rent-in-twain.

if i did what i said

2009-11-11T14:57:15Z

if i did what i said I'd say what i do because i never know
what it is i did to you with you for you or
what it is i said to you for you with you
so i'd rather say what i do than do what i say
because in the end it seems both are the same
be it said or done or unsaid or undone
because in the end i never know which
was said and which was done
because you heard what you heard me say
and saw what you saw me do
and out of all these saids and dones
i never know which i did and said and done
much like how i don't know about now.

schmod

2009-09-10T17:03:56Z

so much in me wishes to issue in the form of words out of me and they come out in dribs and drabs not the way they usually do but it's just the way they do sometimes especially mostly most probably in times of sweet music an overactive mind a yearning desire what-to-call-it maybe addiction? to the need for someone to recognise my presence and maybe appreciate me love me caress me make me want to give myself without second-guessing myself and in these moments yes sweet sweet music makes me sick drunk even completely intoxicated i think i speak i believe like the very words that ride on the melody sad songs don't make me cry they just bring the tears right to the eyes and stop hold it back so my head feels heavy and if i even as much as tilt my head it falls to the side swish swosh yet still nothing comes out so i give up trying like how i give up trying or at least convince myself to give up but i never really do give up hope to know you more to actually get to be beside you to maybe fall in love with you without an erect penis maybe get into your pants because i really really like what's really really inside not just inside the pants but inside right inside you and well i don't even know who you is who is that you i'm talking about i don't even know not cause i ain't bovvered but i will never know will i i will never know and that makes me sick and so full of these words once again which wish to issue in the form of words out of me but still never manage to come as full complete comprehensible sentences they come in disjointed facebook personal messages or verbose streams like what you see now but still after all this i can't actually say it is all out or that everything i say is what i am feeling right now because after all really we are human aren't we and we can never simplify and thus insult ourselves by reducing the language of the heart never conquered never fully understood or written academically about into just plain words which make sense only because they stick together in phrases and sentences and paragraphs but who can really put a full-stop to all this so at the end of the day we all prefer to add a smiley face or the seductively and unfortunately appropriate question mark isn't it?

hiatus. prose.

2009-08-28T04:57:05Z

i sit, the next morning, after occupying my mind so prone to wander with tutorials, casual chit-chat and dramatics, on this chair, in this room, alone. although the voice of keren ann sings in french and breathes 'elsewhere..., elsewhere..." on loop i am sane enough to say i am where exactly i want to be. despite the tangible shadows of us last night scurrying around me in fast forward, despite the noises we made now stuck like post-its all over the walls, despite the feeling of supposed joy we shared having become a pool of endless depth in the middle of the room, so large, so stark, that i cannot miss.

i look out the strip of window, and the spotless sunshine of midday darkens swiftly like the opening of an opera; it's all dark and it is last night. and you are there, walking past the carpark, towards your car. after a kiss and a hug, after changing my bedsheets, after cleaning up, after sleeping with me, after talking about something that nearly made you cry, after stealing into the room, after dinner, after being driven around, after i asked that you come over, after i thought it will be all nice and fuzzy, after i thought we will be happy.

now. no more of last night.

my stomach is queasy. i feel like throwing up. i cannot concentrate because scenes of last night flash in my mind like placards in a demonstration, red, red, red, spilled across in stiff lines making up words, making up phrases, making up objection. when a sign shoots up in your mind you either grab it or don't look. i didn't look last night, and now, it grabs me.

what was i saying, loving you through an sms? after the orgasm everything becomes clearer. along with guilt.

it is a joke. maybe a riddle. i've seen them couples, in their forties. and they get an apartment together, they live together, breathe together, and then they break up, and one of them gets another boyfriend, and the other calls me over to his place. it's okay, they say, they know it's like that. but like what, i ask. like what? that you know more of what love is as you grow, or that you know how to deal with love as you grow, or worse, that you know how to give love names and definitions as you go by? is there no one whom i can say sweet nothings to and mean it now, later, next week, next year, maybe till forever?

why, he asks, do i feel this way all of a sudden? why did i say that i had feelings for him?

i did, i do. but who's to put a finger on these feelings? not that i am being irresponsible, but really, that was how i felt. i felt a burst of emotion. you came back, you spoke, i got to know you again. i will not blame myself for having such a strong desire for you. i needed that closure. maybe now i can say so, but i didn't know what i was feeling then, how was i to know?

i can't explain this suddenness, except maybe that i have always had my doubts. but i had chosen to ignore the doubts, to let them continue to fog over the details, to fog over the rift of uncertainties gaping between my hand and my mind, to fog over the romance i've dedicated to my endeavours.

and as said. after the orgasm everything becomes clearer.

and after that some of us go on to blur our own vision, while others go on to stare at that growing pool in the middle of their rooms.

some write about them, without necessarily knowing what they are writing, without necessarily knowing more than they already knew before.

***

To A, after;

2009-08-27T15:24:51Z

you came
strip me of the years
i knew so well i had
that i know not what it means
to love, to hold, to know
any more than i used to
think i knew.

you left
a kiss, a hug, a sweet goodbye
now that i have known you
i know that i don't know
any more than i used to
think i knew
about you.

so, do you know
as you grow
that there is in fact no love
as you grow
or that there is no fact in love
as you learn to let go
and think no more?

je voudrais toujours te plaire
mais, je ne sais pas quoi faire
c'est la vie, mon cher
L'aime ne restera pas
après la soirée.

