Dear all! I have finally sickened of blogspot's hidous dashboard, this blog has finally been moved to a better looking one! please look to

ofruinsandarednightfall.wordpress.com.

Thank you!

Free time in term three comes little and less, and I find myself neglecting this darling Medusa of a blog to make time for the chi-chi activities of the hoity-toity. I mean, I have just cancelled lunch with Mr President; after all, it is important that I look beautiful for the Shangri La date tonight with He Who Should Not Be Named.

One takes an entire afternoon to achieve perfect serenity of the mind, which in turn confers Poise and Confidence in High Heels and a Pearl Necklace. The usual spa-massage-facial-manicure-hairstyling, my very much approved of five pronged approach to self glorification. Pooh-pooh my routine not, for I find it a necessary response to the stress of today, and recovery enough from the toils of being a tai-tai (you know, the usual tiresome chore of colour coding your clothes and accessories. Diamond or emerald? Cerulean or jade green?)

Angelique balm from Sephora would do very nicely, I think, and of course the Olive and Lavender bath from L'Oocitane will rejuvenate my complexion nicely; (I spot a few blackheads!) and Lunatic Fringe Hair Promade will do justice to my exquisite curls. Ah, ...all so I am presented most radiantly and perfectly to my Knight in Suit and Tie, Shining Armour being rather clunky and obselete in this day and age.

...No? I guess not. Such a tragedy is imagination.

This is odd. Something is officially WRONG with blogger. I protest! I protest against the slow breathing yeast of today's biology practical! I protest against the overwhelmingly boring Project Work Analysis and Evaluation!

I need a break.

Hemidactylus frenatus

What a perfect farce. Here I am, sweaty, sticky and stinking to high heaven, with an aircon room behind me and bathroom in front of me, and yet I cannot bathe, because there is a lizard behind the door of the toilet.

Yes, is it not totally hilarious, the way the Hemidactylus frenatus, known as the House Gecko, or just a normal lizard, such a tiny, ubiquitous little critter drives me to my knees, gut pulverizingly ugly as they are? From the beady black eyes, like caviar (black fish roe) bloated from inner decay, to skin the colour of bread mould, to the tapered bald tail, and worst of all that jerking side to side gait when they move, everything about the house lizard screams repugnant, nauseatingly hideous. I'm not sure of this innate loathing for the apparently friendly mosquito eating house pest, but it could stem from the baby black lizard that dropped onto my shoulder and crawled all the way down my arm when I was a kid. Once bitten, twice shy...or in this case, once scared, forever terrified.

Back, and I've never felt more like a fool armed with a bottle of fly insecticide and a rolled up wad of newspaper in each hand, standing outside the toilet, debating whether or not to whack outside the door - what if I chase the lizard further into the toilet? - or to spray it with the insecticide - what if the insecticide, which is not meant for lizards anyway, proves ineffective and the lizard is only partially inebriated? And what would I do if it fell down dead? What if it runs out towards me? - I'd get a heart attack and die. At the very least I'd get a seizure of gut busting proportions, and will end up on the floor with fresh blood spurting like free for all liquidated fireworks from my jugular.

Decided that to live with my dirty self for a night is way better than perishing in this unglamorous manner of death-by-lizard-scare. And anwyway, I bathe everyday, sometimes twice a day, so what's missing one bath in the long run? Bit of dirt never hurt anyone, it's in fact been proven to raise immunity and reduce allergies. Nothing like a childhood phobia to put things into perspective.

The second start

Well, CT results are back and as expected, my literature results are a thoroughly sickening fiasco, reflecting the results of my two-year-long indulgence in Malaysia. Not only must I suffer a gap in knowledge wider than opposite cliffs of the grand canyon upon return to sec 4, my incompetence must also be prolonged into 2009; we'll see if I don't make a igonimious failure for my A levels - at any rate, I'm determined not to, hence no more slacking around and sleeping through lit lessons - I shall get right down to honing my skill and tactic, which, I'm sure, must be somewhere - I just hope it hasn't crawled away and died like some sort of useless dustball, in which case I'd still have to excavate it with a bulldozer if need be, because no way in heck am I gonna allow another doggone subpass to mar my report.

Chemistry lessons are by and large an amusingly bellyaching affair, what with our scrawny teacher, affectionately christianed 'Cheeks' by Virunardu, tottering around the science lab, blinking his eyes and lamenting over our student quality. Take this week's chem practical.

Cheeks (exclaiming to ZY) : Hey! You! I wrote your sister a letter of reccomendation to the college she was applying to. But for you, I'll make sure to write a letter of complaint!
ZY : But, sir!
Cheeks : 'Dear college! Please do not accept any letter of application from this student! No good will come to you and only harm will befall you!'
ZY : Hey!
Cheeks : Complaint number 1! Handwriting is too big!
ZY : No lor!
Cheeks : (Absolutely in his element, and therefore showing marked enthusiasm) Complaint number 2! Does not differentiate bench top from chair top!
ZY : (hardheadedly unrepented) But that's what you advised us to do!
Cheeks : I adviced some people to do it, not you, I was referring to those who are -
Hamtaro : Vertically challenged!
Cheeks : - Hey! That's mean and insulting! (Turns to Gilbeh) By the way, I saw your birthday ccard going around, and your friends are all signing it now. Don't expect too much, it's only handmade.
(Collective outcry of indignation from Chloe and I, referring to the comment about short people and handmade cards respectively.)
ZY : (looks at me in amazement later) He has a son! I can't believe he's still acting like this!

Boys (dogs) will be boys (dogs) even over biology MCQ marks.

Vic Dog : I didn't do that badly for bio! I got the same mark as you for the structured questions!
ZY : Wahaha come on! I totally owned you for MCQ
Vic Dog : (defensively) You think so?
ZY : Of course!
Vic Dog : Yeaj? What mark did you get? ( Looks ZY up and down, as though sizing him up )
ZY : (Returns the gesture by eyeing Vic Dog up and down) I got 19 marks. (Smirk).
Vic Dog : Wha-? 19? Really? ( Sizes ZY up again )
ZY : (smug smile) Yep. You?
Vic Dog : ... 15...
Elang : Dudes? Why the need to look each other up and down?
MJ : Sizing up something other than MCQ marks, of course!

Math tutorial today was no less wild, perhaps because MJ and I weren't sleeping as per usual; MJ was infact clutching my arm and squealing nonsense into my ear. LZY assumed his supposedly stern face.

ZY : (sounding remarkably like Mr Ngan) MJ, why are you being so distractive? Sit down!
MJ : THIS FROM SOMEONE WHO FALLS ASLEEP EVERY LESSON!
ZY : At least I'm not disturbing anyone. Be quiet and concentrate.
MJ : (laughs)
ZY : Shh!

Later, ZY is called to present his answers on board, which he does so with neither flair nor aplomb, but determination all the same to take up as much space as he can ( as usual ).

Me : Whoa, write bigger abit, bigger abit!
MJ : Yeah, abit small leh, we cannot see!
Vic Dog : Wow, look at him, just conquering all the territory!
MJ : Yep, he took up 4 fifths of the board and left that puny space for the other two answers and the teacher!
Elang : All the land just kena bomb by his writing! BAM BAM BAM!
MJ : Yeah, he's so possessive! VicDog, you better be careful not to mess with his things!
(time passes, and MJ notices the state of ZY's brackets on the board.)
Vic Dog : Why, do they look like phallic symbols?
MJ : Hm. Nah. Nobody has legs that stubby ( I shall upload a photo of the brackets as soon as I can find one)
Elang : (Starts guffawing uncontrollably into ZY's face.)
ZY : (gives us all a look of insufferably exasperation and intolerance. Assumes reprimanding tone and face) MJ, they are just brackets. For goodness' sake, what is wrong with you. Elang, stop laughing. (He take Elang's shoulders and turns him around completely so that Elang doesn't face him anymore. Elang is now laughing to MJ's face.)

