omg omg i just heard a song with chris martin singing!!


Can anyone tell i'm a Coldplay fan? haha. they ARE good. anyone who thinks otherwise is wrong on two counts: one, Coldplay is great, and two, i'm afraid you really cant think in the first place. Coldplay not being good is a thought which would never cross the mind of anyone with a brain anyway.




There was this Measure for Measure essay i wrote discussing the differences between Angelo and the Duke... and i went like this:
"There are some similarities between the Duke and Angelo, but these can be few and far between. The differences, on the other hand, are glaringly obvious to anyone with half a brain and eyes to see."

I kid you not. For me, anything went for lit. and i got away with it, too. That's where the true humour lies.



I've been tentatively accepted into Law in 2 aussie universities...... but do i wanna go? I havent even replied to them yet. That's just something i'm not quite ready to decide yet. Its best not to approach life-changing decisions with impulsive celerity. Do you not ruminate in a similar faashion?


(I believe it's sentences like that last one that send people like Victor into ecstatic rages of "Why must always use big words to show you so smart? its really your own insecurities. sooooooooooooo........ Yeah i'm really insecure! so insecure, in fact, that i would never ever tell anyone. Indeed, i would NEVER reveal my insecurities in cyberspace, like some do. I'd never blog about how insecure i am....... because i'd never want anyone to know how insecure i am)



In other words, i dont quite agree with Vic's opinion. Could you tell??





I recently was imparted information which blew me away in a small way. Sort of a mini whirldwind. Or alternatively a very strong eddy. (does anyone recognise the phrase "Eddies in the space-time continuum"?) I was talking to J abt my blog, and she said she likes it, but she gets intimidated by it. She said that aspiring writers would be. soooooo. thats a good thing, i guess. I'm becoming increasingly attracted to the idea of being a writer. There's a certain tousle-haired romance to it isnt there? And now that it seems people aside from me like some of the stuff i write, maybe there is hope.

God knows i'd write better than that fucker responsible for "The Da Vinci Code". Dan Brown should be ashamed of himself.



Did i offend anyone?


more importantly, do i give a damn?!


(I'm guessing opposite answers to the above two. Decide which is which on your own.)




I realize (AMERICAN SPELLING) looking thru my writing that the flow of conciousness style i favour can lead to pretty confused entries. That's good though isnt it? so many blogs i read limit each post to one or two subjects. I just cant imagine doing that! because:
A) I'd then have to do like 5 posts a day, or

B) I'd keep it all in (because 5 posts a day is really a full time job) and my head would explode.



Option A will exhaust all my faculties, and option B is very messy.




****************************



Ah dear lord....... what am i to do with you without causing any pain? Sure people say you're strong and tough and you can take it (and its obviously not like you'd fall apart or anything - they use stronger glue in the womb these days. medical science is amazing) but still no pain would be far better than you-can-take-it pain, wouldnt it? although some say pleasure's worse than pain. interesting, isnt it? in torture, stimulation of the brain's pleasure centres (BRITISH SPELLING) has a more detrimental effect than stimulation of the pain centres. I think it has to do with the ensuing withdrawl syptoms that come after the stimulation ceases.

Alright back to what i was talking abt. I think i could be an incredible bastard. then again, i could just be a typical male. (Those of you who are saying these two are really one and the same....... i do not even deign to comment) but at the end of the day we both knew it wasnt anything anyway. so i guess any guilt i may feel is misplaced.




This has largely been a post of little decipherable meaning (i so know i spelt that wrong...didnt i?) and for that i make no excuses. but hey, next post i'll dissect another piece of lousy litereature from our favourite publication, Zephyr. So tune in next time, then!




looking through the photos reminds me of so many of the fantastic times we had. it really was an absolute blessing man. pretty damn incredible, all round. If things survive forever in cyberspace, i've a feeling one day we'll both look back - possibly no longer in contact, possibly (having against all odds stayed true to promises we've made) still regularly in communication - and reminisce. One year can be more than enough.



I abhor you.
no, i adore you.
i cant ignore you.
do i bore you?

