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 .