Funnies from the LZY

1. "...Laser printers don't use ink! It just 'iiiiiiinnnnnggg' come out of the printer..."
2. (Typo on PW notes) "Zog Yi"
3. (From economics essay) "...in a large company, researchers feel like they are small dogs..."
[I'd love to comment on the sheer (unintentional) ingenuity of this statement, the fact that it implies so many things on so many levels, but wouldn't that take all the fun out of it! ]
4. "You should try combining names together, it's damn fun. Like for example, Chelsea and Wilnard will be Chelnard! Or maybe Wilsea. Or like, Emma and Wilnard - Emnard. Hahaha! Oh wait the best will be Peter and Bernard! Penard!"
5. Wilnard : I can't be going around holding a bow and arrow...people would arrest me for being a terrorist.
ZY : Nevermind, you can just say :"I am Wilbin Hood!" (Wilnard + Robin Hood)
6. "Gay dogu chou hentai! Tessa hoshi?" (Gay dog pervert. Wish for Tessa?)
7. (While in KL)
ZY : "I'll buy some muffins for Dogtor...you know, the kind that dogs wear on their feet..."
Me : "...huh? Muffins?"
ZY : "...Uhm...yeah...I can't remember the correct word."
Me : "Do you mean mittens?"
ZY : "oh! yes."

The first start of Term 3

The first proper day of school, Semester 2 term 3, proved to be extremely eventful - gratifying, heartbreaking, and of course, with as always with 10s03N, jaw achingly hilarious.

I rushed from the block B windy benches to Block H general office area to meet Haran Shiv Kumar and Sheryl Ang Wei Jing, both of whom were waiting with a surprise for me - belated birthday presents! Yep, as if a beautiful card and 143GB of high quality anime/scanlations/movies weren't enough, they'd insisted on getting me another present, the silly, lovable things. Hence the Legolas action figure posing proudly on the only non cluttered area of my desk! They'd spent the whole of yesterday shopping for it, even though I remember explicitly saying I didn't want anything!

Love makes the world go round, really.

First lesson in the morning, and 10s03N was already dogging away with its usual nonsense. I strode into LT5 with open arms to welcome the long awaited blast of aircon; unfortunately, all I got for my efforts was a sultry roil of moisture laden air, sickeningly warm, and a couple of sub-height beings (Chloe and Rachel, I realised upon looking down) barging rudely past me muttering "it's too hot! Let's get out!" with narry a greeting.

I could feel Elang's presence with every step into the LT, making up for the last cool weekend of the June holidays with an extraordinarily vehement radiation of heat; Zhe Yan's voice called my name with the usual Japanese inflection and before I could reply, MJ shrieked with the usual lack of propriety - upon which I was reminded of the fangirl-ing SMS I'd sent her two nights ago:

Featuring Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, my new hotter-than-Vincent-Valentine-drop-dead-gorgeous-bankai-wielding-espada-extraordinaire-complete-with-foul-language-and-kinky-hole-in-body-and-kinkier-jawbone.

Grimmjow Jeagerjaques comes scarily, dangerously close to displacing Nakago from his throne, which I had never believed possible...

But nobody messes with the sleek, serpentine shogun of Kutou. Nobody.

Back to school and the sad reality of non-spasm inducing bishounen, ZY and Vic Dog were having a typical husband-and-wife conversation over money.

ZY : Eh VicDog, you said you need how much? Eight hundred and seventy dollars is it?

Vic Dog : Yeah, but it's ok, I don't want it now you hold on to it first...

ZY : What? No la! I purposely bring so much money now you don't want to take!

Vic Dog : You hold on to it first...I just want fifty bucks, you hold on to the rest first.

ZY : Fifty? Just take everything!

MJ : Wow wow wow! Look at this husband and wife squabble! So typical! Like 'Dear, let's take out our assets and managing properly-' 'Huh? But why, I thought my money is your money and your money is my money-' 'ok, you take this amount first-' '-huh, don't need, you hold on to it, you hold on to it!-'

Tryphe (typical bluntness) : Where is Mrs Shen? Why is she so late? Don't tell me she's giving birth now.

The rest of the days passed in relatively tumoultous hours as the papers were returned to us - chemistry CT, a time challenge for everyone, including the imba pros like Elang and Shaun. ZY's testimonies to the lack of time :

1. Progressively larger handwriting as one flips through his answer script, from like font size 24 to 32.

2. A graph with the correct axis but a random curved line which makes no sense whatsoever in relation to the factors - evidently he had memorised all the graphs LCK had given us but didn't have time to think which the question was asking for

3. Two whole pages, blank, with the answers o.900g (when the question stated, specifically, the maximum amount as 0.02g) and 50.0cm^3

While queueing up to check chem CT marks -

Elang : Wah, ZY! You very angry ah! Write so big and so hard.

ZY : No la, I was rushing for time -

Me : Wah, ZY! One whole page you only write like that, expect to get marks!

ZY : Of course not, I had no time to think it through, just tikam tikam mah! -

Vic Dog : Wah, ZY! Why your graph like that, makes no sense -

ZY : (pissed) Told you all already la! I had no time!

Cheeks : Eh, you! Come to fight for marks ah! Confirm zero la. Go go. Next!

ZY : (sputtering) eh, 'cher, but...! (Cheeks turns to JJ. ZY is dejected.) Aiya, jidan... (mandarin for egg. His favourite vulgarity. Don't ask why), cannot believe my marks so jia lat. I last time chem full marks one lor!

Vic Dog : Wow, really?

ZY : Yeah. Secondary school that time, chem and maths both 100%!

Vic Dog : Wow, eh that's damn pro man.

ZY : Yeah, big deal. As if I next time apply for job that time : "sir, I got a hundred percent for mathematics and chemistry in secondary 3, please employ me!" I'll get punched in the face.

Elang : Yeah. You can also go :"sir! When I was in kindergarten I aced every single subject! English Chinese Maths all hundred percent! Please employ me!"

Elang is a howl.

Shall continue after getting Literature CT tomorrow, although it looks set to be my first and only fail.

Blitzkrieg

More and more one realizes, as one struggles in vain to put definition to feelings, that no matter the level of mastery, language is sadly finite and inadequate. No amount of metaphor or enjambement does justice to the intensity of emotion and, perhaps, almost, a different level of conciousness -

Looking, really looking, up to the celestial constellations, mankind's failed endeavour to name and discuss deity; sinking, up up and up into the swirling, floating avalanche of sable velvetine and silver peaked pinpoints, each of them having spiraled and shot through lightyears upon lightyears of matter and not-matter ; hearing, for a split second, a vibration of an echo of a the sky's endless song - the reverberation of joy and fury primordial, unadulterated, a moment of which has been distilled - attenuated, like the spreading heat of a glowing cinder to warm frigid Siberia -

Allow the human mind a paltry hazard at comprehending the futility of one's attempts to comprehend -

Rhythmic drive of blood in your ears, ruthless, roaring, reckless and relentless as the katabatic winds; unshackled, unbridled strength - scream, howling, your throat rips to shreds, sprint till lands run out, and then fight and brawl till your jaw is split and your knucles shattered, anything to fuel the fire in your limbs, anything to calm the blood threatening to spit - viciously, red hot and wanton, through the jugular - regardless of rules, heedless of expectations, mutinous, rebellious, breakneck feckless breakneck feckless breackneck feckless foolish foolhardy DAREDEVIL - DEFIANT -

Spirit be desertstorm determined, heart be labyrinthine; ten thousand thundering typhoons and passion be a holocaust of sense and sensibility; love be hellfire and vengeance be smouldering brimstone -

Golden resonance of the alps and silver sliding scale of the wild, the red the blue the yellow the purple flowers and their fresh white blossoms like so many tiny pearls, embedded in green -

A million mongrel sons cannot give a pedigree -

So many droplets of so many moments, bombarding the boundaries of language, leaving it a fluttering penant of defeat -

Blitzkrieg.

Kicking Butt

Happy July 4th to one and all!

I henceforth celebrated Independence Day at 12.15 am in the morning by kicking spectacular butt in Little Fighter 2 Stage 5 Crazy mode!

