ang Lee kept CGI at a glorious minimum, avoiding the ship-sinking mistake that one too many luminary Asian director has committed of late, Chen Kaige, not least.

Tang Wei’s performance is star-making. She made me sit up and watch her sob heartily in the movies (an emotion entirely too familiar to me when doing said activity). My heart broke when she sat slumped in her armchair and removed her stockings – the cotton commodity that fashionable women of war torn times still found hard to part with, and also at once the epitome of female sensuality and modernity – lit her first cigarette and proffered one to her friend. Juxtapose this with the girl from the theatre troupe, sticking her head out of the nostalgic double-decker Hong Kong tram into the rain, and it takes some iron resolve not to weep. Contrast this again with the girl who looked on coyly at Kuang, firebrand leader of the theatre troupe and later wannabe resistance cell and if deep melancholy does not overcome you by now, then this show is not for you.

And we are only at the tip of the iceberg at this point. The film is a mere 15-minutes into its run and I’m getting all set-up for more heartaches. But there is more to this film than being hell bent on plunging us all into depression (melancholy is simply my penchant). The themes of this movie, on a personal level, is about transformation, illusion and abandonment. Every step of the way, the characters that matter to the audience’s hearts are the ones who transmute even though they might overtly feel the same. Peeling back the guarded layers a man of Mr.Yee status (Leung’s character) must surely have and you get abandonment. The catalyst – Tang Wei’s Mrs Mak, or rather, Wang Jia Zi. The result that ensues is such acrobatic, almost fierce love-making ever seen in Asian cinema that it binds me irrevocably to believe every shudder, every sigh, every claw and bite the 2 doomed lovers (in an illusion or otherwise) inflicted on each other. I loved the surprise I felt at the almost rape during the first time rendezvous and even this subsequently transformed into sex the manner as I’ve described before, more binding and passionate, though no lacking in a transient power struggle between two persons on ruffled bedsheets. Mr Yee’s stoic and taciturn exterior unravels to a predatory lover and thereafter to a human being capable of love upon Ang’s investigative storytelling.

And who can ignore the double allegory? Oh gawd! Tang Wei plays the actress who played the seductress – from stage to entrapment to entanglement. And Mr Yee was the opportunistic traitor to the collaborationist government and interrogator extraordinaire to slave master in bed.

For me, it all culminated to the scene where Tang’s character sang for Mr Yee, breaking all his defenses and amour and realizing that her own were breaking too. Finding love in an unlikely person and a villain, while hopelessly expecting it from one, who lamely stood aside yet had willfully orchestrated her fate, was sobering.

I often find myself pondering over the film, which is a rare occurrence lately with the largely forgettable fare we’ve been served at the theatres. It is a film I will definitely revisit soon just to rediscover how I was completely overcome by its masterful subtleties, and to see for myself, again, just how impossibly complex characters can be played by some of the brightest actors Asia has to offer.

It isn't fast food if it takes 2 hours

2007-12-10T19:18:00.000+08:00

Calling for food on a blasted rainy day like this is probably the single most exasperating experience ever. First, it takes 2 hours to get fast food. I’m not being cruel. I do not expect that the delivery men and women brave a torrential nightmare like the one raging in full force right now. My question really is, why do things come to a standstill during such a common meteorological occurrence? How about finding ways AROUND it so that when people most need their food delivered, they still get it in a timely manner? Why don’t we get, say, these cute little sheltered scooters that I have seen in Japan and Taiwan to protect man and goods? How about bringing in the occasional Van for a jam-packed evening like this one? If you are going to be late because of the rain, how about trying to hit the road in a larger, more unwieldy vehicle and try say, driving slowly? Maybe I am being ignorant here, but if someone knows why this is NOT a viable option for major fast food restaurants, please enlighten me!

And then there’s the most laughable mistake made by almost every restaurant and delivery call centre of placing someone so in-apt in his or her English, that it is almost stroke-inducing for me to *try* to convey my food order. I asked “Do you deliver to Changi Business Park?” and I was asked to hold. When he finally got back on the line, he asked me for my order. After another excruciating 5 minutes just trying to explain that I need to first find out if they deliver to said address or not, he asked me to hold again. I don’t know what the fuck for. He came back on the line, and asked me for my phone number. That was the last straw. WHAT THE FUCK did he need my number for? Turned out he really either did not understand my question or he couldn’t hear me. Whichever way it was he could have just bloody asked me to A) Speak up and B) repeat myself. I would have gladly done that if it would expedite a process that should really have taken all of 5 mins, not 15mins. So I’m guessing he doesn’t just lack a basic understanding of the English language, he was also most likely just plain incompetent. So why put him on the phone? On the very front line where first impression makes all the difference for your brand? To piss a customer off royally so they’ll never return? Heck, they sure did that for me.

A slice of paradise

2007-09-11T22:22:00.000+08:00

I'm crazy about sun, sand and the sea.

The very prospect of getting away to a remote place (not so remote in Krabi's case...teeming with tourists) and do absolutely nothing is oh so wonderful. And in between the frolicking on pristine beaches, how about hitting the turquoise waters for some bonding with nature?

Some random photos from the Krabi trip. I have a pitiful number of them. Most of the time I've taken the plunge into the sea and amazingly camwhoring took a rest. That's until Andrea passes me her photos.

The Great Divide (part 2)

2007-09-03T11:22:00.000+08:00

Wasn't intending a part 2, but a friend of mine has presented a different perspective on things after reading my previous post.

Let me start by reiterating that I’m not so deeply upset with our government’s policies that I do nothing but rant and wail. Well, at least not at all of them. There are policies which I feel are deeply flawed and others which good results speak for themselves. In the matter of defining the races in Singapore, I’m torn. While I feel what I noted in my previous post is exemplary of racism in one of its myriad forms, Eran pointed out it has done well in countering racial segregation in Singapore where other countries are still very recently trying to curb racial riots (see France, 2004). Although the very notion of displaying a person’s race on his or her ID is taboo and frowned upon in many first world countries, he said matter-of-factly that Singapore has seemingly achieved the harmony while other countries are still plagued with the problem.

Let me elaborate my thoughts on this.

Ever tried balloting for a new HDB flat? Were you ever turned down on the basis that the quota for your ethnic group is filled? Have you ever felt ostracized, singled-out and mistreated based on the color of your skin and your heritage on your father’s side?

This has racism written all over it but I also hear that its purpose is to counter racial segregation by ensuring the “right” mix in every estate. I have problems with this way of micromanagement but I’ll come back to this later. My friend also pointed out that if left to their own devices, people belonging to the same ethnic group will invariably congregate. True that. It’s human nature. And when you have whole estates with a predominant race, fragmentation is inevitable.

