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Dark, Romantic Alleys
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Well. Just how well do you know your own homeland? Have you gone out of your comfort zone, where you know every hook and cranny, where you know exactly where each bus goes, and what are the food you’re going to be eating for the day? Finally I found a day in Singapore where I feel foreign, and pleasantly delighted, memories flooding back in flashes so rapidly you couldn’t catch up with reality.

I began a journey unconsciously along the dark, romantic alleys of Clarke Quay, watching how couples, young and old, local and foreign, some even with infants sitting up in their prams, reveling in the entire scene. They dined quietly in sheltered, dimmed eateries by the riverside. Lamp posts were, for the first time, lamp posts. Look at the glitter from the water. It looked more promising than the sky.

There were the wild crowds, rocking their way through the night in shaded clubs, their loudly muffled music reminding routiners of their pathetic typical lives. There were the Australians gathering round a large screen on high stools, sipping their dozes of alcohols, never taking their eyes off some rugby game. There were some more crowds watching intently some Formula One race. How I pursued the night, knowing that I’m going to give myself a day off from routine tomorrow.

I strolled over the bridge across the River, and smiled at how some dad was eagerly taking photos of his young toddler, who couldn’t stay still for a shot for 2 seconds. I headed towards Chinatown, where I knew would be crowded on this Mid-Autumn night. The roads were considerately blocked off from traffic, allowing pedestrians to switch roles with vehicles. Mooncakes sold for $8, no less, and I mused over its opportunity cost (i.e. what I could do with $8), people having too high hopes selling those lame lightsticks –hello, it ain’t Christmas. Some guy with a tag that read “CREW” stopped me in my tracks and asked if he could do a “short survey, only 4 questions”. Sure, I replied. While scribbling on his retarded clipboard, he asked my nationality, age and whether I live in this area. Was that 4 questions? Either there was a question within the questions, or he can’t count for nuts.

I tore myself from the main crowd and came to the long, never-ending alleys of Chinatown, where the prices were all oh-so-wonderful, tourists in almost every shop. Well. Guess what, that whole arena, with the noise and lights and all, resembled those in downtown Shanghai, China, and it just reminded me of those times 2 years back. I made my way out of Chinatown’s craze and found myself in a weird alley that reminded me of 70’s Singapore –those kind of sidewalks next to the road. Soon I found myself at South Bridge Road. There was a lady whom I suspect fed those cats daily as she pushed her little carts. She placed some food on a small newspaper cut-out and laid it down in front of each cat. How…generous.

By this time I was at Tanjong Pagar. There was a white building looking like a church, which says proudly “Family KTV”. I just stood there gaping. I approached a row of shophouses, all with Korean restaurants. To my greatest surprise, it resembled the restaurants I dined in Seoul 2 years back. Gosh. Wouldn’t I love to step in again. Then the Stab came. The bus stops along this road really rocks too. Those white structures looked like it came from the historical ruins of Malacca. Well. Not really. But it somehow reminds me.

My adventure ended there. Rather abruptly and… I wished it ain’t this way.

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Wristband.
(Recommended song to read with:
"Over"
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Alright. Time to halt for a moment.
No more of those, time to be still.

I love the night.
I love it when I'm all relaxed in bed,
looking forward to the cycles of dreams...
For the events in my dreams are always so colourful, full of impact and realization, unlike the mundane reality, where you do mundane things everyday, and talk mundane talks, look at mundane buildings, unlike those dreams, where I meet people I know and don't know unexpectedly, and where architecture defies all gravity and other forms of crap. And I could see their eyes, they tell. A lot. Such that I get confused in this dream or reality thing- entangled like the wristbands someone told me about. Not right.

Man. Sometimes I try not to look into people's eyes, for I'm afraid of what I may see there. Cos, an eye contact might work one way, and you never know what's the up. Man. It's going winter soon. It may just be as well that it doesn't snow in this part of the world... at least we don't have to worry about the cold and the other winter-related crap like stocking up the fuels and stuff.

Eyes are nice.
Eyes speak. As much as the mouth mouths.

Some eye contacts tell you everything you need to know.