I wasnt planning to post anything today (Its the Sabbath! "Thou shalt not work." "Thou shalt thus work on other days" is the part i tend to ignore) but i saw the tag left by "Spaceybumper" who's name i shall not use here - we all like our anonymity dont we?


so this post is dedicated to and extrapolated from that tag. (ahhh extrapolated. the word rolls off the tongue. and then usually falls "plop!" to the floor when people dont understand it. But it rolls off the tongue, nonetheless)


First of all, Spaceybumper: Thanks for the tag. Its good to reconcile, even if its only after school has ended (the irony is Shakespearean, no?) I'm an ardent fan of yours too! (A la "OMG SYLVESTER!" fanaticism hahahaha) although i do believe the word you picked was "grudging". But we can forget abt diction now, cant we? I guess i apologise for the history lecture episode too - but c'mon you gotta admit that when the whole LT went up in laughter like flames it was pretty exhilarating right? or maybe its just me :) I think this whole episode shows how people can be big enough to get over things and part amicably. Of course, in this case it helps that both parties are highly intelligent, and possessed of simply scintillating intellects, right? Right?!


The second thing is that I think this shows the diplomatic possibilities of blogs and tagboards. Can you see the potential?
Imagine: Bush has a blog.........
"Alright I have to do this before Rice and Powell are all over me. We all know Osama isn't my favourite person, but I really must admit that he's doing a pretty good job with the bombings and terrorism and all that. So for all of you who can see that me, not being his number one fan, advocating bin Laden must mean something, find out more about this great man at www.alqaeda.com"

to which Osama responds, on Bush's tagboard (smileys and all)
"I've been a grudging fan of your bombings too, and apologise for whatever was my fault. Oh, good luck with Iraq"


and then they're all friends again!! wouldn't that be spectacular??







Oh yeah one other thing: I think "Still dont give a fuck" and all the other songs on the Slim Shady LP are absolutely brilliant. If you wanna buy an album for yourself this christmas, pick it up.



I end today's post with a line that's abnormally sappy of me, but i happen to like it.




Love remained the drug that's the high, not the pill.

I am done with economics!! (as is now, and ever shall be, the world without end, Amen)



And with history!!! (at least until i take it up in University. Yes, i am serious. laugh not - it be most unbecoming)


Yes, ladies and gentlemen. History ended today with Mr Rajoo's paper (In da BAG!) and Economics ended with the MCQ, DRQ and Case Study (In da.............. coffin.) And yes, i genuinely am considering taking up History at Uni. i know its virtually useless, but its INTERESTING, which is more than can be said for other things.

I'm thinking if i get a perfect score for my SATS (ok well 1550+ would be nice) then maybe i'll have a shot at getting into Harvard (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA might be appropriate. but then again :D) and then i'd do Law. Alternatively, i'd LOVE to read Literature at Cambridge. That would be absolutely heavenly. Plus, there's always music, which i'd really like to do too. And acting. Acting would be absolutely heavenly, too :) words fail me.





"yeah sure!" but just how much does it mean?? people say things abt fifty thousand times a day. How many of them do they MEAN??

on this note, let's go into the fucking stupid reason Singaporeans seem to love to use to explain away shitty customer service.

Complaint: "The check-out girl didnt say "Have a nice day!" to me"

Response: "She's just being honest. You expect her to be fake like the Americans and say that whether or not she really HOPES you have a nice day?"


THAT IS NOT A FUCKING JUSTIFIABLE ANSWER, and only illustrates the sheer utter stupidity and selfishness that inhabits some people's mind. The whole idea of being POLITE and COURTEOUS is to not take into account whether or not you feel like being either on the basis of treating your fellow humans kindly. That means making the effort to say "How are you?" whether or not you really care - because its the right thing to do. At least where i come from. Claiming that to do so is to be fake is utter senselessness - where would civilization be if we only did things because we FELT like it?? The basis of human culture lies in doing things beyond that which we feel immediately inclined to do - otherwise we'd all be living in caves still, because there's really nothing "wrong" with that, when it comes down to it.


Just think on it. I'm sure some of the cynical ones amongst you wont agree. Someone always does.





Cynical cynical cynical
everything's always inimical
to you, it does seem
everything's so damn mean.
Oh and things are always political.





I have also been the proud proud proud owner of the Eminem Encore CD for the last FOUR DAYS, and it is really, really, REALLY good.


Father please forgive me for i know not what i do
I just never had the chance to ever meet you.



Too bad the T-shirt aint exactly the best thing since sliced bread. But oh well what the hell.





If you're reading this at home, cigarette in hand, going WTF, well HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.



Ok that one i think NO one will ever, ever get. think of it this way: if you're thinking it might be you, then its not. Unless, of course, it IS you. Then you'd be right in thinking its you. Unless, however, you're wrong.