But here are my concerns about this methodology.

What exactly is the “right” mix? Who’s to say that having a certain ratio works or not? Sure, it prevents too large a group from a certain ethnicity from congregating but by forcefully separating them doesn’t instill a desire towards racial harmony. This policy is essentially forbidding the autonomy of human instincts to kick in and in this case it is to be with the “perceived” brother and sisters of your heritage. People only have the desire to stick together when they are having trouble assimilating to the society, or if they feel distinct differences between themselves and everyone else. I think the key to long-term racial harmony is not prevention of segregation but rather fostering a sense of being a Singaporean, and not disparate groups of people who happen to live in Singapore.

Other solutions like fighting poverty on Singapore soil and ensuring people from every background have equal opportunities to succeed will work to dismantle our perceived differences. Having an ever-widening rift in social classes is an instant catalyst for racial division. If everyone has the same rights and chances they will choose to live in an address of their preference, if they so desire. If success isn’t limited to just the rich and more of the poor are elevated from living in squalor, you will soon find that estates will by teeming with a mix that we are trying so hard to contrive now. No disgruntlement from the disadvantaged also means everyone has discarded the inherent insecurities tagged to their heritage.

It’s important to point out that I’m absolutely not advocating that we erase our ethnic identities. An individual should have full liberties to observe his or her traditions and customs that relate to their heritage (never mind that I’m exasperated that it is all but a social construct and an illusion. That’s me ranting and it won’t change in a hundred years). But it shouldn’t interfere with the person's interactions with other Singaporeans and nobody should be set apart based on their beliefs, ancestry and appearance.

These are lofty goals not just for Singapore, but for the world at large. In our headlong charge into globalization, we mustn’t overlook the importance of eradicating poverty and racial inequality. Think of it as nothing, and at the height of our glory we will buckle and fail.

The Great Divide

2007-08-31T17:22:00.000+08:00

Why do we need the concept of race? What is its purpose other than to include and to exclude?

For a multicultural society, I think some of our policies can come across as rather racist. We often have it on our minds. As Singaporeans, our pledge commands us to live in harmony “Regardless of Race, Language or Religion”. When this solemn oath was written, Singaporeans were just walking out of the shadows of racial riots in the 1950s and 1960s.

Our Identity Cards have our ethnic group emblazoned on it. It was a small detail I took for granted altogether, until a certain Non-Singaporean friend pointed it out to me and asked, “why?”
I see classic propaganda posters exemplifying friendship between Chinese, Indian and Malay children and I ask: how about just Singaporean children? Quit giving so much importance to our percieved differences.

Why the need to indicate? Aren’t Singaporeans just Singaporeans? If it doesn’t matter if you’re Chinese, Malay or Indian, then why the declaration? If I’m Malay and look Chinese, is it better to have my ID checked, just in case? How can you tell by looks anymore? We’re so mixed! If your Dad is Chinese but your mom is Indian, you take after your dad. It's hardly logical.

Racial differences within any country stems from the fact that people are always painfully aware of these divisions. When there is a we, there will always be a them. Conflicts arise only at such boundaries, perceived or otherwise.

Let’s be honest. The concept of race is racist. It’s a means to categorize, to place people into boxes. It is division and fragmentation of world population. Biologically, you can’t delineate where one race stops and another race begins. With so much mixing through thousands of years – and especially in the past 2 centuries - the concept of race doesn’t hold. Evolution has done its good work in adapting early Homo sapiens based on where they resided geographically, changing facial features and skin colors to ensure the species’ survival with respect to climates and food sources. But strange as we might look to one and other, the undeniable truth is we’re all intrinsically of the same construct.

It just baffles me how, in a so-called modern world, people fail to see themselves as one people and choose still to adhere themselves with disparate groups. Globalization is doing much to shrink the world. But the human race has much further to go in pursuit of unification. Even for a nation as small as Singapore, try as we might, it will take a lot longer for the misconception of racial divides to be purged from our systems. Although how we’re going to take the first baby-steps, with constant reminders of ethnic differences (and tagged on our IDs), is beyond me.

So is the concept of race a natural or a social construct? You know my opinion to that.

Lost & Found

2007-08-27T01:03:00.000+08:00

Out with the old and in with the new!

I've dug out rather ancient works of mine. Graphics and vector illustrations done while I was still working at Paprika.

Oliver recently told me that he hopes to see me back in the creative line someday. Not that I'm not in the creative industry, but I just need to start making things, doing work and pursuing the art that I so loved!

I've been gone for too long and my wacom is looking forlorn in the corner and lovingly blanketed in dust.

It's the dreaded comfort zone that plagues every artist at some point, that is, if designer's block doesn't get there first. Or how about more hours in a day? Can someone look into that, please?

Tentacles fetish

My obsession with dying, bleeding goddesses

Random stuff

More Goddesses...

One last party?

2007-08-01T21:29:00.001+08:00

I don’t understand the whole point of Hen Nights, Hen’s Parties, Bachelorette Party or name it what you will. So it was very ironic that I had to recently help organize one for the lovely Gisela. I was certainly more than happy to give the bride-to-be another good reason to party but I just don’t get what the fuss is all about. Gisela probably didn't care much for it either. Although being the sweet girl that she is, she was completely obliging. Good thing was we had an AWESOME dinner at Le Bistrot and some good fun with the boys at PLAY ;)

But back to why I'm baffled: Can’t we take her out AFTER her marriage? Do our hands and legs invariably get bound in chains after taking the sacred vows?

If you think celebrating your last night as a single is an absolute necessity, doesn’t that just really mean you’re buying into the whole concept of losing your freedom after getting hitched? It must also mean that you do BELIEVE things are going to be drastically different in a goodbye-friends, goodbye-parties sort of way. What utter bollocks!

If your partner is displaying telltale signs of making you his prisoner, I say bail while you still can! Otherwise, anyone taking a step into marriage bearing such thoughts is just paving the way for disaster.

For me, the party will always go on. In moderation, always fun, with complete trust from my other half. So why stop?

The girls and pretty Gisela (3rd from right) acting cheeky!

Thank you, Uncle George!

2007-07-26T23:27:00.000+08:00

Only in Lucasfilm you get something as geeky-awesome as a swiss watch with Star Wars emblazoned on its face. 30th Anniversary, no less! I've got last year's yearbook with a Employees-only Bust of Chewbacca. This year, Uncle George tried to top it with a watch. :)

Tears welled in my eyes (again!). And I was reminded why I gave up my previous job to work for this massive privately-owned business empire. I remembered why and how much I love Star Wars. I reminisced the days when I watched my Box Set trilogy LDs, one episode a night, every night for months.

