It's a madhouse, my faithless bride.

Clara says:

"Shawn, Taina, Eva and I like the Dresden Dolls.

Taina and i are The Evas."

I like that.

I also like Danny Noriega from American Idol.

I'm going to dye my hair red and tattoo

all those nights we spent together on my back.

[Doesn't that sound intruging?]

I stood in the mirror and contemplated my body

and I've decided that I don't really care that

I'm carrying around a little extra weight now.

I still look okay and it helps that you

like my hipbones.

[I'll sneak in some exercise because I would

like to remain on the verge of being fat, thank you]

I count to ten when I get that feeling,

hoping it'll go away by five.

It doesn't ever really go away, but it's okay.

It's okay.

I do miss spontaneity and sitting around on steps,

people with guitars in their laps and

cigarettes between their fingers, singing badly,

playing loudly, because we are young

and alive.

I get that itching in my shoes again, I'm restless.

I got accepted into school.

I've been working on a piece that speaks of sex and desperation.

I've been screwing on the tracks of abandoned train stations.

I feel happy as Karen O goes Art Star,

doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo.

Twist and Shout!

Well baby I ain't got no plan.

We'll float on maybe would you understand?

Gonna float on maybe would you understand?

Well float on maybe would you understand?

It doesn't come like breathing anymore.

But you're a lovely distraction from

the more not-so-nice thoughts

that float through my mind on

any given day.

Drain you.

And then I'm left in bits

recovering tectonic tremblings

I'll give it my best shot, I promise.

Joel: I can't see anything that I don't like about you.

Clementine: But you will! But you will.

You know, you will think of things.

And I'll get bored with you and feel trapped

because that's what happens with me.

Joel: Okay.

Clementine: [pauses] Okay.

Sometimes everything just feels like the movies.

But it's all so so true.

I feel like everything is just going to fuck up sometimes.

Or maybe it's just the fever talking here.

[I've lost my voice and have been up

half the night due to the scratchy throat

and the feeling that the room was

spinning.]

I'm still a kid you know.

Say goodnight and go.

Ahem, DO the Elmy.

You get?

Made courtesy of Clara.

*

Reprieve from the dreary Chinese New Year festivities.
Elmy is not used to being chapalang in corners.
The first day is always the hardest, I was fucking
crawling out of my skin.
How can anyone stand all this sitting around
doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING?

Anyway, I got the big square-framed sunnies, yay!
And Elmy got his induction into the Wonderful World of Mixtapes.
*

We is be Evas.

Bry is a pimp.

Clara is a drum, Bry is a cymbal, Shiang Nee is a mic,

Eva is a drummer, Beat is a guitar, and I

am a guitarist.

Bry is cumming.

And then Bry is the cum.

These colours don't run.

I'll come up with an 'ASIAN BEATBOXING CHAMPIONSHIPS'/BORDERS INCIDENT/WAKE UP YOUR WEEKEND post later, I need time to sort out my thoughts, and give you a nice long ramble.

Bry didn't win the beatbox thing, but we were all happy cause he is our pimp, and it was just a shitty ruse to just hold a 5566 concert anyway.

I'm glad we shot all the ahlian scum down with our powerful lungs and errr our gun.

*
I'm not going to do anything to refute the "YOU ARE EMO SHIT"-ness of these pictures [and the rest that I'm going to post soon, once the lovely Clara Lock sends them over].

I have fun pretending to be emo shit, I will keep doing it.

*

AND my apologies to the random girl [who looked VAGUELY familiar] in this truck that stopped at the traffic light near bugis.

I didn't mean to flip the bird, but you kept staring.

I hope I don't know you, haha.

*

And don't diss the FAR AND FEW rather awful nonsense in my ipod.

It's there because it's been in my computer foreverrrrr.