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August 30, 2008 | 7:44 PM
(From Billards World Cup 08) The black ball was just in front of the hole. I have the Musketeers' (haha) dance clip, which I'm not uploading onto Youtube, so PM me on MSN if you want it. | 3:11 PM
Dwelling amongst words
Meet the pros. (I don't know why the photos turned out like this, I've already rotated them.)   A novel is something you can live inside, like a house. It has lots of rooms that serve different purposes. You build it with your own two hands, and although it's never perfect, and things are always breaking or need fixing, the dimensions are such that you can pass years of your life there. You can feel at home in it. You eat, you sleep, you have sex, you open your mail. A poem, I suppose, is more like a room. The word stanza actually means "room" in Italian. If you work hard enough on arranging the furniture, you might actually be able to make that room perfect. I think there's the possibility for perfection in a poem that I'm not sure there is with a novel. But as lovely as that room might be, with just the right light and view, eventually you have to leave it. You get hungry or tired, or you have to go to the bathroom. And in the end, as you walk out, you realize you've closed that door behind you forever. Heraclitus said you can't step into the same river twice. Well, when a poem or a novel is finished, you can't ever go back in the same way. It's just that a novel you live in for longer. And I like that. Wandering around in that house and making a life there. Yes, yes. August 28, 2008 | 9:41 PM
Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow: My State of Mind
 Although I don't quite agree with the surrounding colours. August 27, 2008 | 7:09 PM
Hot Guy Update!
The other day at Dom Tan's house, he told me all about how crazy Ying Ru is over the German gymnast Marcel Nguyen. I was not at all convinced, so I searched for him on Facebook (for a fan page or something). And instead, I found an even hotter guy! And it so happened that Ying Ru told me today she sent me a Sexy Man request, so I logged on to Facebook and accepted it, and to thank her for sending me Jude Law (Jude Law is not sexy), I created Sexy Man, "Marcel Nguyen"!  ..And sent him to Dom Tan, Ying Ru and Valerie (because I know she likes hot guys too, even if her W.T. is no. 1)..  Sizzling. Okay.. Here's the Marcel Nguyen Ying Ru is mad about, just in case you start sneering at and condemning her for bad taste:  But Matthew Mitcham still owns.  He may be gay, but he owns even Sergio Munoz (might/might not be gay) A Maths Paper 2 was satisfactory, considering I haven't touched it since Thurs/Friday. I'll be getting intimate with trigo and calculus once more, starting Friday (study session at Lange Road again, yay). All the best to all unfortunate Lit students tomorrow! Don't kill yourself, because there's still Paper 2. August 25, 2008 | 7:54 PM
We Are Surrounded, Give in
  I spent most of yesterday and today at Dom Tan's house, with Yun Sheng (yesterday) and Charlatan (both days). Played a bit of pool on Sunday, and we discovered Char's and my talent in pool. We owned Yun Sheng and Dom T. Today's study session was much more productive, we brought our laptops to his house and got some SS essays done. Ms Fu's inbox must be flooded. To answer some questions, I have had times when I hated myself for being inadequate, inferior, and everything I want to be but am not. I have had times when I felt so furious with the world for not allowing me to have what I want, and these things are always beyond my grasp. I have had times when I am completely livid with certain people for what has/have been bestowed upon them. Was there some contract drawn up with destiny that ensured you fell heir to a certain something or someone that I was comepletely left out of? Because you know, it's bloody unfair. I would rather have possessed it once, and lost it, than not have had it at all. The memory of what it tasted like would last me a lifetime. Dom Tan makes good espressos. Or maybe it's just because it's Starbucks. I'm subsisting on a vaccuum. August 21, 2008 | 8:22 PM
Not mine to command
Love is not blind - it sees more, not less. But because it sees more, it is willing to see less. "Not Mine To Command" ... Glimpse of the whole world When I swivel to look at you Every marbled land In the pink flush of your skin Smooth rivers fall carelessly Now I would have said something But my heart is pounding out garbled words Of a new language I've yet to learn to speak Here you are and here I am We are the original lingering proof Tonight will freeze and take our shapes So we won't speak Thus no words can be by the cold gust petered out Here's to everything unsaid Here's to everything lost Found And lost and found again Here's to a new life unmarked By any semblance of old love letters Or vestige of faded young blood The train is waiting. I pick up my luggage. Cheers. Cheers. -L.R., or T.W., I haven't decided. This was inspired by 3 I have had no prior experience in writing poems of this genre, Which obviously doesn't like me. August 16, 2008 | 2:16 PM
Felicitations on Nastia's Olympic Gold
Screw WAG Team Gold (I supported USA). Nastia Liukin is the World's Best Gymnast!  The ST called Nastia the "underdog" to Shawn Johnson "all season", so take that, Shawn Johnson, because Nastia owned you by nearly a whole point (can't help being peurile about this). The look on Nastia's face the moment she saw Shawn Johnson's score was so moving, as was the way she jumped up to hug her dad. I'm newly motivated! I want to feel how she felt when I get back my O Level certificate next year, and I know I definitely can. There you are on the platform, and my train is arriving. I've got my ticket ready, but it's turning into a damp pulp in my hand. I could drop it, let it flutter solidly onto the tracks, but how could I let go of something else entirely intangible? This will *probably* be my last post until after the O's. I'll also be swearing off the TV as I will the Internet. That means not watching Mythbusters at 5PM everyday again.