Moments like these a bonus and fat paycheck certainly can't buy. :)

Why I like what I like

2007-07-22T22:08:00.000+08:00

Raistlin Majere

I love LOVE this guy!

How can I measure my love for Raistlin? Other than the fact that I really want to snog him (in my dreams!), there is no way I can give an accurate indication on the length and breadth of my infatuation. Look, he's gold. He's gaunt and has sunken cheeks. Freaky, hourglass pupils are not what pass for marks of beauty, generally speaking. But I HEART! He's a master of bitching...I swear he's dipped his tongue in acid. I'm not normally known to fancy too much bones on my man, but I'd take Raist over Caramon's muscles any day. At some point of my obsession with all things DL, I couldn't stop thinking about him and gathering ideas for my first Raistlin Fanfic. Granted he's sickly, stick thin and can't stop hacking and wheezing (quite a departure from my ideal man) everything else about him spells S-E-X-Y! Here's why:

He's the grand daddy of ALL Tragic Villains. Step aside, Anakin Skywalker!

You sit on your couch reading his inexorable rise to near godhood, watch him as he abandoned the last shred of goodness to embrace evil in total badass glory. You see him at the pinnacle of his craft, yet you see him physically shattered by ill health, plagued by self-doubt yet driven endlessly by ambition to outdo himself. If he had one less iota of willpower, he would have plummeted to eternal mediocrity. You see all these unfold and yet do nothing. You will weep as you witness his self-esteem shatter as a youth.

There were so many instances when I wanted to save Raist, catch him from his fall into the abyss, but obviously to no avail. Because we all know Raistlin is so fucking cool coz he is so bad. If he didn't take all the crap, if Life wasn't so darn unfair, he'd end up running a fruit stall or ploughing the fields. Like all well-developed, multi-dimensional villains, I wept for him, hated him and loved him all within a heartbeat. Just when you think you've got him figured out, you'd instantly feel a fool for trying to pigeon-hole him.

But I also think that girls are generally drawn towards men who just aren't very into women. Like say, how some girls insist on falling in love with their gay friend. Just by seeming unattainable ups your hot factor through the roof. You'd definitely stand out if you're among the throngs of regular blokes who start steaming at the sight of a short hemline. Being less carnal and more focused on say, kickass spell casting, makes you an instant object of desire. Certainly a good point to note, for the men out there wondering how to become a chick-magnet overnight. Most people plainly play hard-to-get, but Raistlin is genuinely NOT interested. Raistlin would probably NOT bat an eyelid if the prettiest Barmaid in all of Krynn flashed her tits at him. In the books, he allegedly stared at Laurana because in her elven youth, there were no decay even to Raistlin’s altered perception. So, Gawd no, I’m not implying that Raistlin is gay. He’s just focused on his work, In a modern-day context, he’s being career-minded. So, maybe it’ll take an uberbabe like Laurana to take his mind off his spells. Man, isn't that just so abso-fucking-lutely HAWT?!

No such thing as too much beauty

2007-07-12T23:11:00.001+08:00

I often wonder -- if you're surrounded by too much beauty, would their value diminish in your eyes? If you see something amazing everyday, would it cease to stir your heart?

Maybe it is true. Although I'm certain that I haven't seen too much of the world's wonder to make me jaded thus. A rainbow - a common sight to many - sets my spirit soaring. I was told Hawaiians have the priviledge of rainbow-gazing everyday due to a perfect concoction in weather conditions. Seeing a grown woman causing a major racket onboard the MRT at the mere sight of a full rainbow would be amusing for them indeed. A full rainbow is what I call a horizon-to-horizon rainbow -- also known as the carebear rainbow. Not the half-hearted, oblong-shaped ones we get so often here in Singapore (I also call these "Plaster" rainbows).
This website features some amazing rainbow photography. What the photographer has captured here is a double-rainbow. I can only hope to see one someday!

I felt very assured that I really haven't lost my sense of wonder. Some people just think I'm Sua-Ku, but I beg to differ! It's truly a blessing to be able to enjoy simple pleasures in life.

Places to see before I die

2007-07-11T20:44:00.000+08:00

Thanks to Sicarii and his introduction to this amazing website and window to the world's most sacred destinations...I felt compelled to name my top 5 dream destinations. I was initially hoping to name 10, but a rare streak of pragmatism hit me and I figured if I could cover all 5 in the next 10 years, I'd be very happy indeed.

In no particular order:

1. Petra, Jordan
2. Delphi, Greece
3. Siena, Itlay
4. Seville, Spain
5. Teotihuacán, Mexico

These are just specifically ancient sites. And my ever-growing travel wishlist still has to include my shopping destinations and beach-bumming paradise islands. Life is too short to spend working behind a desk. I need a travel fund!

Ode to a Black Hole

2007-07-05T23:02:00.000+08:00

If you had a face, it’d be dark as night
Your mouth, ravenous, beckons
I feel a tug and a pull
Your fingers like invisible tendrils
As I was set adrift across the horizon
And crossed that which should not be trespassed
I threw my head back and knew
Immortality would be mine

Pirates 3 - In a nutshell

2007-05-27T22:43:00.000+08:00

Peishan said:
yeah I am! we went to watch Pirates just now.
and I was so upset with it

Lyon said:
heh.. yah, I was super dissapointed too

Peishan said:
what a bunch of crazies writing crap story.
it's so thin...could barely float.

Lyon said:
can't believe it's the same director/writers from the first movie

Peishan said:
the first movie is a fucking masterpiece. for me.

Lyon said:
me too man
can't belive it has degenerated into this crap

Oh Brother. This is exactly what scriptwriters get for squeezing in 3 protagonists, 3 villains (one albeit over-hyped and short-lived), a goddess who was never before mentioned, fantastical locales we barely got a glimpse of, double-crossing plotlines that were unconvincing to the characters they were tagged on, a smattering of comedic sidelines that saved the day, introducing old characters just to kill them off, and did I mention it was 3 hours of barely nothing?

Hard to believe that they covered all that in 3 hours and I was still left wondering where it was all coming together one too many times. I yawned liberally, an action I normally suppress out of reverence for a good movie, which is a rare commodity lately.

1. Sao Feng
WTF? What other dimension did he add to the plot other than to give us yet another line of deceit to keep track of? I think we were as bloated from the double-crossings happening onscreen as the sea was with corpses of dead pirates.
I expected the revered Mr. Chow to get his share of small screen-time next to the other Hollywood Big Wigs, but man, that was early. And silly. Don’t worry, no spoilers here.

