Why Don't You Care?...

"Why is it that you do not care anymore?"

This question caught me off-guard. There are two answers flowing around in my thoughts, both of which, I chose not to use.

1) The matter means so much to me such that I chose not to care anymore.
2) The matter means nothing to me anymore.

Truth is, I do not know which one is it.

She Bangs...

There are fewer things more exasperating to realise than, for all your sincerity in trying to be a very good friend, you will forever be second-place(or third) to her back-stabbing "buddies" and all other in-her-pants potentials, for the following reasons:

1) She enjoys picking out knife from behind as left by her "buddies".
2) She knows you are not intending to screw her anyway.
3) You do not provide enough stimulants to mind-fuck her so you end up watching how stupid they look when they get mind-fucked by others. And they hate being seen as stupid.
4) Doesn't matter how much attention or interest you give them in the first place but reducing the dosage will cause you to be black-listed. Don't sian also die?
5) Competition among girls in groups is ALWAYS present. Varies only in extent. You be careful who you side with. And its inevitable that you take wrong sides in the process. Fact is you can never ever be on a right side. Worst part, sometimes, you don't even know that you are on a very wrong side until you are taken down and someone shouts,"MEDIC!!!"
6) We are not allowed to judge them like the way they judge us. They expect you to give respectful treatment fitting only for a demure goddess after they cheated on their bf whereas they start raining stones on you for doing so on your gal. Then they spread the words(why not the legs this time?) for you. Oh, the consequences. You end up being more condemned and you get less girls. Its a vicious cycle.

I'll stop here and as I realise I'm slowly veering away from context. Jezzzz... For these reasons, somehow, guys just make better buddies for the following:

1) They make it very clear that they hate knifes behind them.
2) They are sure that you are not interested in screwing them in the first place.
3) The only buggers who can mind-fuck you, are those that do not pick up the tab everytime.

Of course, I exaggerated against the ladies. I'm glad to say that I have not met a girl friend who exhibits full-blown traits of all 6 points. I consider myself lucky though if I find one who has only less than 2 of those (full-blown)traits.

Let the flame come.

Talking Alone...

Maybe the only reason why we feel so alone, is that the people whom we want to talk to, are not the ones that we can talk to.

I so feel like talking.

It aien't easy to forget who you really want to talk to.

Mr Brightside...

While we are still on the topic on mental-fuck. Heres one great masterpiece of a song with regard to that.

"Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibi"

Mr Brightside by The Killers
Lyrics from Lyrics 007

I'm coming out of my cage
And I’ve been doing just fine
Gotta gotta gotta be down
Because I want it all
It started out with a kiss
How did it end up like this
It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss
Now I’m falling asleep
And she’s calling a cab
While he’s having a smoke
And she’s taking a drag
Now they’re going to bed
And my stomach is sick
And it’s all in my head
But she’s touching his—chest
Now, he takes off her dress
Now, let me go

I just can’t look its killing me
And taking control
Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibis
But it’s just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes
‘Cause I’m Mr Brightside

I’m coming out of my cage
And I’ve been doing just fine
Gotta gotta gotta be down
Because I want it all
It started out with a kiss
How did it end up like this
It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss
Now I’m falling asleep
And she’s calling a cab
While he’s having a smoke
And she’s taking a drag
Now they’re going to bed
And my stomach is sick
And it’s all in my head
But she’s touching his—chest
Now, he takes off her dress
Now, let me go

I just can’t look its killing me
And taking control
Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibi
But it’s just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes
‘Cause I’m Mr Brightside

I never...
I never...
I never...

You Don't Resolve Their Issues & My "Seemingly Docile" Chick...

What I love about Samantha, is her practise to leave the venue if the party doesn't turn on. Each time Sam pulls a Earlier-Departure-B-4-You-Realise Manoeuvre, people will keep on harping "Whats wrong with Sam tonight?". I used to wonder so, but then I realise the beauty of the simplicity in her move.

You cannot be happy all the time. Times when you do not like the party. Leave. Return to seek a more fulfilling time another time. Why waste that night if you know its gonna be stale?

Of course, Sam is just a sweet little gal with the "Baggage Aging" of a 10-year old babe. Naturally, her moves are at times, so in-your-face that the complexity of our social behavioural norm tries so hard to not comprehend.

What is natural for us, masochists though, is that, we like to stay on to face the shit being thrown in our faces?

Doll and Blythe have been stuck in the same situation(same place somemore) where they wanna hang around, simply because of the presense of their ex-lover and current-"rival". A situation so forloin, that they must stay around to get their dose of mental-fuck. Magarita, out of love for her compatriots, is mortified.

