I wonder sometimes how good my memory is. When I cant things i might have done a day ago. But when i recall in vivid detail, not just colour and sound, but smell and emotion, events from more than a decade ago of my short little life....


...


I remember asking permission to god to pray in English, because my Tamil wasnt very good.


I remember standing in the waters of Changi beach and seeing that Jellyfish... dissapear into the sea.


I remember sitting at Cafe Cedele, looking at the clouds at katong and realizing. I love this country so damn much.


I remember the shore temple. I remember not wanting to leave.


I remember reading Harry Potter in the JB house. And how orange everything was. And that was all that was resting on my mind. The colour. And the joy.


I remember studying at Marine Parade Library. I remember the coffee. I remember the fight. I remember my fear. I remember the night. And going home at night. And feeling happy. And feeling so damn full of happyness.


And yes. The badminton. And the confidence. And the quiet promise of the future.


And the first VCD we had bought as a family; The Lost World. And I was excited, also in the JB house...holding the CD. Thinking about watching it. Thinking about watching it.


And watching seventh heaven on sunday afternoons. And the first time I teared when watching TV. When the eldest son was punished for carrying pot though he didnt smoke it. And the pure sense of injustice that raged through me.


And that time, at marine parade, after Marc's play, with Michelle and Alfred, when we sat at the void deck and laughed.


And alot of other void decks in pasir ris. And empty streets. and beauty taking me so powerfully, by surprise.


I dont remember alot about australia. But I remember the first time I went to India. The temples. The history. The sense of strangeness that these buildings, anachronisms were here somehow, before me. And I knew that it was beautiful.


I remember fort canning. I remember how real it was. How real everything felt. When I was a scout. When I was a boy. A teenage. A lost soul. I remember the birds. I remember the silence. I remember the friends. The peace. I remember PLTC 2003, when Mr Chew asked us to think about our future.


I remember building that fire from a single match. I remember the night. I remember the sweat. the pure will and feeling of victory. I remember what Kubo told me. I remember the grass.


I remember my eyes being closed, as i could hear and feel the insects crawl around me. My hand limp, holding my bag.. waiting for that whistle. and the whistle came. and in that moment, i could see my body move, on auto pilot, without thought, without word, without haste. I saw that I was programmed to survive.


I remember holding my grandma's hand as I walked her through thaipusam. And i remember her smile as she told everyone about it, year after year.


I remember sleepless nights sitting on the roof. I remember sleepless nights putting on my skates.


I remember pre-u seminar. How surreal it felt to have everything go my way. And there was never a bad moment. And everything was pure wonder. And i was in control, and I could see myself exercise my control, without regret and haste. And I remember stephanie telling me that I would make a good house captain. And I had no words to tell her how much that meant to me, coming from her.


I remember OBS, and the certificate presentation. I remember Alex laughing. And I remember deciding to stop being a slacker and to start making the most of it all. I remember the hike. I remember playing 'mata'.


I remember Jorge and Theodore going for that stroll around the SAC field. And how the night just stretched so wonderfully.


I remember being woken up at night. And my dad holding onto my sisters arms as he dragged her, while she stood on the skateboard.


I remember locking my syblings out of the JB house.


And I remember Hwa Chong. And entering the convention hall. And this feeling I was suddenly part of something larger. And maybe my life was destined for something great. And that same feeling when I went for my cambridge interview at OWC.


I remember the playing in the playground at the civil service club. And at the arcade. and at the pool.


And i remember the first time i finished reading the horse and his boy, and what amazement I felt.


And i remember waking up on deepavali morning when I was 10 and writing a series which never got finished but sent shivers down my spine thinking about it.


And i rememer kawait and michael and joshua. And the most unforgettable sleepover of my life.


And running barefoot up and down bukit timah hill as the rain poured down.


I remember reading God of Small Things in the TJ Library as it rained.


I remember sitting down on my own in St Pat's one monday, waiting for prefect assembly to start, as I gazed at the moon. And I knew feared with all my life that that feeling that i was feeling was going to be temporal. So i relished that moment with my life.


oh.. i really could go on. but i really shouldnt.
I dont think there is anything unhealthy about sharing myself and my memories.


But I need to sleep. Ive lived a wonderful life. My name is Rishik Menon. The Rishik comes from the name of Krishna, and is not an adaptation of the word 'Rishi'. This is my last post for the year. I hope I can break my addiction to coffee.


goodnight.

i will rule the world

Two more short poems. lets go.

---------------
life of mythic proportions

by rishik menon



and shes so quiet
and shes twilight
and i am every star
that i could wish to name
to fight the sun
of listless calm
that shakes
to brighten each and
everybodys day
---------



A matter of Pure timeliness
by Rishik V. Menon



A gift of no reasons
a gift of all seasons
a gift free from
colour or rain.
No worse than pure treason
giving such gifts a reason
so remember
the present's not sane
---------------

an ode

and now an ode. In thanks of all those feel good pop-rock songs that defined the transitional years of my life.


In too Deep by Sum 41
Fatlip by Sum41
Middle by Jimmy eat world
Right Now by SR71
The Anthem by Good Charlotte
Anthem Part 2 by Blink 182
Rockstar by Smashmouth


yeaps. that will do for now. Haha. sigh. "Right Now" is soo stuck in my head.


and so im off.

only to return again. next time.

what i did was wrong. but what i said fell so right on.

Because nothing says Crime Prevention like sharp metalloid implements.


Have a safe merry christmas everyone. I hope I will.

First and foremost

First and foremost...


Happy belated anniversary to my parents.
You know i love the two of you, and am always grateful.

-------
Its not Misogyny, dammit
by Rishik Menon


When you see the moon, do you see perfection?
An orb, illuminant, a sideless sphere?
Or do you see diana? The beauty of woman
captivating from afar, corrugated when near.

