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Wednesday, June 22nd, 2005
4:09 pm - MOVING ON
Okay, I am moving to tofucheeks! Feel free to add! I will not be deleting _swastika but i probably will never come back. Funny since i just rejuvenated it. Ah well. CHEERS! ITS BEEN A GOOD YEAR :D
Friday, June 17th, 2005
10:35 pm - sandwich from mars
You've something on your upper lip; i think it's a girl you picked up from downstairs. The one with the nice shoes and kindergarten chin. I stride past like the milky way, one foot chronically acylic, the other hooked like the apparatus of thieves. My whole body's tense because i have one of two options: i can backtrack into the two of you and your density of light, or i can move into my own thoughts and cling, like a barnacle, to the remaining half of your mouth. Both hurt so i move on because, at the end of everything, the world will consist of two people only.
Thursday, June 16th, 2005
2:22 pm - this one's for you
The bastards are taking away the fridge as part of some cruel and systematic exchange of new electronics for old electronics! That fridge is twenty years old and never broke down! Feeling hysterically sad now.
Wednesday, June 15th, 2005
6:36 pm
You either wake up productive (i.e before nine) or you dont. Today, i was forced awake at seven to go make my re-entry permit so as to be able to make "multiple journeys in and out of the country for the next ten years". Felt quite relieved, but also shit tired. Predictably, i tried to stall for time before returning home.

I went to get Demon Days, which is brilliant and probably my best buy this year after Bleed Like Me and With Teeth. It's like moodfucked electronica.

I also went to eat bento, which is basically Japanese box lunch. There's some insane control streak in me that loves that box and the way all the food is compartmentalized so i get this inappropriate sense of accomplishment everytime i complete one small section. I tend to consume in a circular pattern too, so the mounds get slowly eroded over the course of the meal instead of being systematically devoured quarter by quarter.

I eventually got home by two, way beyond productivity hour. I've been inorganic since.
Tuesday, June 14th, 2005
7:35 pm - it's take me more effort to come up with a subject title than a post
One thing i definitely don't want to be is a researcher.

Just spent a full four hours at the library looking at everything from fascinating Political Unity and Ethnic diversity: A Case Study of Singapore, Busch (1972) to really interesting Re-engaging Chineseness: Political, Economic and Cultural Imperatives of Nation-building in Singapore, K B Tan (2000) for the Humanities and Social Sciences Research Project (HSSRP) i've to do on racial identification and racial integration.

Sat with a really soft-spoken male librarian who laughed everytime we went through journal search engines and i said: 'Hm, i think i'll take that down.' You know, during my short time there, i've figured that, bitches aside, there are basically two types of librarians:

Female Librarians and Male Librarians.Collapse )

And did i mention i didn't get anything to eat either? I mean, it's a library. Strangely, though, i got inspired to learn all sorts of random things like walking without making any sound and card tricks.
Monday, June 13th, 2005
8:30 pm - soil creep and other weirdos
I've had Feel Good Inc on loop for close to four hours while i frantically tried to mug "Slope Profile Analysis" for Physical Geography.

Yes, i was insane enough to take it up at A levels. But it's really cool; let me just regurgitate G K Gilbert's Theory of Soil Creep to annoy everyone: There is a natural downslope increment of soil, because soil formed at each point on the slope is added to be soil creeping from above. As the transport rate of soil creep is directly proportional to slope angle, the angle of the slope will likewise increase with distance from the slope crest. Hence, the slope steepens downslope to allow increasing amounts of soil to be evacuated." Makes soil sound like fire victims or something.
Sunday, June 12th, 2005
11:57 pm - when it grows too fast
Okay, i couldn't resist. Collapse )
9:15 pm - after circumnavigating
I can't believe the first thing i can think about typing in a recently resurrected livejournal is my current obsession with Chinese surnames and how it's such a coincidence that i'm related to this ancient travel writer because that's the thing about Chinese surnames and their specific origins. If someone's got your surname, you're almost certainly related to him, which means you can claim a whole community of kinsmen using google alone. Okay, this is going to be a long first post.

