Moonshine

There's not enough alcohol to keep me sedated and nice like a good boy in the fridge so I'm half-fucked drunk so that I'm all crazy and all but I can't freaking sleep which is the main purpose I want to get myself all drunk.

I'm not able to sleep knowing that everything is just so fucked up, that it's all my fault and I'm fucked up and crazy and I don't even know to believe what others say or what I believe or what I feel or what I think or when the alcohol speaks to me. Is it my fault or am I just lousy in which case it's also my fault or is it just the world sucks and I'm the one who always loses out in the end? But people don't just lose out. They gotta fail to lose our and in that case it's my fault. No matter how I look at it it's my fault.

I deserve to be macerated, left to rot, ripped apart in the cold.

I fucking hate life and for the first time in a long while I truly wish I were truly dead. True, the idea of death sends my heart racing on some nights lying in bed mulling about things, or in the shower staring at the burnished metal pipes.

Fuck life.

There's too much pain in my head, too protracted a civil war in my mind. SOMEONE FUCKING KILL ME BEFORE I LOSE MY MIND AND GO FOR THE KILL.

Killing in the name of

I'm the bulletproof monk who survived a whole day of especially harrowing school today! Was grilled, charbroilled, etc during one of the tutorials, though I've experienced worse. I've been to hell and back so there's not much that I can't survive. Those who know about my traumatic surgical end of posting test will understand.

Yay.

Somehow feeling mechanical today. Board the bus. Right hand on door rail, left hand tapping my ez-Link card, monkeybar my way into the bus, balance myself, with the exact precision needed to just keep myself balanced during the bumpy bus ride.

Get off the bus, get through the day, make small talk. Put on a happy front. And don't feel happy or sad or anything because it's just a routine. A series of many dance steps. Heave ho.

Yay.

Went for a good jog in Bishan Park and well, despite just barely recovering from a shitty bout of sinusitis, I could zip through the western half without being overtaken once. And overtaking a number of people who were dressed way sportier than me, in all their synthetic fabric singlets and all.

The only thing sporty about my attire are my high end shoes, but as you already know, shoes DO matter - they're the things that make physical contact with the ground, and determines how stably you can go. Yay.

There's this thing about me that fantasises about being an underdog - looking like the one who would never make it, the one with nothing to his name - then winning it all. Sorta like, a fetish for Q-cars such as those MPS Mazdas where they put in a humongous engine in slightly-modified bodies of their normal saloon cars, for insane power-to-weight ratio. With barely a hint of sports styling.

Well, I smoked them all wearing a cheapo pair of shorts and an old oversized cotton tee. Granted, loose, floppy clothing increase my coefficient of drag, and make me feel like I'm drenched in my own stifling sweat, but that's fine print.

I win.

Yay.

Oh, I got banned in an online forum in support of my fallen comrades (no, they're more than just online friends) who had been unreasonably banned too.

Yay.

Do the Hippogriff

Yay Cong's back from the US and A. And he have a Cultural Learnings to share with everyone. But damn, everyone else we know are busy with one thing or another, so it's just the 2 of us.

Scrambled to look for tickets for Hairy Potty and the Order of the Phoenix. Cathay's totally booked when I checked at 9.30am, as in, 2nd row from the front. But yay, Cong managed to get some pretty good tix at Eng Wah Suntec. (It's sorta hidden from the rest of town so there's always seats there - in fact, I've watched Spidey 3 there on opening day and that's without booking.)



So how was it? Cong says it's pretty damned good, because it's confident enough to stand on its own, without having to support itself word for word from the novel. I found it quite a bit weaker than Goblet of Fire - the magic simply isn't as magical any more. And while admittedly the book is the crappiest so far, it's rather sacrilegious to rework the story so much and pare off the subplots and simplify the main plot into one swift vignette. And well, Luna Lovegood is supposed to be way more lovable than this.

Goblet of Fire was much better. Cooler visuals, a more engaging plot that followed the book nicely, and hey, it was a killer soundtrack with Jarvis Cocker on board.

Oh well, Cong told me how he liked US and A, and how everything's sorta sweeter and funner and brighter and more alive there. Instead of sterile Singapore where everything bores the hell outta you. Sigh. Every year I rot in NUS, I lose a thousand more brain cells. In this hellhole where I have to conform against my wishes just to keep afloat.


I hate flyers. Ha. Ha. Very funny.

Walked a hell lot, crapping about Dating Theory and How Singapore Sucks and all, stopping by some shops here and there. CD shops. Stuff. Crumpler bags are hell of expensive. Damn. And stuff in the US and A is sometimes ridiculously cheap online if you know the right places, so that's one major Cool Plus Point. We're both so bored of Orchard.

Cong's meeting some friends, so I went home and all. Tried to do some revision, but damn, only lasted half an hour.

And diabolical plan to ship Crumpler bag from USA to save money fell through. Shipping's insane.

I'd Do Anything for Love (but I Won't Do That)

Pardon the OMGWTF title but yeah, I did make meatloaf.

The morning was a bike ride, after not having touched the bike for a long while. Thankfully, no mechanical faults. And I rode rather decently for a guy recovering from a bad flu. But the bike was so dirty I gave it a good towelling down after the ride.

But there was nothing - nothing at all at home that I could use, so, whatdoIdo? Off to the nearby NTUC! It rocks to have a newly-opened hypermart just 3 bus-stops away.



