Recently, I have been living my life quite aimlessly.

Coming back from work (i like to think of ns as work cos i makes me feel better) , playing some kiddy game called Maplestory. Its gameplay is pure simple. You jump around like Super Mario to kill cute creatures who poke your ass (your character will jump with an astonished expression when you walk into them, like they just sodomized/fucked you (depending on your sex)). They have a wide range of creatures and creative variations. Small mushrooms, Orange Mushrooms, Green top Mushrooms, Horny Mushrooms, Gray Mushrooms, Mushroom King. (the only colour that is missing is red because the similarity to part of the male anatomy is rather patent) Sure sounds like a brainless, asinine game. Sad to say, i have a soft spot for stupid games like this. And so do many grown up guys and girls.

Armed with their imaginary wands, sticks, online cliques, dicks clicking furiously at mushrooms, snails and monkeys. People rushing to collect whatever shit that drops on the floor and squabbling over the rightful claim to the offals of the creatures like some houseflies hovering over viscera and trimmings of a butchered animal.

After a week of cold maplestory treatment, i have managed to quit the addiction. Thankfully. Phew. I wouldnt wan my life to be controlled by a bunch of jumping mushrooms.

Just finished rolling two big plates of glutinous rice balls for tomorrow. Its a challenge trying to get all the balls of the same size. I wonder if human ones were created in the same fashion.. whoever the one rolling the balls might be..Must be tiring, trying to alter individual ones to make them all look the same.

Now, I am just waiting for my life to get busy..as the nigh draws near.. and the new beginning awaits..

Sigh.I dun noe why i am dreading this month so much.
maybe i am down wif end of the yr blues. i hate growing old. 19. wad a fcked up age.

I hate driving.
I hate myself even more.
I wan to destroy all the cars in the world.

I am tyoung wif my eyes close now necaise i am simplu to tired recently.
My facial muscles are so tired that it feels like a thousand kg ponderous weights are attached to make my muscles sag. I suspsect it resulted from smilnig too much of my sycphanyic smile of mine. I am so tired that i have stoped surfing pon for a record of four days. Tired from trying to read too much. cramping three books in two army days. cos i am owing the library cops. Tired of reading between lines. Tired of life. Tired of the expectations that pple plaece on u. Tired of societal pressure.
If all this is ka(a term for someones destiny, taken from Stephen King's Dark Tower series.)...

Then.
FUck ka.
Fuck cars.

I am awake now. Its amazing how vulgarities heightens one's mental acuity. One more shoddy post in my blog.yea.

It was one of the worst thursday in my life.
Thursday used to be good. Especially in the army. because they served Western in camp.
Until Singapore Idol finals came.

I watched wif much horror when i heard the swarmy grinning idiots name announced as the first singapore idol. My entire family was devastated. My father was silent as he mourned the death of an honourable title which shld have been conferred on the other worthy opponent. My mother was stricken wif hysteria and she was on the verge of breaking down, wif occasional shrieks of"why sly will lose?. WHy?" My bro was choleric, i witnessed whatever pathetic remnants of propogranda that had been injected to sustain racial harmony crumble right in front of me.
He blasted a quote-of-the-day remark with much ire, "******,****(its in dialect so it cannot be displayed pls download the latest win service language support patch for xp) I didnt watch so many episodes of Singapore idol just to watch a ***** win. More undisplayable words."

As for me, my family has already echoed my sentiments. All of them.

Geography textbooks have taught us that Singapore is only 625 sq km. Getting anywhere is not difficult with our efficient transport system. My big wonder is - with the excellent accessibility in our city, why are there still so many local undergraduates living in student hostels?

http://www.funkygrad.com/estyle/displayarticle.php?artID=396&subcat=mylife

hilarious article..but i cant guarantee the accuracy

Still going strong: After 50 years, on a day which could have been about savouring the past, MM Lee is still looking to the future and talking about how the PAP must continue to dominate the electoral landscape. CAption in todays paper.

--BREAK-----I STRESS the contents below bears completely NO relation to the article mentioned above. If u attempt to make a connection. its a chargeable offence. So DUN.

I never really doubt the theory of evolution.in fact, I used to think that orang lauts (these antediluvian sea faring folks of SEA south east asia which we study in social studies in primary school) originated from the orangutans. The illustrators of our textbooks depicted these early singaporean inhabitants as hairy,tomentose,shaggy like creatures. Its hard not to make connections, isnt it? Until today, i still subscribe to it.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Quote of the day:

He who laughs last,didnt catch the joke

Why do people do visit them? Some people do it so that they can perfect their skill and do it for their girlfriends/wives in the future(hey who doesn't like a 'skilled' guy) ..some people seek for their services to cure their boredom, there is also the copycats who do it out of pure curiosity.
For me, I did it after some serious deliberation ..they were thousands of reasons, some childish, some inane, why I did it but Ill rather keep that to myself. Lots of people have already done it at a younger age..and I guess I didn't want to be mocked by my competitive psyche within me.

I grabbed n stuffed the blue coloured bill before setting out. It had gone beyond my own interest but rather to just get it over and done with. I have to mentally condition myself before each trip. The experience is always this chafed feeling interfused with the dreadful anticipation. I pray to the skies every time before I leave house that I will come back unscathed and unsullied. The elusive image of moths flitting and escaping from a hellfire burning beneath keeps coming to me like a phantom of the mind...