Cut for a long, mostly un-important account of why i came back, yada yada and why it's better to be plebeian.Collapse )

And so, today i read a highly amusing article by Evelyn Waugh entitled "Well Informed Circles... and How to Move in Them" (1939), in which she describes two different versions of the classic poseur: The Psuedo Secret Service (the mysterious, elusive "i have traveled far, know the political going ons and have many dealings") and The Buff and Glory (the rowdy, streetsmart "i know something about you and all the important people in town dont fuck with me").

This reminds me of lots of people i know. Which made it funny when she stated advice like, for the "buff and glory": 1) rely on impromptu statistics, eg. depression is on the rise in rj, i heard a quarter of A01E is suffering, you know; 2) always refer to big-business concerns by the name of their chief magnate, eg. Hodge says the school lifts will be revamped during the june holidays. Evelyn Waugh rocks.

how boys workCollapse )
Thursday, August 26th, 2004
4:30 pm - flipping between the valves
Description of my desk: two round, full haw, sweet lust herbs, steady in the stream of japanese from a stereo. clock saying: you are wasting your life pretending to be a pirate. telephone seconding that with a: don't blow on me every hour, we all need to catch our breath. butterfly on the window, feeling perky, 'i will moult on your notes and make love to your calculator.' my calculator, that chauvinistic thing of logic, thinks nothing. it doesn't need to. i do all its thinking for it, i know which of its buttons to press.

Last train of thought: onion are bulbs, they have stems, adventitious roots, a bulb and fleshy scale leaves covered in piercings through which they suck in air, thick musky air, which they channel to their bulb. that private, circular mound deep in them- the air is not for breathing. it is perfume, just in case there is another onion around.

Contents of stomach: homemade water, ice, and hamburger, meat from a dead pigcow, all pinched in the salt of the stomach. i am breathing gastric juice, because i ate too much. it has begun to come out my ears.

*

A little squeeze from me to you.Collapse )

*

I am thinking of bursting my hard-core shell of shit-hardened chemistry and calculus. perhaps you will see more of me these days, but otherwise, i am wrapping every single one of you with thick cords of love and keeping the little i know of you suspended on my ceiling. if nothing, to tide through this lonely second. this small click.

I also leave you with this.
Sunday, July 25th, 2004
2:00 pm - at two, orange goth and chocolates
today, at around two in the morning, i turned sixteen. this happened quite suddenly. my fingers expanded until they were awkward, harmless snakes, and i coughed out a moustache. i used it to hide the half-moon prunes on my upper lip. outside the window, leo yawned and sucked in the sky just a little, so that i felt i was once again a bloody foetus at the bottom of my mother, seeing the sun for the first time.
Tuesday, July 6th, 2004
7:42 pm - slit of a saw throat
The girls do not need emotion, because if it is concrete, and you stuff it into their weak and feeble innards, they will cave in with the weight of knowing their dreams have ended, that they are no more than pale, underfed motes of could-haves well hidden in a world that pretends.
Monday, July 5th, 2004
2:58 pm - july brings silver quavers
Ah! What could be more perfect than raindrops on a nose? -a nose ancient kings would have locked into glass jars in the coldest corners of a tomb, raindrops that only look round because the world is a kaleidoscope, and they are too tiny to have edges. I'm trying to lick the water off your face with the moist, warm side of my thumb, and it tastes sweet, although it's difficult to swallow when you're overpouring with love. It's raining inside, it's stopped outside. You can come in now.
Monday, May 31st, 2004
10:19 pm - i was born a syllable
There is a chant on the inside of my mouth, and I used to think it was Arabic, because Arabic is the only language that's old enough to have more than five hundred words for dream. But that's not true, the chant is not Arabic, because the words I speak don't coil around my head like a skanky whiff of opiates, nor can I charm my way into slacks of white cotton white. All I know is this: someone has a chant that matches mine, and this is what makes love.
Thursday, May 27th, 2004
3:28 pm - the humdrum overwhelms us on holidays
Sometimes, on noisy, messy days, we are clocks. Our tongues shoot out every hour and deep ding dongs resonate from the base of out throats. This makes tourists queasy, not because our mouths are wide, blue and lacquered, but because it is unnerving to be regularly cleansed by the punctual wave of time.