Firzen, my character, was an absolute demon, I tell you, pure power unleashed. Inspired by Bleach videos and fanfiction and harbouring newfound aspirations of being Espada, I was Fire and Ice incarnated, none could stand against me! I was epic, the maniacal channel of the elements, exploding into Arctic Volcano in their midst and wrecking sheer havoc with the fury of my cannon blasts! All fell back before my might and power! The battlefield was my stage of glory and adrenaline - and the arrival of Julian, stage 5/5, was a welcome challenge!

Julian's soul shields folded like cloth before my spells, and his his soul blasts were weak, ineffectual to my shield of ice. None could withstand the Master of Fire and Ice - I roasted the knights in their own armour and froze the sorcerers in their own robes. Julian's warriors and minions went to their deaths writhing in a cosm of flame and pain.

We were victorious, of course; the remnants of twenty-man army consisted of LouisEX, Bat, Jan, Jack and I, Firzen the Great (of course.)

Over-ripe bananas

Common Tests are over!

And I can testify to the accuracy of my gut feeling, borne of 16 - no, no, 17 now! ARGH the inexorable passage of time - 17 years of critical judgement - because something told me to mug for chemistry, not biology, even though I have been consistently doing worse in bio than chem - and tada! The test papers proved it, there was no need to mug DNA genomics like everyone else did, hee hee.

Biology, for me, turned out to be the trickiest paper. Greasy bag of fries!

There's nothing for it, exams are all over and done with for now, and I actually felt HIGH after finishing the exam. It's something I haven't felt since sec 2...since exams in KL were never a challenge anyway, I didn't need to work and thus they didn't matter.

Our impromptu class outing went from two people - Tryphe and I - to 5 people! Hamtaro Virunardu (sorry, Zan and I came up with this cool jap name for you. Sounds like a dungeon warlord!) Zhilbe. We asked the other guys, but = shrug= they left, the Dog to mug in the library! 'For end of year promos!' he protested when we laughed him off. Continue dogging away like this, his ears will just grow longer and hang down like a labrador retriever's - he already has the side burns, the face, and the doggy mannerisms.

Elang just went 'nope', inciting some perverted soundling laughter from Shaun. He's epic, I tell you. He kills people by stripping. JJ and ZY disappeared.

Keh! Well, we didn't need them anyway, we plopped our noisy selves down at Swenson's and the five of us laughed ourselves sick at Hamtaro's shameless posturing about his PW group member (one of them, specifically) and the inevitable expansion of his stored triglycerides.

Hamtaro : Now, which lucky girl gets to sit beside me?
Guys : ...BWAAHAHAHAAA
Tryphe grabbed the seat beside the Dogtor
Me : (sits down besides Hamtaro with ill grace) Hopefully some of my stuff...my..sense...and morality...will diffuse over to him.

Hamtaro sat down, taking up nearly two tables' worth of seat space!

Me : Eh walau move la, I got no space...
Hamtaro : Please, not me! It's our bags...
Me : Yeah...you eat abit more, those bags gonna be like the size of your expanded triglycerides...

Hamtaro : You know, in primary school I was a prefect!
Me : Wow, the tie musn't have been able to fit around your neck...
Virunardu : Yeah man, especially (mimes a giant swell in front of him)
Hamtaro : Oi!

We were appropriated outside Swenson's by a buxom wench, who fast-talked her way straight through two dozen bushes to tell us that people all deserved a chance to study, including those that, like her, can depend on neither parents nor government subsidy to pay for school fees; and that we, as students ought to show our support of this by donating money which would go to herself for furthering her own education (I think).

It was rather affronting to be confronted with a statement like 'So you guys can't help me out here? Not even by giving a dollar each?' in a tone of incredulous digust - polite and polished, but incredulous disgust all the same; and after Virunardu and Hamtaro gave in and chipped in a dollar each, she gave the customary 'thank you', thrust a pen at us and whirled off to approach another, preferably wealthier and looser-handed person.

Really, what brazen, unabashed cheek! The cut-to-the-chase of it is that she wanted money from us!

Virunardu said, after giving her the money, that he didn't think it was legal to go around like that, and I agree, although it didn't hit me till after we'd walked away. I would have pointed it out to her and to heck with the 'not nice-ness' of it! The way she larked over it, you would have thought she completely deserved the money because she was disadvantaged in terms of financial support, and that we should have supported her because as students it's a common interest.

Of course, everyone does deserve a shot at education, but if they don't have the money, demanding it off random street people definitely isn't the way to do it. I'd like to commend the novel idea of selling this 'education for everyone' slogan as a means of 'earning' money off passers-by, it is rather innovative - but I can hardly approve of it. Strike me down with lightning and thunder, but if she had the looks, the voice, the temerity and the confidence to approach strangers like this, the intelligence to come up with such a marketing strategy - there were other ladies like her, all doing the same thing- then she's far from helpless, and there are better, more reliable and less controversial ways of earning money - such as getting a job.

'I'm gonna be frank with you guys...the money will go to me for my studies", my overripe black spotted bananas! It was nothing short of shameless, if eloquent, begging.

Photograph upload is still not working!

Error Carried Forward

I really should be studying for Bio, given my wholly unsatisfactory marks so far, but then again, I have like...a few hours...

AND the whole of tomorrow morning! Joy!

Today,
Something happened.
I thought it was dejection,
But there wasn't even a twinge of gloomy resignation.
Baarh is a small red fruit. We guard our hearts.

Not, of course, that I used 'Girl Talking' as my poem today. Nope, none of CAD's angsty word clunking rubbish, I used two of my favourite poems - 'The Virgin Punishing the Infant,' and the infamous 'Warming her Pearls.'

'All day I work willingly...slack on my neck, her rope.
Her pearls, her milky stones...(she is) puzzled by my faint, persistant scent."

Suggestively put, I say.

Well, I'd hardly done justice to two of the few poems worth a second look in our silly 'women in Literature' anthology, but but it was otherwise the best I could have done given the circumstances - nil preparation and scant practice in expressing myself over paper, amongst the other crucial things, such as the lack of a gel ink blue pen -I had to make do with a ballpoint black, which affected my writing speed.

Well, it's good to save money.

[Nobody can be blamed I supposed, for our inexperience - CCC did do his best to give us a detailed analysis of where we'd gone wrong, after all, and he did present whole afternoons to be at our disposal. The point of contention is whether a certain two someones could (or couldn't in in this case?) have been any less suited to the task of -

- but nevermind, this is not a place for spite and contempt; I shall stop here.]

After literature exam, there was some free time before mathematics. I had an adhoc math tuition with Lee Kwok Hao and Shaun Ee in the library, during which I covered a grand total of 4 subparts! of one question!- pertaining to linear regression. Sorely reminded, once again, of my inadequacy as KH and SE debated about physical chemistry theorums, one involving a dude named Clementi.

Anyway, after much floundering unsteadily after my impromptu tuition teachers' train of thought, it was the Mathethematics exam!

For which I was all geared up and raring to attack!

Face my impunity and cower in terror, o heinous permutations! To the abyss with probability, and hypothesies be utterly damned!

Turned out to be less of the oily vixen it usually is, more the irksome scutwork of retrieving half forgotten GC notations and functions, which I remembered by trial-and-error. I DID manage to do the linear regression question; however I forgot to 'Diagnostic On' the GC, so I had no product moment correlation coefficient to begin with. BlAH!!!!!

I sallied through the rest doably, with the exception of being unable to find the variance of one question, I conjured one out of thin air and used it in the further calculations.

Error, please be carried forward!

Stuff and Guff

Feeling particulary onery and cantankerous after the Chemistry Common Test. My first series of exams in Singapore, in fact my first exam since June 5th 2008 - more than a year ago! - is not off to a good start at all.

The day started off on a good enough note, because I slacked the morning away reading through urban-farm blogs - very enjoyable, even if learning about goat calving isn't particularly beneficial to chemistry whatsover, as compared to what I was doing for the majority of yesterday, which was revising chemistry.