To A, again:

2009-08-25T08:51:15Z

you return
bringing your word with you.
too long a comma
makes strange the sentence
i didn't think
i didn't know
how to finish.

i do still love you,
and it spills over the period
but that's bad grammar
no?

To A:

2009-08-12T09:32:38Z

you left,
bringing your word with you.

since then,
you've been a sentence
i could never complete.

i would like to love you
maybe again,
then forever,
but

the need to stop.

2009-07-09T10:20:29Z

there are so many things people need to stop doing:

North Korean scientists need to stop testing nuclear weapons
Brazilian loggers need to stop cutting down the Amazon
Chinese Uighurs need to stop protesting and destroying things

Singaporeans need to stop using plastic bags like how they use water
Singaporeans need to stop using water like they use plastic bags
Singaporeans need to stop being assholes on public transport

We need to stop killing young minds by calling force-feeding 'education'
We need to stop making really bad drama serials and calling that TV
We need to stop writing angry blogs and bitch in the comfort of the couch

Singtel needs to stop holding back that iPhone 3G S
HTC needs to stop holding back that Touch Pro 2
LV and other top brands need to stop holding back that 90% sale season

Gays need to stop cruising and keeping to themselves
Teenagers need to stop touching each other in public
Moms and Dads need to stop ignoring healthy sexual relationships

Some of us need to stop socially-destructive family (mis)planning
Some of us need to stop neglecting the importance of language mastery
Some of us need to stop lounging at corners and wasting time

I need to stop spending like I am the solution to recession
I need to stop eating like I really need it
I need to stop listening to bloody Obsessed by Mariah

I need to stop imagining myself as half-black or something-french
I need to stop flirting with men I can but should not have
I need to stop tempting myself with the idea of spilling vulgarities at my students

I need to stop making noise and not doing anything
I need to stop watching porn and making empty vows
I need to stop thinking that people will stop doing whatever I mentioned
just because I SAID SO.

hahhahaha. okay stop it.

<3

epiphanies on the MRT.

2009-07-05T15:54:04Z

dated 5th June 2009

On the train at 6:10pm, Friday -- auntie, please be careful how you hold the paperbag, it's going up and down my groin and giving me sensations better left unsaid.

dated 3rd July 2009

I believe a book is imminent. Epiphanies on the train -- seeing a teenage girl laying her woeful face upon the shoulder of another newly-pubescent boy made me feel slightly tickled, disgusted and rolly-eyed in general. Not to mention the gastric ache that so timely arrives. Oh, what do these 'benglians' know about pain, about scars, about truly comforting others, or maybe even the eventual impossibility to do so? come off it, kids, and start growing up -- make an effort in the cranial department and stop cuddling publicly like you represent love in all its innocence.

okay, do i really need to explain my seemingly unfounded angst?

dated 4th July 2009, morning

Third. I'm feeling content on the train, partly because i found myself a seat, and am guiltless and thankful there isn't anyone around who needs it more than i do. Enter Indian family, stumpy-looking parents carrying a jovial, inquisitive princess, aptly dressed in a kiddy sundress. what really caught all our eyes had to be her heart-shaped sunnies, its frame a bright fire-engine red, adorned with white hearts, set perfectly upon her promising nose. with her i-hope-are-natural curls shorn just below the chin, she looked like a 70s' icon, or at least, someone you'd really want to build sandcastles with.

dated 4th July 2009, evening

Pardon the effulgence of epiphanies upon this startlingly inspiring transport vehicle. as the evening crowd forces its way into my cabin full of reluctantly gracious passengers, feet get on top of one another, while shoulders transform into the most discreet weapon of assault -- score! -- asshole behind me, part of the reason i managed to be shoved into the train, loses his balance and falls perfectly into my sweat-wet back!

In a way no more subtle, faces come into play. Dirty, dirty faces, spilling animated words unheard at their counterparts now guilty of a lack of graciousness. Yet these words, however fluent, remain bottled inside The Singaporean, and once in a while an angmoh comes along to provide catharsis the way an Artaud play does. Maybe it's residual colonial etiquette, "speak you not, and let the white man do the talking."

Or cowardice.

a song to the past:

2009-07-05T15:32:56Z

O how heavy this body is,
my soul wishes to soar!
To those days, again,
we lay beside each other,
telling stories with the
shapes of the passing clouds.

where are we now?

let's play a game.

2009-05-06T11:13:37Z

so take your guns out,
and let's play, let's
play a game of russian roulette
jam up that lucky little fella'
and spin him into chance and Death

backs turned let's take three steps
one, two, three: away from you and me
from the life we had
from the life we lead
from the life we now give up.

pop went the weasel
now click goes my gun
and yours? bang. i'm down
i hit the ground.

now it's you and me, baby
one standing the other lying
how ironic, how familiar
you were lying, I was standing

until this day, this good ol' game
we play, like yesterday, every day
no, now, we're three steps away
two of us, one dead, one stays.

it's all different now - and too hard

2009-04-20T03:42:58Z

c'est compliqué. and i'm not asking that you condone what i do, or support me in any obvious manner. but i do beseech you to help me. in your own way, in whatever way you can. to hear what i have to say then maybe decide if i'm still someone you love, or, can love.

it all started on the Good Friday weekend. guilt trips come and go, but never as strongly as they do during Good Friday.