----

Its not quite why we dont engage in postcard showdowns

by Rishik V. Menon

I sit down on tiled slides in midnight playgrounds
and wonder if the first world is all its made out to be
and if there is any lace of irony
in that idea, thought out by me
in my black Pierre Cardin shirt and pants
as i sip down a cultural statement of green tea and vodka.
there is no denying the universality of youthful rebellion.
but this relativity of visions for my future is
taking my westernized mind frame by storm
as I ricochet between disparate lives
resting on dissimilar clouds that risk
to rain on this personal parade of my hopes and dreams.
why was i feeling troubled by the distance
that lay between the movies and my home?
how have i resisted this enchantment of
snow and suits and business meetings at coffee joints for so long
when the star dust from which I was made from
now seems compelled to align to that constellation.
what had gone wrong, and who was that little homunculus inside me
to pass that value judgement in me to say it was wrong in the first place?
was i not satisfied with the cold smooth slabs of
void deck chairs and tropical twilight winds
which would wash our face in a spray;
always saltwater, ever fresh.
I certainly wasnt. I was more than satisfied. I was enthralled.
I loved the quiet buzz of cicadas (not crickets)
as we rolled from tableau to tableau of still coffeeshop life
which could have come from any of the past 4 decades.
I revelled in the orange hue of streetlights, in the uncover of night
where obsolete police cars roamed absurdly,
as if on a documentary, where we were the natives.
But somewhere along the yellow lines
between the parks and race tracks
where the smell of motorcycle diesel
led our way from fishing points to 7-11s
we got lost. or at least i did.
and the pine scented fresheners are clouding
that unpleasant odour of prawn in my tackle box
and i cant find my way home.
I know its night, and I know its wet.
I know the night is young and all but yet, yet
I just dont have any idea where the hell I am heading,
or if thats a head on which Im sitting.
So i continue to ponder, and soon i start to wonder
if the moon seen from our starless skies,
and safe glass-domed nights is the same moon
that reigns from the view of a Boston apartment
a london skyline or a Parisian bar.
And maybe im cracking my head over nothing
and maybe this slide is getting the better of me
as my toes feel intoxicated from the ethereal dew on
the granular sand of this unromantic land.
..Well... I do know its the night, and i Do know it is wet
and too late to think of a fight, and yet and yet,
maybe dreams are dreams by virtue of the fact they dont come true
and maybe the moon will not help me reconcile
my hopes and dreams of the two.

i admire that!

"Its nothing to do with you. its ME. Its not you who feels your not attractive enough, its ME."


Haha!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=syXC5N8Q51I

Yes you know what this means. go watch.

life can be sweet

I feel so alive right now.


So this was what it feels like.


This was it. Is. Not was. Cause right now, everythings gonna be in the present tense.

hail hail hail

One more time, let us hail

by Rishik Menon

we were the ones

the ones they wanted

we were the warriors

who answered the call

we gave it all

alone and united

no one before us

to help catch our fall

we were the few

the few that were summoned

educated from the start

that we could have it all

we were the few

promised the hereafter

of legend and history

of our own to call

why was it us

was not what we wondered

no questions no fuss

of this duty we bore

they gave us their trust

Our victory they hungered

So we took up their banner

And rode out to war

LOTR intro

The House is changed.
I see it in the laundry.
I feel it on the Floor.
I smell it in the air.


Much that once was is lost. For now none who remember it live here.

---
10 points for whoever can identify the inspiration for that. whoo!

Bill Jean. Thats my...

Stardust was lovely.

Claire Danes is captivating...

mmm...


Lit paper in a week. Im off

thoughts on air con

So once upon a time, we were told to save energy and the earth, by keeping our air conditioners to the low temperature of 24 degrees celcius. A temperature that did not require much energy from the air con, considering our room temperature was only 27/8 degrees.


Times have changed and our room temperature is now 32. It thus requires even more energy to keep the air conditioner at 24.


So today, we are told to save energy and the earth and keep our air conditioners to the low temperatures of 27 degrees celcius. Presumably of course a valiant yet reasonable/practical effort to stop global warming.


Now all those years we tried keeping our air conditioners at 24 degrees. And our room temperature was still rising. Could the fact that air conditioners are one of the greatest contributors to the green house effect have anything to do with this?


There is something horridly cyclical about this trend of avoidance. Something horidly ironic of our refusal to bite the bullet. I just know it is.

clicking the wrong buttons again

Contemplating the complexities of Zeno's Paradox in Relation to Jumps in Motion

by Rishik V. Menon



It takes me that way
what? It takes me away
in slow motion, in coffee cups
in single lettered grades.
But those are just flourishments,
and i cant care for them as much
as I do, when it takes me
and is taking me during the 'nows' of my life
cause during the 'nows' its always in
slow motion. And 'Now' is always the
best time, so take me today.
And its taking me now, in slow motion
And now im under rain,
head dislodged from my slouch
eyes held firmly by playful lines to the clouds.
And now i see the rain, and drop by
drop falling, down playful ropes from
the clouds, teasing, blinking, in solid slow motion.
In fluid slow motion, it takes me away.
And green shines bright under orange streetlights
which to my eye, I might decide to take
as the moon. And the ropes roll off the green,
and I watch it roll onto me, as it takes me away.
And now I know Im in the rain.
And now im ignoring all the sounds, cause the
streelights mean, streets, and they distract me
from the 'nows'. So just my eyes are held firm by
them lines, to the beautiful black, the auroral orange
(which I have decided is the moon) the still green
and the globules of bent light and space time
in slow motion in 'now'.

i hate youtube... okay, so maybe i dont.

I wonder when i grow old...


Will i be able to afford a house like Kyle's?



And just sit back with a bunch of friends and listen to Eagles, Beatles and Michael Learns to Rock.



I wonder.

serendipity

Todays episode is called serendipity!
are you ready? lets go!





If my parents didnt move to pasir ris i would never have met dharvin.
If I never met dharvin, I would never had appealed to St Patrick's.
If I never went to St Patrick's well... alot of things wouldnt have happened. anyway...
If I had never put Band as my 2nd choice I probably would never had ended up in cricket, scouts and prefects
If Nicholas GN had never went to Temasek in PAE I probably would never had appealed there.
If I never had as awesome a CCA record (with cricket scouts and prefects) I probably would never have got into TJ
If I had never got into TJ I probably would never have wanted to do Arts
If I had never switched to Arts, I would never have met my awesome class and joined alpha
If I had never joined alpha, I would never have become house captain
If I never joined my class, I would never have friends who reminded me about my tamil A level (which I almost forgot)
If I never returned early for my Tamil A Level I would never met lich studying History and reading the model essays
If I never Met Lich that day I would never have known about those essays or the key to scoring well.
If I never bought those model essays I would never have felt as good as I do today.



Wow, dammit. Life is good to me. I swear it is. I swear upon life, its been so sooo good. Oh how thankful I am. So soo thankful. Sigh.

Sidney-Sussex. Sounds scrumptious. mmm!


25 days to go. Gonna pour all I got into this.


Well... not all. But more than I usually would. Good Night world.
Oh, how life is good.

Be my escape

Remember the Angappans (part 1)
by Rishik


When we were younger we were never told
great epics nor were we made to learn to cook
that steamy biryani, prawn sambal, chicken curry
or mutton kolumbu like a traditional indian family.
No. We had other stories to inspire us with greatness
and give cause to celebrate. and when we found no other cause
we saw reason enough in each other, for the dance, food and chocolates.


But then for awhile, the music stopped playing, and suddenly
someone realised that the chocolates had been left uneaten, and
23 stoves were simultaneously abandoned, and left to die.


It was chilly for awhile. I wish I had a hand to hold, or a lap to lie on.