2. Davy Jones
The only thing remotely villain-ish about him this time is the way his tentacles still jitter and curl when he gets agitated (and it happened A LOT) and he sputters violently when talking down to those at his mercy. Beautiful VFX work, ILM. You deliver always, even for Eragon. But it’s my mantra that beautiful CG can’t save a hollow character. What’s so mean about squid-face really? I’ll need to think about that. Doesn’t that already say so much (or rather, so little) about the character?

3. My beloved Jack
God-like. We’re not worthy! I’ll kiss Depp’s feet readily. He’s delivered great performance, for the 3rd time too many.
I got tired. Don’t get me wrong, I WAS still mesmerized by his swagger, his roguish, bastardly antics and to add more beef to Jack’s personality, they also made him slightly schizo this time round. Imagine the writers, 5am in the morning, 2 days from delivering the script, wondering just how much more they can milk the captain for what he’s worth. While it’s plenty of eye-candy for me to see multitudes of Jack clones, some half-nekkid *Slurp*, I still question the validity of making the man half-mad. I guess we must accept that being banished to the void does that.

4. Pebble crabs
Hey, I think these cuties saved the day, for a bit. Love em!

5. Elizabeth and Will Turner love ad nauseum
I don’t know about you. But they bored me. My eyes still kept noticing, to my great annoyance, that Kiera has a weird lower jaw, ala-mervyn (the old-mervyn). Before I get flak for insulting a goddess like her, I think she’s gorgeous. It’s just the little facial oddity that I’m noting. Savvy?

There’s more, but continuing this post will potentially lead to me spilling the beans on plot points, weak as they were. I don’t appreciate stumbling across spoilers when I’m not looking for it, so I practice what I preach.

But I’m a wretch, you see. I believe in closure when it comes to cinematic experiences. Even if the closure suck-ass, I’ll be there to see it. I’ll simply bitch thereafter. :D

Death is black as night. Or is it?

2007-05-27T21:48:00.000+08:00

Death is brutal, but only to the living because we endure the devastation and its aftermath.

I sent off my uncle on the last leg of his journey today, at the Mandai Crematorium. My first brush with a death in the family. The sadness of which I palpably felt and the experience of which, I believe, has irrevocably changed me.

I've always been effusive with my emotions, never held back, and never forced. When I first heard the news on the fateful Wednesday night, I was hit with waves and waves of grief. The first sensation of it was my brain trying to come to terms with the fact that a familiar figure in my life is now irreversibly erased from my future. An implosion of questions trying to fill this void -- How can it be? Why? When? No fucking way! The second was when my brain desperately searched through the recent-history archives, trying to find my last, most endearing memory of my uncle -- February, at my place with his family, we were playing cards, dinner thereafter. I remember he lost a couple of front teeth, which I thought was immensely amusing then. The third, while I buried my face in my hands, I was assaulted with images of his last days -- Barely conscious, struggling with his very life to lift weight-laden eyelids to see us, or so we hoped.

Guilt followed closely with regret. I was planning another trip to visit him at the hospital which will never happen. He was also getting an appointment with a key neuro-surgeon at TTSH on Thursday. But it turned out these were all not to be. He couldn't wait and our hopes failed us that night.

But grief is a funny thing. It cleanses if you let it. The continuous outpouring of sorrow either empties you or it simply makes space for good thoughts to inhabit in its absence. I remember being at the wake and weeping at the sight of my uncle's serene face, and smiling after when we talked about our collective memories of this man. Oh, it is hard, I'm not meaning to say it otherwise. It feels like it could kill, if you love this person dearly. But the living must do what the living must do. We endure whilst we remember what and whom we've lost. I never imagined myself to say this before this tragedy. I who struggled to find peace with death. But this day I was confronted with the inevitability of it that I've been running away from. And I think I've emerged at peace with it.

I miss my uncle already, and he only left us a few days ago. I imagined this feeling would come back to haunt all of us who love him like a dull ache, whenever we honour him with fond thoughts we've shared. But we'll let all else good rush in the fill the void. We will look at each other today and understand mutely our time together has always been running out. Outliving death hurts like a mother. But we do what we can. We'll always find a way.We do what we can for the living in loving memory of the dead.

Continuation of eragon (the movie) rant...

2006-12-17T21:01:00.000+08:00

The immaculate destruction of Brom

I have so much love for the old hermit simply because he's most definately an Obi Wan in a parallel, swords and socery, medieval universe. He's got a lifetime of adventures behind him. The weak and feeble facade belies a powerful warrior capable of great deeds. Brom in the novel was as noble as any mentor-figure can get. So much so that when his death came to pass, our hero would be rightfully distraught. Whereas Brom on the silver screen was living in shame, escaping a past he scarcely cared to mention. Instead of seeing Eragon for what he was, he chased him out of his home when the farmboy needed more information on bringing up his dragon. All that spiel Brom made on Dragonlore (in the novel) would have kicked arse in the movie! Instead, we were forced to believe dragons grew up in a split second when they took to the skies for the first time. Bollocks! Blasphemy! Sacriledge!!!

We are approaching one of those most ridiculous scene in cinematic history. Brom actually flew in from NOWHERE to take a spear-blow to his own chest in order to save Eragon's life. Eragon flew on dragonback to the prisonhold...and he attempted Arya's rescue on the same night. Are we to believe Brom's steed caught up with a flying dragon within a day's travel? Didn't anyone QC the believability of this particular plotline before force-feeding us with it?
Towards the end of the movie, Saphira asked rhetorically:" Besides, what horse could outrun a flying dragon?" WELL, clearly, Brom's good-ol horse could! BAH!

AND last but not friggin least, why did they add that super-cheesy scene of Brom riding on Saphira's back before he dies? Was it really necessary? Was the Brom in the movie not already pathetic enough that he needed one last carousel ride to see him to his last breath? To repeat ad nauseum, in the novel he imparted great knowledge that would eventually save Eragon's life during a time of great need later in the trilogy. He uttered 3 words of power in the ancient language that made no sense whatsoever to the poor boy at the time of Brom's death. But dammit, they were significant! They bespoke of Brom's immense wisdom and his choice to be necessarily cryptic with Eragon's tutelage.

I love jeremy irons loads...and it pains me that this movie didn't do his formidable thespian skills justice.

...to be continued...

They butchered Eragon!!!!!!

2006-12-15T09:51:00.000+08:00

And they didn’t have enough budget to make ONE pair of pointed elf ears.

I am broken. My worst fears have come to pass.

Before I jump the gun and before you judge me as a raving purist, let me set this straight: I have no gripes about scene cuts and liberties taken to edit the story to a digestible fare at the movies. I don’t demand that entire scenes be kept and locales remain where they are and every non-descript side characters be introduced with the same flair. No, I am really way more reasonable a book-fan than this.