On my way to school at about 12.25pm (the exam being at 1pm), I spontaneously remembered that experimental planning would be tested and that I have neither revised experimental planning, nor have I any sort of hand at it. In fact, my single practice experimental planning wasn't even marked because, I suspect, beloved LCK gave up on it.

However there was nothing to be done for it as I was already on the bus with a shoebag in hand, containing only my wallet, pencil case and calculator.

Mucked around in school for awhile, all the while getting hotter, sweatier and more bothered, until they opened the doors of the aircon-ed MPH and I entered with gratitude!

Before the paper, I noticed someone's fleecey baby pink jacket in front of me and thought it would make a good 'destress-er' if I looked at it every now and then during the exam. Soft fluffy things are good for the eye and soothing to the imagination. A few minutes later proved me wrong, as I realized that finishing the paper would be a bigger problem than relaxing myself enough to think properly.

It wasn't that the questions were particularly hard, it was more like a lack of time to sort out all the concepts. I got confused over whether ionic energy increases or decreases across the period, erasing my graph 4 times! - and I also happened to draw a diagram with a basin, a gas tube and an inverted measuring cylinder when all they required was a gas collecting syringe.

The epiphany, when my eyes alighted on the words 'gas syringe', which I had until now not registered, was something along the lines of "aahhhh...so desu ne..."

I wasted precious time doing stupid things, like wondering whether to write 'radon fluoride' or 'RnF' because I wasn't sure that RnF was Radon fluoride, and measuring out my ionisation energy graph, and cursing my hb pencil and my non existent eraser, and you know, here and there my mind would just amble off for a leisurely stroll in Wonderland and leave me up to my nose in PtF6, whatever the cow that is.

The end result of it all, as I reflected while waiting for bus 55 to arrive - incidentally it sped by as I walked to the bus stop, leaving me to stew in the terrible heat for another 15 or so minutes - is a lamentable excuse for an answer script that, with so many skipped questions they are rather like a post transcripted pre translated mRNA, with the exons excised out but no time to splice the introns together, and hence disjointed and deplorably fragmented.

And then, having no time to finish the paper off is like leaving an mRNA without a poly AAA tail; just the way teachers are chopping marks away by the dozen, the lousy mRNA is getting degraded by ribonucleases.

You see? I have my bio down pat. Whether I'll have time to prove this on Thursday, is anyone's guess...though as Shaun says, CTs are 15% of something that don't matter.

Me : Did you finish the paper?
Elang : Nah.
Me : Really? Where did you complete it to?
Elang : The last sub question of the last question. It was...hm. Two marks?

(I'd insert a picture of the Sun but blogger refuses to cooperate. It would probably burn the readers' eyes! Damn, but I do have a nice picture!)

Stuff and guff! Now I wish I could have said that.

Finished!

Great! I have ONE day to go, and I've just realised I can't finish studying! Damn!

Mission Accomplished! Part 1

Our Project Work trip to KL was lazily enjoyble, hardly a frolicsome affair; given the burnout experienced by MJ on account of consecutive late nights, out resident Crazy Woman hit the sack at approximately 8.30pm every night (or anytime after dinner).

The first day saw a successful introduction between my friends to the Parents; Dogtor demanded in frantic whispers about whether the Father was as strict as he looked, after which he proceeded to conduct himself in a manner almost worthy of a diplomat. It helped that he'd hissed MJ's verbal explosions into silence a couple of times, and that his words were just gravid with geniality. It would have been rather repugnant but for the fact that Dogtor did help to break the ice. I couldn't help sniggering at the other two whenever our eyes met - it was that odd!

Upon realizing ZY had never before eaten a mangosteen, we all pressed one on him; he didn't open it so much as crush the husk to pulp in his hands, leaving a goopy white and purple mess for him to stare blankly at.

We smiled condescendingly.

The day wore on as we lazed around in my room. MJ accepted her delegated bed with better grace than I'd predicted, seeing as how the bedsheets were pink and white and decorated with lacy pink floral rosettes.

Some people have abominable tastes. We hung around listlessly as Dogtor described several hilarious instances in his Pre U Sem group members. Something along the lines of a wedgie provoked a fight between ZY and the Dog. I'd like to say there was an all out brawl involving blood, foul language and a violently gay shag after, but that's for Shaun to write, replete with all the nitty gritty - what really happened was that ZY dragged the Dog into a few judo choking positions, each more lewd than the last, while MJ and I spectated from the sidelines and egged them on.

Sadly, no memorable photos. Details can be given upon request, especially if you are Shaun or Elang.

Following this we went out for a steamboat dinner. The Parents continued with the usual smalltalk regarding future careers, a question to which I have never provided a satisfactory answer - well, they just had to point that out to me again. Muchos appreciatos...not.

With the Parents around, the Dog was again remarkably well behaved, if a little jumpy, and happily oblivious to ZY, MJ's and my whispered comments about the change in mannerisms.

One of the dishes was a meatball filled with liquid, which Dogtor bit into, and with typical finesse, the juice squirted out halfway across the table to hit the Mother and I.

Later, ZY obliged Dogtor's request to share his drink by pouring some into his cup.

"Victor, is that enough?"

"Yes, thanks. I'm satisfied with whatever you give me, master."

MJ and I share a laugh, while ZY looks entirely bemused, the Dog exasperated, and the Parents, probably puzzled by the Dog's last word, gave us concerned looks.

On the car ride back, MJ falls asleep and Dog and I take turns to poke ZY for the fun of watching him writhe around.

The Father : "So, ZY..."

ZY : Ye (I ran a finger down his spine) -AAHH!? (he goes from a hunch to ramrod straight, and turns around to glare at me laughing.)

The Father : (asks a question)

ZY : Yes, - ah!- but actually -tsk!!- it's more of like -oi!!- Both of you!!

Yep, it was all very good fun especially because ZY spent the rest of the journey holding his sides and fuming in the middle seat while we whispered and poked away. He did retaliate on Dogtor towards the end, and with him leaning over Dog in the dark, they were in a rather suggestive position - complete with ZY growling, the Dog's bucking up and laughing rather wheezily. It was all very surreal and all that, and I'm sure Shaun would have made a complete farce out of it if he had seen it...and apparently, Dog had completely thrown all caution to the wind because my parents were just infront, listening and wondering at our state of pervasion...

Upon reaching home, we sprawled around once again pigging out on whatever food we'd bought from the pasar malam (keropok for MJ, peanut kaya cake for ZY), then MJ fell asleep (again) and ZY subjected us all to terrible JJ Lin music from his laptop.

"My favourite singer! He's so talented!" exclaims the cheenapukit dodo.

Later we went downstairs for hilarious gaming on Dog's phone.

= Commence Tap Tap = ZY starts groovin to the music, and his head bops up and down -

-"Tap tap! Tap tap! Gonna get the highscore gonna get the highscore highscore gonna gonna get the highscore highscore gonna get the high score gonna get the highscore gonna gonna..." - his fingers start galloping like a two legged horse in time to his movements.

= Commence Tap-of-War = Dogtor calmly and coolly drills the phone screen with his finger, barely lifting his finger half an inch of the screen each time.

ZY, whose fingers are far from nimble, insists on using force to make up for a lack of dexterity; the result is that he sledgehammers the screen with one finger the entire way, in tune to the Dog's aggrieved protests against phone-screen abuse.

= Commence Ice Hockey =

The only game which the Dog lost to ZY.

Dog : "WHAT! Where did that hole come from! The thing just go in like that..." (Does anyone else see the implications? xD) = curse swear mutter =

ZY : "Whoohoooo!! Oh-Kayy! Let's Go!! (Disturbingly reminiscent of Hard Gay!!)"

Second day :

I woke up at 6am and crossly realised that ZY had locked our door to the adjoining room, so I could either use the toilet two levels down or access ours through his room. Reluctant to kill my eyes with the sight of any one of them sleeping in the nude, I opted for the former, then went back to sleep.