Grey. A little bit of white, but mostly grey. Very definitely grey. Oh with a little smidgeon of black. And some very faintly visible navy blue streaks. But overall, grey it is.



Did i mention grey??





I'm flipping thru the pages
Of this abomination of a book.
(There's some alliteration there
If you'd but care to look).

I'm just tryin to find the piece
that will inspire most in me
hatred, anger and distress.
Can you guess the title i see?

For that's right, today is
Slaughterhouse Zephyr: Installment number 4
So stick around, tune in some
Find out what's in store!!!






Slaughterhouse: Zephyr
(Part 4 in an increasingly-misnamed trilogy)
(If anyone caught that reference please let me know)


Ok the suspense has dragged on for long enough. (Incidentally, how many A level lit students commented on the use of the father to create suspense in the Drama question for Practical Criticism?? Bravo if you did). Today I shall be dealing exclusively with Tang Chee Seng's piece entitled.......... well i gather it's entitled "Weird Science And Amazing Technology" (yes, with all those letters in CAPS. Only God knows why - and even He's unsure on this one)

Before I start, though: While flipping through the pages (as the poem above relates :D incidentally, that poem is worthy of being included in Zephyr. It's bloody atrocious haha) i noticed something which smells downright rotting-sea-life to me. Many many MANY of the pieces in Zephyr seem to be from T1! The very class that *gasp the coincidence!* the Vice president of the Editorial Board student members are from!! (It is this group who is responsible for Zephyr. Please, save the hate mail until AFTER the As) Also the Literary Editor! And quite possibly other people too, its just that I don't know their names!! 7 pieces (according to my count, which is based upon a tenuous grasp of people's names. Conspiracy theorists would no doubt say they're ALL from T1, and they've all used false names. Altho why anyone would use "Charles Lazaroo" is quite beyond me) out of 23 are from T1!!!! that's ....................... approximately............................ ONE THIRD!!!!!!! (right?? hahahaha)

Now you tell me: doesnt that stink of incestuous nepotism??? I SMELL INBREEDING!!!!!





Ok so returning to Tang Chee Seng....... God the name is a MOUTHFUL.

He starts off "If you're reading this, then it may already be too late for me." Ironically, this could be more true than he thinks. You see, if YOU'RE reading his work because of my post, then you'll likely end up despising it too. Which will result in him getting stoned at school. Deservedly!

Not only is such a beginning VERY overused and tired, it's also followed by the stunningly unoriginal line of "I might have already be captured by HAL" (grammatically it should be "may" anyway, i think). Not "I may have been sucked into cyberspace through a strange ant hole" or "I followed a white rabbit into a floppy disc" or "Someone on the other side of the world downloaded me via LimeWire and my ass got stuck" ................ nooooooo not good old Tang Chee Seng (goddamn i hate his name. Sorry buddy). He chooses to rip off poor Arthur C. Clarke - who's too old to get up off his wheelchair and fight this in the copyright courts - and uses HAL as his big baddy in the story. And what has HAL done?? Why, captured our main character, of course! Dont you know this is how good stories progress? an utterly predictable and boring storyline is part of the process!!!!

It gets worse, however. NEXT, he steals from George Orwell (Now THAT is beyond below the belt man. That's below the socks! Arthur C. Clarke is still alive - barely - but Orwell's DEAD. so dead he probably cant even turn in his grave any more without the assistance of some kindhearted worms.) HAL gets upped to "Big Brother" HAL. SPARE ME. 1984, anyone?


Next we'll have flashing numbers running down the page.



=)




The story really just drags on forever and ever and ever. He steals from just about every science fiction writer under the sun: Dan Simmons gets his AI concept of computers using human minds pilfered, Peter F. Hamilton gets his idea of 'Net junkies taken from A Quantum Murder............... the list grows ever longer. What we have here is a terribly-written story which puts to shame the marvellous stolen concepts which are forced into the story like gristle through a meat-grinder - what we get is a baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad sausage. A really bad sausage.


My suggestion? Don't even waste your time dissing him. He'll probably quote your insult straight back at you - but mangle it badly in the process.







Lambs to the slaughter,
the sons and the daughters
march off to be quartered
and drawn.

A mother was working in the kitchen, listening to her five-year-old son playing with his new electric train in the living room.