I'm surprised I'm still alive...
A moth getting burned by the flame usually dies;
If not, it goes back for more, and it's back to the risk.
However, like a moth, I shall strive.
I am intrigued by the flame...
I'll get burned and go for more;But there's a hope
I'll fly through safely.No pain, no end to my ardor.
Help me this desolate fire is driving me insane

I have visited the place countless times. People standing in the alleys and some leaning on their cars. Bald uncles digging their noses in a grotesque fashion and eager girls clad in whorish/ semi decent dresses. The heat is unbearable and its not surprising to feel the sweat trickling down the loins.

The cash is exchanged and the session is soon over. Some people come out feeling satiated and satisfied, well spent. The nauseating sessions and surfeit has left me cloy after the initial awe and excitement of being able to toy with a real life specimen.

I am sure many Singaporeans know of this place. Of course there are other designated areas set aside by government to control the services but this place is the most convenient place for me to get my regular sessions.

In the place to be. Learning to drive at Ubi.

Happy3Friends

Just went downstairs for the condo resident committee meeting. I went down as an extra representative from my family. Only for the highlight of the event-the refreshments segment.

I gingerly selected two of each available on the buffet table to board my Noah's stomaark. Eating and walking around, pretending to look interested and concerned about the state of my residence while i was contemplating about wad game should i play later. meetings are really shitty stuff, they are boring, trite and useless. It just exists so that the secretaries have their minutes to write and to placate the souls of irate, garrulous aunties and always complaining uncles. I dunno. Maybe i am just a mugwump. Like unapathetic Huckleberry Finn who enjoys sitting on the fence.

Having filled my stomach,I took the lift up, wondering how uncouth a singaporean i was. Out of nowhere, a few cute kids dashed in with plates of food. One resembled the spotty or squeeky some-squirrel looking creature in Happytreefriends. They were laughing and talking about their mum's diabolical plan to transport the food from downstairs to their dining table.
They reached their floor and i made no attempt to press the lift door for them. If only the lift door closed on them..then i will be able to extricate their plates of food from their mangled bodies for my supper....

Twu Bi Twu Bi Twu Bi do...Twu Bi Twu Bi Twu Bi do..La la ala allal alalala ....

Zhang3Feng
i used to regard this venerated old man called zhang sanfeng with much reverence becos he managed to withstand temptation of hottie guo xiang in the chronicles of Jingyong COndor trilogy. On the other hand,I was never really impressed by his taichi skills. It was a whole lot of bull tt never made sense to me.

SLow CAN beat fast?

I dun believe.The moves are always executed slowly in an exaggerated and laggard fashion which makes people wonder if the moves are dilatory tactics to fool the opponent.

I have been proven wrong recently. The art of taichi has transcended beyond the martial skill. Its yi or the quintessence has become an important point of reference in our modern society just like how the suntzi art of war has been dissected and desecrated by corporate firms to teach people how to become shrewd moguls.

Taichi actually has this famous set of moves known as the 13 Kinetic Movements of Taichiquan.This 13 moves are further split into the 8 Men (Eight doors) and the 5 BU (five steps). Unknown to members of the public, some of the army personnel are actually crouching tigers:-extremely well versed taichi exponents who choose to lie low.

Heres a rough runthrough of the moves i have secretly acquired from their manuals and peeking through the door slits when they are in the meeting room. Difficulty-indicated by *

8 Moves
Peng (ward off) Once an arrow has been shot in the direction, move quickly to ward off the imminent danger or attack.*
Lu (Stroke) Stroke someones ass (the potential guy whos absorbing the damage) i.e sing praises abt his work efficiency **
JI (Push) With a half-jovial half-serious tone, push the responsibility/arrowto the unsuspecting victim **
An (Press) Finishing move, apply firm pressure and use your rank/power to complete the execution.***
Cai (to pull suddenly) In army lingo,they call it "pull stunt",eg performa highly dangerous move to escape the arrow. Extremely dangerous.****
Lie(Twist) Cock and bull story.Twist facts and fabricate the most convincingyo-grandmother-got-something-on and dog-eat-paper stories. Excuses. **
Zhou(Elbow strike) Yet to comprehend. CHEEM.
Kao(lean against) Use your connections as trump cards. Like saying "my commander ask me do this. you wan me to do this new thing for you better ask him first."

The last five moves are Advance, Retreat, Survey left, survey right and guard center. Basically, it describes how one should move ard to avoid attacks/ dodge arrows.This in short is the essence of the 13 Shi which should be useful for survival in the modern pugilistic world of today.

Today is 15/8 which is the Mid Autumn festival aka Mooncake aka Lantern festival. Today also happens to be the first day off that i have taken in the army. Today I just recovered miraculously from my disgusting flu, which nearly marred my day.

Musings
Read this article in the Straits Times today abt mooncakes. claiming that there are novel mooncakes with special flavours. like durian and yam. Yawn, so uninteresting. doubt they will smell or taste nice. I am still patiently waiting for mooncakes with curry paste and belachan to be launched.

Saw a teacher bringing a group of kids from the kindergarten near my house, Sunshine Kids, for an outing..in the park. It was early in the morning, the sun was blazing and it was extremely bright. And the most astonishing part was that the kids were holding battery operated lanterns!
The battery lanterns looked so fucking weak in the sun. I am very tempted to use the word dumb to describe the whole act but i would like to think that i am a very kind person.

I still prefer the old paper lanterns, those cheap china flowery patterned ones with the invisible "highly inflammable" imprinted on it . I remember the naughty kids who loved to bang into those little kids with feeble sticks and lanterns and watch sadistically as the kids weep pitifully while holding onto their charred-beyond recognition lanterns and cane.

Then there is always a group of other races pple (i dun like to mention names) who try to join in the fun by burning and lighting stuff. Burning grass and candles. How stupid can they get. Sometimes i think the haze we get is also the result of some people somewhere burning vegetation for fun too. Maybe somewhere up there, Chang-er is weeping for the stupidity of some of mankind.