I don't know what I'd do. Demoralize myself and convince myself to get out now, leave the responsibility-duty crap behind. Move on, climb the damn mountains, walk the pathetic desert. Somewhere where it's not isolation that chose me but that isolation is my choice.

Sometimes when I feel cold I don't want to touch anything warm. For fear that, I'd lose momentum when the warmth disappears, and the cold more than doubles. I'd tell you the things animals would do if they had the abilities of humans.

Whoever's reading this - don't buy those Lux de-stress spa shower crap cos it doesn't work. Though your skin smells like lavendar and crap, ... I feel cheated that the de-stress part doesn't work. Gimmicks, gimmicks and MORE gimmicks. Doesn't product differentiation rock?

Do you know that you can be accused for inappropriate crap on your own personal blog? Yeah, so for your information, you are not entitled to your own opinions and if you deny this you may be suspended from school. Did you know that? Did you know that the most ridiculous things can happen right here on Earth? Do you know that things are actually happening while you were away muling over your own crap? Do you know? Or do you not? Are you shocked now or are you shocked? Can you get out of your intertwined wristband?

Sometimes I wonder if it's really at all possible to unlive a life. Is it possible to shut the world out like the way the craft's panel may be drawn down? No more light shining through, no more rays. Then when you finally relent, what's outside is so magnificent it drowned you in tears. Apart from all the poverty, pain, suffering and torture crap, you see the light of it all. You can't go forward, nor back. You're rooted.

I wonder why 'human' is spelt so similarly to 'humus'. Is there an underlying meaning someone's trying to say when he came up with it. Or is it just a plain old coincidence.

Sometimes there are lots of possibilities to a meaning of a word. We know that, don't we. Like intertwined wristbands.

Maybe I should just try spending a full day doing nothing but just staring at the clock. What do you think would happen after that? Would I feel fresh? Or dead. Or will I lose patience after 10 minutes? Or will I just fall asleep. Anyway. I think I'd just start cursing the clock after one and a half minute.

Try picturing this.

First dimension length.
Second, breadth.
Third, depth.
Fourth, time.
Fifth, truth.

It's the final lap.

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Transmission must have Failed, man!
(recommended song to read with:
"Behind These Hazel Eyes"
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Like trying to get a point across to someone, so insistent and confident yet lost it, forgetting the concepts you believed in and shit. In the midst of arguing, you lost the logic in your argument, yet you just can't stop thrashing though you have no idea what the heck you're talking about.

What's up with it, man? It's freaking me out the way it's done, the way it's seen, the way it is. Oh, crap.

You never responded, man. Not once.
I'm getting sick of your crap. Of your shit.

Crap. That's what we do.
Crap. That's what we're supposed to study.
Crap. That's who we are. Ain't it right, losers? ...shrugs.

And as I'm typing furiously, gosh, the anger and frustration it keeps coing through, and I can't frigging stop it. I've got a whole day of crap, man, and the sky agrees too. I've got more crap to do yet when I get there. MORE CRAP.

Too drowsy man, the crap ain't working. This is the type of crap I wouldn't let my tongue speak. Just here on my space. Yeah. That'll be fine.

Maybe I should just erase my citizenship. What, some shadow gliding round Singapore, the pathetic island. Maybe I should just isolate or exclude myself voluntarily. Write hate mails everyday. Maybe I've entered a wrong universe, got stuck in some sick transmission someone's tried to pull up there.

Maybe I ain't even living, maybe, maybe I'm just stuck in some crappy shell, and get to live through her crap instead of her doing it. Cos, know what? I'm startin to get used to her life, man. Gosh. Can't believe it. I have almost 64 options to every decision that's coming, and it's full of crap. Don't wanna put my brain to the torture man, no no. Worthless trash.

I don't think I want to sleep just yet man. I can't sleep the way my head's pounding. No no. Maybe I won't be sleeping for the next month. Won't that rock?

Just a day to think things through. Just one day.

Even facts have cheated me, things don't turn out the way they should, all the crap you learnt before are now nothing more than crap, you feel cheated, hurt, insecure, like a worthless loser.

A LOSER.

Hah.
That's why I Rock.

Now move on and get a life this time.

Get it right... Loser.

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