let me make it clear: despite my lifestyle, my whole "gayness", i am still very much a religious person. which kills me sometimes because the struggle between my homosexuality issues and God always takes the toll on me in church. and deep deep in me i know what i want is being a true blue Christian. someone God condones. but i do different; i act like the raging queen, the seasoned gay man, the one which friends have come to condone me as, which friends have come to accept me as, and worst, for now, the one which friends label, brand and recognise me as.

which makes it tough. really tough. i want to be straight. i said to yeek one (very) early morning in macdonalds after maya's lovely egyptian dinner and shisha session: if God could just click his finger and make me straight again, just with that click of his finger i'm straight all over, i like girls and i'm what he wants, then so be it. i'll explain to my friends i'm straight again, i'll do the "damage control".

well yeek had to add that God wasn't so gay as to click his fingers (at least not the way WE do it, cheeze).

thing is, as i kept that thought in my head, i went on to this weekend which just passed, and something phenomenal happened. well, not so much phenomenal; maybe more of emotional.

i was in church, led worship, heard the sermon. at the end of the sermon the pastor asked us to step forward to the front, if we want to pledge to our God once again that we will follow his footsteps, to leave the elementary teachings and to pursue greater knowledge and growth in our spiritual lives. and throughout the song (during which we were asked to step forward) Andrew came to mind, and my gay life and habits all came to mind, friends' faces came to mind, so much, so much.

so much that stopped me from being confident enough that i can leave the life i led and become someone pleasing to God again. someone who can say NO to his temptations and draw strength from God to lead life the way I was intended to do.

then at the end of the song, at the very last note, i took a step forward. maybe something in me pushed me forward. maybe i just couldn't stand there anymore, i needed to make that step. and i'm thankful i did. the pastor prayed and blessed us, and got my eyes a little wet with tears. i brushed them aside, and went onstage to make the announcements. and then when i came down to take my seat, when we were supposed to make a quiet ending prayer for ourselves, just when i said "Dear God" and when the pianist hit his first note - i broke down and cried. i cried so so badly. half of me was crying; the other half asked itself, why the sudden tears? i guess i couldn't have felt the dichotomy of my consciousness more greatly than that; the irrational me breaking down my walls, the rational me asking questions and fighting to build these walls again.

i couldn't stop crying. the tears came so quickly, i couldn't catch my breath. i couldn't pray; i didn't know what to say. in fact at that moment i was thinking if i'm receiving the Holy Spirit; if only God could give me the spirit right there and then and grant me the "grunts and heaving" and let the Spirit pray in my turn. all i remember telling God is, "it's so hard. it's so hard. it's just too difficult. give me strength. i want to, but it's just so hard."

i want to change. if not to a straight person at least someone comfortable with not being gay. i even considered going to theo school and becoming a pastor, something many in the church want me to do. years ago i took a serving-compatibility test, and the results showed that i'm most suited to be a missionary. maybe up and out of Singapore, going to a foreign land with the Lord's burden upon me would be a better idea? not having to face up to friends and their confused image of me, not having to make people wonder if i'm gay or not, not having to explain myself anymore; just taking the cross and going to a land where no one knows. start anew; with the Lord's vision in mind? i've got to start praying about that.

and yes if only He could click His finger. but i know He would not, He would want me to learn and stand up under myself. under the trappings of my own making.

even Andrew - as i shared with him my experience he shared his; he too broke down in church. he too walked up to the altar. he too struggled with God over his sexuality. he's 28. i don't want to be at that place only then.

i think it's God's sign, God's direction. that both of us should meet and suddenly both of us talk about our struggle with God, and then suddenly it culminates in both of us falling apart before His face.

so i beseech you, my dearest friends, to help me. read, and try to understand. please, don't judge me. because it is so tough already, and i need my friends. i guess you don't have to do anything, or say anything, i guess be who you've always been to me. i'm still me, yes, sans the usual loud expression of my "gayness"; though it be something i'm fighting, i'm not saying i do not condone my gay friends - it's strictly a personal struggle. i'm still gonna be a fashionista, i'm not giving up gay clothes, no way. i'm still gonna be me.

ask me, talk to me. i think that's the best way i get myself sorted out.

no, this will not be a passing phase of self-doubt. at least i'll try my best not to let it be. and help me too by believing that i know what's best for me.

love.

slow&steady;

2009-04-10T04:55:54Z

cutting to the chase:

i'm listening to Alicia Keys, lying on my parent's bed, lappie on my lap, and feeling surprisingly serene except slightly lonely and much-unwilling to leave home for tuition later. called a coupla friends this morning upon waking up, trying to plan some sorta outing to get this lame outta my life. ay, friends, we are together, but he's off to JB to see his uncle, who's ailing with a stomach ulcer condition, and not till Easter will i get to see him again. and that sucks, duh.

it came to a point when i felt like giving up, counting down the hours like sweat beading down my forehead, all feverish from thoughts running wildly and crashing into one another. at the 70th hour his message came in; just the night before i was ready to convince myself that i'm not putting myself through this, i will not be left alone unexplained, calling and hearing his receiver, and only his receiver, at 7am, at 11am, at 2pm, at 6pm, at 955pm, at 11pm.

i had to drive up to JB with my parents to see my uncle who was hospitalised...

the guilt, i swear. the guilt. i know, i didn't need to feel guilty; after all the least he could do was to leave me a farewell message. but well. i was just relieved that he finally got in touch with me and explained himself, and admitted how what he did might've frustrated me and probably angered me beyond my forgiving.