Sometimes i wish that i am Legolas, then i can become a marksman and get my money and the lovely badge for range. Pretty busy these days. Trying to make myself busy too..dun noe for wad reason too. probably just trying to make my life more interesting and maximising my time that i have. A ship in harbour is safe but thats not what a ship is made for. Starting to appreciate quotes nowadays. Dunno what the fuck am i writing but i think this sort of shitty rambling is the result of little thought and little time. I fed a cat in camp.

Anyway jackie chan police story is coming out. I hope the show is nice as the catchy song he sang in the trailer. SOLID. Funky papa trying to look happening. Love his glasses. reminds me of those cheap glosssy ones sold in departmental stores. when i was young my mother will always ask if my bro and i want a pair of those. ahah. so cool.

Everyone is ashamed of something, if u are not, then u are not being honest wif urself.

Syphilis

I dun mind the increase in testosterone level. I dun mind hairy legs. Pimples is the dermatologic EVIL of puberty and it's a strident clamour from the body to announce to the entire world that one is pubertying. A terrible affliction, not only capable of the ruination of the rosy cheeks, but also undermining one's self/ body confidence. Its punition from the creators of the body- u get ur semen, for in return u have to absorb these pimples. Like ugly installments.

For some people, they are just PLAIN lucky to escape it: - free from the blemishes we all know and loathe. Some will get only a few benign ones on their faces. The rest will get the 'generous' load of whatever shit that the rest didn't claim. Unfortunately, I belonged to the last category.

In secondary school, I was doing fine. I escaped unscathed all the way until Sec 4. Then I became arrogant and started making fun of a classmate who had a spectacular geography of pimples on his face. The volcanic terrain with its island arcs, spewing spurts of pus and swelling. For my meanness, retribution ensured that I could appreciate the similar geography on my mirror.

My glandular machinery began to go totally bananas. Pimple city. Its impossible to escape. washing the face 5 times a week or taking dozens showers a week, trying every cream and nostrum known to modern science, didn't help much . A loaded pizza with rich toppings of blackheads. I probably could have been the mascot for pizza hut.. and do something like bursting a pimple and let the pus flow out with the oul, with jingles going " Stuffed Crust Pizza!!!"

Over time, much of it has receded, with some leaving pitty marks or potholes to mark its existence and also as a form of grim reminder to my foul mouth.

Thought of the day:
do monkeys have pubic hair?

Nightlife in Singapore is like throwing a party in a house with your parents.

how true. picked up a book from my sergeant major's table and finished it in one reading. titled Invisible Trade- it was a book by Gerrie Lim which offered to shed some light on the sex industry in Singapore, namely the high class escort girls, ktv hostess, the mamasans, the call boys and to the lower end of the spectrum the prostitutes.

Frankly speaking, to me ,there isnt much distinction between these classes. there is no point sounding so euphemistic or pretentious. sex is sex. an escort girl may engage in intelligent or witty conversation, talkign about haute couture, wine or culture but still end up having sex. They are cultured vultures that all, with their cut throat prices. a prostitute gets straight to the point. up on the bed. Ultimately, all boils down to a cold cash exchange of body fluids, devoid of emotions.

Did extract morsels of information here and there from the book. although most of it i already knew, in theory. I bet most singapore know abt the facts in there too.This is all theory shit. Only exploration will get me further.
I felt ashamed when i read the accounts of the escort girls who are specially procured to render their services to the rich and powerful and the horny men. All these take place behind the closed doors of expensive hotel suites like ritz and shangr. I never knew Singapore as a large transit point for sex. Schools didnt teach us that sex trade in Singapore has always been flourishing because of Singapore's ideal geographical position and the confluence of the international air flight routes.

How little i know of my country. sigh. I really should explore more. I'll make that my objective for this year. interested Fellow explorers feel free to drop a comment.

Miracles do happen. My leg got fixed. i dun believe it either.

After i got out of camp, I hobbled my way to the chinese physician/ 推拿 at amk. I waited for a long 1 and 1/2 hr. time passes exceptionally slow when one is in pain. I just stared stupidly at a couple who was also waiting for their turn to be fixed, occasionally reading the racy chinese papers and their articles abt china hookers.

I always have the feeling that i am visiting a brothel when i am at a clinic. Cos everyone appears so smug after they get out of the closed room. Patients look like they have gotten themselves a good fuck, feeling all so satisfied and contented.
My turn came.
the old man asked me to lie down on the 'operating bed'. just a random thought- why do the beds for massage have holes for our heads above our neck but none for the one below? He went on to knead my aching muscles like dough. It was shiokness. After pressing and probing my flesh, he told me to ren(endure) a little. Clack, clack. He twisted? my veins. into place
He did it with the ease of a five yr old kid fixing a detached limb of a ninja turtle figurine back into the joint. I stared at him with mild disbelief and uttered something like..uncle, 好舒服.. well he..must have thought i was gay.