Im not sure if Ill ever again remember what real food tastes like.
Seems that everything I eat will be inevitably laced with salt.
not that im complaining. perfection wouldnt have half deserved
its title had it lasted forever.


these days we still meet for chocolates, and indian music (new and old)
and we still dont read epics of great warriors and heroines.
It alway seemed a joke to compromise for fiction,
when there was so much more life in living life itself.
So much more courage and valour than any war or battle could have seen.
Plus, most importantly, you cant really taste anything,
chocolate or otherwise, while reading.


And thats why we dance. because we cant stand not to live.

text message syndrome

Just heard Ashley Tisdale's "he said she said". Ive no idea who she is, or how long that songs been on MTV, but it sounded pretty catchy at first. Then I started imagining myself dancing to it in some distant future at some party. Then I stopped imagining. Then I realised the song was still going on and I was getting pretty bored. Then I remembered why im not really thaAAT into dance music and RnB. Ah well..



---

Kids in rural Mongolia dont have proper water facilities.
They spend an average of 3 hours a day collecting water.
Hygiene is low as water is precious.
Diarrhoea is flagrantly unchecked due to poor water facilities.



I know its not right to make comparisons for these sort of things...


But think about it. Whose situation is really worse off? The Burmese or the rural Mongolians? Try and suspend your political leanings for a while and just think about standards of living. Im not sure myself which is worse. The Burmese seem to have more hope for recovery. The possibility for sustainable recovery in Burma appears more viable. The conditions which allowed so many Burmese to even riot and protest are in themselves signs of politicization and a certain level of industrialization.



I really dont know which is worse. Just food for thought, nonetheless.


---


I dont like neon lights. Sigh. Why didnt anyone stop the repeal on their ban? Dammit.


---

KNN

In one week's time ill be having my interview. shit.


---


Could the slow fading of the "Ten-cents-per-entrance" toilet aunties be a victory for capitalism and the price mechanism?



Why, in fact, I think it is..



---


good night.

west ham

I'm forever blowing bubbles!

Pretty bubbles in the air!

They fly so high!

Nearly reach the sky!

Then like my dreams!

They fade and die!

Fortune's always hiding!

I've looked everywhere!

I'm forever blowing bubbles!

Pretty bubbles in the air!

this is the story of a rolling stone

Elevator Girl... Your Going down.
by Rishik Menon


Eyes sweep thoughts like
charge on lodestone.
coordinating, redress
past lives and history
into the wave of the future
yes, the whim of her fovea.
Stoic. Uncalm. Thoughtless.
Clumsy reckless beauty
of haste without grace
falling into stereotype
thrones which rise in
icy magnificence, layer by layer-
and all they could do was
stop and stare... Their eyes
helpless and painfully aware
that she remains as un-clued
as from the very genesis,
and her power, compounds
from this dew.
She must be destroyed.


So plots sweep in adjacent
fortresses, safe from eyes, they
devise new physics, and
issue their feelings neatly like
mental ammunition,
invested to neutralise
this innocent threat.
Ah yes, a plot.
and what a plot it was.
Haha. Oh its a clever one,
you shall see, and agree,
just how clever it was.
You see, no bait could
be strong against this
enchantress of calenture,
infecting intensity into the air
around her for a five metre radius.
No. No loss could be understood.
And that was when it hit them,
the conspirators, on how
they had to hector her.


They taught her language
and definitions and the art
of precise prescriptions of
meanings and names
to assert and contain,
the creative ebbing
of those vile, luscious,
cursed eyes...
oh damn them.


The effect of the plan was magical.
Never before has genius
of such magnitude experienced such
undramatic dénoument.
So sudden, so unwitting
it scarcely deserved
either reflection or blink.
Hexagonal graphite,
crumbling unmagnificent
layer by layer
in prosaic aridity.
Why? well...


Those eyes, they swept
the words
like an eager gush of storm
stumbling into an unlocked classroom
blowing generations of time honoured academia
and essay-manifestos of
potential revolution
into a furious flurry of
deconstruction and chaos
in a post-modern world.
Her every utterance and composition
bore meaning beyond language
and imploded the cardboard confines
from the very foundation
of the battle ground they
had been seeking for.
She had to be destroyed.
If only all was not lost.
Who knew music could
have been so subversive?
Who knew eyes could sing?


----
This is only my first draft. I want to look at it again.

cruel irony

For all who though that Othello was the embodiment of cruel irony, I present to you this. Yes, I know its junk mail, but its worth reading.


---


At the 1994 annual awards dinner given for Forensic Science, AAFSPresident Dr Don Harper Mills astounded his audience with the legalcomplications of a bizarre death.



Here is the Case: On March 23, 1994 the medical examiner viewed the body of Ronald Opusand concluded that he died from a shotgun wound to the head. Mr.Opus had jumped from the top of a ten-story building intending tocommit suicide. He left a note to the effect indicating his despondency.As he fell past the ninth floor his life was interrupted by a shotgunblast passing through a window, which killed him instantly.



Neither the shooter nor the deceased was aware that a safety net hadbeen installed just below the eighth floor level to protect somebuilding workers and that Ronald Opus would not have been able tocomplete his suicide the way he had planned.



"Ordinarily, " Dr Mills continued, "A person, who sets out to commitsuicide and ultimately succeeds, even though the mechanism might not bewhat he intended, is still defined as committing suicide." That Mr. Opuswas shot on the way to certain death, but probably would not have beensuccessful because of the safety net, caused the medical examiner tofeel that he had a homicide on his hands.



In the room on the ninth floor, where the shotgun blast emanated, wasoccupied by an elderly man and his wife. They were arguing vigorouslyand he was threatening her with a shotgun. The man was so upset thatwhen he pulled the trigger he completely missed his wife and thepellets went through the window striking Mr. Opus. When one intends tokill subject "A"but kills subject "B" in the attempt, one is guilty of the murder ofsubject "B".When confronted with the murder charge the old man and his wife wereboth adamant and both said that they thought the shotgun was unloaded.The old man said it was a long-standing habit to threaten his wife withthe unloaded shotgun. He had no intention to murder her.



Therefore the killing of Mr. Opus appeared to be an accident; that is,if the gun had been accidentally loaded. The continuing investigationturned up a witness who saw the old couple's son loading the shotgunabout six weeks prior to the fatal accident. It transpired that the old lady had cut off her son's financial supportand the son, knowing the propensity of his father to use the shotgun threateningly, loaded the gun with the expectation that his father wouldshoot his mother.



Since the loader of the gun was aware of this, he was guilty of the murder even though he didn't actually pull the trigger. The case now becomes one of murder on the part of the son for the death of Ronald Opus. Now comes the exquisite twist. Further investigation revealed that the son was, in fact, Ronald Opus. He had become increasingly despondent over the failure of his attempt to engineer his mother's murder. This led him to jump off the ten-story building on March 23rd, only to be killed by a shotgun blast passing through the ninth story window. The son had actually Murdered himself, so the medical examiner closed thecase as a suicide.