that aside, what struck me was my dependence. why the fuck am i so dependent? maybe it's because i wanted something out of all that we've gone through, the smses, the calls, the meet-ups, the fooling around; i wanted this to work, too badly? and when it didn't i wanted to know why, even if it meant me hounding and chasing, and losing myself slowly along the way.

and then. wednesday, 8th April. in the car, midway through fooling around, the hugs, the kisses, the feeling, the petting, there was an urge in me to ask:

you wanna be my boyfriend?

so much of me was against it; so much was wanting it. is that what i'm supposed to feel?

i promise you: i've been consciously making an effort to slow things down. except maybe our first day out he held my hand, we hugged and kissed, which is completely abnormal for a normal, straight couple, or well, for a commonly-understood-as-natural courtship that was admittedly way out of line. but thereafter i drew lines for us. no, you're not touching anywhere below the belt; no, you're not seeing it anyways until we're together, no. i warned him about going too fast, and he duly respected my stand, and i have to say i pretty much had the wheel with both my hands about this.

and now. i asked, he hesitated a little: you really want me? i'm so boring. you're not boring, and yes i'm serious. then i want you too. so you have to take care of me from now! haha, you have to take care of me too.

we went out again after that night. which was yesterday. and hmm, yes, we had some fun. in the slightest of extents.

and i can't help feeling guilty (much due to the fact that it's the holy week, and i had a maundy thursday right after our encounter) and feeling like i got into this way too fast, that i'm not ready. like i was never equipped with the skills to run a relationship; and herein lies the mortal fear: that when you start feeling inadequate in running a relationship, or when you start treating it like something you need to run: you don't love him for real.

hopefully that's altruistic bull.

because i seriously want this to work out. and i want him. in ways i know i can never do without an ounce of guilt. or maybe much more.

x

p.s. slow and steady, and i don't know how to love anymore.

these hands are not mine;

2009-04-01T12:46:22Z

je suis seulement un illusion. un rêve que vous avez réveillé et ne pouvez jamais retourner à.

xx

these hands no longer belong to me; these words come out like strangers across the street. it's been too long since i've written, and the sands of time burden my shoulders, full against the bottleneck in the hourglass.

xx

how you wish your life story can be microwaveable; put it in for just a few seconds and watch it unravel into something delicious. then the pain of telling it step by step might be alleviated.

if you want me i'm your country

if you're with me i'm forever.

the jungle fought back. after the three of them, i felt i was restless. then came raven, and i could not last a week not getting sick of myself, getting sick of the anticipation, of the attention, of the flirting. i didn't search anymore, no, i went straight to the point, being the wanton slut i sometimes am. surprisingly i enjoyed myself. the superficiality of it, the simplicity and directness of it seemed like all i needed. all that bulldozing i did, clearing the fields of wildly growing twines; now the jungle fights back. and won.

then now, him. andrew. mr rower, mr nice TV-worthy smile, mr tall and muscular.

i swear i'm addicted to flirting. it's just natural with me. natural when i meet people, online or not. people whom i fancy. sometimes i don't know why i flirt; to get sex? to want them to want me? to keep them enticed? maybe it's the entertainer side of me, the part of me that needs to know that the audience is enraptured, the part of me that gets pure satisfaction from their sustained curiosity. but through the days i simply get sick of it.

i get sick of it. but why? do i want instant gratification; i flirt, you get hooked, let's do something? i'm hungry for acceptance, for something anything just not nothing? or do i now desire stability, someone to "go home to", finally anchoring my ship? i feel more strongly the latter. will you be someone i like enough to stick with? will you want to stick with me? will we survive ourselves?

60% of the time i don't know what i want. except with clothes, i know what i want 60% of the time.

Pet peeve: i send a message. you take what seems like years to reply. i wait, sometimes till my tummy aches. your reply comes. i race to see it, it only answers half my questions. a little part of me dies inside, then revives itself, only hungrier. i send another message. you take what seems like years to reply. i wait. you take too long. and suddenly i need, and i mean need, to send you another message. i feel like a stalker, i hate myself. i don't need this.

what can i do to make you love me

what can i do to make you care?

loser.

you lose too much of yourself.

xx

i am only an illusion. a dream that you woke up from and can never return to.

nope, he ain't.

2009-02-20T02:41:28Z

so, karma does bite you in the ass.

he loved you, and you didn't love him the way he did you. now you want him, and he doesn't want you the way you want him.

or maybe you forgot this was always a chase, you forgot you liked the chase, or said you did, and realised you don't really like the chase, you like getting it in your hand, right now, now. now is when you thought you've hit the mark, you've gone onto the closer zone, you've reached. but no, eventually you see, as it becomes clearer to you, that he's just not that into you, and you've just got to back off and look at yourself, getting disappointed and rejected by "six different technologies", putting yourself out there and looking like a dumbass, and finally realise and convince yourself that this is a classic case of you pouring out your heart and getting nothing in return (not that it's his fault, since he never did lead you on specifically) and it's mainly because you think you got somewhere but simply haven't moved an inch towards anything. how foolish can we be, sometimes, or most of the time, when it comes to affairs of the heart, when we subconsciously programme ourselves to believe that if we love we will be loved in return, or that love can exist with one heart.

maybe he's just not that into me, and i am part-scarlett-johansson, part Gigi.