Woke again at 8am to the scent of my mom cosseting her guests - fried eggs for breakfast, from the smell, and the voices of the Dog and my mom in cahoots - they were discussing me!!! I contemplated stomping down in self righteous anger, but decided to stay where I was and drop eaves on those wily twits.

Later, when all of us were assembled downstairs for breakfast (Roti John! such novelty!), my mom asked whether we wanted to go out that day.

Me : "I don't think so...we'll just go out for dinner at Sakae later...we'll stay at home and do work today..."

MJ and the dog started caterwhauling immediately - they'll be too bored, they'll die, they want to go shopping, they want to go kino, etc etc.

"No la, we can do that tomorrow!" I say.

ZY : "Let's do work." And that settled that.

My mom nodded approvingly at our faux studiousness.

Well, we managed to get some stuff done, at least until MJ and I hijacked ZY's laptop to drool over a Final Fantasy AMV featuring Within Temptation's 'Hand of Sorrow' - first class stuff, featuring drop dead gorgeous scenes of Vincent Valentine.

Could anyone look better? The giant golden claw makes him even cooler.

However, ZY was insulted that we'd snatched the laptop away while he was rewatching a JJ Lin performance, so he made fun of the song lyrics. MJ and I ignored him while we fangirled away.

All likeminded Valentine fans, search for "Final Fantasy Hand of Sorrow" by Darklordofdebate on Youtube.

Anyway, we ordered Dominoes pizza for lunch, and thank goodness they'd run out of the Dogtor's requested-for 'triple cheese mania' - I mean, that's so dog-like.

We went back to work and I promptly fell asleep in front of the computer, waking up to the Dog's "Emdog, you still awake?"

-Wakes up- "Yes of course!"

They looked over, saw me sprawled supine on the floor, and started laughing. Well, it was very musty...anyway my dad returned from work with a haul of durians, which we went out to eat along with other of my mom's victuals.

Durian FTW!

ZY and the Dogtor each opened a durian, and the Dogtor's remained stubbornly closed at first. Dogtor tried forcing it open sitting down, then stood up to gain more leverage.

Wasn't enough - Dog leaned forward on his tiptoes.

My Aunt : That's it, boy...use your strength!

ZY : Strength? More like weight...ten kg!

MJ starts laughing, and the Dogtor, having successfully pried the durian open, offers it around...then sticks the now empty shell into ZY's kneecap.

ZY : (mimics the Dog) Come on, triglycerides - let's go! -tiptoes- OUCH!

Yes loads of fun there, followed by the long awaited shopping spree to Bangsar Village at about 6pm.

MJ whinged continously about the high end brands in the shopping center, while ZY and Dog browsed the shops in search of formal wear. By my divine recommendation, they looked into Padini and started trying on shirts.

Both of them decided on the same shirt, though in different sizes (more Dog bashing by ZY there.)

There were some cool shots, though they actually look better in real life. Well, one does, if not the other.

Is it just me, or does the Dog look a little like a turtle? xD

Some computer pro please help me photoshop my hand out of there!

What transpired while ZY was deciding between a black or a white shirt:

MJ : I think he looks better in the white!

Me : I think he looks better in the black!

the Dogtor : I know what looks the best! (unbuttons ZY's shirt to the second button)

ZY : Eh!

Too bad I wasn't fast enough to snap a picture!!

Oh well.

Dang this blogging thing is tiring ain't it...I shall need to do continue later!

Next up : Part 2 - Featuring ZY's orgasmic expressions and the Dog's ass grabbing exploits! Till then, folks!

All together

O beloved 10s03N! The greatest blessing in many years!

Kevin : Why does Mei Jia have such a murderous look in her eye?
Mei Jia : It's because your hand is on my shoulder! That violates code number 107 section 3 line 4: NO TOUCHY TOUCHY
Kevin : Think again, one hand from Zan and the other from Elang. You should be worried about burns!
Elang : Wtv Kevin, you can come back and frame me when I have two right hands.

Different kinds of dirty

There are several ways to write, show, talk or otherwise make known your views about matters sexual and explicit. These I shall broadly catagorize and describe, according to my own opinions, in no particular order of merit :

1. Art - Whereby any sort of nudity or intercourse is elevated to a gift from God as a beautiful and cherished means of intimate knowledge and love-making. It is captured in image or language for the appreciation and edification of man, and comes attached with values or implications such as marriage, unconditional love, sacrifice, even religion. There is a clear difference between the 'black' and 'white' of sex, black pertaining to all things mundane and boorishly human (such as prostitution). It's all rather noble and refined, pompously and piously so, to the extent of being idealistic.

2. Porn - Lacking any sort of emotion or morality, this occurs in the form of alleviating (or arousing, as according to the scenario) sexual desire, by means of substandard videos, graphic descriptions or drawings or just talking about it. It is a very physical and need-of-the-moment kind of thing, after which we leave off to continue our lives as per usual.

3. Fantasy - Abundant and ubiquitous in the life of adolecents and adults, it includes fanfiction, fanart, fan-girling, innuendos and most of things (RA)ted that find their way into our thoughts. These things are dirty but amusing ideas we have that we put to words or paper. The side of us that craves scandal and spectacle is suitably provoked by fantasy, but it is seldom a manifestation of actual physical need. (When push comes to shove, nobody in 10S03N would even want to kiss anyone else, despite all the between-the-sheets jokes. The same goes for fanfiction. Right?) Fantasy, in my opinion, can be highly interesting and enjoyable if done with skill, tact and innovation.

Final Fantasy VII (Sephiroth/Cloud)

See what I mean? Nicely done. (Not that I support this pairing.)

Historical symbols, legends and figures do play an important part in conveying hidden sexual meanings. It always adds depth to a story; even if one lacks the knowledge, a cleverly placed pun or innuendo is always comical without being too crude. The classier the innuendo, the more creative the pun, the better. As far as 10s03N goes, we're still in this catergory. Shaun does filthy with style.

Then again, MJ and Dogtor are borderlining the edge of ero-fantasy into trash.

4. Trash - My dumping ground for ridiculously unrealistic scenarios and/or prowess in the characters make for repugnating, offensive and nausea inducing stories. Includes trashy chicklit, chickflicks, romance novels, badly written fanfiction, and hideously vulgar descriptions. Enough said.

5. Scientifically speaking - Ah, I nearly forgot, and me a biology student! Well, looking at things from a purely educational or research oriented point of view, we are reminded that lust, desire and love are all products of electric charges along long white stringy things known as nerves, or a mixture of chemical hormones and pheromones. Makes me want to delf deeper and deeper into the workings of the medulla oblongata and the hypothalamus, and even the curiously unhinging thought that all these electrical impulses, cellular 'wires' (nerves) and systematic ongoings make us very, very, very alike to robots, appeals to my preference for 'natural equality' - I disagree that mankind be elevated to the pedestal of 'divine animal' or what not. We exhibit animalistic enough qualities in everyday life. The athletic, the attractive and the wealthy are hardly different from the meanest male baboons with the most enlarged crimson butt and the largest harem of females. Back to the original topic, yes; again, science requires detailed knowledge of sex for the noble quest of knowledge and development.

And hence, ladies and gentleman, we are all living in a world where sex is inherrent and omni-present. Barricading ourselves in a microcosm of innocence and naivete does keep you free of immoral influence, but it's hardly a practical solution, is it?

Food

I've always had a love hate relationship with food.

Just so.

The moon is bright tonight,
Unusually bright.
There it reclines, a jewel in its velvet shrine,
Paragon of dreams.

Half Time

I demand that the world halts in its heedless pursuit of tomorrow and glide in a stately merry-go-round direction for a week or two!

Evidently nobody gives a damn, as the clock is still steadfastly ticking forward. Stuff.

I am most woebegonefully behind in affairs of life and education. I mean, hallelujah and joy to the world and whatnot for the genius of physicists, but whomsoever coined the term 'inertia' has resulted in my overusing this term to describe sheer laziness and procrastination. I am lazy and I procrastinate, period. My choice animal to be in this world would be a tiger, but, barring a sudden surge of required will and determination to stave off starvation, I would be much better off as a barnacle on a whale.