She heard the train stop and her son say, "All of you b*stards who want off, get the hell off now, 'cause this is the last stop! And all of you b*stards who are getting on, get your ass in the train, cause we're going down the tracks."


The horrified mother went in and told her son, "We don't use that kind of language in this house. Now I want you to go to your room and stay there for TWO HOURS. When you come out, you may play with your train, but I want you to use nice language"


Two hours later, the son came out of the bedroom and resumed playing with his train. Soon the train stopped and the mother heard her son say, "All passengers who are disembarking the train, please remember to take all of your belongings with you. We thank you for travelling with us today and hope your trip was a pleasant one."

She hears the little boy continue, "For those of you just boarding, we ask you to stow all of your hand luggage under your seat. Remember, there is no smoking on the train. We hope you will have a pleasant and relaxing journey with us today".



As the mother begins to smile, the child adds, "For those of you who are p*ssed off about the TWO HOUR delay, please direct your complaints to the fat b*tch in the kitchen."






HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

alright so i'm loosing it. but hey i thought i'd start this entry off with some humour.

i'd tell the other one (which has gotten good results today!) but i prefer that one for individual delivery. mass-display is beneath it - it's that good.





"Sheesh man i'm constantly NOT surprised" - i just liked the way that sounded, so here it is: set to revebrate in the endless region that is cyberspace.




Oh, before i go any further, i MUST do this, or i'll give into temptation and not do it (Get thee behind me, Satan!). Joyce's blog, out of the multitude of blogs i've surveyed, provides me with the most humour. Her insights are really quite decent - a sharpeyed surgeon cutting away the layers of fat that cover so much of day to day life. and so on and so forth. The only shortcoming is that she updates very rarely. Oh, and she sometimes writes in Malay - a language on which i have only the most tenuous of grasps. I know that many of you know Joyce isn't my number one person, and she probably isnt my number one fan - anyone who was present during that fateful History lecture will have some inkling as to why things are in this tragic state of affairs - so you're all quite likely surprised at me advocating reading her blog. Think of it this way: if you DONT like someone, but you obviously appreciate something of the person's, it must be at least worth checking out right? (plus it also means i'm not an incredibly narrow-minded bastard - well not quite) so check it out. Judging by her guestbook its not the most private site around, so its www.spaceybumper.blogspot.com (someone please tell me if i shldnt do this). NOW READ IT!

Joyce, if you ever read this: much respect. Not very much love (we must, after all, be honest, mustn't we :D) but respect, indeed. And all the best.




*****************************



Alright the real Tim's back :)



I was struck by a thought, about 3 minutes ago =) i think its quite good actually.

people are like alcohol. you've got to know your limits, and how much u can take before your body rejects them.


and if you want to know who or what made me think that, well have you seen that Michael Douglas movie?? "I'll never telllllllll" :)




****************


Sexuality - a curse or a curse? or possibly *gasp* a curse??
I think that's all there is to it. Sure, there's some fun to be had outta it - but then again there's fun to be had in using heroin. (The idea here, of course, is that heroin is BAD. just clarifying).






Have you heard about the new wonderdrug?
Its a mix of Valium and Viagra. If you dont get a fuck, you dont give a fuck.






Alright i've delayed it enough: It's time to talk abt the issue of the moment. THE A LEVELS.


GP and History - 'nuff said. Mustn't dwell on the FANTASTIC BITS!!!!!!.
like i said, enough.


Lit - Ah here it starts to get interesting. I still think i'll do well, but Hard Times was laughable. But then every time i think i've done badly, i do well. So who knows? Maybe i've come to the end of my luck, maybe i havent. I suspect its the latter - my luck is INEXHAUSTABLE.

(as long as the arrogance is still ticking over, you know things are alright. its when i start shuffling around mumbling - THAT'S when you gotta look out for tendencies to jump off buildings.)

Econs - I'm still wondering whether what i wrote was right or wrong. Best part is, i wont find out till March. But i think it's alright.



Which brings me to another issue. There's this thing that happens after every single exam, and my term for it is:

Mutual Negative Reinforcement Syndrome
(Or, we're all fucking stupid, dont know anything, and thus scare the shit outta each other)


Having observed specimens in my lab (read: the CJC auditorium) over a period of time, i've noticed that there's a tendency for the following to happen:

1) the exam ends. Everyone breathes a sigh of............ something. Usually NOT relief.

2) the papers are collected, amidst the pre-MNRS muttering.