Speaking of China gymnastics, I did a Google search on Huang Lao Shi to see if he was some famous Chinese gymnast and I found this instead:  Huang Lao Shi with Clarence Maybe Huang lao shi's peak in his gymnastics career was so long ago (when the Internet hasn't been invented yet), all who watched his performances have died and hence didn't get the chance to upload anything to the Internet =/ How sad! I can't imagine him (young) in a leotard. I remember a really hilarious encounter Valerie and I had with Clarence. Jaz, our gym mate, confessed to Valerie that she liked Clarence and Valerie betrayed her and told me. So during training we kept teasing her and on Jaz's last day, she gave us marshmallows and chocolates. After training had ended and Jaz had left, it was about 7+ and Clarence was walking along the corridor upstairs and we told him Jaz had a crush on him and conveyed all the sweets to him. Haha! Oh man. I miss Bishan days. Valerie Mah! We'll visit him after my last paper, remember! 
August 14, 2008 | 9:27 PM
Not What I Planned At All
Big trouble, losing control, Primary resistance at a critical low, On the double gotta get a hold, Point of no return one second to go. No response on any level, Red alert this vessel's under siege Total overload, systems down, they've got control August 13, 2008 | 10:19 PM
Happy 16th Birthday, Bakus
I hope you enjoyed today, though it was quite a lacklustre event, and the theatricals were meagre..  We love you :) August 11, 2008 | 3:29 PM
Surely I'm not time-proof
 I'm revisiting the compass analogy. I have alluded, once before, my volatile moods towards the academics to the humble compass. I've once expressed my disgruntlement at the loss of the compass's ingrained navigational abilites, its raison d'etre, in an allusion to the fierce vitality I'm lacking in my pursuit of academic excellence. A truculent vitality that used to proudly bare its fangs and spread its wings that slowly petered out into the wind that slips through a crack in the window. The long weekend has proved damaging and eroded whatever zest with which I welcomed the golden opportunity to plough onward, full speed ahead. The compass is only indolently swinging on its creaky hinge, the oil having been supped up by the greedy mouths of passing minutes. How it used to point sternly North with adamant strength. Could I be shortchanging myself? I wish I could reach inside and pull out my motivation and stretch it like an accordion until the crenulated skin is smooth. Then I could flex it and exploit it. I've accomplished shamefully little over the weekend. I let countless hours be frittered away carelessly by keeping abreast of the Olympic gymnastics competitions yesterday, and today I was only reading Audrey Niffenegger and cooking scrambled eggs with cheese (twice, AFTER breakfast and for lunch, so that's 5 eggs gone in a day). I finished my homework. I did some A Maths revision. I completed what was left of my Chemistry TYS (not much, the TYS is revoltingly scant). I revised Salts and Metals. I revised briefly some Physics. Life is languid as I'm overcome by a new aversion to mental exertion (physically too, and I have been eating far more than I should be, but Quaker's corn bran is far too addictive to resist.) I need school. My writing always looks so supercilious and pretentious. August 9, 2008 | 1:55 PM
For Charlatan + The Spanish Gymnast
Happy 16th Birthday to my dear Charmaine Tan, Sorry I can't celebrate with, but have an awesome time anyway, I love you! :)  * I watched the Men's Preliminaries for Artistic gym today and I found myself a new squeeze.. Presenting.. Sergio Munoz from Spain!  I'm completely besotted. I watched Memoirs of a Geisha last night, and Gong Li's performance was phenomenal, and she's bloody beautiful.  She turns me on.   Don't you think she looks like Monica Bellucci in this picture (who turns me on too)? I first saw her on screen in Curse of the Golden Flower but my attention was hopelessly ensnared by the glaring bosoms of the various females sheathed in ill-fitting corsets. In Memoirs of a Geisha, Gong Li was simply amazing as a bitchy Geisha, and did you know she learned her lines phonetically because she couldn't speak English? Yet she could convey each line with such aplomb! She's practically the Asian equivalent of Natalie Portman. August 3, 2008 | 10:26 AM
8,4,4,7,4,7,3,6,7,4,2,2,7,4,3,5..
4,8,4,4,6,5,4,4,2,8,3,7,3,2,5,5,9,3,2! 5,5,3,6,3,6,3,6,7,9,6,8,2,6,3,4,3,3,3,5,8,3,7,9,4,8,4,5,9, 2,2,6,8,8,4,8. That aside, Happy Birthday WOO KAI WEN! I forgot to add "Maths Maestro" on your card :(  + There will no longer be any intimate musings here, maybe only the random post about special events. I've moved on to somewhere more private. August 1, 2008 | 10:59 PM
What you lose on the swings..
You get back on the roundabouts. Nothing but atonement to assuage guilt. But I don't know how. I don't even - . It's like trying to hide an affair I'm not even having. |