A true story from Associated Press, Reported by Kurt Westervelt


---

uhmm. yeaa. ive got no comments.

I must say...

I find it most strange that

Clear Shampoo for Men smells so much more

NICE

than the other clear, normal, shampoo. hmmm...

---

Speaking of hair, ive got the school photos back today. well most anyway.

damn those memories of longer hair. sigh...

uhm.. yeah. thats my class. but back to my hair.

I guess one good thing about this whole new short hair thing im going for, is that it seriously cuts the motivation to go out. No way, i wanna get caught being seen the way i look now. haha.

--

have i mastered the art of making my ears move??

perhaps I have..

oohh...

gnight!

if your listening

Ive got a mental concept for a new blog layout. Sigh. If only I knew how to express it.









---








so yea. Ive got back my confidence. Will apply for the PSC soon. haha. just need to iron out the portfolio before the week ends.

a new age is upon us

It doesnt take very long to know me to understand my view on the treatment of material goods. Bags, shoes, clothes even books have all experienced the brunt of my rugged lifestyle at some point of time. It doesnt pain me that my hand phone gets scratched, or my bag gets torn. I see no qualms in underlining and annotating my books. If there is a CD in my room, which doesnt have a cracked casing, that CD probably doesnt belong to me.


Its not that I dont value my stuff, or presents people give me. Its just that i see such items as being there for the sole purpose of adding quality and comfort to our life. It might feel good now, but im not going to bend over backwards JUST to keep it looking good. It wears and tears, it wears and tears. Thats just the natural order of things after all. And thats just the hierarchy in which it works. people (the owners) comes first after all. If there was no people, there would be no need for these goods in the first place.


I suppose I could blame this materialistic (or consumerist, maybe?) attitude on two things. Affluence and technology. Affluence, because i can afford to get new wallets, socks, ear phones, when the old ones die on me. And I dont mean, when they get old, or out of fashion. I mean when I seriously consume them to the brink of exhaustion, and when they cease to yield their purpose. No doubt, if i was less well off, i would be a lot more gentle on my belongings and my consumption patters.


And technology? yeaps. might sound a little strange, but its true. For some reason, technology (or the Internet in particular), has imbued me with this curious belief in immortality. A whole new world where colour, life, sound, ideas and words live forever. And it is for this reason, my heart hardly cringes whenever I am forced to throw away my stacks of writings and essays and thoughts on paper. Because the Internet has allowed me to immortalise and safe guard my ideas in a magical world of electricity. It has given these thoughts a place in eternity. My music feels blissfully safe, once it has been ripped onto my hard drive. My doodles are immune from vandalism, once scanned and stored. even were my hard drive to die, i would just need to open any other computer, sign onto gmail, and everything would remain there, safe and secure. The physical world is constantly ageing. But not the realm of the digital.


And so, with the attitude, I couldnt care less that the spine of all my books are broken, or the cover page for my readings are gone. Because in my heart I have a great belief that all the world's great genius and musings are safe and secure in this digital world, somewhere out there, ready to be re-published or re-recorded, at the touch of a button. It may or it may not be true, but it motivates my behaviour, nonetheless.


But I suppose therein lies the problem. If i carry on with this mindset, even before I have successfully transferred all my family photos and such onto the computer, I would be even more likely and prone to allow these photos to be destroyed or damaged. Or worse still. Over relying on the computer to store my songs, poems, and writings may just prove to be my own fatal undoing. What would happen the day blogger dies? So would nearly all my most priceless writings and feelings in the past 2~ years. Or worse still. gmail. A scenario I would never want to risk.


----


Dear rishik,On February 1st, 2008 Sony will close the ImageStation® online photo service. The closure will happen in phases and most site features such as upload, sharing and shopping will be disabled on November 12th 2007.

Nazi man

I cant believe jackie chan has his own song, for a visa ad. I cant believe Live the dream can actually be so bad. I cant believe in less than 3 months, school life will be over. I cant believe its not really butter.

rat rat

So i decided if im going to get into the right mindset to do well for my As, im gonna have to start making some changes. Cut my hair on sunday. Went to the gym the past three days. Its a wonderfully refreshing feeling. And i dont just mean the thought of exercise. Its the thought of changing. Indeed, it pleases me, to know that I can sculpt my body. Not for the health, but for the principle and beliefs which it underlies; the idea of having control and taking control of our lives.


I guess that’s one reason why I loved ratatouille so much. The sub text that, yes, “anyone can cook”. No one is born to perfection. But we are entitled to strive towards it. The movie really says it all. “Nature is about change.”


On the topic of changing and sculpting our bodies, just thought I would share this thought my brother placed in my head a few months ago. Now most people I know are either for, or against tattooing their bodies for aesthetic reasons. That its either ugly or pretty. of course there are those who have religious reasons. But anyway, what my brother said really struck me as new and different. Because he is against tattooing, but on a level of principle. Because tattoos, more than anything else, stands for permanence. But our lives are anything but permanent. Nothing in our lives is. It truly is all about change.


im off.

the case against agnosticism

Margaret Atwood is wrong. So let me spell it out nice and clear for everyone to understand. Atheism, agnosticism and theism are all beliefs. Not religions. Beliefs. It is self-evident just what the word belief means and it implies. But more importantly, a belief is a stand. Now when beliefs are proven to be “true” they might be considered knowledge. In the case of gods/deities, you can neither prove nor disprove their existence. More often than not, the proof is personal, in which case it cannot be shared with other (making it a rather sad form of knowledge really). Anyways, theist believe in god(s). they may or may not know god exist, according to their own personal experience. Bottom line still remains, though, that they believe in god.


Atheist don’t believe in god. They don’t know whether or not god exists. It is impossible to prove after all. But they choose to not believe in god. This is a perfectly rational choice to make. If you are uncertain about something, there is no reason why we should give it the benefit of the doubt. We are not sure of the existence of mermaids and Santa Clause. But we don’t belief in their existence. Why? It is not necessary. Beliefs are after all stands. If your stand is, “mermaids exist”, and mine is “mermaids do not exist”, there is no way we may prove each other right, or wrong. Not empirically, no logically. If the mermaid-theist believes that he has seen a mermaid, there is no way the mermaid-theist can share that experience with the mermaid-atheist. And as long as the mermaid-atheist chooses to apply the null hypothesis, and discovers that no mermaids are being experienced, he may stand by his belief that mermaids don’t exist. So there we have it. Atheist and Theism. Two beliefs. Not religions. But what about agnosticism? What do they have to say about this whole set of affairs?


