Moving along

Finally breathing (relatively) easy. And moving along just fine.



Oh my that's a silly picture. But that's what i'm playing again. Hell get a life. Hmm... let me see where i can get that.

Also – meant to say this for a while already – the commenting system is down. i've been waiting around for her to decide to get back to work but looks like it ain't gonna happen. i wanted her back so much i even dreamt that she was up the other night. So for whatever you wish to say, either email me or (if you don't have my email) check out Lenard's blog instead. It's got a tagboard so you can say whatever you want, including unkind remarks on his blog design.  ¶

02:19 |

 

Always too kind

Thanks to you, i begin to see myself in a new light. Why do i have to keep apologizing to myself for being something i've yet to be? Why do i have to keep blaming myself for feeling what's rightful of me to feel? Those accusatory remarks, at such obvious malignity – they should be delivered. Why then should i suffer those blows as if i deserve them? There's no more kind feelings left. And i shall cease fearing. The next time, i'll stand up straight and look you in the eyes. My conscience is clear now. Thanks to you.  ¶

15:01 |

 

Why do we fall?

Perhaps it's the same when we get hurt. Just forget the underbelt punch. And scrap the finger-pointing. Pick ourselves up, and get on. Take a hard look at ourselves in the mirror at midnight, and still look good from that angle. Black out the lights and type in darkness. Take eerieness as a supplement. That little fear inside keeps us alive.



i was wrong thinking it's ended. It's just begun.  ¶

02:14 |

 

Spotted anything ladylike? Daughter of the 6th Marquess of Bristol, she appears frequently in tabloids over her social life. Famous for her quote:

     It's so bad being homeless in winter. They should buy a plane
     ticket and go somewhere hot like the Caribbean.




Heiresses to the Hilton Hotel fortune and apparently blond (no, not talking about the hair). Before you cry "sl*ts!!!", however, just keep in mind that you aren't even rich enough to stay in their family hotel.




Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen. American twins. Riches, youngs, hots, and blonds.




A British model and actress, she is also the first daughter of Mick Jagger, lead singer of The Rolling Stones. Her former boyfriend, Sean Lennon, is the son of John Lennon, lead singer of the Beatles. Talk about fate.




Granddaughter of the late Greek shipping magnate Aristotle Onassis. Inherited hoards of cash, property, jewels, and other assets from the Onassis estate. Loves horseriding for no reason apparent.




Yes you guessed absolutely right. She is the daughter of the American estate tycoon Donald Trump. Currently the only legitimate heiress to claim Trump's ungodly wealth, she is also a supermodel with international fame.




Daughter of the French tycoon Bernard Arnault, who owned Louis Vuitoon. She became the only female board member of the company at 29. Rather old. Speaks French, too.  ¶

13:07 |

 

i got selected (randomly?) to represent the SAF at the MacPherson Constituency National Day Dinner. Huh???  ¶

22:53 |

 

At last coming to the last week of July, with so many things to anticipate in August.

1. The return so looked forward to but feared in the last minute.
2. Zouk outing.
3. The family trip to Phuket.
4. The acquisiton of a 'lil permission over which lies have been told to friends and foes alike.
5. My own bike, probably.

Ok, five would make it good.  ¶

23:24 |

 

Wow, police raid at Chinablack.  ¶

16:29 |

 

For the purpose of immersion we watched an Indon film titled Virgin today – a very Britney-ish title, with the same substance-bereft plot to go along. But the leading actress just looks like a teen version of Catalina Moreno. Ooh my type.



For the same purpose i tried to say "terima kasih, Pak" to the taxi uncle when i alighted. But there was no response. Perhaps because i wasn't the one paying.  ¶

00:01 |

 

Cajole

Perhaps you don't see how bad i felt. Fairly bad, i'd say. i'm not angry at you, only slightly so at myself, for being an asshole if you prefer the usage of that word. And i don't need any cajoling, least of all from you.

  ¶

13:26 |

 

Bahasa

Two days of Standard Indonesian Made Simple, and i promise i'll never again think less of others' efforts to acquire a new tongue.  ¶

22:13 |

 

Angry

How could i be? When this is what i wanted you to see all along, that the world is big and opportunities many. The only disappointment is when i saw you turn too fast, which worries me on two ends, and there is perhaps a hint of surprise, too, at how much i still cared. But maybe i'd one day get over you, too, just like how you said you got over me.  ¶

22:01 |

 

Google amuses again:

  ¶

00:56 |

 

This is by far my favourite photo by Jian Xiong.

  ¶

12:55 |

 

Pictures from Sentosa day, thanks to Jian Xiong for letting me use his professional snapper, at times.







For all photos, click here.  ¶

12:32 |

 

The only photo from the Initial D night in which i look acceptable. Kat's camera can throw already...



For other photos in which Kat doesn't look nice, click here.  ¶

23:13 |

 

Oblivion at its best

Terseness at its worst. That was really hurtful but i shall shrug it off, if not for my own sake.  ¶

08:01 |

 

Therapy

The sun wasn't especially strong, and the Palawan sands were like cheese flakes to hold. The salty smell of sea wafted up the sloped beach, the bunch of friends who share the same NS fate playing a game of soccer behind me. i slowly opened my eyes and let my mind sort itself while my fingers doodled the flat patch of sand i just made. Cheers rang out, a goal was scored. My turn to join and let the rough sand make tiny cuts on the back of my feet. A silly joke here and a sincere laugh there.

Ah my first day of therapy.  ¶

20:08 |

 

Empty night. Night as empty as the stomach, as the eyes. The ghost. Just outside the corner of my eyes. Now i understand, the calm voice, the mockery in disguise, the seamless movement from V and S to I. An augmented chord, a shift in time, a bad day at work - all it takes. A mirror, a strout, the door opens, how does it look? i don't know, i didn't look, the pupil in denial. The reel's running, focus: the jumping seismograph, the last note gone flat, anything but the scrambling red. What's the rush? asks the unread.

5 to 3, i could if i want to, right?  ¶

02:55 |