"Why subject themselves to these mental fuck?!"

I take it upon my responsibility to try to convince her to not give a damn

Your friends have issues(Erm..all of ours have). These issues are internal. We cannot help them. And the sad truth is, they cannot help themselves. You can't tell an infant,"Don't touch the kettle, its hot!" They don't understand "hot". They have to touch the kettle to know whats "hot".

As friends, we advise. Once and period. Whatever they do, we'll just stand by with tissues and shoulders. I think thats my stand. I have to spend time mental-fucking others too, ya know? ;p

Ok. Now heres some intimate juice for you.

Got to know a "seemingly docile" chick at a joint last night. I swear she was eyeing me for quite some time(yes, those who have seen me in person, you know thats not possible, but just play along, huh?). So compelling that I had to turn around and say 'Hi'.

She different. Most of the times, you meet someone in a club and you start to hit on a very superficial level. Some routines are just getting mundane. But once in a while, a "Seemingly Docile" kind comes along, and seems genuinely interested in getting to know you as a person, well, its like helium. And that shy smile, the giggle whenever she knows that I'm checking her out(which is like many times). Mannnn, Sweet... While I was trying to "time" my request for contact exchange only when I leave, she had already brought up the Golden question. That hit me hard. No games. No "Diao Qi Lai Mai"(direct translation: Hangin high up on the counter).

On a ego boast, I finally had the chance to pull off my victory sign to Drunken Tortilla when she enquired about my operations. Smudge look on face, right hand on right hip, left arm swing in a circular motion before pointing at her, saying,"Everytime..."
(Exactly how Rachel in Friends did it, just before she got laid in her Cheerleader uniform)

Ok. Whats the point of me telling you this? You must be wondering. Actually, no point.

My ego is back up high. I'm feel sexy and I just feel lke thumping my chest.

Just let me be.

Oh yah, I'm obsessing over this song on the site of Missy Addie. So addicted am I that I keep on refreshing her page just to hear the song "Love Angel" being played. So Missy, if you notice refreshments from the same IP address in alarming frequency, don't worry, its just me playing the song over and over again...

Miata Accident...

One of the last places I would expect to find a recount of the Miata accident on Sunday Gal.

Its easy for us to point a finger at the driver, without much clarification. I'm not saying that he is absolutely not guilty, but I'm very sure that it wasn't intentional on his part. No one would have wished for this to happen. Thats why its called an accident.

We can only pray that the deceased rest in peace and her loved ones find closure in the time to come.

Not many people will experience something as traumatising as this, such as a friend meeting with such tragedy. But we still move on. We have to.

No Shitting @ Work...

Its strange how cupid like to throw you deals all the time, that seemingly on first glance, appears so perfect until one or two of the Clauses within set you requesting "Next potential deal, pls?".

Colleagues have been commenting on how our eyes have been sparkling with radiance each time they meet. Even the way we have been playing things down, couldn't escape some of the keener "paparazzi"s. Yes, we know that we have taking a sort of liking to each other. Ironic how I have never really done anything out of the way to get her attention.

But I still don't think I will be carrying it anywhere. Big problem in that it clashes with my No.1 policy... Never shit where you work. Office romance for me has always been a No-no.

Yeah. I shouldn't shit where I work. Next potential deal, pls?

On the other hand, I am having a very tough time trying to turn down a mini-party organised by another colleague. I won't admit to being a cool dude around to hang out with, but I'm sure there are some out there, who are definitely way so uncool and so farking boring to be around, kinda like him. I am wondering why he doesn't realise that our conversations are boring and that we do not click at all.

Best part of all, this dude doesn't drink at all, not a single drop no matter how much we had tried coaxing him during dinners. Now the same sober mind is trying to drag my ass down to a pub.

I have tried to reject the invitation, but it seems that this mini-party will not carry on without yours truly's presense. Plus. I have tried every means of turning him down, except telling him in his face "I do not want to party with you." Now, this is another way of interpreting the phase "Don't shit where you eat" I do not want a 31 year old, effeminine, boy-at-heart colleague crying on my hands. I just have to turn up to "work" on Friday night then. Now, this is OT.

Tempo of Last Night...

And I realise that I'm not the only one at John Digweed's set last night. I agree. Did someone tell me that its Progressive House? Apparently, it just wasn't progressing fast enough for our liking. I remember at one time, in dismay, I was urging "Faster, faster!" just as my feet gave up stamping the bassline. The tempo wasn't progressing much from two hours ago. Gosh.

"He's crazy!",muttered Shawn.