Precisement.

But seeing as how I have the avoided the fate of a low life crustacean and great cat alike, I shall just delight in muddling along as best as I can.

At long last, the ever awaited start to the June holidays! How exceedingly grateful I am to the Lord Almighty that thy unworthy subject has made it through the first six months of Junior College, hardly unscathed but thoroughly satisfied for it -

10s03N is the absolute pinnacle of my happiness, truly and sincerely the best class, most bonded and with the least cliquey people, I have ever been in, and believe you me when I say that class time never so much as tilts towards the side of boredom and irritation. In fact, cheers to all the (RA)ted jokes and scandals that swathe our classmates like winds in a hurricane.

That said, one is severely shocked that term 2 has just vapourized with narry an inkling of its passage; where o where has half of Jc1 life gone to?? Six months of my life over and done with forever!!

So many regrets and failures. These terrible miscreants I shall chuck under the sink to join the abhorred lizards and cockroaches of the world, for one must ensure that these miseries will never be dredged up like silt to be re-agonized and re-wailed over! -shudder shudder -

For good measure, I shall - shudder - again.

A hearty toast, a glass of wine, to former glories,
The rich ruby swirl of former glories.

Just the almost forgotten, deliberately forgotten hopes
Fool's hopes.

The Gay, the Gleeful, and the Gender-bender

It is early on a Monday morning and Zong and Vic are seated in front of a laptop discussing bio assignment and rehearsing the presentation. All is most definitely not proceeding as Vic thinks it should.

Vic : "Eh do you even know what this is or not!"

Zong : "Of course! (gestures to the picture) DNA base usually A T and C G so if A C then is incorrect base pairing!"

Vic : (wailing in frustration) "Whaaat!? Noooooo you have to discuss it in more detail! It can't be so brief!"

Zong : "No need la! So complicated for what, just keep it simple! One slide one sentence can already! First slide : the agents of DNA damage are UV light and free radicals. second slide : Free radicals are highly reactive. Third slide : ..."

Vic : "Nooooo argh you can't do it like that stop stop shaddap!!"

Zong : (ignoring Vic) " I just need to change the tone, make it more proffessional.

Elang and Em : "WAHAHAHAHAAAAAA"

MJ : "Whoa whoa early morning dogging already horr!"

(later )

It is late on a Monday morning and Zong and Vic are seated in front of a mac laptop discussing bio assignment. Except for the occasional childish squabble, things proceed smoothly until -

All of a sudden Zong realises his wallet and handphone are missing!

"Shit! My wallet and - eh, lend me your phone-" he leaps to his feet, grabs Vic's phone and proceeds to dial his best buddy Elang.

"Eh-Elang-youstillincanteenmyphoneandwalletistheredoyousee-"

In barges Elang through the door of the seventh floor classroom, obviously nowhere near the canteen anymore.

"Shit! Eh-Ileftmywalletinthecanteen---!!!" Zong exclaims, ostensibly and visibly panicked. Not only does Elang not reply with the usual droll expletive, he remains still for awhile, a facade of serene composure, then strolls over to where the mac is.

Zong blinks, bemused, as Elang lifts the mac up by the screen.

Lo and behold! Placed neatly in a stack, cool as you please, Zong's wallet and handphone!

There is a stunned silence, followed by a gale of laughter.

( a few days later, Zong calls Elang on the phone while walking to RI )

Zong : "Hello Elang! Where are you all arh?"

Elang : "Woi! Wo zai ni hou mian la!" ( imagine the coarse edged huskiness to his voice, and he speaking in the manner of a coffee shop aunty, and you'll know why we laughed! )

(later in the day)

Our very own celestial body celebrates his 17th birthday! Tan Elang, the Sun, the hot, the sio and the pro, recieves a card bearing a message of affection from each of us, the most memorable by far being written by Shornee.

"Hey sweetie, I always knew you were hot stuff, even before they started calling you the Sun. You're the best chem rep in the class, and that makes me want to put my burette in your beaker. I wonder how long it would take for a neutralisation reaction to occur? xP

See you around! Your totally sexy lover, Shorn. "

(Today!)

Em : I'm going off with Shaun during free block...

Elang (suddenly possessive) : EH don't go stealing my 'hot sexy lover!"

(later)

Zong : (completely serious tone) "Sir, there's a gay in our classroom. This is an issue you must address."

Mr Lee : "No la! Eh we must not discriminate against homosexuals."

Zong : "What?! Then he'll gay me!"

Mr Lee : "Then you get rid of him yourself!"

(later, when discussing food for class bbq)

Zong : "I don't mind eating Dog meat." (Mimes a vicious savage stabbing a fork into a chunk of meat, ripping off a hunk and stuffing it into his mouth. The act is completed by cannibalistic sound effects that effectively convey a vehement pleasure in partaking the meat of the dead Dog.)

Vic : "Oi! I'll lick you first!"

Mr Lee : (catching on to the perverse implications) walaauuuu. Anyway, I think if he really licks you right, you'll start rotting.

Involving PW.

1.

In the middle of a heated argument between two of my PW members in the canteen, Shornee jauntily steps in to contribute his two cents' (much more valuable, really) worth of thought.

The twisted one : Imagine Zong Dog standing over Vic Dog, in black leather and holding a whip, saying, "Bad dog! Down!"

The shameless one : Kinky!! I like pain!!

The clueless one : Huh? Why leather?

2.

Conversation between Vic and Mei Dog while in the library. Go figure who's who!

"We should book the bus whose tickets cost $100 per ride - the chairs are super comfortable! They can be put all the way down like beds...you can sleep on them, and everything. Even have sex!"

"You two can have a bus to yourself then, and enjoy your five hour ride..."

"Yeah...five hour ... ride...OHMYGOSH!"

"... ... ... (sniggers) especially since you'll be the one riding!"

"Five hours ride ... ouch, no, I don't think even my ass can take it!"

"(oblivious third party) I don't even want to know what you guys are referring to."

3.

(Highly perverted, this!)

"Give me back my phone! Or I'll use this marker to draw on your fur, dog."

"Right. Then you'll have to wash my fur for me! Because you're my master!"

4.

In reference to boredom and hairy legs :

"Zong Dog! One of these days, you should wear FBTs. Then shave a pattern on your legs! AHAHA..."

"..Yeah, yeah. Xiao zhar bor..."

5.

"Hey you know Zong's parents (stumbles over 'parents')-"

"(mishearing) HE'S WHAT?? PREG? As in pregnant??"

6. Excerpts of a memorable MSN conversation.

"That dumb dog! I'll make sure he suffers! By my tongue!"

"I'm sure. Is your mouth that big? xD"

"...Wth? You're overestimating him!"

"How would you know?"

"Well, we had communal bathing during class camp ... let's just say, his wasn't the size of any coconut tree or whatever."

"HAHA. And yours?"

"Wth! This is damn wrong! But anyway, mine's huge."

"(Remembers from a former conversation) And hard?"

"Yes of course."

"AHAHA PW BOLSTER FIGHTS!"

"LOL. So what, during our bolster fights, I use that?"

And that, Zhilbeh, is what I decided not to post on the class blog! x)

6.

Zong Dog logs onto his gmail account. First message title the three of us see in his inbox :

"Hot models and sexy babes looking for handsome sugar Daddy!"

(Tsk tsk tsk. Handsome? Sugar Daddy? Hot models? Sexy babes? Lim Zong - (whoops, privacy infringement.) Zong Dog? Just what have you been doing to recieve emails like these?)

7.

What we all have to say to our parents :

MJ : "Sorry, mummy, I'm not a girl anymore..."

Zong : "Sorry, mummy, I'm not straight anymore..."

Vic : "Sorry, mummy, I'm not a human...anymore..."

Em : "Sorry, mummy, that you had to meet them and see all this..."

PW meetings

Excerpts from our PW group meetings :

Members : Zong Dog, Vic Dog, Mei Dog, and Em Dog.