Moments later, i exited , looking as if i just got out from red light district. The smug look all written on my face.

yesterday I woke up from a soupy state that wasnt really sleep but a kind of dream haunted drug daze. i needed to pee. i had to lift my legs of the bed. but the pain was terrible. my damn leg hadnt recovered. It felt like a crude ceramic block baked until it was on the verge of cracking. The pain was both hot and cold, set deep in the flesh like complexed networks of poisoned wires. Somehow i managed to slither out of my bed. and as i landed out the floor, i uttered a distracted little cry as the pain ripped through my entire left leg.

i need the pill. i had never, never in my life, needed a pill as badly as i did now.

i inched my way to the table where i kept the painkillers. every single movement was a great burst of agony. With one hand on the table, i managed to do an awkward push up to lift my upper body up, with my fucking left leg dangling like a limp broken dog limb. i tried to to open the medicine packet with my hands, fumbling as i looked for the opening. one pill rolled out. down to the floor. slowly i lowered myself,very slowly. afraid that i might trigger another of the excruciating motherfucking wave of pain.

i patted the ground to trace for the pill in the dark like a blind looking for his fallen coin. i found it. I lowered my face onto the floor like a dog about to drink from its bowl and stuck out my tongue. o man, dont let my parents see me doing this.
Pain, shame, horror, and most of all a dark depression, all maroons and grays, enfolded me. i pressed my tongue against the pill and drew it into my mouth, now not a dog but an anteater injesting a tasty morsel, and swallowed.

As the pill traced its tiny hard trail down the throat, i thought to myself: I would give anything to be free of this. anything.

I remember looking forward to get back home to blog an entry or two each time i returned from tekong. That was 3 mths ago. Now i return everyday. yet i dun feel like blogging. To me, its plain irony.

Perhaps the novelty of blogging is beginning to wear off. Perhaps i cant find any interesting stuff to blog about cos i am doing quite mundane stuff everyday. Doing clerical stuff, writing reports, supposed to take minutes, answering phone calls. Some people will regard it as prosaic business, but the scary part is I actually enjoy doing it.

U can call me an office dog. I dun really mind. At least i'm a happy dog. WOof WoOF!

Someone i know actually express disgust at my vocation. Cos he's an officer trainee. He thinks hes got the "ive got lots of leadership potential" tattooed on his ass and he think hes cool and big. F it. He probably got selected by fluke and he has zilch leadership skills to begin with. Aw. Anyway, he claims that he is not after the prestige, money but rather the experience. yea rite

Sneer.
Here's something more adventurous for u, my 'officer' fiend.
Go rub ur bullshit on ur head and fuck the cow's ass.

fucked up entry #1
feeling so shitty. dun even have the mood to blog.

Horoscope for the week.
Scorpio.
"The stars this week are crossed which means that certain plans might go awry. Do not add fuel to the fire by over-reacting. Trust that things happen for a reason."

Sometimes I hate horoscopes especially when they are accu-fucking-rately true at the wrong time. I just got posted to kranji depot when there is a paya lebar depot so near my house.

kranji means no forklift and all manual stacking. Kranji means little leave and no time for slacking. kranji means i can afford to screw up badly in camp, get charged and court martialled at kranji and they can whisk me off to kranji detention barracks to get fucked and sodomized by other inmates. Wad a lovely thought. Boy, i feel excited.

Things happen for a reason. Duh, wad doesnt. they always tell me unpalatable truths that I'm already aware of.

D Day
Tml will be judgement day. It wont be as important as results day. Its going to be more like a minor episode in my life.like terminator 2,judgement day. I have no idea which ammo depot/ magazine i'll be posted to. The locations do make a lot of difference.
$$ and time spent on travelling. I think i have been very lucky so far in army.Altho i dun really like the cliched phrase of 'all things good must come to an end', i do believe in it.

Devouring 14 books in 17 days has been quite a feat for me. Its my longest sustained record for such a period (the previous one was Peter and Jane series.i cant remember how many books). During these 3 & 1/2 weeks, I have had my fair share of code breaking with dan brown, fortune seeking with jeffrey archer, law sessions with john grisham, awry scientific experiments with michael crichton ,macabre tales with stephen king and romance with sandra brown etc.

Maybe its time to move on. maybe its time to stop mocking others ,who are in camp cursing and swearing that their sergeants keep nazi uniforms in their cupboards. maybe its time to wake up from my story-book fantasy. Welcome to the real world.

Maria Sharapova: 2004 Wimbledon Champion!

3rd July 2004
Maria did today what many thought was impossible. She won her first Grand Slam title at age 17, beating the two times defending champion Serena Williams 6-1 6-4. Maria was in control of the match from the very beginning, serving very well and pouncing powerful groundstrokes off both sides that kept Williams on heels most of the time.

Maria not only played at a great level, she also showed a remarkable self-control and maturity. She never left the situation overwhelm her and remained focuses throughout the match.

Maria's serve played a big part in this win. She was very consistent with both, the first and second serve, winning a lot of free points and not allowing Williams to punish her second serve as she normally does. Maria was hitting with a lot of power and close to the lines off the forehand and backhand side. She was fighting for every ball and her great reach allowed her to get a lot of balls back that frustrated Williams.

Maria showed nerves of steel when she was broken in the 6th game of the second set and she broke right back and never looked back. From 2-4 down she won four consecutive games to earn her first Grand Slam trophy.

At 17 years, two months, she is the second youngest Wimbledon champion in the open era, after Martina Hingis.

With this win, Maria will be # 8 when the WTA ranking is released on Monday.

This is the first tennis match that i actually followed. every serve every stroke. beautiful hot russian. how do they make themselves look so pretty when they play???

Watched spiderman 2. Plot Synopsis :Spiderman 2 is great movie about peter parker facing crises. With great powers come great virility. In this sequel,the viscid liquid supply in his body no longer functions well, resulting in spider impotence. My guess is that our Amazing spiderman didnt take enough zinc to supplement and compensate for the rapidly expended fluids.