I wish I was, then I wouldn't be able to figure out the boredom. The set did get better after 4, but by then, I was already over-spent from upkeeping previous anticipations of better turns round the corner.

Oh one more thing. There are certain places to pick up chicks, certain places to socialise and certain places to hit the beat. And even within these places, there are certain people who love to entertain you and certain people who just want to entertain themselves. Its very important not to disturb a confused groover trying to make sense of the set, with totally irrelevant topics like your academic background and music history. Especially so if he is so obviously trying to avoid conversations. People should just take effort to learn to read faces and body language, if they do not have the instincts to do so in the first place.

Plus, Xuehua would be interested to know that, you can take the party out of Bala, but you can't take Bala out of the party. Selected guests aside, it seemed like dark denizens still prowl the trails we left behind.

I also have strong results supporting my thesis that claims the ability to figure out when one's welcome is overstayed or non-existent, is genetic. Definitely!

Ironically, the most defining moment of the night took place post-party and outside Zouk. V-Lian was urging me to do the nice-est things that I can be performing when I finally took my stand on "obligation to protect" and "not interfering with adult's choices of which they aware of the consequences". Saying no to everything then, I struggled with the bastard that I want to be and not the bastard that I can be.

My stand still stays. But I guess I can be flexible at times.

Jealousy Calls Foul...

Seems like there has been a bit of hoo-haa with regard to the plastic's that Dawn Yang has undergone. I think everything is pretty easy to compile.

Some people are just jealous that this gal has managed to get into the limelight, no doubt, courtesy of her looks. Then, they realise "Blaardy L, shes not naturally pretty, its all plastics." and hence they take it upon their responsibility to declare that she is unworthy of her tiara.

Judge rules... Jealousy at work. And I have a reason to suspect that its a lady who probably started it. I as a male, has absolutely no issues with regard to any ladies with plastics. After all, they pay for the Ops while I too, get to enjoy the visuals. I have to admit that, internally, I might cry foul should any guy, goes under the knife and gain instant fame.

Good-looking and not. No one will prefer the latter over former. We all want to look good and better. Of course, looks aien't everything. In getting to know a person, what really matters, is the character. But these are people that you already know. What about the 99% of the world out there who do not know you in person? Surely your look is the only attribute that they can base their initial interest on. Naturally, any young gal out there, seeking attention and admiration, but do not possess the in-born prerequisite, would be induced to go under the knife.

I would like to go for facial plastic surgery too, and I already have a list of the parts to be enhanced. The only reason stopping me is as follows:

1) Same fate as Dawn Yang.

Oh yah. And I must confess that I zhng(modified) my 'manhood' last year. Yes, the average Asian norm of 6 inches aien't enough. Those who have seen the new length have nothing to complain about. But the 6 inches from my previous league are pretty buay song(not happy) about it.

Suck on that.

H.O.I... Season 2... Part I: Sleaze Ground...

And so it is. It truly is. Shenzhen Baby(Formerly known as Shanghai) is gonna hold a birthday party at the House of Issues(HOI).

If a normal night of partying aien't sufficient to blow her off the bar top, this has gonna be the one. The usually-lethargic Rex contemplates bringing along his trustworthy pillow-&-blanket for a Power Nap, should the grooving gets tough. On a hindsight, a part of shades or eye-screen would make for a more practical accessory. At least, it provides visual comfort when he has to witness the barbaric, alcoholic onslaught of D.O.Ms and fledglings, against the Sober Minds.

Each Five-Ten lost, will cause Fairlady to bask in the Flaming Lamborghinis, going All-around-the-world in Frustration.

A party to kill all parties(human) it will be. And the massacre will take place in many ways. Except, this will only be the first part out of two.

Rex can't bear to look. This event will only serve to highlight his recent encounter with sleazy people. "All people I met outside school have been sleazy....except for you...erm... Rex.",so coaxed Alain Deloin. So true.

How many more sleazy Fucks must Rex meet? Fat, greasy "I-want-to-get-into-all-gals'skirt-doesn't-matter-if-they-are-attached". Faggity, young-when-high old fucks. Young-and-thinks-he-should-screw-doggy stalker. "Friendly" back-stabbing "I-know-u-diggit'in-I-just-wanna-learn" cheap farks. Why can all stand by the common, hygenic rule of screwing each other missionary(aka from the front)? Rex's sick of having his arse rimmed.

If thats the real world, HOI is just a miniature. Summary sheet.

Fuck you all sleazy old baggies. Stay off Rex's playgrounds. Rexy's traumatised. =p

Turbo gauge on. Water temperature gauge on. Engine temperature gauge on.