3) Students who didnt study much, turn around and start talking to each other. Careful observation has revealed that those who have studied are often quiet at this stage - usually with a smile on their faces. Telepathic reading of these subjects' minds showed the thought "Ah you poor sorry bastards. I've beaten all of you" flashing through their brains at this point.

4) Meanwhile, the students who didnt study much (for the purpose of this report, these subjects shall be labelled "Dumfucks" , and the silent ones shall be called "Smarts") are engaged in numerous conversations.

5) The Dumbfucks' chats run along these general lines: "What did you write? Oh you wrote that?" "You have to write that?" "I wrote this - did you?" "No I didnt!! Ah!!!" "but i didnt write that either!! And i completely missed out that!" "Ahhh i dont have anything you wrote! I'm gonna fail!!" "And i dont have anything YOU wrote! I'm gonna fail too!" " AHHHHH!!!"

6) The Dumbfucks, having thus mutually assured themselves of their doom viz. the exam they're just finished, shuffle morosely out of the lab. (remember, this means AUDI)

7) The Smarts, having seen the last of the Dumbfucks out the door, now turn to each other and laugh their heads off.



Analysis of the above findings reveals what i have (as you should already know, unless YOU are a Dumbfuck) termed the Mutual Negative Reinforcement Syndrome. People suffering from this have a tendency to inspire and receive fear in and from those in a similar plight around them - that is, knowing nothing themselves, they turn to others with an equal paucity of knowledge and share this nothingness amongst themselves, to the detriment of their confidence. They find out things that they didnt put into their essays from people who really shouldnt be putting ANYTHING into their essays, and because of this (and because neither party knows what SHOULD go into the essays anyway) they think they've left stuff out - which they HAVE. its called "the right answer". but they are hazy on this point.

So they all work themselves up into a tizzy.




Altogether now: DUMBFUCKS!!!






Alright time for a moment of introspection: Hands up those of us as admits to being a Dumbfuck from time to time ourselves. =)






nope, nothing on Zephyr today. the butcher's outta the Slaugherhouse for the time being. Tune in next time folks!!





Bowed down under the weight of life's waters
You sink ever deeper in silt.
Helpless and so cold, you realise this sea
Is the ocean that is your life's guilt.

*Oh god i'm so glad you left. i'm sure this isn't how it's supposed to be.




Euphoria's still bubbling deep within me. My only fear is that i'll get so high above my books i'll forget to study for the remaining exams. and THEN what use will Paper 1 be?
I must remember Paper 1 isn't everything.

ImustrememberPaper1isn'teverythingImustrememberPaper1isn'teverythingImustrememberPaper1isn'teverything
ImustrememberPaper1isn'teverythingImustrememberPaper1isn'teverythingImustrememberPaper1isn'teverything
ImustrememberPaper1isn'teverythingImustrememberPaper1isn'teverythingImustrememberPaper1isn'teverything





"you're self-absorbed" they say to him
That's the constant tale they tell.
Wondering, pondering, "could it be true?"
He crawls so deep into his shell.



Irony, and bitter truth.




You turn so quick, then look away
and i barely catch
your eyes, so deep, with their perennial twinkle.
enchanted, i am spellbound
a bird in a cobra's gaze,
Dying inside, my soul slain, i wither away.




The memories of yesteryear steal softly in
and finding a place to settle, they stay
rose petals falling gently on a deep forest pool.




I'm reminding myself that in order to create, you must be able to destroy, for Yes, i am winding myself up for the third instalment of:

SLAUGHTERHOUSE: ZEPHYR


This shall be brutal, bloody, and far from your average Russian ballet. This is the Holocaust for the writers of Zephyr, although many are they who would cringe at such a dignified term being applied here. Nevertheless, "Turn the other cheek" and be gracious - but my advice to you is, dont turn another page of the publication :)
The only difference is that MY Holocaust is entirely justified. Of course, a case could be made that Hitler would have said the exact same thing, and that I am merely an egomaniac, bent on slaying those who i feel to be at odds with my world view. But i am not the one to make it.