I have been experiencing the same problem as spiderman..not referring to blanks,but ratherThe problem of a body part not functioning as it should normally. I pulled my leg vein (chinese translation) and it hurts. badly. I wince everytime i lift my fucking leg, everytime i take a fucking step, everytime i lie down on my bed. I dunno wad vein i pulled' but it must be a really long one, maybe even longer than the swing lines which spiderman uses to travel through the cavernous chasms between the Manhattan high-rises, because my entire back all the way down to my feet will experience a jolting spasm and an excruciating pain the moment i move my left leg.

To solve my problem, I visited a tui1 na1 master at ang mo kio for a session. I waited for a long time. When it was my turn. He pushed. He shoved. He bent. It felt good.. for a few seconds. After the therapy/massage, uncle asked me,'hai tong ma?' i nodded slightly, hesitantly because i didnt want to let the frail man know that his skill and dexterity was not as good as it used to be.. or perhaps i was afraid to come to terms with the fact that my vein maybe gone.

$15 gone to waste. Shld have gone for a full body thai massage or something. Can remove the stress from the aching muscles plus maybe they will throw in XXxtra stuff.
wont think abt it anymore.Life is never as easy as unbuttoning, wads done cannot be undone. (hope its original)

wrragh.a weak week indeed. looking forward to a nicer week

Itsby Bitsy Spider

..back to nursery rhymes!!

Peter parker ducked a dart of bitter butter
a dart of of bitter butter that bitter parker ducked
if bitter parker ducked a tart of bitter butter,
where the fuck is the dart of bitter butter peter parker ducked?

I'm sitting here, pressing the letters of the keyboard , idly , lazily . Comforted by the fact that I dun have to mug for any mid yr exams or be at some stupid island blaming my stars for being confined in camp.

I always knew I had a lazy streak in me, but it was never apparent during my schooling days. Yes, I indulge in slacking sessions once in a while. But the Layz monster in me ,which had been pretty dormant, has awoken recently and become so big that it scares me. I hold my bladder so that I dun have to make so many trips to the toilet even though the toilet door is just behind me. I dun feel like going down for an exercise because I am lazy to put my clothes into the washing machine. I am lazy to step out of the house because I have to put on my shoes.

People like me have to be ordered around. I am lazy to check and correct my shitty engrish grammar. "Laziness casts into a deep sleep, and an idle man will suffer hunger. The sluggard buries his hand in the dish, but will not even bring it back to his mouth." Proverbs 19:15,24 . And i am the sluggard.


Of all the laziness, my fav is the laziness of comfort orientation -which is just trying to stay comfortable and cozy. Every time I lay on my bed, I will stretch for the sheer pleasure of seeing hearing and feeling my pajamas(?) slide against my legs and my legs against the bedsheets. I like the feeling. Of being a sybarite.

In the East, laziness often manifests as flopping down in the sun with one's cronies, drinking tea, and letting the days pass by. In the West, laziness will be lying on a beach enjoying the languor of a siesta or ensconced in a sofa flipping the channels with the remote control.
For lazy asses like me, we know that whether we flop or rush, and wherever on the globe we happen to be, the comfort-orientation brand of laziness is characterized by a profound ignoring. We look for oblivion: a life that doesn't hurt, a refuge from difficulty or self-doubt or edginess. We want a break from being ourselves, a break from the life that happens to be ours. So through laziness we look for spaciousness and relief; but finding what we seek is like drinking salt water, because our thirst for comfort and ease is insatiable.

As there is a great truth wrapped up in
``diligence,'' what a lie, on the other hand, lurks
at the root of our present use of the word
``indolence''! This is from ``in'' and ``doleo,''
not to grieve; and indolence is thus a state in
which we have no grief or pain; so that the word, as
we now employ it, seems to affirm that indulgence in
sloth and ease is that which would constitute for us
the absence of all pain. --Trench.

Euro 2004 seemed to have downplayed all the other sports, including the major events like the NBA finals. Zombies shuffling their feet around after staying up almost every night, from the sergeants to the sweepers on the road. But as usual, I dun really care about soccer. Its more interesting to watch how sports have evolved. "playing soccer" doesn't hold the same connotations as taking up a sport to keep themselves fit. It just implies taking time off from the pastures of turf city and turning the attentions and money to the fields.
The only sport that I keep track of is the Nba games. Its fast. Its entertaining. Its cool.During the finals, the team that wasn't supposed to win won.
The triumph of the underdogs. Detroits crushed lakers. It seemed like Norma Rae, Seabiscuit and that slingshot-wielding dude, David, rolled into one.
Hey, the script writes itself.
If Detroit is the unofficial underdog capital of the country, then America is Underdog Nation, in self-image if not reality. It's what pop culture has taught us.
It's the little guy who always triumphs in the end. A spunky Nemo plans a daring fish tank escape with a little fin and a big heart. The Pistons defeat the Lakers?It fits the model.
The underdog is an extremely powerful myth in our society. It's a thrill to see people who are under adversity beat the people who are supposed to defeat them.
If you can survive the slings and arrows that life throws at you, you can become stronger and more successful than you ever imagined. It's the kids who are lobbing dodge ball missiles who'll one day get their comeuppance.
Underdogs find strength in their weaknesses and know things a top dog never could.
No. 1: Low expectations can be a good thing.
No. 2: Underdogs are always hungry.

Pangolin Tsai

Another rare sighting at the school of ammunition down at rifle range road, which is contiguous with the bukit timah nature reserve.
No,I didn't spot fucking gay monkeys. Although I did see a a monkey orgy, bunch of monkeys wreaking havoc on a sergeant major's car, I have seen enough of monkey-wreak-havoc movies and done enough primary school compositions, rewriting the hackneyed plots of monkey pulled pigtails of girls in classroom to find monkey rampage and pillage commonplace.