I will not love love if

2009-02-19T05:32:05Z

i will not love love
if love was longer than one life but not the other
if love was the hand obscuring the stars it wanted to touch
if love was the moth to the flame
if love was the line crossed and forgotten
if love was the water floating above the Saharan sand
if love was the apple she ate and never did again
if love was the bookmark marking the end
if love was the door once shut never open
if love was the door once open never shut
if love was longer than the sweetest moments
i will not love love.

yet it is not love that i do love; for love is but all the above.
i love you.

you're my wild horse.

2009-02-13T16:50:20Z

do we all get there, eventually?

**
There are some times when you feel if the world ended right now you'd have no problems with it. Because maybe at that strike of God's hand you realise you have nothing gained that you can lose, and nothing lost you can gain. Or maybe because you're happy where you are, probably in the company of dear friends, of the ones you never knew not to love, and if indeed it be that your eyes shut forever at that instance you know you'd leave with a sweet taste in your mouth.

Then there are times you don't want the world to end, because you have nothing to leave behind, you have nothing you left your name on. Because you've never seen Moscow, or told the boy you fancied in school that you only had eyes for him during class, or told your mom you loved her more than you show, or found that religion you want to believe can save your damned soul.

Yet tonight something else spawned, taking me over in the swiftest of moments. The end of the world meant nothing to me. Not that I felt resilience, immunity or the power of the Resurrection; nothing. For that moment I felt a lifeless calm. A profound deadness. No anxiety or comfort; it feels exactly absurd. You merely and only exist.

Maybe this is the purest form of existence. Existing for existence. And maybe we all get there, eventually.

**

lies.

2009-02-10T06:34:59Z

when we've all grown up, we think we've grown out. out of searching for your identity, feeling insecure about who you are. out of guessing your worth, deeming it as what others deem it to be, being swayed in your confidence because of some remark, be it from someone superior or someone you don't even know. we're resilient to such fluctuations, we tell ourselves, and maybe with our friends, even the closest ones, we put up a front, we don't care what people say, we are who we are for what we are and how we are, we think all that doubt is only adolescent.

but at the quietest moments of the night, when you are with no one but yourself, utterly stranded with no bay to dock at, without any semblance of refuge, you know, that yes we've all grown up, we have, but we've never grown out of ourselves, never grown out of doubt, we merely learn the art of masking it, sometimes even from ourselves.

**
wither then, sapling, what's it to grow?
for becoming a tree is no future for thee.

Les éléphants:

2009-02-05T01:19:29Z

If the elephants have past lives
Yet are destined to always remember
It's no wonder how they scream
Like you and I they must have some temper

And I am dreaming of them on the plains
Dirtying up their beds
Watching for some sign of rain
To cool their hot heads

And how dare that you send me that card
When I'm doing all that I can do
You are forcing me to remember
When all I want to is to just forget you

If the tiger shall protect her young
Then tell me how did you slip by
All my instincts have failed me for once
I must have somehow slept the whole night

And I am dreaming of them with their kill
Tearing it all apart
Blood dripping from their lips
And teeth sinking into heart

And how dare that you say you will call
When you know I need some peace of mind
If you had to take sides with the animals
Won't you do it with one who is kind?

If the hawks in the trees need the dead
If you're living you don't stand a chance
For a time though you share the same bed
There are only two ends to this dance

You can flee with your wounds just in time
Or lie there as he feeds
Watching yourself ripped to shreds
Laughing as you bleed

So for those of you falling in love
Keep it kind, keep it good, keep it right
Throw yourself in the midst of danger
But keep one eye open at night

Elephants
Rachael Yamagata

(untitled)

2009-02-01T15:31:07Z

as the chariot waited in the snow my tears froze.

her black boots appeared, striking the frost off the stone pavement. her breath was a pale mist, slowly escaping her blood-red lips, reluctant to surrender its warmth. against the light of the failing sun she looked fully black, except for her face, always the color of the snow that fell around her. she never bothered to slow down as she ambled upon the slippery pavement; the clicking of her heels never missed a beat. the face of the dead fox accompanied hers, bobbing gently on her shoulder, showing no sign of emotion.

then there she was, all four eyes staring at me. with her hand raised towards Sister James, she obscured from my vision the last of the morning's light. i squinted my eyes, and a sharp pain registered in my mind. immediately warm tears welled up in my eyes, promptly making its way down my cheeks, warming my face. in that momentary comfort i felt even more like crying, but soon enough i felt her hand swipe across my face again.

from then on i never cried. never in her presence.

...

amongst the shadows lie the darkest darkness.

2009-02-01T11:31:01Z

quick update:

i'm finally gainfully employed and had my first taste of being an English teacher in a secondary school. lucky me, i thought, getting a job at Presbyterian High. the pay is not bad, $1300 a month thereabouts, and well, a mission school probably means better-behaved children.

