love.

the right one for me is the one for whom i am right.

work out your own theory of you. if you dont like it, make it nicer then change yourself. when you finally realise how wrong that is, accept that theory and be glad you figured yourself out.

ps 18 jan 2010 i just need a quiet place to hide this quote by henry rollins.

"It is no surprise to me that hardly anyone tells the truth about how they feel. The smart ones keep themselves to themselves for good reason. Why would you want to tell anyone anything that’s dear to you? Even when you like them and want nothing more than to be closer than close to them? It’s so painful to be next to someone you feel strongly about and know you can’t say the things you want to."

i died.

i go to bed at 4 am morning of 27th and i get hit by sleep paralysis again. same ol' same ol', except somehow i decide now would be the first time i try snapping out of it by sheer will. of course it doesnt work. i can barely control my breathing, and i cant even tell if what i am seeing is my room's ceiling between the gaps of five-ton eyelids or just a hallucinatory memory of that ceiling. "mind over body" is underexamined and overvalued. i decide to surrender and within what felt like seconds the grip fades and i am re-released into REM; this usually repeats a couple more times but this time this is it--no more random awakenings for now.

how could i be so naive. it cant be that simple. i now enter a dream. in this dream i do something terrible. it is abhorrent. i cannot remember what exactly because i am about to fail at writing this down the second i wake up in the afternoon. i do however remember feeling remorse, but strangely zero regret. maybe it's because in waking life i always try to make unshakeable choices. but in this dream the point is ever so sharp because for whatever i did prior to the last recallable event i am now facing the death penalty for it.and i feel no regret.

i remember now that in this dream i am wearing my saf uniform. maybe there is a connection somewhere. or maybe that's irrelevant. i dont know. i will die soon because of my sentencing and i feel no regret. people are hanged all the time, especially in this country, for questionable but reasonable points that supposedly justify. while on one hand i find it embarrassing that we arent already abolitionist i also accept that we probably never will be. under this realisation i neutrally resign to the fact that in my lifetime we will carry on hanging certain criminals like we take out the garbage. right now i am that trash, and i will be taken out soon, and i am pressed that i am not depressed...

a day or two pass in my dream and they let my family in to see me for the last time. they are sad. they cry for me. they are not ready to let me go and i understand why. people around me have always been more emotional than i, and i, always more rational than they. ive already come to the terms of my impending execution, and to most, it would understandably seem abit too quick. more than a tad disturbing, i admit, but i blink the thought away. after all, i die in the morning. i should probably make the most of my last hours; ive done enough thinking in the latter half of my life.

i dont know or i cant remember what happens between then and now, when i am being led to the white room. it is a lethal injection facility. i know it should be a dark house with a wooden beam and a noose but this is my dream and since ive have been watching too much american tv for the last 7 years, in my dream, singapore carries out capital punishment via lethal injection. and thats final!

at this point standing in the doorway i remember scenes from a movie the green mile in which deathrow inmates struggle from their cell all the way to the kill bed and have to be strongarmed by six full-grown men, lashed down to the gurney with leather straps, and prepared for the needle. again i blink this away: hey, at least i can hold myself together better than that guy can... right?

probably.

i am bound to the gurney but for whatever reason my head isnt (dreams are rarely logical) , so i crane my neck to look down on myself. i realise im not getting out of this one. the technician injects the yellow water into my IV line and i see it flow down the tube towards my arm.

just before the chemical reaches my left median cubital the whole idea of death runs me over. within this last split second all these questions hit me: this would be my final end? no more touch, smell, taste, sight, hearing? no more family? no more friends? no more laughter? no more tears? no more writing? no more typing? no more thoughts? sans everything.

i dont want this! i dont want to die yet! I DO NOT WANT TO DIE. i thought i had come to terms with it. i thought i made myself ready; now i am nothing better than that guy in the movie that i scoffed at! i try to will my arm away from the incoming yellow chemical but its useless--i am completely bound. to fate. the last moment is too extreme even for my subconscious, and i wake,

heart pounding i can feel it in my ears, but undoubtedly it's still beating fine. i am alive.