Was taking a stroll uphill when I spotted a pangolin. For those who dun know what a pangolin is :- it's an ant eating mammal with large imbricated horny scales as its protection. Dun ask me how to tell the difference of a pangolin from an armadillo. I only hold a young zoologist badge and I cant recall how long ago was my last visit to the zoo which does not house a pangolin.

Anyway I was surprised. 'Wads the creature doing here?' It seemed lost. Maybe he lost his way while trying to register at the armour camp. I couldn't figure out the location of its eyes ,everything looked brown. I closed my eyes and flinched when I pictured the pain of the coitus of its species. Perhaps only hedgehogs will understand the ordeal.

It was curled up in a ball and resembled a pile of dung from far. Even the spruce cone appearance resembled the fissures of excreta. The pangolin was motionless. A few of us went forward to take a closer look. Its eyes were closed. And it had just defecated. The shit laid closed to its anus like a newborn pangolin baby. Was it dead? Or was this crepuscular creature taking a rest before commencing its nocturnal guard duty?

I was lost in my vacuous thoughts as everyone started jogging back for lunch. I quickened my steps, glanced at my watch, mentally counting down the hours before book out, happily singing the linkin park song to myself...

It starts with-

One thing I don t know why, it doesn't even matter how hard you try...
All I know,
Time is a valuable thing watch the clock go by as the pangolin swings,
watch it count down to the end of the day...

A touch of zen.
I reported to the school of ammunition today. To find myself sitting..and sitting.
I sat to wait for lunch. After lunch, I sat to regulate the flow of the food down my digestive tract. I sat. I have never sat so long in my entire life. Its even more enervating than the SAT test that I sat.
Buddha remained under the tree for forty-nine days, neither eating nor drinking. I sat under the training shed, with my legs akimbo and stared at the dense undergrowth in front of me. Monkeys scaled the fences with ease and walked the barbed wire with such funambulism. Then the monkey king appeared. Then the monkey queen appeared. Then they started screwing. My jaws dropped. I was shocked by the spontaneity and the audacity of the monkeys. Buddha meditated and gained enlightment.
Some zen from me. Monkeys copulated and i gained entertainment.

Fat, tender crustaceans lay in their shells on a bed of fluffy egg-fried rice, smothered in a sauce that was at once refreshing, delicate and tasty; flavoured with lemon, chilli and crisp veggies that actually looked like they had until very recently been growing somewhere. You start to salivate. 'Where should I start from?' You notice a prawn hiding beneath a small lump of rice. You use your fork to tease the prawn out of its hermitage. You take a morsel of the prawn. You pause to admire the body of the decapitated prawn. On inspection, you spot a thick brown disgusting line on the back of the prawn. Out of curiosity, you ask your friends/family about the mysterious line.

'Anybody has any idea wad this shit is?'
Someone answers 'Prawn shit la'
Another replies, 'Vein la. Nothing one. Just eat, wont die'

You oscillate the limp prawn on the spoon as you vacillate over the fate of the prawn. With much dubiety and timidity, you shove the prawn aside and cover it with the uneaten parsley, trying your best to make it look as natural and untouched.

I have been plagued by this question about prawn shit or vein for a long time. As long as philosophers have been metagrobolized by the egg and chicken conundrum. I decided to end it all. Here's what I found from a cookbook.
"The easiest way is not to worry about it. In general, small and medium shrimp do not need de-veining except for cosmetic purposes. In larger shrimp, sometimes the intestinal vein contains grit; then you should prefer to remove it"

In short, it is neither the shit or main vein. Its their shit vein.

Save me from The avalanche of cliches
Watched a movie with my friends on Monday. It was the first movie I was going to watch in a cinema after..ten weeks. The screen at tampines mall only indicated two shows. Harry potter and the prisoner of atlikazamofqzban and the day after tomorrow. We settled for the lesser of the two evils. I was genuinely enthused by the title of the movie. Because its one of those awfully creative titled films that will bound to trigger off washedout,jejune,stupid jokes like :

"Eh wan to watch the day after tomorrow the day after tomorrow? "

Ok,I;ve digressed. In The Day After Tomorrow, global warming is causing the polar caps to melt, ocean currents to spin, temperatures to drop, and a band of stalwart actors to deliver the corniest sort of disaster movie dialogue. "Unpack the snowshoes! We're walking from here!"

You get the drift.

However,the pictures were good. They were like those ripped from national geographic remixed with those "Caught on Camera" disaster flicks. Unfortunately, there is a story, an assortment of characters and a batch of contrived relationship crises whose dramatic transparency punctures the visual splendor like nudity with squares.

Before watching the film, I only knew that tornadoes had eyes. I was wrong. They have brains too. The smart tornadoes that hit Los Angeles know to zero in on the city's most famous landmarks. All would be forgiven if The Day After Tomorrow were the fun kind, and for a while, it was. Then it became the dull kind of bad. After the storm passed and the freeze hit, the film was only half over and already out of tricks. It was the first time I walked out of a cinema, dreading that I had paid for it. Because it only left me thinking about the day after tomorrow the day after tomorrow the day after tomorrow...and I will be in army once more.

Maybe.

Attempted to entertain myself with the crowd at the Passing out parade yesterday, perusing row by row, detail by detail. Much to my disappointment, i didn't find any spectacular spectators. Maybe it was the spectacles. Maybe I was a little tired. Hmm. I thought the reviewing officer-tampines Mp, Ms Irene Ng was outstanding. A genteel lady and thoroughly elegant in her manner. At least, she kept my eyes transfixed on her for about ten minutes. Still miss..what a pity.

