the comment tool on my blog only works for one blog entry. somehow i don't think it's supposed to be that way. anyway, i like my new blog template, which is funny cos i also like borders and margins which this new dude lacks. (it's alright, we still love you.)
10:14 PM
July 29, 2002
the odius crime of letting go of yourself
to the court
where the ball is in your court
but no one is playing.
you'd hate yourself for it, but you're beautiful,
it's not your fault.
try wishing away your other half, keep the balls though.
you will need them. or maybe, kill the other half as well after that
then throw away your love of everything soft and chimerical
no point in that.
no point in anything else.
keep by your side that one thing your pace-maker
think it is there with you all the time. it tends to work that way.
you can't switch it off though. and you can't switch off something that never was on.
yet you lived, but how?
you did. the private peals of laughter to benjamin
aberrate within the benjamin and are lost to the benjamin.
like so, all is lost and life goes back to normal. the tears dry (he no more cries)
tomorrow will be too much even again.
10:43 PM
the saddest thing is i don't tell anybody.
and the sadder thing is nobody knows what this is about.
the sad thing is they never will.
10:15 PM
ring ring went the ringing phone.
'it's for you' i said to my sister.
'ask who it is' said she.
'who it is, please?' asked i.
'her friend' said the voice trapped in the phone.
'excellent. would you like to leave a message?' i replied.
'no that's ok. bye.' said the same voice.
and so i told my sister, "your friend called 'your friend' called."
10:09 PM
tragedy
i should make a movie out of my life.
eat yer heart out, bill.
9:58 PM
on new words to describe self
fastidious and punctilious.
4:26 PM
July 28, 2002
I am 57% Grunge I am pretty dirty, all right and, I reek of teen spirit... I would sell my own children for a moldy hotpocket, man.
I am 53% Tortured Artist Art is significant in my life, people are scum but I have the capicity to deal with it. Give it a few more years and I will either forget about art or hate the world.
no i am not bi what is wrong with you.
and i'm not even a girl.
5:52 PM
July 27, 2002
there is no such thing as unconditional. it's always conditional. like, how it depends on whether the steak is well done or rare or medium rare. you don't just like steak. you don't. doesn't matter that it still is steak. never did matter.
11:02 AM
Growing Up Punk
by Caleb Lenertz
It isn't easy to grow up punk. Look at the eyes of an artist for a moment and see how the world is good the way it is, but you can make it better. Problem is, you get a lot of resistance to your changes. That's fine; it just resolves you to your cause. You decide to tell the world that it can take that wad of churning goop you are trying to shove down everyone's thoughts. And all the while you have a smile on your face. Not 'cause you are happy about what you are doing all the time, but because you are doing so much good and they aren't even noticing that you are doing what you want.
Then, that first day sitting on the side of the street in first grade, and you got your first punk experience. Some guy walks by wearing something that makes everyone take notice of him, and you realize they can't do anything to him. You realize that they can't touch you. Casting off that entire monotone herd mentality for your danger of seeing every thing you do is going to change the world forever. You know, I have a friend with a saying that makes perfect sense:
"Why not?"
Then your life starts -- you start to realize what it's like to be punk for real. You decide that anything you do will have some significance, if to no one else but yourself.
You discover one treasure after another. You find dancing and you learn from the movement of others, because you know you can truly talk through movement. You see a way to tell others: back off and look at what is out there. You find writing and find out you are good at it. You throw off all other ideas and tell the world what they are doing wrong. They hate your book, but they use it when they are making the changes you already said needed to be made.
Then you find your true love: Theater. It's a whole new medium a new way of telling everyone your message. You see a medium in which you can show your feelings where others can see it but accept it with some joy instead of pity or gratitude.
The first day on the job is great -- you are totally in charge. Anything that happens is your doing. The teachers look at your ideas on the stage, your lighting, your set, your sound -- and as a matter of fact, your script doesn't make any sense. They leave all your ideas, though, because that is what you are hired for, and because you tell them it will work out ok and they will just have to trust you. They don't, of course, but they don't have any time to get anyone else to replace what you just did with something that makes sense to them. The show comes around and your bosses are amazed everything you said would happen happened. You even managed to come up with a few by the seat of your pants.
After that, you're pretty much grown -- you will have to figure out that part on your own. It gets way complicated then, so you are on your own. But now they have to listen to you because they can't afford to not listen.
10:38 AM
July 25, 2002
i denounce my homophobia. it no longer digusts me to the point where i want to die. i find it quite funny actually. while i remind you that i'm no longer homophobic, i'm not homosexual either, just so you know.
3:01 PM
July 24, 2002
the day has come to an end
the sun is over my head
my polyamorous friend
got me in a mass of trouble again
so just when you think that you're alright
i'm callin' out from the inside
i never hurt anyone
i never left any love
they've come to get me again
the cloud is over my head
my polyamorous friend
got me in a mass of trouble again
so just when you think that you're alright
i'm callin out from the inside
i never hurt anyone
i never left any love
just stay away from the white light
i'd say your was side your best sight
i never hurt anyone
i never left anyone
oh how do u know?
oh how do u know?
oh how do u know?
oh how do u know?
just when you think that you're alright
i'm callin out from the inside
i never hurt anyone
i never left any love
just stay away from the white light
i'd say your was side your best sight
i never hurt anyone
i never left any love
let it go
breaking benjamin - polyamorous
11:14 PM
July 22, 2002
pak.
do your blog a favour and link my own to it. i didn't know you got a new blog, so.