Outside the cafe where artists sip minutes, a peaceful alarm clock baby in shock pink coos at flying brigades of watches. Her mother gently presses the buttons on her soft head. Is it easier for her than for us? After all, there are different alarms for different discomforts.


A stone away from the central are a pair of entwined lovers. Hours on hours; seconds on seconds. Hearts ticking at the same speed. Time has stopped? No, it has already begun counting down to twilight, when it is inevitable to part. The arrows on cupids back move like hands.


There is no clock in my house, only a swollen water bath with a crying tap. The days pass in milliliters, and even such an erratic and unreliable contraption will only work if there is sufficient sadness.


When people die, the town council will remove the quartz nestled inside their intestines to manufacture a tombstone. The graveyard has rows of epithets made in this fashion. The rest of the person is placed on a shelf, waiting to be fitted with yet another piece of quartz.


Someone who is your father today may steal your heart tomorrow. Time has no gender.
Thursday, May 6th, 2004
8:12 pm - secret hiatus hauntings
A short tongue for pretty ones:


yes we are either here, there or everywhere.Collapse )


If there was a second left in this world, I'd make footmarks in my bedspread.
Tuesday, April 13th, 2004
5:07 pm - Case Study 010
Specimen: Kite Xu

Species: Homo Sapiens Sickus

Life cycle: Feeds upon a variety of artificial goods such as instant noodles, instant macaroni and occasionally pasta and omelettes. Never reproduces. Expected to live to 80. (specimen dying at 16, though)

Habitat: Inhabits soft yellow cotton beds and lavendar-scented toilets

Distribution: Pine Grove, Singapore. Migrates to Klebang Besar, Melaka six times a year.

Identification: Found in the the company of snot-covered tissue and badly scribbled notebooks. 5'4", plumpish, with red cheeks and a redder nose. Usually wearing father's shorts/shirts, with hair unkempt and eyes masked by overwhelmingly large black bags. Mildly venomous to humans, known to attack irritating Guide teachers, own siblings, and radios playing pop ditties.

Reason for near-extinction: Mathematics worksheets and Guide campfires, which put great stress on the specimen, leading to outbreaks of sore-throats and sinal infections three times a month. Specimen believes she cannot hold out another week. Attempts to save specimen (exposure to American Idol, uncensored jokes, good food) rather fruitless.
Tuesday, April 6th, 2004
3:41 pm - from sixdirtydishes
pretty boring shitCollapse )
Monday, April 5th, 2004
7:09 pm - confidential love
I am listening to trash jazz now, which is good for the heart. My heart really does need some healing now. I realise I rarely say anything about myself on this journal, so for the first time, I'll accept questions, from anyone! Ask anything, and I'll attempt to answer.


I am this pendulum oscillating between bitter and soft. I'm also at some what of an all time low now.


some sort of explanationCollapse )


I sabotage myself, I know.
Sunday, April 4th, 2004
10:31 pm - witchinghour at the hotel bars



We are riding into the soft waters of another world. The furry tips of our heads will rise into a calm spiral of blue and our eyes will fill with the tears of a million fish, brushing past without a care in the world. Indeed, it's not a world, but an old hell, abandoned after the waves of an ancient ocean took away the traces of red and hurt. Now, it's where we'll sip porridge and watch the sleep patterns of two thousand meteors a minute. At night, we'll tuck ourselves under each other, breathe stars into our hair, and hum to the gentle descent of an elevator.
Saturday, April 3rd, 2004
3:57 pm - i've guessed your name right



On Monday, we will try to play tag, but you'll win, because you've always had more fluid legs and perhaps you needed me more than I needed you. I am fooling myself with sharp words, you'll win because I never liked movement, I liked curling myself into a tight fist and staying still.
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