“We don’t know whether or not god exists.” Eh.. Right on. So what? Most atheists (and even some theists) also make that claim. But where is the stand? Do they or do they not believe that god exists? It’s a non-stand in other words; sitting on the fence. They neither declare whether or not they believe in god. So is it a belief? I don’t know. Is there even such a thing as an agnostic? In my personal opinion, no. there is no such thing as an agnostic. You either believe in god(s) or you don’t. Even if you say, “I’ll believe it when I see it”, that’s an atheistic statement. While it might be temporal, you’re an atheist in the mean time. Think of the colour Grue, to get an idea of what Im saying. There is no such thing as the colour grue. If its green at one point, and blue at another, its just green and blue at different times. Its not ‘grue’.


So what about those who believe in god, but don’t subscribe to any religion? Your a theist. Not an agnostic. Its really self-evident. There is no two ways about it. Honestly. Ive heard an agnostic once say that it’s smarter to be an agnostic than to be an atheists, because IF there really is a god, at least they are covered. Bullshit. Firstly Pascal’s wager is the dumbest most illogical fallacy in the world. Secondly, that statement implies faith. It belies that deep inside, that he was in fact a theist.


What im saying is neither profound nor new. Nor do I claim to some great deep intelligence, like CS Lewis’ “Trilemma” (which is in reality the second dumbest logical fallacy, after Pascal’s wager.) All im saying is this. Look at the dictionary. Understand the proper definition of the terms being used. And really, from there, its pretty hard to go wrong.



Dont hate me because im analytical.
Rishik.
=)

this is for living

One thing I always wondered was why do some many rockers love covering "hit me baby one more time"??? Like.. WHYY

is it purely for cultural reasons, or is there some musical/lyrical power about the song that hits a chord with rock?


Ah well... well anyway..
This is Marty Casey
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DfSHNUOW-uM

i just dont wanna eat liver!!

"I'm not a very good man, sir, but I am sheriff of Maycomb County. Lived in this town all my life an' I'm goin' on forty-three years old. Know everything that's happened here since before I was born. There's a black boy dead for no reason, and the man responsible for it's dead. Let the dead bury the dead this time, Mr. Finch. Let the dead bury the dead."


I swear. Even if I fail my H3 lit.... its just reading lines like these that make it all worth while...


----


A question that haunts every straight boy who watches the Ellen DeGeneres Show for the first time.


"Are we supposed to dance along?"



----


im off

pajandrum!

For the benefit of all of you who do not subscribe to dictionary.com's word-of-the-day (or even that small lot of you who do subscribe but dont dont reall bother reading), i present to you...

PAJANDRUM!!


Panjandrum was coined by Samuel Foote (1720-1777) in a piece of nonsense writing:


So she went into the garden to cut a cabbage-leaf to make an apple-pie; and at the same time a great she-bear, coming up the street, pops its head into the shop. "What! No soap?" So he died, and she very imprudently married the barber: and there were present the Picninnies, and the Joblillies, and the Garyulies, and the grand Panjandrum himself, with the little round button at top, and they all fell to playing the game of catch-as-catch-can till the gunpowder ran out at the heels of their boots.


It was composed on the spot to challenge actor Charles Macklin's claim that he could memorize anything. Macklin is said to have refused to repeat a word of it.


hahaahh! Yes. My work here on earth is done. Spread the word, people. Pajandrum!

chindianization

Omg...


First it was the chindian eyes..





now this!



There is an intelligent force, somewhere out there. And i think its trying to tell me something. =S

My guitar has been out of tune for awhile now

My un-tuned guitar and Me

by Rishik Vijayadas Menon

I called

you up

and asked if you were feeling uneasy

about..

the lack of hands on your digital watch

you said

dont hang up

I hear a chilling distant stereo medley

around..

the bbq pits down at the park

So i was forced to wait,

around the end of the day

without a pool cue

and benches were flying in the wind

And life is making mistakes

about the people i meet

or im supposed to

cause the moons taking revenge on me

late night

its chilly

but I find that im persuaded to stay

awhile..

this swing is gonna break ere long

But now

were flying

and life's about making that break

away..

from acoustic strumming and plucks

please no midnight surcharge

im willing to wait

or so i lie

so i may lay on the rocks

is that your date?

ill be happy to meet him

just give me a ring

and im content attached to my thoughts

clean streets

a mean streak

and theres a buzzing for the chance for a fight

again..

its passing, drinking games, with no end

high hopes

frus-trate

this fountainhead and song to no ends

andthen..

Were embracing renaissance history

I shred to feel irate

Such cathartic hate

rolling off my tongue

but ive never feel myself more one

September, take it easy

the trek is won with the fire

Laced in both tone and timbre

This tranquilizer of time

And oh nooo...

I dont need to be going home...

Not tonight

And so, the stories are true

I have gave myself permission
To have a life....

And oh nooo...
I dont need to be going home...
Not tonight

And so, the stories are true
I have gave myself permission
To have a life....

rishik ponders

No really. What is the point in having laws for archaeology? The obsession with laws has got to stop somewhere. Its not about predicting. Its about explaining. Describing. And being critical.



Finally done with KI. hopefully for the last time.

The distant stereo Medley

The distant stereo medley

by -rishik...





I dont need to tell you now

Theres no need to spell it out

can you hear the humming growing louder

(no?)

its clouding out this shout





are you here to put me down

do we have to make this out?

ive resigned to leave it as I found it



unanswered, in the crowd

----------------

----------------

would you be there in the early morning

standing on the edge of waking

How.. does it feel like,

these trains dont wait for anyone

the kite is flying

trailing at the back its sinking

down...did you realise

the air in town, cant take this kind of fun..

but your not scared

when i see in your eyes

theres no suprise

and violet light is

flailing uncontrollably...

was it not, or was this dance for me?

and im uncertain how

i let these days

go by without a faint

hint

of joie de vivre

mispronounced

in calm uncertainty.

sha la la la la la laaa

oh

and so I

--------------

--------------

I dont need to be here now

theres no need to force it out

the humming isnt growing any louder

no

its peace without a doubt

theres no need to put me down

my feet for sure have found the ground

its unlikely that these wings are soon to grow

but you dont really know.

yo

Yo. Just gonna leave you guys today with two thoughts to ponder over.


Why does everyone over generalise?

Who needs rhetorical questions?


-------
Peace, love, fraternity and all the jazz.
Cheers

Over my head

"shes on your mind.. shes on your mind..."
Theres a very specific, if not valid, reason why I force myself to not listen to certain songs too many times. "Cable car" is one of those songs. And it just happens, that thats the very same reason I hate the radio. The fact that overplaying a song can kill it for you. Even the best of songs die that way. That what I call fucking murder.