2:51 PM
July 21, 2002
sex is probably the next best thing to eating. better if you could do both at the same time. probably.
5:39 PM
July 17, 2002
having played with a twisted ankle, and skinned my knee and elbow and grazed my palm, under the sun, bruised my hip, and now i've discovered i've got sand in my undies, and to come out with a draw, where a teammate scores from a corner, makes soccer all the more a fascinating sport.
i was forced to think earlier today. singapore's education system; has it got any merits at all.
and i say, yes, it does. absolutely. it's a great excuse for relocating a significant portion of china's blooming blundering population to our own forsaken abode. really. plus think of the benefits they bring along with them. and not to mention the smells. oh yes, the smell. the flowery literature they harbour. and they all fucking had to fucking be in my fucking school.
isn't it beautiful, the learning of perfectly redundant stuff? like, mathematical induction. the brilliancy of muthafuckers who devoted their lives to math, then realised how wrond and stupid they were, so decided to come up with the most illogical piece of shit to explain their general incompetence.
and people in general have taken to being such muthafucking muggers, that you don't only need to be smart anymore. you need to be stupified to monotonic mugging and the consequent decadence to lifelessness. which i can't stand.
7:23 PM
July 11, 2002
A heart that's full up like a landfill, a job that slowly kills you, bruises that won't heal
You were so tired, happy, bring down the government, they don't, they don't speak for her
I'll take the quiet life, a handshake of carbon monoxide
No alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no surprises
Silent, silent
This is my final fit, my final bellyache with
No alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no surprises, please
Such a pretty house, such a pretty garden
No alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no surprises, please
radiohead - no surprises
7:08 PM
July 09, 2002
everyone wants to go to nz. it's an honour, remembering that i was born there. yet the country's on the verge of reversion to third world status. it must have been third world at some point of it's existence, no? anyway, this goes to show that people in singapore (or at least the 14 of them who took the test) would largely like to get away from here and get to a place with a simple living, and with lots of sheep.
9:41 PM
July 07, 2002
i hereby declare the non-temporary erasement of the blogs of the following:
Pak Shu Hwa Chong Junior College
Tang Xiang Yang, who's still pretty much bald
some other dud. i can't remember. which rather explains why i've erased him. non-temporarily...
3:16 AM
July 04, 2002
be a darling, vote.
4:10 PM
July 03, 2002
A Grown Man and A Little Girl
mister, why were you crying?
i wasn't. when did you see me cry?
i didn't. but i know you did. why?
nah, i wasn't. go back. go play or something.
i don't like my friends. i don't like the games they play either.
why not?
they're dumb i guess. aren't you gonna tell?
tell?
tell. why you were crying.
lotsa stuff. you know how you don't like your friends? i don't like everything.
so why cry?
because i... well, shouldn't i? it's really sad don't you think?
yeah, it is. you shouldn't cry.
i know. but you weren't supposed to see me cry. or know i cried.
i didn't. you looked upset, so i thought i'd ask. it happens to me as well.
oh. haha, you're good.
thanks.
where're you going?
gonna play with my friends for a while more.
i thought you didn't like them.
i don't.
5:55 PM
desidero gettare via tutto ed andare insano. realmente. in modo da potrei perdere il fuoco e non preoccuparsi più quando ci è una scomparsa dei vostri sogni e una negligenza afflitta del vostro proprio, che è l'uscita più semplice.
5:18 PM
i want to throw away everything and go insane. i really do. so i could lose focus and not worry anymore. when there is a disparition of your dreams, and a dereliction of your own, that is the easist way out.
4:19 PM
July 02, 2002
a plea to die
to fly so high
the need to be alone
with song and blood
the murmurs of a retard
i hear
and drift away to floating ladders
that hold out daggers
each time i pull me up
a level higher
no more desire
i want to die
and fly so high
where the bee
will be waiting for me
to take me from now
to engage in tete-a-tete
no, it's worse than that,
silly bee.
you hardly know me.
hang maybe kill you
i will find my own way
my reasoning frayed
i'm lost and extra-terrestrial
high and in denial.
this is where i want to be, yes?
no, but i'll make myself feel at home.
will you come with me. for just a while.
we can make it your home as well.
hop you don't mind the mess.
neither do i, it just appeared.
nevermind that. thanks for coming.
11:33 PM
July 01, 2002
it's 2.38pm on a monday and lookie who's at home.
this is why i ponned econs lect: cos i fucking felt like it.
got screwed in gp class today. by my gp tutor. no, figuratively. i didn't do my holiday homework, and she decided to ask for it. not only did i not do, i didn't bring. so i'll be looking to spend my wednesday afternoon writing some gp essay. part of the homwork though, not punishment. cos a lot of the others incidentally chose to forget with me. and the rest of the homework, it's due tomorrow. which is probably my motivation for taking the rest of the day off; to finish the work. i'll probably finish the essay by tuesday as well, so i don't miss a possible friendly soccer match in school.
and later, i've got to go back to school to sit for the new south wales english shit. the fuck is wrong with those fuckers? don't they get it that we, the 118 of us who skipped that stupid thing, don't give a shit about how badly some foreign system wants to rate our english standards? we don't WANT to take your fucking tests. so bugger off, shoo,
leave. us. alone.
2:46 PM
there was a boy who tried to rhyme
so hard he tried he had no time
to thank the ones who gave him tips
on how to end.