What kills the movie is the bizarre deviation of everyone’s characterization from the book, which, to me at least, reduced them to merely 2-dimensional personalities. Flat, bland and leaves a sour taste in my mouth when I think: You guys had a GOOD source material to work with! Why deviate when it clearly serves no purpose and propels the whole movie into rock bottom damnation with the likes of Dungeons & Dragons?

Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?

As we were flown through clouds and into the most uninspiring mountain ranges in any fantasy movie opening, Jeremy Irons’ narrative told us of the glorious days of Dragon Riders and their peaceful dominion over Alagaesia. In the movie, a young dragon rider named Galbatorix soon scorned the complacency and increasing arrogance of his order and betrayed all of them. A massacre ensued which left him the undisputed ruler of the world.

Oh. My. God.

Why did the script writers choose to omit the painfully important fact that Galbatorix was a young rider who showed THE MOST promise amongst all his peers? He was a rider of far more magical prowess and tenacity than many in his order. Not unlike Anakin Skywalker, high hopes were pinned on him, great plans of grandeur lies in his destiny. But ALAS! In one brash act, his dragon was killed by Urgals (fugly beasties: more rants on them, I’ll get to it in time), and he went mad with grief. He battled his way out of ranks and waves of enemies to return to the riders’ stronghold and begged, coerced, demanded for a new dragon. When that was finally denied him, he took up arms against his brothers.

Now, doesn’t Galbatorix sound like a way more compelling villain with just ONE bit of extra information that would help shape his character? This dude isn’t just evil without a cause; he also happens to be raving mad because of a loss that broke his soul and spirit…it’s a scenario that demands way more empathy for its audience than what was finally presented in the movie.

I’m going to strangle Paolini right now. More on that later.

Of elves and men.

There are strict rules that should absolutely be adhered to when portraying elves. PJ almost perfected it in LOTR. We would normally envision elves to be world-weary because they are ageless. In Eragon, the book, they are known as creature of magic. That says A LOT. They were made from magic and one with this mysterious force that eludes mortal men save the ones with most talent. While they look like hot chicks and hunks, they are ancient and wise beyond mortal reckoning. Even the weakest elf exudes great power and their physical strength is unparalleled.

SO WHY THE BLOODY HELL is ARYA (the elven princess AND the only elf to appear in the damn movie) acting all coy and girlish with Eragon? She’s 200 years old. He’s but a hatchling in comparison! She’s seen multitudes of deaths and endured unspeakable hardships when Galbatorix first started his reign of terror. I simply cannot comprehend the directorial call to make her act all but ancient and wise, with a sad look constantly lurking behind her eyes. Arwen was the definitive movie elf princess. PJ nailed it. Her voice was regal and hauntingly beautiful…a millennia haunts her past. Arya was outrageously FLIRTATEOUS with baby Eragon! I shuddered with every of her come-hither look to the hot-blooded boy. And her voice! My god, her squeaky voice. The actress is actually 30 years old, and the character she's portraying is 200...but the director would have you think she's 15, in a short skirt, ready to lose her virginity on prom night.

And pointy elf ears. Could they not afford it? As it is, Sienna delivered a performance that is a travesty to elf canon and they took away the one thing that remotely hint that she is one of the fair folk!! WHY? What good reason could they possibly have?

Just kill me now.

More to come:
The immaculate destruction of Brom
Dragons with bird wings
Shades’s new killer move: Death by Rotten Fingernail
Urgals: Retards or Beasts?

Coming right after I finish loads of work…hang in there, this rant never ends and my heart is ripped to shreds from suffering.

World, hold on.

2006-04-24T23:13:00.000+08:00

i heart http://www.bobsinclar.com

conversation with anzzie

2006-02-28T23:02:00.000+08:00

nahsie says:
u know duckie is getting married too rite?

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
are you guys talking again?

nahsie says:
yeah we patched things up when she took the first step to invite me

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
thats good

nahsie says:
yeah life is so strange

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
its been such a loong time since i've seen her

nahsie says:
we've been talking alot since

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
much less spoken to her

nahsie says:
yeah

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
thats good la

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
so old already whatever happened or didn't happen in the past its all history anyway

nahsie says:
yeah. once we patched up we realized the stupidity of it all

nahsie says:
i mean all that not talking nonsense

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
yepyepps

nahsie says:
she's changed alot, yet somehow she remains the same.

nahsie says:
I must say she changed for the better, and her good traits remains

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
well that can be said for all of us right

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
i think some things don't change

nahsie says:
yeah she's really gotten down-to-earth. was very impressed

nahsie says:
yeah...like me, always so goondoo. so full of shit

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
hahahahha

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
i think maybe she always was all along.. but just got sidetracked along the way

nahsie says:
how's things for you?

nahsie says:
we should've met up before u left

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
ya lorrr

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
things are the same

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
i was working all the way till i left

nahsie says:
i feel like sucha bad friend. mostly lazy

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
YOU AREEEE

nahsie says:
at changi rite?

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
*tsk tsk*

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
yepps

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
ok not the bad friend part but the lazy part haha

nahsie says:
yeah I am totally lazy.

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
but its you la

nahsie says:
yeah it's me.

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
and you're getting married!!

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
i think i will cry

nahsie says:
my new friends, esp the ang mohs, need to come to terms with that

nahsie says:
lol, yeah I imagined I would too

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
i think i'll cry at everyones wedding haha

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
hell i saw pics of gerald's friend's wedding and i wanted to cry

nahsie says:
those that matters, yeah.

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
hahaha

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
crap i just realized we can't throw you a hens party

nahsie says:
how come

nahsie says:
lol

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
ok at least I cant

nahsie says:
well doesn't matter

nahsie says:
i wasn't intending to anyway

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
i was thinking from wayy before that we could do the whole stay over at my place thing

nahsie says:
appreciate the thought

nahsie says:
when u coming home for good?

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
aiya it would be fun

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
end of the year

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
i'll be done by end oct then its pack up for good

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
10 yearss sigh

nahsie says:
10 years just flew by

nahsie says:
it felt like it did

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
yea it did

nahsie says:
it's scary, no?

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
it isss

nahsie says:
to think I didn't accomplish much in the last 10 years....