"fuck, fuck..shit. FUCK!" am i...crying? i breathe some words into the pillow. "Jesus" was one of them. dreams never really affected me that much, except when i dreamt on a couple occasions some person(s) close to me had died. and ive probably died many times in multiple dreams before but today this is different.

this time's is no accident. it's not a trip-and-then-fall-from-15-stories death. it's not a stabbing from a kidnapper that appeared out of nowhere. its not from a car that speeds up from behind me. its not from the fangs of a huge snake that wont refuse to take its eyes off me. its something about being executed by the Law, that your killer is not really your killer, and that the blame for your imminent death can never be placed upon anyone else...except yourself. execution... is like suicide. yes i finally understand now. capital punishment is forcing a man to take his own life. the idea is abominable. after this dream ill never again see the death penalty in the same light. i retract what i said 9 (or 10) paragraphs ago. i cant possibly still be sitting on the fence of compromise for this one.

my heart hasnt slowed, and i feel drained. i feel stupid. did i delude myself into thinking i could be ok with accepting death only to start disintegrating at the last moment? one of my greatest fears is to one day learn that there is no such thing as an unregrettable decision, that careful contemplation is no more superior to spontaneous carpe diem, that in living my life i chose the wrong way. at the moment the only thing i can conceivably fear more than such a revelation would be to continuing walking that same wrong path despite knowing better. i laugh at that man and now i am him, and i change the road sign instead of make a turn. hypocrisy epitomised. i hope i die for real before that day comes.

heart pounding i can still feel it in my ears, but undoubtedly its still beating fine. my eyes have dried. i am alive. thanks for the second chance.

right now sounds like a good time

coke coke coke

so its last friday and mum comes home from work with goodies and stuff and opens the fridge and she assplodes from the kitchen

"GREEEEEEEEEGGGGGGG!"

"What."

"What 'what'.? I come home never call mummy ah?"

"Orh. Mummy."

"Why you buy Coke again ah? I told you to stop buying Coke right? Buy your stupid Coke put here in the fridge then no space to put anything."

"No space cos you got 30 avocadoes inside."

"NO!" (most matter-of-fact NO ever) "Your stupid Coke block the whole fridge. I keep telling you don't buy Coke. So much sugar all sugar sugar. LOR SI, know, really."

"WAH LAO EH Coke Zero® la no sugar la..."

"NONSENSE!"(again said with such conviction that i was convinced for 1 second) "Coke Coke Coke everytime Coke. Diabetes then you know!"

"Coke Zero® la no sugar la sweet la but no sugar la bo nao ehhh..."

"Simi bo nao. Li ka bo nao ah." (we both start to laugh)

"Noooooo shuuuuuugerr...noooo shuuuggerrr."

"Stop buying your stupid Coke."

"Coke Coke Coke?"

"Yah. You and your Coke Coke Coke."

karma chameleon

so this has been at the back of my head keeping me up till 3 and staring at the ceiling for the past 4 days. need to write this down once and for all so i can sleep tonight.

it seems like the hindu cycle of causation is being taken too literally nowadays, such that altruism as a potentially rewarding way of life is reduced to a bastardised teaching of giving to get. that somehow there is a cosmic auditing company keeping tally of our thoughts and actions, and adding up their value in supposed virtue is already quite dubious. that we are to accept that our futures yet unwritten are dependent on the dividends of our deposits in those karmic accounts is bordering on ludicrous.

assuming even that the concept of karma is sound, it has never even been taught in hindu scripture that all our supposed dues be paid in the same lifetime. in fact it has been explicitly stated that that is impossible--that one lifetime is simply too short for one to experience all your karmas, and as such some will overflow into your next life and by extension any supposed fortune or misfortune befalling you today might and very likely have been due to actions from a past life.

of course now we are to acknowledge the concept of samsara. which if i did, i'd hope i wouldnt be a roach in my next life because id hate the way i walked, smelt and looked. i'd find the nearest Baygon canister and eat the nozzle.