I WAS WRONG.

on wednesday i was initiated to the school's systems, be it the english banding system that is similar to that of my own secondary school days, or the wonderfully absent greet-your-teacher-upon-seeing-him-walking-past practice, or the even-more-wonderful computerisation of everything: students now scan their thumbprints to register attendance, teachers use their thumbprints to access the staff room, classrooms are locked using a transponder, i.e. a device that beeps at the door and enables the lock to be turned.

the latter is a bitch.

of my three days at work, i have had numerous encounters waiting outside the staff room like either a technician or an alumnus, praying that a teacher comes along and lends me his or her precious thumb. even when i tried to register my thumbprint, it just seems i was fated to be denied access. sigh, i shall wait for the OM to come to my rescue tomorrow morning.

i feel dreadfully feverish.

i had the luxury, ahem, to administer a test (invigilate, no? now it's administer. like a jab) in a normal academic secondary one class. well, blameth me not for having expectations: i thought a secondary one class shouldn't be too misbehaved, since they have yet to be influenced; even if they are from the N(A) stream they should still be rather tame. once again,

I WAS WRONG.

hell and damnation, i had to scream at a pair of boys, using the rather rude term "shut up", to my dismal self-disapproval. in fact i am not prone or agreeable with myself orally abusing the children; neither am i a believer of teaching with love. I just think that as a teacher i should be strict but not abusive. BUT! i was there to administer a test and they were wasting their own time taking so long to settle down, and since i run the danger of compromising their test-time i had to be that monster i was for a first just to get things done. after all i was helping a fellow teacher run the show since she was ill, i felt the burden of getting things done right.

then came the normal technical class which i have to teach weekly on fridays. TGIF?

NOT ANYMORE.

okay lah, actually, the only horror i met with was the impossible noise they created, which i took half an hour (that's half my lesson gone) to settle. thereafter, with some IQ questions (which they found to be stupid, hrm...) and the classic game of hangman, i've managed to get most of their attention and feel some amount of control over the situation. the main class i'm taking over is supposedly the best english band of the secondary 2 express level, simply and boringly named Band One. well, who ever said being best in english was equivalent to best in behaviour and manners? Band One is a colorful mix of can't-be-bothereds, sleepers, ADHDs and smartypants. oops, forgot to mention the existence of normal people :)

i'm currently giving them an unclear assignment that involves writing a newsletter; i've split them into groups/departments who will be in-charge of different sections of the PHS newsletter-for-freshmen, and they, as groups, are to come up with articles to fill up the pages. though i had a nagging feeling about this, i left the groups to their own devices without clear guidelines, and further neglected to take down who are in which groups. MONDAY! i told myself, monday shall be my opportunity to get them all organised. guess there's still a lot to learn about being an effective teacher.

personal life wise... i miss you girls like FCK and love you even more. so, cherry, please buy H&M for me, and shtephie, please call me more oft and pau let's meet up!! though school kinda makes it difficult. UGH i forgot to add that i miraculously go to bed at eleven latest these nights, just to make sure i get the good old "seven hours of sleep" (army lingo) and remain alert and well-tempered enough to teach effectively throughout the week. says mom who knows me the best, the lack of sleep and/or heat gets my nerves strung high.

and so she says too, that my current bout of feverishness is attributed to my lack of sleep. but i sleep so early already!! :( i think it's the first time i feel doubtfully ill. usually i know exactly the cause of my fever; it's almost always a case of throat infection that's making my temperature spike. but this time everything feels okay except a little runny nose! maybe it's pent-up heat. or pent-up sexual energy? or just a lack of sleep.

talk about pent-up sexual energy. sushil was quick to make clear my current "love-life" when i met up with him (finally?!) and concluded, when i said i had no lover, that i was then sleeping around. i mean, you do that right? said he.

naw, i don't. but there is a more-special someone, yes, but as i've said, i'm taking things slow and ain't ready for another overheated relationship. so till now it's just been hanging out, movies, meals. which i think is so much different and refreshing for me. unfortunate as this might sound, i've never had something like this. the way a normal courtship develops, the extended flirting, the hanging-out and discovery. maybe this is a good pace, a good lesson, a good change of affairs.

i'm still waiting for that elusive Moleskine to appear one day at home and greet me with his proud red cover. with my sudden affluence due to hongbaos, i bought three CDs and am currently in love with Radiohead. i was initially skeptical, but now as i went through the album i felt me falling in loveeeee.

AND omg i have to bitch i bought my Clinique toner from a thrift store at Lucky Plaza and when i used it at home i realised it smelt bad?! it was different from the one i bought at the same place the last time! i went down to an actual Clinique counter and smelled their sample, and concluded with my sharp nose that the one i have at home is either expired, denatured or fake. worst part of it all? i threw the receipt away. guess i'll head down to that shop tomorrow afternoon and iron things out. PRAY i can get a replacement!!!

i'ma split.

whispers.

2009-01-24T09:17:21Z

what do you say
when it's all gone away
baby I didn't mean to hurt you.

true-spoken whispers
they tear you apart
no matter how hard you resist it

it never rains when you want it to.

Humble Me, Norah Jones

i love you steph.♥

vulgar expressions ahead:

2009-01-24T07:31:15Z

fuck last-minute colds that threaten to sabotage a wonderful gluttonous CNY.
fuck really nice apple sponge cakes. half of which i ate last night at three in the morwe with a Baron's and the other half this morning.
fuck inertia, procrastination and the like. i wanna go jogging, swimming, get fit again. but duhhh these are happening to me.
fuck slow-loading Grey's season 4.
fuck slow-loading everything on my pute. i need to get that mackie.
fuck tight budgets, elusive Moleskine journals, good memories you wish never existed, and missing sections of your past.

YAY hongbaos.