And dont you hate murder? Does it not fill you with disgust and sadness. With shock and dissapointment. Or maybe your different. Maybe its either shock OR dissapointment. Either ways... Its a bitch aint it?


this might come as a surprise to alot of people, but I love this country to the core. It takes me that way. Like painting. Like a waterfall. Like nothing moving not quite going, getting something, nothing missing. It fills me. And it purges me. Or does it fill me in its purge. Maybe. Maybe I fill myself. Or maybe thats just a nonsense statement that contributes to... nothing. Nothing moving not quite going, getting something, nothing missing. But can nonsense contribute. Does it fill you? The answer is yes, whether you like it or not. The follow up question would be "with what??" And thats when you answer properly. With something? Or with... nothing (moving not quite going, getting something, nothing missing). Or neither. Dont you love choices.


I suppose what I love the most about choices, is that when listed out from end to end, you realise that you dont quite have a choice anymore. The very process of listing kills the spiritedness in being free. We restrict when we liberate. So in that case, is it more reasonable for us to hide all the choices. Offer but one. To liberate the individual, and allow him the magic of choosing his own rebellion? The magic from the forbidden fruit. T-Ah-boo~. Seems like a plan indeed. Seems like a mission.


On the topic of modernism, has anyone ever noticed just how modernist Sports can be? its all about scoring the goal. getting more points, more pockets, more wickets, more baskets. Its objective. Its quantitative. Its straightforward. Its far from a game.


dang, I love the fact my H3 is all over the place. From lit to history to economics to politics, even a little dash about religion. Damn yeaah.


"Local God" by everclear.
"little by little" Oasis.


SpS for the win.

hey hey you you

Signum Fidei, signum fidei.


Yahoo!answers has got to be the most addictive thing in the world.
Besides coffee. And opium. Maybe alcohol, gambling, nicotine, and the works. But you know. After all THOSE, i BET Yahoo!answers comes right next. Yeaps.. thats just how addictive it is.


--------


"What one man, can do, is loovee~
What one man, can do, is dreeaam~
What one man, can do, is change the world
and make it young again...
Here you see what one man, can do."


--------


Ah, to be nostalgic and inspired.
This life is too fast. The life is too short.
This life has too much potential to be wasted.
This life has so much potential to be wasted.







Rock on, my brothers and sisters. This is our moment of reckoning. Lets kick some ass.

ill set the city on fire, just to show you the light

Meriwether, motion city soundtrack, fallout boy and George Gershwin.

Sounds to get me through the week.

Birthday was good. Thanks to all who wished me.

So TLB is not a H1 subject. So I have 10 units. Great.




Better get back to my H3. 6 hours. I can do it. haha.
-------------
Dario Maranelli
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VOQ4x-AsQo4

------

All-time Low

"Should I write myself, out of the history books"

Im Off.

Cheers

Yes

Hey all


I know some of you might have heard about me trying to raise awareness for the refugee crisis in Myanmar and Laos. But I realised alot of you dont know just what is going on, or what im trying to do. And I also realised how stupid I was, having this blog, and not making use of its publicity potential. So



ANYWAYS... this is what you NEED to know on the situation.



WHAT
just a little north of Malaysia, there is a forgotten group of people who are being persecuted, "hunted down" and killed within Southeast Asia. These are the refugees of Myanmar and Laos . You probably haven't heard of them despite living so near them in Singapore, and this is why we are working to spread the word about this group of people.



HOW you can help
We would like to ask you for 10 minutes of your time, to:



1. Visit this site ( www.refugeesg.wordpress.com) and watch 2 videos that will show what is going on there
2. After that, you can sign the petition to ask for this to be stopped- why this has gone on for so long is because of citizens in neighbouring countries ( e.g. us) not doing much to condemn this persecution
3. Then, please forward this email to all your yahoogroups and contacts!




WHY sign the petition?
every name that we put on this petition can go a long way in putting a stop to this. Please try to raise awareness for this in any way you can- we are not a NGO or anything of that sort, just a bunch of youth who have learnt of this and must do something about it. We cant guarantee anything. But we cant let that stop us from trying.



If you can, please blog about this issue or put the address of the website in your MSN nick to tell your friends about these people!
Thanks for reading this!



-rishik...
Refugees SG
http://www.refugeesg.wordpress.com/

shalubalubaloom!

Shia LeBeouf would play Vernon God Little in the movie version. he would have to. I know it.

On another note, Im nearly done with my H3.

the sea

The sea wants to take me
by Rishik Menon
(Based on Jeff Buckley's rendition of "I know its over")


Oh I know that you feel it, ma. the soil falls over your head.
And believe me, cause I feel it, ma. the soil falling over my head.




All we do is remember.
Cause there is
nothing
else,
that we can
hope for.


Did you see how low the tide was amma? Its a walk I wont forget.
And we took this in our stride, so far. But I dont want to forget.


We havent gone that far from her.
But im
drawn
to the soil
to get wet.

And the youth can stand strong so far.
But the youth cant forget.


And we let it go.
And we feel the cold.
And were bare, both our bodies our soul.

But why do we hear her? Because we didnt let go. No, we know. Were not that strong.




We walked to your beach, amma. Its like all that you said.
We washed in the sea, under the stars which had left.



And its frozen.
and the sea has withdrawn from the cold.
And this fire.
This fire it wont let me know. Know. when this is over. oh.

no. no, never.




never. we never fold.



And its pouring.
In this empty, between this and that.
And we're walking.
this tide, that i did not expect.


Its so far between. Its so lonely.
This sand's not clean.
But unholy?
Was that what you said?




'tween the sea and the embers. this landscape is cold.
and its shallow.

and this fire. this fire wont know.
let me know.

will I ever know.. know.


when this is over.

all time low

Coffee shop soundtrack by All time Low

"I can keep a secret if you can keep me guessing,
The flavor of your lips is enough to keep me pressing,
for more than just a moment of truth between the lies told,
to pull ourselves away from the lives we leave back home..."


------------

Whooo. Ever have one of those days, when the weigth just get so dam heavy on your chest, that your mind runs blank. And you know that something has gone wrong somewhere in the recent past.


hmmm...
The recent past sucks.


hmmm...
i think im gonna fight for this.
ciao.

is this the life

God knows I tried to learn the ways of the world, even had inklings we could be glorious; but after all thats happened, the inkles aint easy anymore. I mean- What kind of Fucken life is this?

Theres a reason why Vernon God Little is one of my favourite novels. sigh.

-------
drama handover today. finished KI IS first draft. starting on H3 tomorrow. Meeting theodore and huang tomorrow. Met ms lee yesterday and meeting her again for the Hilary challenge on Sunday. Mr Hasim approved my refugee presentation, plan.


Its like what Rannald's nik says. Time aint gonna wait for no one. Its gonna go. And i got to bounce straight back.


did alot of thinking today after the handover. And dammit how lucky am I. I made it this far. I lived on the verge of insanity and I made it this far. I made it. I lived through it. And there is nothing more I can ask for. Well. Nearly nothing anyways.