Hariharan's "Love You Forever".
(I've assumed Hariharan is male. I'm bad with names.)
For the life of me, i honestly cant decipher the meaning of this poem. is it:

A) A girl losing her virginity (in which case Hariharan's had some interesting experiences)

B) A man killing a woman he loves (in which case Hariharan may have had some interesting experiences)

C) A man fucking a corpse - necrophilia, a strangely beautiful word. (In which case Hariharan has had some.......disturbing exeperiences) or

D) Aliens, having abducted a woman, are having problems with their invasive procedures (Alright by this point i think we all know Hariharan's been doing hallucinogens)


Trust me, (D) isn't as far-fetched as it may sound. In fact, its a lot more believable than the absolute GARBAGE that Tang Chee Seng's suppose sci-fi work. But that's not my current victim.

My first problem - and there are many - with this poem is the way the "poet" (ooooh the sarcasm) continually strives to fulfill some perverse rhyming agenda, presumably because he thinks this is beneficial to his work. Discerning and widely read ones amongst you will know exactly what i am driving at. As to WHY he would possibly think that.........Only the Lord knows, and He doesn't tell us, knowing in His divine wisdom that our healthcare services are strained enough as they are.

"A smile crossed your radiant face/It's time to start the chase." Aside from the inadequacies i perceive in the mangled pulse here, there's plenty to talk about. Yes, face and chase do rhyme. and bravo for that. However, i feel this is a prime example of what i'm talking about - there's a desperate need to rhyme evident here. "Chase" seems to have been thrown in merely because "place", "space" and "mace" wouldnt have worked. (Admittedly, i would have forgiven the rest of the poem if a battle implement of medieval Europe was successfully woven in here. that's "mace", by the way). It bears no detectable relation to ANYTHING else in the play, as there is nothing even close to a chase mentioned throughout. Observe: the action moves straight from what i presume is the dinner table or lounge room (because of "You sip your wine/You take your time." which is another fine example. Of course she sips the wine slowly. "take your time" is really unnecessary here. nononono, she doesnt drink her wine slowly. SHE POURS IT STRAIGHT DOWN HER GULLET LIKE A DEPRAVED VIKING, AND THEN GRABS THE BOTTLE RIGHT OUT OF YOUR HAND) to the bedroom without any mention of other activity. so where, then, does this "chase" occur? DO THEY RUN OUT INTO THE STREETS, DO A COUPLE OF FIFTY MILE LAPS WHILE RUNNING AFTER EACH OTHER AND THEN GO TO THE BEDROOM?
I don't know, i dont think so. but maybe that's just me.

So you see, there's a fairly substantial case that "Chase" was thrown in solely because Hariharan wanted a word that would rhyme with "face".
(Although a possibility has occured to me: Perhaps the idea is that the entire courtship between (what i am fervently assuming to be) the male and female seen here takes place between the place of wine-consumption and the bedroom. in which case Hariharan's next endeavour should be to write a guidebook on seduction, coz HE obviously thinks its possible!)

Of course this face chase fiasco is but a part of the larger tragedy that is "Love You Forever". but time is limited, so i shall turn, lastly, to the last two verses:

Your crimson stains
Leave me in pain.
Your lifeless eyes stare at me,
Waiting for your fate to be.

Carrying you downstairs,
Urging you to meet the rest,
One last passionate kiss,
Before I leave you to rest in peace.


Firstly, the "lifeless eyes" somehow express (lifelessly, i'm sure) that the departed-soul-that-used-to-exist-behind-said-eyes was waiting for her fate. She must have some pretty nifty contacts with teeny tiny text, that's all i'm saying.

Now "lifeless eyes" would imply death, correct? Thus when the central character carries this person of the void orbs downstairs, he is, in fact, carrying a corpse, no? So the "one last passionate kiss" supports the idea of necrophilia. (In which case this guy must have had some pretty incredible wires earlier in the poem, to make a corpse drink wine) The most disturbing part for me, though, is that after this engagement with the deceased, this man then "leave[s] [the body] to rest in peace" with no mention of leaving the house. As far as the information given is concerned, THE BODY STAYS IN THE HOUSE.

THIS POEM FEATURES A MAN WHO HAS A DEAD BODY, PRESUMABLY ROTTING, IN HIS DOWNSTAIRS LIVING QUARTERS.


Obviously not everything i've said here is to be taken seriously. It's my hope, though, that you, my (by now probably incensed) readers, will understand my true meaning behind some of the humour here. I honestly feel that this poem is contrived, fake, and substancesless.




* * * * * * * * * * *



the world's end approaches, the skies boiling over
Thor's bolts flash all 'cross the sky
you stand stricken, just screaming, while your heart's gripped by ice
as you realise you dont want to die.