♥

tout à fait

2009-01-22T07:36:27Z

it still eludes me why this came to my mind all of a sudden: wells, take a walk in Marina Square and you'll realise there's an auntie-inspired clothes shoppe (i won't even try calling it boutique) near Coffee Club, and its wonderfully faux-français name happens to be vougeois (say, voo-jwah). the moment i saw it i let out a horrible laugh, and still haven't got down to finding out if it actually had a place in the french dictionary. i doubt it though. if this helps, it made me think of a frenched-up way of saying vagina.

okay i've just checked. it isn't french. and hopefully it also isn't the result of the towkay-neo's fancy ambition of being haute-couture and thus a 'witty' wordplay-slash-extrapolation of top fashion magazine label Vogue. Evidently she suffered a little problem with placing the 'g' and 'u' in their right positions, no less.

on the train back home from my french class last night, i stood on the part where two cabins met, and had some problem balancing as the train negotiated bends. then suddenly (see, this is becoming a trend) my almost-forgotten physics education came rushing into my mind, and flipped itself to the chapter discussing "centre of gravity". while holding the thought, i made it a point to put my feet wider apart to better balance myself.

meanwhile the CG lesson floated in my mind, and i begun to link it to religion. soon enough i found myself coming to a reasonable parallel:

funny is the subject of physics -- it tells you this: though the amount of "feet" you have in contact with the ground remains the same, you'll be rooted more firmly if your feet open wide.

staunch believers in physics, or even the proud kid who just learnt this scientific "truth" in physics class would tell you, no, it's not the feet, it's your centre of gravity, but you can't see it, of course. we just know that if it's low, you won't fall so easily.

then when you tell them, it's the same theory with God, they fail to believe.

Just like CG, God is there, but you can't see him. and I just know that if you lower yourself before Him, you won't fall so easily in life.

isn't it so? they ask you to try it out, c'mon, put your feet apart and see how much more balanced you are, try it and you'll know. and i just can't help but say, why don't you try believing in God? then they clamor to say, "It's proven! Ask them physicists, ask those who've tried!"

God's proven Himself in so many lives, why not ask them?

one for those who prefer parables closer to life: trying to know God even before making the first move to believe in Him is just like someone who wants to get doughnuts and know how they look and taste, without even joining the queue.

p.s. i'm hungry though i just ate homemade Aglio Olio. i want to go to a club. i'm deliberating about a tan. i want a bikini wax. or the male equivalent whatever it's called. ugh.

je me léve, et voilà.

2009-01-20T09:37:36Z

hark ye the holler to all gay men in Singapore:

YOU'RE PATHETIC!

heehee. wells, not all of course, some are plain nice and some are really cool people. but ugh i just HAD the privilege to meet with one who happens to be a prime example of the foremost description. in fact throughout my life as a gay man i've met with countless jerks, or people who are just NOT COOL. counting my encounters i've come to a conclusion the best gay men in my life are as follow: Yeek, Sheridan and Mr. JFC. maybe Emmanuel too, my swiss French teacher. great i didn't even need one hand to count them.

meeting people up is a common practice amongst gay men in Singapore, since the scene is so small and a majority of the many gays here like to dwell in the realms of cyberspace, hiding in the closet and arranging discreet and sometimes clandestine meet-ups with each other. see that i don't use 'one another' since most of the time it's a one-on-one affair; unless of course, they're open gays who don't mind parading down Orchard (says Sheridan: gay central) in packs, dressed on the edge of fashion, sporting clothes which either reveal muscle or svelteness.

was that a word? svelteness?

so here's how it usually works in the gaywebs. you find a guy with a nice profile and a cute face picture, you drop him a message, and after some conversation you probably exchange email addresses or phone numbers. thereafter you arrange to meet up and check out if the person's been lying -- herein lies the crunch.

there're two possibilities, (A) he's just as good-looking/better-looking than on the photo, and his behavior and character is what you like; or (B) he's far off or simply not what you expected or fancy.

then there're three responses for each possibility: (A, 1) you hang out, you get really happy and you guys plan subsequent meet-ups, or simply crawl into each other's pants straightaway. (A, 2) you hang out, you get really happy, and he tells you actually you're not what he's looking for, and you remain friends or split ways forever. (A, 3) you hang out, and he's a horny jerk, he lures you to bed and uses you, and you feel cheated and grossed out and contact him no longer.

(B, 1) though he's not what you were looking for, he's nice. you hang out, and make it clear that you'll remain friends. you're happy, he's happy, both of you made a new friend. you might end up hanging out again. (B, 2) you tell him straight up that you're not interested even in making friends, apologise and leave. (B, 3) you hang out, he's being real nice, but you just don't like who he is and his behavior/character, so while he's in the toilet you sms your buddy and tell him something like: "yeah. he's so aj lah. sian." Little did you know you sent the message to the person you were talking about, and little did you know he received it, read it and felt offended AND amused, and kept it from you. still he accompanies you and finishes the "date" all-smiles. you try to shake him off and you succeed -- obviously you did, because he doesn't like you either.

by now you might have guessed (B, 3) happened to me. and no, i wasn't that guy who sent the message, i was on the receiving end?!

and yes, i accepted his treat of Ya Kun Coffee (we meant to go to Starbucks but i suggested YaKun cuz i had an urge; if the former happened this treat might not have) and talked to him nicely, being the charming boy i always am (REFUTE ME LATER, BITCHES). of course, as he tried to shake me off i felt thankful more than anything else, and gladly left. no, it doesn't end there, of course. though i wanted to say it to his face, i missed the chance because he couldn't walk away from me faster than he did. so i sent my words in a harmless, innocent SMS.