but then i'd just be reborn as a human eventually, with no knowledge of past lives but somehow still under the crux of my past lives; a fucking curse i say. assuming i then became a devout hindu and followed the teachings of gautama buddha to the T, racking up a bitchin' list of good deeds, it would all have been for someone else, who according to the samsara is actually me but according to honest opinion is really fucking somebody else. and that fucker better be a nice guy too lest my next life be weighed down by the heavy hand of the cosmic PriceWaterhouseCoopers,LLcP (limited liability cosmic company). obviously the concept of causality in samsara was conceived as a/an dis/incentive. really now, are we supposed to be good for the sake of others' happiness or our own? this kind of crap really fucks with my head keeps me awake at night.

then the vedas talks about exiting the curse of the infinite cycle by attaining nirvana which i would liken to having a bafunkajillion orgasms simultaneously but also consecutively in a time period of negative infinity. and we will achieve nirvana when we finally accept our situations and wish for no more of impermanent things, like money, fame, power etc. ahh conformism really sums it up: wanting what we think everyone else wants. chameleons of the same colour.

funny how karma encourages its own perpetuation and destruction, that on one hand it ensures the propagation of the samsara knowing people are inherently sin abounding, and on the other hand challenging them to transcend the wheel of fuck...which is mindblowing considering if everyone was nirvanic,

HOW THE HELL CAN WE CONTROL THEIR ACTIONS WITH THREATS OF BAD LUCK NOW?

on the certainty of survival with the expectations of failure part deux

so many have fallen trying to escape into the other expanse--and so it was. hopes erased, dreams dashed, bones broken and crafted wings crumbled for what other than the simple achievement of sharing in what the eagle possessed. borne of a rejection of the notion that they were not to have what they were not meant to have, based upon the thousands-year-old covet that all of man shared (well almost all of them), or probably more simply that he didnt believe what fate narrated to his ears. "i shall not be prisoner" and the boy heard.

he was only able to see their situation in the black light of his depression; truth revealed like a mirage on a veil over their eyes. and he saw himself as prisoner and convinced his son that they were both to leave. by innovation, twine, feather and wax he produced the tools that would free them. "i shall not be prisoner" and the boy heard.

with the tools they both left, and the older realised his dream for freedom--a large dream no less, which however and unfortunately spiralled inward in all directions because his son had a bigger dream, for then the boy had ball and chain, now he had wings, but next he wanted to be with the angels. "stay away from the sun" and the boy heard. but he did not listen, for he had bigger eyes than mind for the expectations of his future glory.

and the certainty of his survival became then solely part of his father's memory:
the boy was given wings but he lusted for the halo, a mistake so grand even his own death could not remunerate the tills of fate, and the debt cascaded down to his father, to be written into a new chapter of the old man's book of what-ifs and should-have-beens.

what if i had not hoped, for my son would not have learnt to hope, for he would then not hoped for more than was due to him? would it have been better for us to remain prisoners in that tower with legendary dreams of the sky or be now free men who pursued it to the bottom of the Greek sea?

my apology for future transgressions

i am sorry but that is just how it is how i was made in the beginning to how i remade myself from the pieces into a harder colder steel that bends in thoughts and words but never in actions a steel that reacts to darkness and warmth just like but no longer quite the same a scaffolding steel without which i am a shack on shaky stilts that threaten to give in and collapse me into a pile of nothing and nothingness is what i would not necessarily choose even if my other choice was death so go easy on the judgement or otherwise try not to look so confused because this i tell you though still in present will be past when i do transgress against you in the future--i am and have already apologised so i am moving on with or without your forgiveness since i rust just the same either way

ps 17 jan 2010 there is no way this could ever work. what was i thinking.

ps 29 apr 2010 i invoke this today. the amount i do, though big to me, tends to be little to some. i invoke this post today.

please excuse me

Do you see me standing there in the corner? I was alone. I always am at these big parties watching you, watching everybody, wishing I was more outgoing, wishing I was dressed up pretty...

Wallflower, I'm not here, no one sees me. Wallflower, I'm by myself, please excuse me.

But there you were standing in your own corner, your eyes were wide, tired, fading, just like mine. We could be the best of friends I'm sure of it. But I'm too shy to cross this crowded room. Besides...