The cue for the caps to be thrown came. Our caps went up. A fleeting moment of joy..my smile vanished as I saw my cap completing its projectile motion much faster than the others. Maybe I was standing too near the centre of the earth and the gravity was too fucking strong and resulted in the premature ejaculation of my cap. Grr.

Finally I'm out from tekong officially (well I have to return to take my soc test). I'll touch a lil on my bmt experience cos that's wad people like to blog after they have passed out. I'm still experiencing this feeling of a big fuck when I walk around. There is this air in my head that has yet to be deflated. I have to constantly jerk myself ..back to reality. As a private, I still have to salute to the old man with the white hair and white suit and his stick outside KFC.

Army has taught me to be grateful and thankful. Things that I have obliterated and taken for granted as a civilian ,even trivial ones like walking my own way. And not having to be in tandem with people.

Racking my brains to think of something to write/ Listening to avril lavigne's album Under my skin/ Flicking hardened pieces of camouflage cream and dirt and grit out from my fingernails to observe what's under my nail.

Observing the callus on my palms and ruminating about how callous i have become. I cannot help but agree that men are immensely selfish and egocentric creatures,which is so evident when everyone is shagged. I parallel N S life to ants' nests life, in which there's a fat-assed queen ant and there'll be millions of drones to stroke her ass. OOoh. Everyone's so eager to kiss ass.

I never felt like a gungho soldier ant or a bootlicking sycoph- ant. I remember in primary school, i often looked at the science textbook with disgust cos i have this tendency to empathise with insects rather than humans. There's this horrific experiment in which the woodlice are tested to see their response to light.

When the light is off, we faineants immense ourselves merry making in the caliginous moment. When the light is on, we scurry in pandemonium and appear to 'work' fast. I've chosen to be a men. I hope i dun live to regret it. I dun noe wad the future holds for me. But One thing is for sure - The lousy life of a lowly louse is there to stay.

Karma Mama.
During my primary school days, I enjoyed poking and touching those touch-me-nots mimosa plants. Witnessing the closing of their leaves brings satisfaction to me like how the hardening of nipples does to satyric men.

In NS, I learnt how to prone which involves the acts of placing one hand down and lying down almost immediately when the command is given.
That one time..in field camp. "Enemy contacted!" My hands went down. Felt a sharp pain sticking into my fingers. I bent my head down and saw my childhood playmates once again. Bloody thorns and my bloody fingers.

The revenge of the mimosas. They were waving their pink fluffy balls with sadistic glee while I was grimacing. "That's for molesting us, you sick bastard." I shuddered at the karmic power of Mother Nature. Karma Mama.

Today.
I backtracked thrice today just to feast my eyes on some girls.
I used the mrt glass doors to observe girls more than 6 times today
I fast marched all the way just to stalk two rj girls.

I am a horny bastard.

Fact that i have only discovered recently - When a woman consumes about 3-5 alcoholic drinks her 'horniness' level skyrockets to about 5 times the normal level and may start showing obvious signs of it, the funny part is that when their 'horniness' level skyrockets after drinking, it reaches a man's 'horniness' level of everyday life which we have to learn to control.

The day is Sunday. . You are being held hostage by several enemy sergeants in a military stronghold.
Misson: to make your blog entry.1 min to plan, 2 min to execute.
0530 still in camp while the entire school was m ing in the comforts of their home.
1000 book out.
1100 finally out.
1300 went to fix my screws on my fucking aching back.
2000 book in

minus eating,shitting and settling my other corporeal needs, writing damned peer and sergeants appraisals, i am left with just 2 minutes to finish this task. And i have just realised i have taken 5 mins.

Time exceeded. You are detected by enemy troops. Bang. Cut. Over.

Feasting

My gorging has become indiscriminate, ever since I entered army. Every trip back in and out from the place raises my rapacity. There is this craving to fill myself up. i dunno how to express it aptly but i surmise its like the feeling when u wan something to be shoved up the anal walls.

Went to Seoul garden with my close buddies today. Outside food has became extremely delectable. We circled the belts of restaurants like drooling bald vultures for several rounds before swooping down to seoul garden for our meal. In the evening, I went to china teahouse with my family for an a la carte gorging session. Had several opulent courses ranging from stacks of tim sums to the commonplace shark fins, abalone and friends and finished off, 3 different kinds of desserts. Prodigious!

The massive fishes my family ordered, much to the consternation of the staff, were clearly intended to feed more than our numbers. Fortunately, it was so unconscionably tasty that we picked its leviathan carcass clean of flesh using only chopsticks and an uninterrupted supply of clean plates. Having worked in the f n b industry for a while and being deprived of good food for a longer while, I was overwhelmed with gratitude as I savoured every dish. I knew the shitty feeling of standing beside the customer, acting obsequious, smiling pretentiously and the servile task of clearing the dishes. Maybe I'm a pisspoor employee that's why I worked at Edo ha.

Back at home I would be served epicurean dinners of many assorted dishes and snacks and fruits. My house's refrigerator is like a magician's closet. I can never finish the things in it. My mum will say "Winston, there's ice-cream inside!" "There's yoghurt in the lower compartment" Of course, this cornucopia doesn't come without its risks: My stomach will then begin to bulge. I spent one excruciating day trying to convince my innards not to give in but they refuse to budge. Everything looks so good, tastes so great that it's hard to resist gorging myself, health n figure be damned.

My Secret

I have been harbouring her for some time.
I enjoy every moment with her.
Owning her, tying her and keeping her in my dirty little closet in a remote place.
To me, Domination is the ultimate experience of masochistic pleasure.