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
i don't feel that much older though

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
i think you did

nahsie says:
but maybe meeting eric and loving him was an accomplishment

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
uhmm

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
hahahahha

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
i'm really happy for you guys

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
although i've only ever met eric ONCE

nahsie says:
was just reading an article about Happiness

nahsie says:
and the 3 states of lifestyles are: Pleasant Life, Happy Life and Meaningful Life

nahsie says:i think I am only at Pleasant life.

nahsie says:
Happy moment to moment, but not completely at peace with myself and the world yet

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
you've still got a long way to go

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
i'd be worried if you've already achieved all 3 states

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
but at the same time at least its great you've got one out of three

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
i know of so many people who would probably never get any of those and will spend the rest of their lives trying to get there

nahsie says:
really? that would really be depressing

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
uh huhh

nahsie says:
i know of some people who should really be happy but just can't be. they just can't ask for enough

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
yeppps

nahsie says:
that just pisses me off

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
i just want to slap them upside down

nahsie says:
i know how much makes you happy is relative to your own needs....but some people just don't know what they've got

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
i totally agree

nahsie says:
do you mind if I copy and paste this on my blog?

nahsie says:
this entire conversation?

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
go ahead

nahsie says:
lazy to write real stuff, but this seems good

Inert Bu}{terfly says:
you are soooo lazy

The sky is where we belong

2006-02-27T21:28:00.000+08:00

Hence it gives me great joy to observe this ever-changing display of colours. Despite the headaches and the weariness from work, nothing is as uplifting as watching the canvas of the heavens.

Every time I lift my head to take in its splendor, its beauty envelops me like a rush of fresh air into my lungs, swelling within me until every fingertip flushed from this sense of renewal.

It happened again today, just 2 hours ago when I took a familiar route back home, my mind brewing in dark thoughts that I sometimes succumb to. When I beheld this swirling disk above the largest mountain of clouds – crowning its pinnacle like a halo with god lights streaking in such multitudes of directions that the entire blue of the sky seems to sparkle in the iridescent bands – I was rendered speechless. Tears almost welled (ALMOST, mind you, lest you think me an emo freak) in my eyes as I fumbled for my mobile phone to capture this image that was surely divine.

But Alas! I dwell among those who have lost their sense of wonder. Caught in a busy stream of commuters, I was rudely shoved about and received incredulous stares for taking a photo of the sky. But I beamed from ear to ear still, not unlike someone who has been bestowed with a little miracle and still bathes in its glory.

And I say, Life is beautiful if you care to notice. Miracles present themselves only to those who care to look.

yes & no are good bedfellows

2006-02-23T21:23:00.000+08:00

How to you measure tolerance?

How large is my threshold for the answer NO? Am I made to accept it time after fucking time with equanimity? How hard is it to say a resounding YES?

It’s a small matter, you’d say, hardly significant enough to be worth our while fighting over. I agree whole-heartedly that it’s trivial, which is why a rejection in my face is so hard-hitting.

The hardest thing to stomach is that given the same situation and our roles reversed, I would have absolutely said yes. Not a moment’s hesitation. Not a single doubt. Do not for one moment tell me I am different, because any commitment requires sacrifice, no matter how comfortable I am with the notion of meeting new people.

There is really no need to blanch at the thought of seeing new faces for the first time. Your face was once as much a stranger to me when we first met. And how haps it that we’ve come to love each other thus?

I am truly disappointed. Mostly tired, I think. I shall try no more to ask.

Silence may be the best side of me yet.

Kong-ed but was silent

2006-02-22T20:50:00.000+08:00

I never wrote about my thoughts on Kong. I was, of course, grotesquely disgusted by some of the really extreme negativity expressed towards the movie.

People said: first we had Frodo & Sam and their gay odyssey, now we have Babe with Giant Ape.

For fuck’s sake, guys! It’s all in your puny minds! It was actually funny for me, albeit short-lived, this joke about gay undertones in LOTR. But I never heard the end of it, especially from guys! I’ve witness reactions from gagging to violent convulsions when Sam cradled a waning Frodo in his arms. If I were to guess, I think the last iota of tenderness has deserted the hearts of men. I think it’s inbred in our culture, where masculinity is exalted and the slightest hint of a heart is immediately condemned as weakness, high-heels and all things pink.

It’s a complete joke, this self-delusional masculinity. This hiding behind muscles and brawns. Oliver and I had one of our really meaningful conversations one afternoon, and we both truly believe many men shed a quiet tear in Kong. That there was something that connected, no matter how deeply concealed behind their coarse persona, and that they were moved. But they were ashamed. Crying in the movies is the sort of crime only their girlfriends or their girlfriends’ limp-wristed sad-excuse-of-a-man cohorts would dare commit. That the fact Kong loved the girl was best suited to become the brunt of their perverse Babe & Beast jokes.

I think the show was only banal because it was patronized by men who couldn’t be themselves. Men who could never be half of what Kong was (Jesus, I can imagine the myriad ways this very sentence could be misinterpreted) in that they would never concede that what’s buried in their hearts is their truest self.

It took a girl to wake Kong from his lonely yet brutal life. What will it take to wake our men? What will it take to wake you? If you can’t be yourself, then you’re truly in a slumber.

So, grievances aside, I love King Kong. Regrettably, I’ve never watched the original. But this 3-hr film broke my heart through and through. It could have been a little shorter, but then I’m always forgiving towards long films. I lap up the minutest detail like I would when I read a book. And I most certainly wouldn’t watch a movie like Kong and expect that the correct number of people would fucking die in that over-the-top stampede scene.

To me, that’s just being calculative, or channeling my energy into the wrong things and critiquing the movie for absolutely the wrong reasons. I was all hungry for that humanization in Kong: that fleeting, subtle change in his mood or the wave of mutual understanding that he and Ann Darrow were awash in. For me it’s always been about Kong’s journey to own a heart of man, his coming of age brought about by the realization and cherishment of beauty. Shedding his violent past and completely collapsing his shield of defense, he had allowed himself to be moved by another living being. I would imagine that Kong suddenly felt that intense pounding beneath his great chest and feels that it was affected by the presence of another creature. I could go on and on about that sunset on the cliff scene. Kong’s loneliness was like a frozen prison that encased him and inch by inch, Ann’s spirit was warming him up and freeing him from the confines of being wild. There were moments when I wouldn’t be surprised if Kong actually spoke. Lol. But Weta did a fantastic job of making him speak entirely with those eyes.

The same eyes that were dimmed and the air became sick upon his demise. Pass me the buckets please! I was choking with tears at this point. 5 minutes later I was sobbing hopelessly into my hands.

He defended Ann with his life and when he was mortally wounded, he’d died knowing she was safe. He’d died knowing that something has changed in him. That he wouldn’t just be another giant ape dying from a t-rex bite. To have known some form of tenderness but to lose it soon after is tragic, but to have never known it would be the greater loss.

So either some men just don’t get that love exists beyond the context they’re familiar with, or that kindness can be extended beyond the realm of trying to get laid, or they should just get a pet dog. Your pet loves you to bits but I dare say you wouldn’t find it perverse. But then I could be wrong.