"oh, btw wince (i misspelt his name, it's vince. this wasn't intentional, thankyouverymuch, i'm not that childish, though it fully expressed how i felt?!), remember to send your messages carefully next time :D cheers!"

"oops, i meant vince. sorry!"

--

obviously he didn't have the guts to reply. be it to apologise or to bitch me back. like i said, plainly pathétique.

bad experiences aside:

i went to sit in and observe two classes today at Ahmad Ibrahim Primary School, as preparation for my teaching position in Acropolis. saw two radically different teaching styles, and was glad that i learnt some tips about handling children aged 6 and 7. they're a frightful bunch, hell yes they are, but i guess i'll have to learn to control them. Aisah told me i'd be taking the P2 classes, and i thank the Lord God Jesus for it, because they prolly had prior experience with the course and are more receptive/responsive that way. nonetheless, teaching kids to do "boom-chika-rocka-rocka-YAY" still sends thankfully-gradually-reducing chills down my poor spine. i have to say that going down today to the schools reignited the passion of teaching young kids in me. i used to have that burden, to educate the tender aged. but it kinda went down the drain as i exposed myself more and more to teaching older kids of secondary/college level. now, it's beginning to burn again.

guess it's all about finding that child in you again, and letting him take over for just a while. somehow it's hard when you've forgotten who he was, and especially worse when you've gotten used to the belief that life has become gradually better and better as you grew up; in retrospect, the darkest times of my childhood was from P4 to Secondary 1. those were the times of backstabbing, of childish criticism, of painful derogatory remarks and unfriendly names and labels, of a less-than-resilient, tender mind which never could fully come to terms with these insults and even with who he was and how he behaved.

and how comforting that i can look back and say i've come out of all that feeling rather confident and hardly screwed-up. haha :X
and how comforting that i can talk about all that in a third-person perspective, eh?

still, i miss all of you.

and you, too. so come back to me again, without the pain, without all that care. it's time you got out there like you were supposed to be. you're beautiful, no matter what they say.

<3

en français ou anglais; il ne fait aucune différence.

2009-01-19T15:16:22Z

i have been trying to blog, cuz i have a little more to say than usual, but oh when i came online i realised i have so much to do before settling down and blogging: multiple conversations on MSN, gmail and hotmail, and what's more facebook now! like cherry so disdainfully says, act busy ah?

am busy. am busy looking for a job, am busy out in church doing what i call a 'whole-day-show', checking out what my friends are up to, meeting new people, watching movies. of course i enjoy all these activities except the first, but they DO fill up my time and make me busy, ok? not all busy is bad busy.

what?

anyways with a nutty connection like mine blogging's really scary. any moment a prompt might pop up and say Internet Explorer is not responding and needs to close. AHH.

i have to exclaim this: i am in love with the fashion of late 18th Century England! omg after i watched The Duchess and gaped in adoring sentiment at Georgiana's wonderful gowns and breathtaking hairstyles i felt myself falling in loveee. and i have to say, before watching this film i didn't fancy Keira Knightley much, and even less when she basically appeared in every movie of the season. but after this film i've renewed my faith in her. the acting wasn't too much of a breakthrough, since she's done so many period shows it comes naturally i guess, but i cannot deny she is one beautiful lady in all that period costumes. washboard aside, she pulls off period dress amazingly well.

just watched Changeling in the afternoon and oh my, the two hours (was it?) felt so much longer than it was. not that the movie became dry or boring, i guess it's just the repetitive soundtrack and the rather indulgently languid cinematography. it didn't have much of a climax per se, but many half-hearted climbs, and i guess that just makes you tell yourself: huh, still something else is gonna happen?

but generally the plot is okay but predictable. in fact all the suspense hinges upon her missing child and if he's alive/found, and after a while you just don't care anymore. no less, there was a heart-stopping moment revolving around this near the end, but before that you're like, okay find or not it doesn't really matter. what is absolutely applaudable is Angelina Jolie's acting. though she cries 60% of the time in the show, you never for once lose your interest or belief in the 'reality' of the situation. you believe the "moment" at every instance of her breaking down, and i guess that is one huge achievement. especially when i'm typing this and only hours ago was a horrid and embarrassing display of local talent on national primetime TV. Channel 8 dramas hit a new low after the passable Little Nyonya.

though i confess, i was pleasantly surprised and rather happy that they revived 播音人 tonight at the 830pm slot. it was such a quintessential topic in primary/secondary school (i can't remember which), and such a delight to watch again. it boasts the best comic timing ever achieved by Channel 8 actors, and a colorfully Singaporean script which doesn't go stale, boring and plain stereotypical in seconds like those currently airing. put simply, I LOVE THE SHOW!

regarding employment: i feel annoyed and dispirited. tried the tuition people, tried the schools, and no reply. even trevvy didn't reply :( wells now i shall hopefully be heathily employed by acropolis and teach 6/7 year olds speech and drama. it's not exactly my dream job, but when one needs the dough, one's gonna do what one's gotta do. of course, without selling myself. not that it'd bring much in.

i miss you cherry, and i miss you steph. pau and yeek you are missed too.

and now you come to mind, MM, and hell it's been really really really long. i do miss you.

hello mr JFC, it was great hanging out. we should do it someday else. JIMI HENDRIXXXXX.

lovetoall :D

P.S. i bought my black skinnies and my hat and two vintage-ish shirts WHEE CNY ROCKS! albeit bad music filling stores and entire shopping centres. ugh :X