What with GP and History having passed already, i'm feeling somewhat happy for my As thus far. i mean really, the GP essay question was a Godsend. "Assess the appeal and value of fantasy stories and films". That's like custom made for me.

Plus, i did it before for Siva and it was my second best ever. so that's GREAT.

History.... well there's uncertainty with the source based. (for the record, my sources were Support, Support, Challenge, Challenge, Supporty. and if you picked up on Source D and Source E being on the 3rd and 4th of august respectively, pat yourself on the back). Other than that, i'm incredibly greatful to God that i studied TT last night. coz IR was SOOOOOOOOOOOO fucked up, as everyone seems to agree. EN was ... interesting, and NI was limited in scope. in fact thats abt the general trend of this exam. they seem to have wanted to limit the scope of the questions quite a bit.


AFTER the paper, though, I WENT AND PREORDERED THE NEW EMINEM CD!! AND I GET A FREE T SHIRT!!! like WHOA!!!!! (my apologies for getting the date wrong hahaha. but hey this way we get free shirts right?!)



I realised today, after observing some events transpire, that insensitivity can be one of the most crushing things in the world. sometimes when you've fucked up some exam, or your cat's died, or your father's passed away, or some life changing event like that, the last thing you wanna hear abt is some messed up paintwork, or a wet shoe, or some equally irrelevant thing.
In connection to that, i remembered how i had a habit which really pissed me off: I'd be talking abt something important to me, and then i'd cut in with something totally unimportant. that's insensitivity, i realise.
and the irony's that i've said i've learnt to be sensitive after getting to know me better.




No i'm not schizophrenic. Ever thought you arent meant to understand everything in here? :) someone will though.





i cant help but beam from the inside. i feel happier in some ways than i have for sooo long. when's the last time i strolled past the marriot hotel, anyway?





SLAUGHTERHOUSE ZEPHYR: THE SEQUEL

Today i turn my eye to Charles Lazaroo's Metaphor.

Now i've always maintained that Charles is something of a genius. Occasionally difficult to talk to, and always different, but he's a smart guy. (GRADES ARENT EVERYTHING, you do realise?) He has a gift with literature, which not many comprehend, and fewer still possess.
Simply put, i think Metaphor is the best work in the whole of Zephyr. Natalie could take some lessons from it. He uses "lo!" and actually gets away with it! Plus "vespers" ...... half of you dont even know what that means, i'm willing to wager. and yet despite these linguistic feats, he doesnt come across as unwieldy, neither does he seem to be amateurish.
Charles has done here the things i hoped to see throughout Zephyr, but have not, sadly, found. He's created a poem that makes one sit back and go "whoa" at the end, and then re-read the poem, searching for the meaning which must be there.




Read it and weep, all others.

Victor's latest post reverbrated deep within my midriff, because i threw up four fucking times sunday night between the godforsaken hour of 3.30 am and the oh-my-god-even-lucifer-wldnt-go-near-this hour of 5.30. NOT FUN.

on the side though: just coz some guy threw up doesnt mean he was drinking right? you sure you're not letting racism thru vic? :)


when DOES this "holy month" end anyhow? (kinda funny isnt it, how the holy month falls during this most evil of times, for us A level students... something's not quite right)



The wave of feedback regarding the brutal fun that was Slaughterhouse Zephyr has encouraged me. I'd say one of the best was when Daniel messaged me outta the blue telling me he totally agreed with my post. That was particularly nice, coz i hardly ever get msgs frm Dan anw!! so he must've felt kinda strong about it. WHICH I DO TOO.




On the other hand, the fact that some people, like Sonia, are sounding kinda sad is attacking my conscience somewhat. Maybe i shouldn't have been so harsh. maybe i was being too mean. Maybe........................................


YEAH FUCKING RIGHT.


heh. alright yeah i wont go overboard. But i will NOT refrain from expressing my views on Zephyr, because otherwise i will implode and die due to the incredible build-up of bile on the inside.


buuuuuuuut this post is not Slaughterhouse Zephyr: The Sequel. coz it really takes a lot of time, and i dont have much of that precious commodity at the moment. (You think lines like "OH MY ALLAH!!" are easy to come up with?!!!! :D ) but within the week, i promise.




Lastly, exactly like i told fiona and clara (W) i havent started studying for JY's paper yet. I know deep within the darkest recesses of my mind (where the rats and mice hang out and get wasted) i'll only start after GP, no matter how much i try and force myself.



Ah well.