Brokeback-ed

2006-02-18T02:08:00.000+08:00

And about fucking time! Pun not intended.

I raved and I'll rave again. Essentially that's the main reason for a blog. It absorbs my verbal incontinence and allows me to heave all that passion, tears and love into words. How lovely is that? Sweet!

Now, Brokeback Mountain with its somewhat disturbing cowboy backdrop has rivaled Million Dollar Baby and King Kong in evoking the kind of extreme sadness in me. I was close to sobs, but I was also intermittently annoyed by imbeciles who GASPED (the bloody audacity!) at the love scene! Hello Miss? Do you not KNOW what movie you're fucking watching? Did you expect a breeder's fuck scene? Now how about you shut your lip-glossed trap and save us our eye-rolls at your utter ignorance?

Geez. For the life of me, I don't understand why people bother watching movies they have absolutely no clue about! But I've digressed, didn't I?

Anyway, I was telling AJ on msn, I summed up Brokeback Mountain in a line that truely struck a chord in me.

The pain of Longing and the Beauty of Devotion.

That's really the gist of this love story. I think this is really what moves me the most in stories. It's about longing, love, devotion. It's about these best strengths bestowed in human beings and yet we rarely see it displayed in reality.

It's also, more importantly, an eternal theme of love that is intrinsically simple, yet made complicated by people. Made complicated by circumstances. But the latter is just an excuse, if you ask me. WE, the people involved, are always the culprit. WE make it complicated.

The actors' performances are unparalled. Every look, every shift of their cowboy hips while taking a deep drag off their cigarettes have convinced me. It totally sold. That glimmer of tear in Ledger's eye when he found his blood-stained clothes in his beloved closet probably single-handedly drove a knife into my weeping heart. The character's rift, all the more widened by Ledger's taciturn character resonates deeply with me of some of the choices we make despite of love. These are men desperate to love and dying to embrace yet all they could do was to endure the fence that society will erect between them.

Men who tear "queers" manhoods from between their legs because all they ever wanted was to love another human being. Unfortunately for these men, they loved another testosterone-charged member.

But how do I end this? I can't quite venture to the heartbreaking scenes and ruin for anyone who reads this but haven't yet watched the movie. Although I strongly believe there's but like one soul reading this blog right now. The same soul I've coerced into patronizing me.

More thoughts later on eternal love, gorgeous actors who are delicious as lovers and a glimpse of Ledger's balls.

of spilt milk and love

2006-02-18T02:00:00.000+08:00

~Another deliciously angst-filled musing on love I so filled my time with in the past. Don't you seriously think I had bad bouts of verbal diarrhea? I can't say I disagree. :) ~

:: Peishan 11/01/2001 01:44:44 AM

It's one of those small little things. Trifle friction blown out of proportion by human emotions, or lack of ability to just sit down and walk through this life-size puzzle. for many months now it has struck me that the feeling of being in love is akin to wandering for extended hours in a maze of roses. When you take your first step in, you are instantly bewitched by the reds and yellows and feisty thorned stems that encircled the exquisitely groomed walls. Your senses seemed momentarily heightened and boosted your ego is soothingly appealed to by this opulent splendor. But I thought, surely a day will come, when one had had just enough with walking into a dead end or encircling an arc that you were sure you hadn't passed a moment ago. This nomadic freedom suddenly transformed itself into a repition. A monochrome photograph from a dubious date. And you, the bona fide princess or prince, stopped short and looked around for the first time in a Loong looooong time. And you realized there weren't any roses. For if they were there then surely it must be a figment of your imagination.

Love is crazy. Its just one word but love can never satisfy itself with some kinda self-explanation. It's wat a million words can't explain. It induces a variety of chemical reactions in the human body, that results from a burning sensation in the groin area, to nipping a chunk off your tongue while stammering. Love puzzles and enlightens you at the same time. It's the next substitute for oxygen and a society can't function without it's existence. It's THE most undefinable word, yet ironically simple. For we feel love more than we talk love. When we discuss love we always discuss how it makes us feel. How his hot wet kiss left your heart pounding, and how the sound of her laughter made you walk funny. Everything it holds for us is at the simplest, most visceral level. You can't work it out mathmatically, neither can you equate it. It's a stand alone emotion, and a pandora's box reinvented. We sometimes experience a similar sequence of heart pounding, pounding pounding, phone ringing, phone ringing, laughing, joking, discussions of childhood phobias and the mole on your sole, confessions of wicked fantasies, heavy panting, heavy panting, snoring, dial tone, dial tone, sorries, door slams shut, snoring, screaming, lamentations, more screaming, door slams for the last time. This is condensed, surely you'll understand. It all comes together into this huge symphony of life, but all you're hearing is really the resonating Love... And love encompasses those of heterosexuals, homosexuals, sisterhood, brotherhood, family, backalley and transgendered. If anybody reading this doesn't belong to any of the above mentioned categories, PLEASE drop me an email...

But why am I rattling on about love? what DO i know about love? Oh so little. And yes I'm feeling torn today, conflicting inside with warring emotions. I am at the Dial tone phase of the sequence.

It worked coz it flared nostrils and clenched teeth. But for what ends I don't know. I'm not even typing properly. My eyes are rolling back, my eyebags half threatened to inflate disproportionately...and I'm not checking for grammatical mistakes. This was written for love, and let's have it end with just that. Love dictates that I deal with today in equanimity. And surely it commands me to sleep now.....and let my Rapid Eye Movement do its job....ZZZzzZzZZZZzZzzzZzzz

And I said: Let me mess up your mind!

2006-02-18T01:58:00.000+08:00

::11/18/2001 03:31:46 AM

Wat am I feeling? Why don't we have the devices to extract our hearts from within our chest and dab it on a piece of blank canvas? Why? For it may paint, in a somewhat incomprehensible way, the feelings that ravage it. How is it possible that wat is going thru my mind, isn't that which pours forth from this orifice on my face? Wat good is speech if it doesn't dictate that image that burns like a supernova in my mind? Why these questions? Will I ever stop asking why? Do we get definate answers from a monologue?

A mind like scambled egg, I say. You can't make out the yellows from the whites, and it fluffs up and outwards threatening the limits of the skull which confines it. I had scrambled eggs just 2 days ago and I was poking around the leftovers with a designer fork, like someone is poking around my delicate information processing machine now. And someone told me it's where my soul resides. It's where YOUR soul lies protected within the cranium.

So let me make you a proposition. Close your eyes. And let me, once and for all, mess up your mind.

Taboo.

2006-02-18T01:48:00.000+08:00

Yet another blast from the past. I'm feeling all emo tonight after BrokeBack Mountain. Will write about that in abit...if I haven't fallen asleep from too much crying, that is.