The sheer thought of stripping her is enough to excite me. It used to a daily routine but now it has transcended to become a perverse obsession. Denuding her off her accessories, unbuckling her straps and rubbing her body with my hands. Sticking my fingers up to probe into her void and rimming the bigger hole with my thumb, and lubricating her parts.

The first time we did it: Her eyes were tearing as the muffled cries were restrained from the sheer passion of the purest form of expression was causing her both emotional pains but such extreme physical pleasure she was torn. As I squeezed and slowly released her, a cry of deepened ecstasy left her and the sweltering heat inside her was palpable. She let out an orgasmic cry as she jerked forward. both of us collapsed into the grass, sapped but contented..That was my darkest desire being acted out in real life.

I fondly recall how we both made it through the mud. We paid no attention to the torrential rain. Bedraggled, besmirched and shagged , we laid. I felt her body press against me and I pressed mine tightly against hers, with my legs wrapped around her. We laid. Conjoined like a couple.

After some time, the rain finally stopped. My thighs parted and I lifted her up. Her wetness was still glistening on her number, N132. No. Do not misconstrue. She's not a whore. She's my wife. My rifle.

Vertigo. Acrophobia
I discovered that i have an acute fear of heights. All my life, I never dare to stand too near to railings because i always have this dreadful thought that the railings or glass panels will just shatter and both of us will just cascade down. I experienced mild discomfort when i look down thru the glass lifts in Junction eight.
Only in the army, it was more significant than i'd realised.
Saf had several obstacles which were pure torment for me. They painted nice names like jacobs ladder, lower ramp and balancing beams. And i foolishly believed that they were fun.

Then i began. My heart beat started racing. Faster than when my mother walked into the room when i was surfing porn in my younger days. Furiously. Madly. I pushed myself. Each step brought a whole new wave of gut-wrenching panic. I wanted to quit. The only thought that crossed my mind was to jump down and i will be out of army. The balancing beam become a symbol of defeat and debilitating panic. It was mocking at me like how i used to mock at those contestants in fear factor.

I plodded on. I came to the ledge. My head was spinning. People used to comment abt balls shrinking in times of absolute fear; mine probably did. Coldfeet. Weak knees. Arms were heavy. My legs wobbled when i had to jump. I faltered and i threw my rifle down instead. The instructor muttered several strings of vulgarities but i paid no attention. Because i thought i heard the faint whimper of the injured rifle. After ten impatient calls of the sergeant to jump , i prayed and jumped.
Make or break. Heaven's will. I landed.

"Ehy! u stupid cheebye la, land properly laaaah! gan ni nia,do again. go. go do again." Wif a stupid grin, i ran back for another round. Somehow i felt good. Thanks for those people who gave me encouragement.
Kudos.

Ode to the large intestine- Weapon of Ass Destruction

Never knew how long the large intestine could keep.
Less than 15 minutes to gorge n eat.
Cleared the chamber for the fifth time wif such grit
Enough to clog my toilet bowl, and it did.
Papaya fibres,melon seeds,
Entangled with bizarre chunks of meat
Resembling pieces of limp biscuits
No wonder everyone's so full of shit.

Back from camp.Frankly, I was looking forward to my army enlistment, just thinking of the new hairstyle and specs that i will be donning.

Alas,the imaginary world is quite different from the real world. It turned out to as frankensteinian as china dicks trying to attempt hip hop.
I think the military life and experience is a very personal thing. its very hard to explain to someone,especially to those with no military exp, not counting the jargons.

Its hotter in Singapore than tekong. Just cant sleep so i'm wasting time pounding my fingers trying to fill the emotional void within me.

Like this song vey much. L'arc~en Ciel displaying their talent again. For some reason, it reminds me of my class people. I'm not into mushy stuff and reminiscing too much but somehow it invoked some nostalgia in me.
I had been trying very hard to organise a class gathering. I have no idea why i wanted the gathering so badly. I missed the school timetable. Everyone hated the rigidity and routine while i secretly enjoyed it. Missed the days when we grouped at the canteen tables to gossip, poked fun at each other and laughed at silly facts off the snapple caps. Missed the horseplay in class, missed the drawing and writing crap on each other's notes. The list can go on and on.. But even in the absence of that nowadays...life still goes on.

This just urines me off...

From the game: 'SNK vs Capcom' for the Neo Geo Pocket Color

Going into army tml..feeling a little funny. Trepidation mixed wif anticipation right now. Its been a long time since i have been to a camp. I feel as if i am going to take part in Survivor. No rich hatch or ethan or lex gameplay unless..provoked. /vulpine smile.

Done. Plagiarism is great.
I cant help but marvel at my own I.T skills, which involve the complex artforms of copying,pasting and snipping. Even the picture looks so nice. Simple yet irresistible.
People often say that blogs are meant for people who want to connect to the world but have little or no technical expertise.

Rubbish. Blogs are for people with little or no morals. People like me. Who? Hypocritic poseurs. Who bloghops and spies on others. Who likes to write and indulge in the peverse pleasure of knowing that someone somewhere out there in the world will be reading this. It's solace, especially for a bunch of sad twofaced personalities just like me.

In person, I'm very quiet and shy, especially around people I don't know very well. Even for those who know me very well, I can still be very quiet. I've learnt that there's a better word for it -diffident. Not trying to sound egoistic,but i think the word is made for me. It encompasses many qualities-shy, lacking self-confidence, reserved, unassertive. I'm definitely not as loud-mouthed and obnoxious as I may come across here. Perhaps that's just the way my brain thinks and that's why I write down all my smartass comments on here.

A classmate of mine told me that keeping a blog was therapeutic. Haha Yea, it assuages my urge to just throw something up and re-read it many times to delectate my narcissistic self .