1.
Mei Dog : (mimes a throttling motion with fingers roughly the circumference of a neck, to Zong Dog)
Vic Dog : Hey, don't do that! It looks damn wrong.
Mei Dog: ... (lightbulb of understanding) Eh, please lor. I know it's Zong Dog, but doesn't mean his is that big...
Vic Dog : How you know, see before ah?
Mei Dog : Put it this way...if it's that thick, anyone would be able to see it through his pants.
Vic Dog : You never know...now it's only in ground state.
Zong Dog : (stunned)


2 .
Vic Dog : EEWW!! THERE’S DOG SHIT ON THAT CHAIR!
Zong Dog : What dog shit, bird shit la. I’m sure a dog’s anus that small...
Vic Dog : No way man. It’s dog shit!!


3.
Mei Dog : We should have stress and anger management sessions! Pillow fights! Let's all crash a house with our pillows and bolsters! Pillow fight! Bolster fight!
Vic Dog : Oh yeah, that would be damn fun! I can bring my bolster. It's damn big!
Em Dog : Yeah, Vic Dog...you and your bolster, 'damn big' right!
Vic Dog : Eh, yeah lor! Damn big! And damn hard somemore!!


4.
Vic Dog : This is how Zong Dog types. (mimes a dog banging on the keyboard with three fingers)


Vic Dog's perveted obsessions, as becoming steadily more explicit

Vic Dog : Why is your handwriting so big, Zong Dog? Is it in proportion to the size of your-
Zong Dog : (exasperated glare)

(next)

Vic Dog : Hey! Zong Zong!
Zong Dog : Hey! Puppy!
Tiong : Wow, so intimate!

(next)

Vic Dog : (assuming slutty face and seductive falsetto) Zong Doggg..... (strokes Zong Dog.)

(later)

Vic Dog : Eh, Zong Dog! Stop looking at me like that! Don't make me rape you!

(later)

Vic Dog : Eh, Zong Dog! Don't do that! Or I'll rape you right here and now! I'll make sure you die by my tongue!!

(later)

Vic Dog : Oh, I'd be honoured to be your judo partner! I'll make sure to grab all the right places! And make you squeal!

AND OMG THIS IS EPIC :

Vic Dog (to Zong Dog, obviously) : I'll make sure your rubber tree runs dry!!!

Zong Dog's inexorable decline into moronity

"Dogu! Dogu! That's damn dogu!"

"Vic Dog, I'll dump you into a kennel with Mei Dog. Then we'll soon see little puppies running around."

(To Vic Dog) "Go fetch, puppy! Go fetch!"

Zong Dog : (digs around in file) hahahahaha! More blank sheets of paper!

Zong Dog : (In a revoltingly sweet and condescending voice) Nonono. I want to use a fresh sheet of paper. So nice and refreshing! = Flicks paper =



Hilarity. I'm sorry if it doesn't seem funny on print. You have to be with the group itself!

No nothing nada.

No inspiration.

No fervent harassment of the silver, smudged keyboard in an attempt to capture images and emotions in prose and poetry.

Nope, not even the slightest urge to recount the ridiculous antics of my PW group mates. Although what I can remember is enough to make laughter bubble up to stretch my lips in a grin, there are just so many things that words cannot do justice to.

Isn't it remarkable how the headquarters of somatic control, the conductor of comprehension, the power generator of conciousness, known otherwise to sensible laymen as the 'brain', can swing from one pinnacle of emotion to the next with the most tenuous prococation?

One would expect that if even our cells, microscopic collections of of micro microscopic organelles, had regulatorary processes in replication, transcription and whatnot -

No. I am incoherent today.

I have never wanted this blog to be a diary of petty, self indulgent rubbish - barring the occasional anecdotes of my life, my other entries ( I hope ) have -

have -
have what?! Added literary value? Does that not sound supercilious? Contemptuous of journals and condescending?

I just don't know.

I am disgustingly disjointed. How irksome!

Utterly abhor these perplexing instances of uncreativity.

Lackadaisical lethargic indolent

somnolent

my current state of mind.




Oh, the wonders of Haagen Daaz belgian chocolate and cappucino truffle ice cream.

Your only Rose

I just wish you loved me as if I were your only rose!



My gallant paladin,

Love me, completely and utterly,

Cherish me like your eyes.

Bring me a lance of molten platinum,

Bring me a liquid gown of ice that will not melt

Bring me a dress of golden flowers, with neither stitch nor seam

Bring me a crown of moonlight I can touch and wear

Bring me the moon itself on a chain

Brave for me the trials of hell.



My gentle paladin,

Beautify me,

Pleasure me above all other flowers, that I might be the radiance of every star's fantasy.

For I am

Resplendent, Incandescent, Ethereal

Only me. The only rose.

No silent, passing praise for me, oh no no,

I want the monopoly, the riveted abhorrent jealousy from others when they look upon my exquisite self.

Do behold their spiteful malcontent, evoking in me a frisson of joy, so delightful it is to my gleeful eye! I would be pulchritude itself, empyreal gift on earth, the only, the one, the single.

Rose.

I rememember past the hideous, drooping stalk, hanging low and withered as dried up skin. The pitiful crackle of dry leaves crushed. The bald flower bereft of its crown.

The seizing laugter of corruption.

By any other name would it smell as sweet.

There were once two cute little fecks name Argle and Yargle.

Argle and Yargle. Being bored out of my skull and facing another night of insomnia, I shall abstain from my usual courtly poetry and stick to the

bare
bleached
bovine

sensibility of teen language.

OK, seriously. The world is, like, this huge round yoyo spinning around on a large invisible stick, with idiotic little pokemon just sprouting out of the ground like popcorn. Totally nonsensical, and utterly lacking in humour. Were I any normal doggone kid I'd amuse myself with pictures of naked people, but I'd only have more difficulty sleeping. Apparently pictures of naked people are the solution to people falling asleep in General Paper class.

Honestly, how crass.

Taking account the person in particular at which the remedy is targeted, though, makes things perfectly understandable.

Is it just because I'm bored that I'm eating? This is so bad for my health. It's like 12.30 am already, or something like that.

Where did my whole night go, man? Someone outta keep a watch on the Sun and Moon. They're meddling with each other's alarm clocks. Sleeping on their shifts! O deplorable stars.

Why oh why am I so bored. Whoy oh whoy. Whey oh whey. Whay?

Whay , ay whay, am ay sao bard?

Starz above, but we're one pathetic bunch of bored out hobos without humour. A whole race of dull, dour and dispassionate souls.

I mean, we'd be all like potatoes.

And which dumbass dude would want to be a potato? I mean, sure, you'd be useful. You'd either be a fry or a wedge. Or maybe a mashed up mass of sticky stiff starch. Yeck.

I've run out of stupid blackcurrent ricola. Perfect time to crave for weird inassessible foods, at 12.20 at night...is the stupid clock going backwards? oh wait. I put it upside down for novelty...go me, nice new and novel as our lousy lit text.

So now its 12.4o.

And to top it off it's as hot as Britney Spears' ex-ass around here.

Sun, you need to put on more clothes when you shine.

Elang, you need to follow suit.

The ha-ha-ha, the ha-ha-ha, and the downright ha-ha-ha

1. "Damn dog! Da-a-amn dog! Consperm got drug!!' From Da Dawgtor

2.

= Meow meow shoots, Meow Meow misses=

= Nard and the Sun take their turn to score a hoop =

= Meow meow shoots, Meow Meow misses=
= Nard and the Sun take their turn to score a hoop =

= Before Meow Meow shoots, girl shout =

"Come on! You're our only hope!"

3.

Xiao Zhar Bor : "Between Z-Dog, the Sun, and Ah-hon, who would you want to shoot, shag or marry?"

JJ : "Oh, I want to shag Z-Dog!"

Z-Dog : "You want to do WHAT to me??"

the Sun : "He wants to have sex with you."

4.

Zheyan : "Hey Zhilbeh, your spectacles are upside down..."