:: Monday, August 20, 2001 ::

Taboo. An understated pub illuminated by cool blue lights, peppered with incandescent spotlights against sleek velvet black. If there was a secret Eden of lost innocence, this would be it. Taking my first step into this ominously cavernous lair, I felt the soft tendrils of seduction on the back of my neck. It is like Hieronymus Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights, with half nude human beings frolicking on plush designer couches and flagellation conducted most viciously with wicked animal hide. But it was an ecosystem that eliminated the female gender through natural selection, and where muscle against muscle was not an affair of fists and brawls. It was a sight altogether erotic, culminated by a hundred such naked, perspiring bodies into an apical high.

And this nymph I had become, trespassing into a sacred coven, dancing adroitly through this earthly orgy of male primates. I marveled at their beauty, their strength that was reflected off every contour of their sculpted temples. Their movements are in every way as languid and deft as my own. And I realized with a start, that some of these were the very creatures that would give up every prowess of a man to be like me, to have in their bodies the fine construct of a woman. Oh I cannot describe with the limitation of language how it broke my heart, but I felt it was incumbent upon myself to say it. For if I could behold their souls like I could their magnificent forms, I would only see weeping and broken ethereal wraiths.

But I was an intruder in their midst. I felt as if I was a needle that has ventured amongst a cluster of delicate bubbles and burst through their pink defenses, and in a chain of explosions they protested silently. I flinched in a futile attempt to ward off this wreath of miasma building around that threatened to asphyxiate me. I was stung by the apathy in their eyes and the clamor of the trance music booming from the speakers, relentlessly pulsating beats meant to induce artificial euphoria.

My body screamed out in retaliation, my legs leading me to where I came without warning. Yet my heart lingered at every one of them whom I passed, touching their souls briefly searching desperately for warmth. But all I felt was the cold blue of the cerulean lights that lit their nocturnal domicile.

Thoughts raced in my headï¿½ These are people who believe in what I personally hold true: That love transcends beyond gender. But the ethics of our society inevitably shuts them out and confined their secrets to their hearts, the souls of these vulnerable beings are drifting further away from us and from themselves.

They are lost and eager for acceptance and brutal in their love for they hate to be hurt most.

They are known as my broken angels, impaired from flight forever and doomed to dwell amongst those unlike themselves.

Rest well tonight, my dark winged angels. The journey is dreary when you travel on foot.

Sapphire

2006-02-18T01:44:00.000+08:00

YIKES! Dug up some old Star Wars fanfic I wrote from waaaay back in 2001. Gosh it's so weird reading these old stuff! ~

Sapphire winced, at her own ignominious fiasco only seconds before, and at a roomful of startled rebels studying her. She had pounced and clawed at the Rebellion Commander known as Antilles like a crazed womp rat.

And as suddenly as it had started, she ceased her attack, finding herself staring in a daze at her own crystal pendant dangling before her--from Skywalker's hand. A familiar and latent energy seemed to pulsate from it, its invisible tendrils calming her senses.

Luke maintain his solemn jedi composure, only this time the strained lines around the edges of his eyes gave him away.
"Tell me, princess Lufsa, can you comprehend what just happened to yourself?" He turned his glance and fixed it intently on the glowing lavender rock, watching its soothing, swirling movement. "Was it something hidden from you? A past that perhaps your father would have preferred buried?" He probed gently, like he is coaxing a child.

Leia stepped forward and laid a comforting hand on Sapphire's quivering shoulder," whatever caused that spasm of attack, we are now sure that this crystal holds the key to negating that effect," she conceded.
Han's forehead was creased and his eyebrows drawn together in a frown. "And I'm not too sure I want to know what it is," he said dryly "No offense, but it almost smells like you've got the Sith in your blood, your highness."

Sapphire's vision spun. She wasn't about to take this spiel from pacifists! Such audacity from commoners, she noted sourly, would never have been tolerated in her father'c court. With her best efforts she threw Skywalker a stone cold stare. And didn't she know so well that the Jedis are the very people who sowed the seed of discord amongst her people, and had led to the cold blooded extermination of the Chitoz? It was genocide. Whole religions were lost to this dark era.

Through the generations, revivial of the ancient cult of the chitoz Goddess, Shwara, had been stymied time and again by the coercion of these despicable Jedis.

Hadn't she heard enough of such horrors from her royal aunts?

No, she must get out of their stronghold. And she knew she had to think quick.

regrets run deep

2005-08-01T21:44:00.000+08:00

None of us were given a choice to be born into this world. Or have we just forgotten?

I lose my measure of time every so often, only to be rudely reminded when I look upon the faces of my aging parents. And each time I felt awoken abruptly from a dream too beautifully rendered, and I come face to face with a reality fast slipping through my fingers.

And my heart tightened. My eyes watered. And all things perishable is what I fear, as I always have.

Tonight, like many nights, I grew introspective. I question if I had been negligent of family affairs, matters of bonding and such. I reminded myself that it isn’t a chore that it sometimes strikes me as, but one of the few things that make me human. The weekends of partying had blinded me from the ever-deepening creases from my parents’ faces, and the grays in their hair. Aging is insidiously subtle, but when you care to look it is frighteningly swift.

I choked back tears at the thought of it; the night does this to me often. The quiet of twilight also seem to shorten the span of years -- I perceive a lifetime and it seems so fleeting, I’m afraid my loved ones would vanish before my very eyes.

Why is the concept of impermanence such a big issue with me? Why do I fear the inevitable? Perhaps the notion of inevitability stifles me, for it makes me nothing more than a lab mouse living in a cage amidst treacherous experiments. Does love make one thus? Or am I just selfish? Can I live with the fact that all the people who love me to bits now would one day only live in my memory? Can I ever forgive myself for those terrible acts of shouting and gratuitous tantrums against the people who only wanted me to be happy? Why is the world made thus?

Set amongst the candles of millions of souls, my flame quivered violently. I can only hope that before I extinguish I know I can see your face again, many lifetimes to come.

haunted by memories

2005-08-01T21:13:00.000+08:00

Forgive me if I have failed you
Don’t pretend to be strong.
Don’t say it didn’t matter one bit
This pompous charade of mine.
I have deceived you so deeply,
Like no other I've hurt before
But yet you know I love you dearly
So infinite I can’t define.
But if I leave this world tonight,
Please remember I said goodbye.

--nahsie 16/9/99 12.37AM

There’s too little,
my angel of death…
too little of my mortality
left for you to reap.
The air had long suffocated me,
strangled me with invisible fingers,
so that we could not meet.
But I lived, sweet Deva,
so that I could see your glory

--nahs