-----------
Listening to
Forever Young.
and Summer Love.
=)

------------


“& Salomon in Singapore…”
By Rishik V. Menon
There is a world out here which you don’t know
A world out here which you may never see
A world some have heard of, but don’t understand
A world, which the other worlds may never need
This is the world which I reside in
This is the world which you don’t feel
This the world I know I have meaning
This is the only world which seems real

cursive sounds good

This discipline is occuring too infrequently for me, to actually make any significant difference.








so here comes the hurricane. the great plunge we have all been waiting for. Filmed in HD for your viewing pleasure.

love

My grandmother lived the most amazing life, of any person I have ever known.
No one gave as much as her. Without asking, demanding for anything in return.
No one loved as much as her. So unconditionally, so sincerely, that genuine joy was planted in all those around her. She personified the spirit of loving. I have lost count of the number of people who gush over how she was like a mother to them. How they felt pampered by her mere presence. How lucky they were to have known her. She was amazing. beyond belief. I never saw her spread any negativity to anyone. She was headstrong in being the best Human Being there possibly could be. Every scolding, she took. Every time someone hurt her, she bore it. In a family so dystopically cracked, she weathered, and held us united. She forgave those whom others refused to forgive, (even when it was her who under went greater hurt than anyone else.) She was understanding. She was caring. She was determined to live independently and strong. She broke the rules and never looked back. She refused to let herself burden others. She was a fighter, who drew her strength from her love for everyone else. And we drew our strength from her. She would disregard caution and cook for the sake of her children and grandchildren. She threw tradition and custom aside for the sake of the happiness and joy of her loved ones. She knew when her actions would incite criticism. But it was her knowledge of how much, her actions would create a smile that drove her on. She gave her life for her family. And in doing so she fed us with that spark that made us special. She was our inspiration. She was the infallible. She was the most humble, un-hateful and peaceful being that I have ever know. She held my hand and walked with me. She massaged my legs when I was in pain. She remembered my favourite dishes for as long as I can remember. And her memory was equally good. Every simple story of the smallest favours we did for her, she kept to her heart. And she would remind us of how special we were, filling us with so much euphoria. Even though whatever it was that we did was probably nothing compared to the sacrifices she has made. She was feisty, yet she was mild and unassuming. She was the single cutest thing alive. Her smile was miraculous. Her laugh was heavenly. When she sang for us, that Christmas, I knew I blessed with an angel for a Grandmother. She was our guardian angel then, and she still is now. Every human being has their flaws. No one is perfect. But my attha is not just any human. She had turned her life into a symbol: of love, hope and sacrifice. She was the legend. She was our hero. She was our attha. And we will always love her. And never forget her. And there can be nothing more fulfilling in our short lives, than to try and emulate but a mere fraction of the goodwill that was my grandma. Our grandma. Atha.

when i see you in heaven

In Her Testiment (part 1)
by rishik V. Menon


I spent the last sunday with God.
It wasnt at any church or temple
at ceylon road or otherwise.
It was at ward 23, at the ICU
at changi general hospital.
She laid there blessing us
with memories of time spent with her
and purging our souls
till we were reduced to
dulcet tears on the floor.


At first i wondered if it was ironic or not.
How the steady, dull beep and
monotone of heaves for air could signal life.
But that was before i saw your eye
and then i understood
and there was nothing else to fear.
God wasnt dead.
She was right there


how fearful.
how frightening.
How human to demand answers and consolation of heaven and forever.
how weakening.
how powerless.
how could we even give up hope for a moment when moments are so dear.
When mortality is but a mere symptom of humans.
And its a fact,
that ideals will never die.
-----

Tears In Heaven
Eric Clapton
-----------------
Would you know my name if I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same if I saw you in heaven?
I must be strong and carry on
'Cause I know I don't belong here in heaven


Would you hold my hand if I saw you in heaven?
Would you help me stand if I saw you in heaven?
I'll find my way through night and day
'Cause I know I just can't stay here in heaven


Time can bring you down, time can bend your knees
Time can break your heart, have you begging please
Begging please Beyond the door there's peace I'm sure
And I know there'll be no more tears in heaven


Would you know my name if I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same if I saw you in heaven?
I must be strong and carry on
'Cause I know I don't belong here in heaven
'Cause I know I don't belong, here in heaven

take my pain away

I think if any band was to be associated with the movie half nelson, it would have to be "Jimmy eat world". either them or Bob Marley. haha. yeaa...

-------

The moon was so clean today. so. sharp. and clean. picturesque to the point of perfection. you should have seen it. sigh.

--------


It really must suck to not have any neighbours you know... Just people you can say hi to on the way home. people who you can go over to, just for coffee or a chat. or just ring up and go cycle with. damn i miss pasir ris heights. as eccentric as it was, it was home. i want to go back home. gaah. of course the people there made it what it was. dharvin. kyle. peter keith. sigh. no doubt about it. I wanna go home.

..

I wanna go skate.


I wanna go skate, right now. Now. and not go for my lit paper tomorrow. i wanna see how far i can travel. then sleep where ever i find myself. I wanna forget about exams. i wanna forget about getting a scholarship. i just wanna stay up late at night and feel alive, for a change.
..

maybe tonight, ill sleep with my window open. my curtains been drawn for a good 6 months. dont ask me why. it just has.

.
why do i feel compelled to sleep, when my body knows i dont feel it?
what am i trying to achieve, here?
ah, heck it.
im off.

yummmmsss

It has come to my attention that Jef Buckley is not in rock and roll hall of fame. how troubling... hmmm...


"are you gonna study tomorrow"
"of course. i always study tomorrow!"
hmm. maybe that might be the root of my incoming common test woes. possibly? haha.


modern chemistry is a way cool song.
"i believe in medication!
i believe in therapy!"

--------------
A & B (or C & C?)
by rishik menon


when you first entered my sight,
i wasnt sure which thought struck me first.
the quelling of my insatiable appetite
or the timely ripening of your fragrant fruit.
neither seemed perverse nor unnatural.
either seemed unmistakably unavoidable.
as i undressed your course delicate
bosom and revealed your
brute awkwardness to the world of oxides,
i hesitated to indulge your countenance.
was that pale coat that discoloured your
heroic landscape of mountains and valleys
a result of the reality of mass manufacturing?
or has that wispy sheet followed you
from that southern mess
your ancestors called home?
your so-called heritage?
The answer is of no consequence to me.
I bathe you slowly in my porcelain ashram,
two quick gestures, out of impatience,
out of my appreciation of your fragility.
and then i proceed to enjoy every morsel of your moment
in your form, adulterated and soaking from my
seedy solution.
on occasion, i regale myself the risk
of taking you for a second swim
in my acerbic concoction.
and i enjoy every bit of adrenaline
i feel as I find myself anxious
for your safe return.
Daunting... yet Im confident,
that if you come back it will
be as twice as seductive,
without any consideration for your
consumption. for death was bound
to catch up with all of us sooner or later.
just yours was in the pipeline
much sooner than the rest of us.
i suppose, that my taking a personal pleasure
and interest in your affairs, didnt leave
for much else to hope for.
-------------

we'll play a dream without a trace

breaking breaking breaking
bre akin g
o ut o f thisslow

and con tr i ved s h e l l.
s l o w ly and imresisting
cau se th a t s the la st t h i n g i

w a n t t o all ow. f o r ei ther to see th e

t r u th in si de, an d so i pul l
my self backt ogether andresi st.
resistthebr e aking o f
t h i s r e lu cta nt l i e. l i e that I,

re main un cer tain, is to th e be st of my
in te re st s. aye? nay? a nd as i re turn to t h i s l i n e o f thought, i c an t help b u t notice
i am breakingbreaking breaking apart.
so i resisteveryinch and hide.