Zhilbeh : "Huh, really meh?" =takes of glasses and checks= "Don't have what." =puts them back on, the sides are still upside down=

The Witching Hour

Salutations and blessings upon ye, o fair friend, oh joyous hours of solitude and fair freedom!

It is Friday night, finally, that deadly snake-pit period of temptation which makes me want to stay up late, with aircon, good music and hours of midnight and early morning solitude, and whisk myself off on a spellbinding adventure with dragons and demons -

No sleep! For sleep is the torpid state of stupor to which we all retire under the soporific lull of math and chem lectures, most definitely not worthy of the magical thirteenth hour of Friday night.

At the heart of all this end-of-week anticipation, is the loss of yet another 7 days' worth of memories -

- gambol from weekday to weekday, much like a the way a flea jumps and knows not whether it lands on the same host or a different one -

- and hey, presto! Once again we await the glory of Saturday to shower us with books and black coffee.

The Hour at Night

The thirteenth hour rises and is robed by the moon
Shadows crouch, still and hide, for their job is to lie
Even cats slink off, glinting eyes a green fading blue
But you -
You live with with light and the glory and the vigour of noon.

Look back on my week and read my joy like a book
Smiles grin, laughter chuckles and so too must I
How beautiful is pure friendship between close friends at school
But no -
The anchor of love takes me to drown, line, sinker and hook.

Your silent gaze wrecks the train of my thought
Your touch invites terror and your smile invokes fear
Snarky comment springs to life, tip of my tongue, then
Then -
Something stops my elegant one liners one witty pun short.

Now dark the chaos tempest veiled
And dark the land beneath the sky,
Now dark the careening scream of wind
And dark our melancholy sigh

For the stars of the night are the light of your eyes
and the song in my heart is your voice.

Comments, please!

Poetry Porn

Word Porn
By George Wielgus

I want to word you
I want to put my words inside of you

Don’t be afraid
I’ll start off slow, gentle
With little short words
So you relax, get comfortable
So you start you like it
Then they’ll get bigger
Harder, faster
Caressing you with lexis
Titillating with syntax
Obfusticating with metaphor
Egregious with symbolism

Steady, don’t get too excited

Words start off flaccid
But get inflated with passion
Erect with meaning
Soon they’re driving a fire inside of you
Massive throbbing words
Huge great purple-headed words
Flushed with allegorical juices
Dripping, hot, miasmic words
Spraying, coursing, biting, kissing words
Words of wanton abandon

I want to see the look on your face
As you feel my words working their literary magic
As the unrelenting flow
The pressure
The insistence of my words
Transforms your experience
From the mundane to the supreme

I want you to gasp as I thrust
A deep word
A grammar of ecstasy
A vocabulary of entries and exits
Right up inside your mental crevasses
Infiltrating areas you never knew you had

Wording, wording, wording
Suck on my words
Put my words in your mouth
And spit them back out at me

I want to ride your pentameter!
Incite me to further daring acts of wordage
Word me like you’ve never been worded before
You’ve got the best words in the world
The biggest words
The hardest words
The best words I’ve ever had

Word me, baby!
Word me faster, word me slower
Word me like you love me
Word me up to the highest highs
That’s it! That’s it!
I’m wording, oh my God, I’m wording!
Word with me! Word with me!

The climax of punctuation:
An exclamation mark!

Followed by
A tentative question mark.

Did you conjugate the verb?


Full stop.


I LOVED THAT.

High and h**** from recounting class camp experiences to my yaoi fan-in-arms.
This is modern literature at its most ingenious and bombastic beyond-the-rules-out-of-the-box thinking.

Pinnochio

Pinnochio.

Wake up, Wake up,
For your brain is the soundless murmurings
of a million atoms
and death is only as far away
as sleep
as wakefulness
For you were never truly alive.

Wake up, Wake up,
For You and I are but mindless machines
replicating after heated mixture.

Wake up, wake up,
For even the Greeks decked their halls
with vulgar colour
and those that we worship
are but the crushed remnants
of their bare
bleached
bones

Wake up, Wake up,
For you are the millionth mongrel son
of Adam
and Eve
and that apple in your throat
spits the truth
every time
when it says you were never truly free

Wake up, Wake up
for the world
is a million vibrant colours
waiting to run you through with ecstasy

Wake up, wake up
and you will discover
that once you were alive
and now
you are dead.

By : Zeng Tianchen



This is the best poem I remember reading for a long time, for the intriguing and vivid imagery that the persona uses to describe mankind.

'Pinnochio' has all the characteristics of a modern-contemporary poem, from the dissonant, non-rhyming lines to the free verse stanzas and the brutal tone of illusion versus reality. It plays on the theme of human fraility and the farce of our existence, and although an extremely overdone topic, it is the original imagery and metaphors that I really love.

The title has an intriguing double meaning - Pinnochio being a puppet granted life at a fairy's whim, a parrellel is drawn between Pinnochio's false consciousness and our temporary existence subject to uncontrollable elements such as death or fate. Too, Pinnochio is a puppet who lied from birth, which implies that mankind deludes himself from the very beginning. With each stanza, the persona beseeches humanity to 'wake up', to open their eyes and look through the illusion of their lives. This strong emphasis on the idea of the 'matrix' embodies the cliched, yet ever brought up question : what is the purpose of our existence?

The imagery that really impacts me is the demeaning of the human race, the reality of basalness beneath the facade of a 'sentient being.'

The human brain, the source of our soul, emotion and memories, is reduced to a 'murmuring' mess of tiny 'atoms', and death is not so far removed as we think; infact, helpless as we are, death is as near as 'sleep' - expected, needed, part and parcel of life.

The process of sexual intercourse, intended for procreation and reserved for humanity as an act of pleasure, in fact reduces us to being 'mindless (and) heated'; wanton and instinct-driven, like animals.

"We worship (the) crushed remnants (of) bone" - To me, this phrase describes the our habit of deifying historic events and figureheads - Confucius the scholar, Julius Caesar the greatest emperor of the greatest empire, the Greek Gods on mythology, and so on. We remember these people because of their accomplishments and their legacies, because they are as marks and milestones in the progression of the human race toward 'social and cultural development' (as it were). Ironically, history is often altered over the course of time such that the winners re-create events as they wish. People's acts and characteristics are tweaked to suit a human ideal of a 'hero', a noble 'act of self-sacrifice'. Unable as we are to really acertain the truth for ourselves, all we can worship are their 'bones' - dead, dry, nowhere near a testimonial to the actual living body it once was.

Here's my favourite line : "...you are the millionth mongrel son of Adam and Eve..." - a distinctive jolt from the all claims that humans are a race above animals, the only species truly and feeling. I love the word 'mongrel' - It's especially so especially degrading and blasphemous in the context of religion or culture - it conveys the mixing of blood, 'pollution' of the human 'pedigree bloodline' through (perhaps?) inter-racial / homosexual relationships - and if you think about it, 7 billion descendants of Adam and Eve are all related and breeding with their own relatives. And thus the inbreeding continues and even as we erect greater and greater stages of 'accomplishment' to fool ourselves into 'progress,' so does the inexorable decline of mankind go on.

And, the 'fruit of truth' from the Bible, taking the shape of the 'apple' in the poem, shows us the reality that even Adam and Eve, the first ancestors of men, had neither the complete joy nor freedom associated with life - they were constrained by rules, and thrown out of Paradise for disobedience.

Finally, the colours in our life that incite us to ecstacy represents the vibrance of the world around us, and more importantly the myriad of emotions and memories that we experience. I find it interesting that the phrase 'run you through' is used as it signifies death. On deeper thought, what is life but colours, experiences and thought parading through our minds, fading yet renewed every second, and what is death but the end of these sensory images? The 'ecstacy' of life is not only delight but also angst, fear, sorrow, triumph and defeat, the heightened awareness of ourselves that only humans experience - and without which we are no more than mindless machines.

I would love to go deeper into the structure and effect of free verse, but as that's not my forte, I shall leave at at this.

Awesome job, Tianchen!