But it's a Saturday, and it's really crowded. Put my people-dodging skills to good use. As a cyclist, I've been trained to watch out for where people are going and to pre-empt and stuff. So, I can zip through crowds pretty much better than most anyone there.



The spoils! Turned out there were Simpsons tees on sale at Bossini. And no, I can't say no to The Simpsons. Heck, it's only $26 for 2 for movie tees. AMK Bossini has great service. Great, as in they offered to help me with those bags of NTUC stuff and all when I struggled to find some place to put them down. Kudos to them!



On the way back in a stupid Volvo B9TL. Hate those Nauseamaschinen which gotta shift through all 6 gears just to get to speed. And when the driver signals, the whole bus fills with the annoying beep of an emergency room cardiac monitor. And they're freaking everywhere! Not just in Bishan, but in the whole of Singapore. And even in Hong Kong.



Before. Meeeeeat. Actually I cheated. I mixed in potatoes and chicken into the beef to keep costs low and healthiness high.



Got into a small disaster when I tried to mash undercooked potatoes with a fork. Ended up mashing the softer parts, dicing the harder parts. Which was a bad idea cause the whole meatloaf ended up a weird consistency in the end. Added spices, onions, tomato.



It's not THAT bad, but it's a minor disappointment. Maybe ground beef just ain't my kinda thing. And it's definitely too little beef, and too much potatoes and chicken, cause it didn't taste very meaty.



Served with veges. And also garlic toast. And red wine. Oh well, at least my family finished it.



And then I was drunk.

I'm drunk

teeheehee

Where is my mind?

Blogging from the hospital library.

And I dunno, I was doing quite okay, going on my solo sprees of medical interviewing, in order to hone in my skills. Did quite okay - and in Chinese. Usually I'm pretty retarded when interviewing in Chinese, but hey, this time round I did get the facts quite nicely.

So into another ward I went into to do the same.

And it was a cancer ward. People on Do Not Resus and people who have so much optimism in them, you'd think it's blanket denial of the dire truth that the more unfortunate ones are almost definitely going to die soon.

Couldn't take it, and here I hide in the library instead.

King For A Day

Random song:
Green Day - King For A Day
Started at the age of 4.
My mother went to the grocery store.
Went sneaking through her bedroom door to find something in a size 4.

Sugar and spice and everything nice wasn't made for only girls.
GI Joe in panty hose is making room for the one and only.

King for a day, princess by dawn.
King for a day in a leather thong.
King for a day, princess by dawn.
Just wait 'til all the guys get a load of me.

My daddy threw me in therapy.
He thinks I'm not a real man.
Who put the drag in the drag queen.
Don't knock it until you tried it

Yeah I still do feel sick and everytime I blow my nose and try to get rid of the gooey crud that's been sitting in my sinuses for days and growing various kinds of bacteria, I'm afraid the vessels in my nose will burst again.

Because I'd never forget last night when I blew my nose and instead of stringy mucous, blood sputtered out. Scrambled to pack my nostril with tissue paper the way I usually do. About time. I average one nosebleed a year, while none of my family members ever seem to have them.



Be careful of what you wish for. In a way I don't mind falling ill as it's a convenient excuse to take things easy. But what I got in the end is feeling sick the whole of the next day. Cold. Hot. Cold. Hot. Blocked nose. Woozy. Diarrhoea. (The last one was from all that ice cream from last night.)

Interrupted sleep from 11am to 12pm. Add that to the 3h nap the previous afternoon and that's a OMFG amount of sleep. It's sort of convenient sleeping so much from being sick, so that I can avoid the world. But it's nasty.

==

But I won't get me down.

Sorta stoned on the computer reading random non-school-related stuff on Wikipedia. And it's sorta cool when you read up on aviation and its accidents and realise how little it takes to crash a plane full of passengers. Repair a damaged plane's tail with too few rivets, and and 12000 flights later, the whole vertical stabiliser breaks and the whole plane goes down.

There's so much precision involved in keeping a metal behemoth floating with 10km of thin air between it and the hard ground. So much physics and engineering involved. Rocket science. Literally.



But well, as for the pilot, who's always glamorised way more than the aerospace engineers, all he does is to flip the controls and let autopilot do most of the work. Disappointing really, you'd expect the pilot to have a much tougher job than to push the levers and do the occasional radio comms to the air traffic controller. The bus driver who gets you through the harrowing traffic and to your school or workplace has a more exhausting job.

I have a new-found respect for the captains of the Volvo Olympians I commute in.

==

Went out with the old guard of secondary school friends and hell, it was fun, just crapping about just like we did since we were 15. I won't let feeling sick get me down. In fact, the grogginess made it easier for me to act silly and happy and all.

Can someone crash a car into me just so hard that I knock my head and a concussion just hard enough for me to lose all my memories from secondary school onwards? Then I'd have to repeat secondary school and be happy all over over again.

Pizza Hut. The New cheese thingie is really quite good. But the pizza's tiny. A friend was looking at another friend's travel photos as though it was a mail order bride catalogue, which was hilarious.



Boy, do I miss them. They're the ones who kept me sane when I was sorta kooky in secondary school. I guess, it's them who had managed to get me through life thus far. They might not feel it, but it's so true.

==



Spotted a couple of days back. SMRT should really keep their posters up to date.