Let us all pray for RPM to stay below 7,200 and Turbo not to kick in. Rex's a burner on turbo.

VuuuuRRROOOooooomMMMMM...

Late-Night Melody of Life...

The soothing serenade took on a form of its own. Like a blanket covering my cold soul, comforting even in my delirious state of mind.

When you are so tired by routines and there are so many issues you do not want to ponder upon, you hope for the answer just turning up in front, without further search. Could it be found in the boy working 8/6 at the 7-11? The love-lorn coupe torn apart by idealism or my melanchony friend who claims to have seen it all?

At least I know someone out there resonates.

Everything In Its Time from Leo's Lyrics Database
(Written by: Corrinne May Ying Foo & Carole Bayer Sager)

Sometimes I wonder what lies ahead
How long till my hunger is fed
They say it's hard to make it in this part of town
So many people on this merry-go-round

Some folks try astrology
Some turn to crystal balls
To find an answer,
To get through it all
I just fall on my knees and I try to pray
In the silence I can hear Him say

The river runs and the river hides
Out to the ocean and under the sky
I promise you, the answer will come
Hold on to patience and watch for the sign
Everything in its time

I often feel like I'm two steps behind
Somebody must have moved that finish line
There are a thousand reasons
Why I should give up
But I'm stubborn in the things I believe

The river runs and the river hides
Out to the ocean and under the sky
I promise you, the answer will come
Hold on to patience and watch for the sign

'cause maybe there's another plan
One I still can't see
A little surprise, like your love in my life
Funny how time changes how we see

The river runs and the river hides
Out to the ocean and under the sky
I promise you, the answer will come
Hold on to patience and watch for the sign
Everything in its time
Everything in its time

Everyones Moving...

Deepavali. The day past mundanely til evening, when a simple event with a touching agenda come in. A good friend of ours is leaving for UK on a job and will be stationed there for the next 2 years. 2 years is not a very long time, but considerably quite some time though, considering the average male who clubs and smoke lives up to a lengthy span of approximately 55 years. Considering that I'm in my late twenties, that is like, not being able to catch up with him for 10 percent of my remaining life.

He is leaving with his beloved wife, baby girl snudgely in the womb. Its actually quite a bittersweet warmth seeing an entire family relocated temporarily, facing the uncertainty of a new life abroad, whenever the man gets a job opportunity abroad. As contrast to seeing a bachelor do the same thing(High chance he'll probably just work, play and fuck around anyway).

So it was us, in the sparse, lazy and cosy cafe of terminal one at 11 plus. Borrowed time of one more hour in Singapore, courtesy of a flight delay. While the conversation pretty much resembles a simple gathering, there is something special about the entire thing. In a way, it signifies the moving on of life. I look around and I see everyone moving.

It was enlightening how everyone is moving on. I should be too. Not that I'm doing nothing but I feel some aspects of my life can still be pushed on. And its a good time to get down to some serious planning. Not just on what I want, but what I should be doing.

Thank care, Danny and Cheryl. We'll see you soon.

Close Now...

The search has taken him to this secluded part of Sevilla, Spain, thousands of miles away from home. Maybe not really "home". Place of origin would be a more appropriate term. Afterall, home is what he is tracking for now. Father Sun is on his side when time isn't. Seven twenty five. It is still bright, clarity of landscape borrowed from the long Spanish summer days, for without any street lamps in this part of town, navigation would be rendered impossible without.

The crumbled map in his hands has brought him so far and will play no further part as he pushes on to locate his hunt. Folding the map and slotting it into the inner side pockets of his demi-jacket, he glances around, scrutinising the surroundings.

Basking in rustic setting, serene and interrupted only by the occassional chirping of bird, he wished he need not have to think and to move on. Yet, it was exactly what he had to do.

'The lights wouldn't hold up much longer, I have at most, 40 good minutes left'

All he had was a vague description of ..., this rural setting is not going to make his task any simple. Seconds past by before sweeps of boom come within audible range of his hearing, its from his left. Wasting no time, he bashes through the dense vegetation towards the possibly only hint at present.

It was an old man, clearing fallen leaves off a pebbled footpath, efficiently concealed by the lush undergrowths from the other side. Walking up, John pauses for a moment, recollecting his limited vocabulary of Spanish.

"Hola. Un pregunta, por favor. Donde esta ... "

Without hesitation,"Sigue alto recto pues gire a la derecha."

It was as if he had already foreseen the question coming.

"Gracias."

And John eyes the distance ahead. The pebbled footpath turning to the left.

'Close now. Very close now'