pong 3d curveball

song on my mind.
"no doubling back" jason mraz
"no seatbelt song" brand new
"modern chemistry" motion city soundtrack


shalala. so here is me, trying to write a fun poem. where people WONT come up to me and say "wow. that was beautiful. i loved it. bla bla bla. very confusing though. didnt understand half of what you were saying". pffft.

so in the spirit of Poe, i present...
--------------------------

Odious Efforts At Immitating Ulalume
by rishik V. Menon


on occasion there comes such a time
a time where does wander, my mind.
to a time that has past
yet the feeling does last
like a tingle, it runs down my spine.


but oh strange, is this feeling i feel
that im not even sure if its real
but from the back of my mind
i swear once was a time
when current flowed through like copper, annealed
not steel, no, but copper, annealed.


so forgive me, as I now profess
but it just wont come out of my chest
like a residual tickle
the thought makes me stickle
with amnesia, she wont let me rest.


so without further haste
here, i'll elucidate


how it was Magic, Electric to me!
though i doubt other readers agree!
how that sound of that song
thats not been played for so long
sends me dreaming of seeing the sea!


how magic, electric it was!
now ive lost all my structure of verse!
but when i read what i wrote
oh, and i know its no joke
what i felt was as real as my thirst.


its so strange when i look back to now
how its changed, how ive lost all my 'wow'.
like snow it had melted,
though i swore once I felt it
seems all milk will eventually sour.


i swear, in this time I cant feel.
neither happy nor sad, nor half-real.
but when i remenisce
its so easy to miss
that i wish back then id made time heel.


for it was- Magic. Electric. to ME!
though i doubt other readers agree!
from early august, no wonder,
up till past september,
id fly to the moon and feel free


yes how magic electric it was
this wont be the last nor the first
time that i shall declare
how I wish i was there
just to snap back here, just to see it burst


its Magic Electric, to me.
though i doubt other readers agree.
and i cant undertsand
how that pulse down my hand
was sent by a source which i really cant see.


so i wonder at times if you feel
the way i do, when it feels unreal
but theres no way i'll know
that times gone years ago
and in the back of my mind it stays sealed.
sealed up, is that magic i feel.
right next to the electric, so sealed.

happy happy birthday

I know there was an accident here by saosin
closing time by matchbox 20

mmms... music to soothe the soul.


i realise i havent written a proper post in a long time. almost feels like ive forgotten how to.
well there can only be one real explanation.


YOU!! thats right amma! YOU! GET OUT OF MY BLOG!


so having said that i gracefully leave. maybe get a new url. maybe add a password. we'll see. but till then.


GRRRrrrr...
>= (


I know you arnt that great with computers. so ill just tell you. see those symbols up there?

> = (

yeah. those symbols thats an angry face. tilt your head to the left and it makes sense.



-------------------
but just before i leave.

Charlie and the chocolate factory rocks! haha. if we remember rishik's unreasonably extensive list of movie awards from last year. here comes the latest one.

Special award for the Vindication of Rishik's Sanity: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory!


whooo! well done johnny depp. good night to you all.

the party just got started

Any room any block
by Rishik V. Menon


it all starts here, dont stop
dont lose another drop
such a waste of time
twas designed to flop.
destiny awaits
but your acting in haste
but you mean it
when your sayin, damn
"why the heck not"


so we pack our days
and memories away
of the times when the
hand of the clock would sway.
to the rhythm of your number
which i hardly can remember
as i seal it
kiss and wish
that this is worth a shot


cause i wont know what i forgot


so have I..
finally arrived at the party
cause i cant really tell
when theres no colour no smell
and it sure feels awfully empty
such so, that i wanna come home
but i wont move until I know


for you I made belief
a star from sundried leaves
and maybe its light
would somehow blind your grief
though im perched here expiring,
certain my time is running
anyday
ill lend my shade
before i slowly fade


this change is more
than i bargained for
this balance due
its underscored
by a pain from having to stay as same
as picture portraits in family frames.
not that I was sure
or I saw it as a chore
but i never dared risking claustrophobia


so have I..
finally arrived at the party
cause i cant really tell
when its as empty as hell
and it sure feels awfully empty
such so, that i swear im alone
but i wont move until I know


-------------------


Room 4370 by Rishik V. Menon


i used to play games of make belief
i made you a star from sundried leaves
and maybe that star today
would shine from above, and show you the way
though im perched here expiring, and smiling
its hopeless to pretend that ill still be trying
any much longer to show you my shade
so i wish you the best
as i slowly fade

the left pap, where heart doth hop!

Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show...

but wonder on, till truth make all things plain!

thus have I, wall, my part discharged so

and beign done, thus Wall away doth go.

I am the movie

god.

i miss st pats like hell..


i miss the music.


i miss the friends.


i miss the feeling of being home.


the sublime of late late nights.


i miss the chill down my spine as i learn about life.


i miss the way everything was so fresh.


i miss the potential i felt.


i miss those months on end, of pure magic, current and life.


i miss my life,


i miss what i left behind.


i miss feeling myself grow as a young man.


its the something corporate and jealous sound. the first time i strummed a chord on my guitar. its the flow of creativity on scraps of paper under random blocks in pasir ris at 11 at night. its the taste of speeding on my skates without a second thought or care. its the st pat's heritage room. where i fell in love, where i thought i knew what i wanted, where i opened my eyes to a magical new world of stars and prayers. its re-discovering my childhood in pasir ris park, the beach the sand and the coconut breezers. its the air conditioner and the pool hall, and the smile on our face when we said to ourselves, "this is gonna last". its beyond myself. within my reach. its those early morning prefect assemblies gazing at the still lingering moon. its those people i met, that life i gave and the life i saw.


its the life i still strive for. but grow further and further away from.


its amazing how going through my friendster pictures can evoke so much.
its amazing how true i was, when i said adolscence is the best time of anyone's life. especially now, as im slipping further and further away from it.


sigh. and i also missed the ways my 'sigh' would be interpreted.

sigh.