Wallflower, I'm not here, no one sees me. Wallflower, I'm by myself, please excuse me. Help me leave this corner of the room I'm reaching out to you cause I've got things I could talk to you about and we could be wallflower friends, 'til the end. Wallflower friends 'til the end I'm sure of it. Wallflowers, we're not here, no one sees us... Wallflowers, we're together, please excuse us.

ps 20nov apparently i am a wallflower in denial

ps 2jan this is a song by priscilla ahn. please click the flower.

ris low 1, nerds wearing specs 0.

"Q: Some people say that you don't know what you're doing and have dragged our country's reputation down with you. What do you have to say to these people?

A: Can I tell them that they're bull-sh**ing? Please take a look at yourself in the mirror, as if you're not disgracing yourself. Is your English really that good? Can you really speak that well? Can you write that well? Do you think you can stand on the stage and portray yourself?
No, I don't think so. You're just somebody behind a computer, a nerd wearing specs, typing away. Just a coward."

:(

the smell of life

when i was 9 our science teacher asked us..."do smells have weight?"

i shouted "well milady, apparently you have not experienced my fart, which carries with it the full force of a runaway train. tell me if that doesnt have weight." well i didnt really say that. wish i did. instead i was perplexed into deep stupor. i still remember her condescending smirk laced with a couple of those smug chin lifts and corner-of-the-eye lookdowns. ya la ya la u smart la. atas bitch.

and the truth eluded me for years--because the answer could not exist. the question was...inherently flawed. suppose if we were to ask ourselves, 'do smelly things have weight?', the answer would be obvious. yes, even supermodels' gym clothes weigh something, even if the ladies themselves dont.

and then any uneducated simpleton would challenge "yes smelly clothes have weight but does the smell of smelly clothes weigh anything?" tersely put, ammonia (or hydrogen sulphide--the stuff of which legendary farts are made--i know my farts ok) molecules DO have weight. realise then that we had just started swirling down a different drainpipe because this answer is still not compatible with the original question.

"yes smelly clothes have weight and the ammonia molecules that make it smelly have weight but does the smell of smelliness of smelly clothes weigh anything?"

SHUT UP! SHUT UP! DIE! SHUT!!!

at this point i hear a click in my head (no, not aneurysm bursting). can i apply this question to our other senses? do images have weight? do tastes have weight? do sounds have weight? then i ask the fifth and the last and realise how terribad the question really is--do tactile feelings have weight? eureka. of course they dont. things we experience have weight. the experiences themselves weigh nothing.ss

so why is it that i believe that my memories are worth more to me than anything material? why does failure and regret feel so heavy? why is it that i believe i would never trade my experiences, including and especially all the bad ones, for tons of money, good looks and a restart on life with a blank, wiped slate? if im lucky i'll have an answer in 12 years.

the glass

water in a glass. air in a glass. weve all heard of the pessimist and the optimist. just two--perhaps too simple and elegant? :)

and said in a way to inspire optimism in the many who have chanced upon this nugget of wisdom, by making the pessimist sound ridiculous. ahh..but whatever was so bad about the ability to anticipate the worst, save for the possibility that it might eventually be all one ever could see? willful blindness: an extreme scenario; and i could say the same for unguided optimists.

but now im just getting hung up on another false dichotomy, because we really are a world of many and while

the optimist might say "your glass is half full",
the pessimist would say "your glass is half empty" and
the enviromentalist would say "is your glass recyclable?" while
the philosopher would say "your glass of water is tecnhically not really there", followed by
the communist, who would say "your glass is actually our glass". but
the polemicist says "there is no issue with the glass. it has always been about the cup". to which
Lara Croft would say "my cups are Double D". not forgetting
Ris Low, who would say "your glass is half boomz and half shingz" and
the engineer who would readily inform that "your glass needs ╥*r²*(H-x) more water". next,
the jaded man who says "fuck your glass" and
the feminist who says "your glass is a phallic contruct. i refuse to answer this question" as
the buddhist says "in my past life, i was a glass of water". so
the singapore govt would say "we shall take our shit and our piss and treat it and pour it into your glass" right before
Chase says "dun care what water... your glass A-list anot?" and quickly after,
the Marxist would shout "your glass is the symbol of oppression on the water which is the working class" and
the fascist, "your glass is half of whatever I tell you it is" and then of course what we imagine
Jesus would say: "your glass overfloweth."

amen.