You Are The Truth!

Testing

2011-06-05T02:27:00.001+08:00

Testing testing 1-2-3.

mbloggery

2010-11-01T02:33:00.001+08:00

The Duff can't seem to sleep tonight. It always happens when he has something on the next day and he tries to go to bed early.

Almost immediately he knows he's screwed. His mind's eye wanders right back to the laptop and the programme he left playing in the background screams at him in acute clarity. It is almost hi def but in pounding sound waves.

He gives up and picks up his phone. The latest toy. Still paying for it. Heh. He surfs around, checking out the latest scores, checks what his so-called friends are up to, while at the back of his mind he knows what each and every real friend of his is doing.

He thinks then that it would be kind of fun to find something to do. Something to let loose any residual energy he has left from the paltry trials and tribulations of the day. And he remembers that he has this special place where he used to "frequent". A wall where he could shout and wail and come back months later to read the spittle on the paint, or relisten to the fading echoes of an earlier, younger and inescapable naive whimper.

And scream at said wall through new medium too. The novelty may actually last perhaps a tad bit longer. In that respect he has it similarly to don draper. The newness of things. A freshness to proceedings. An unboringness.

The sad truth that is. A relentless and never-ending pursuit of the unmundane. Forever doomed. The perpetual beta indeed.

Unending Blur-icity

2010-01-07T20:03:00.001+08:00

So it was finally the Duff's turn at the controls of the real aircraft. After many hours of practice in the simulators, it was his chance to fly some sectors on the old but still powerful Learjet 45. Sure some things were wonky like the airconditioning and anti-ice, but the engines buckled in and pushed everyone into their seats at the appropriate times. The Duff found himself enjoying the speed, the clouds and the idle banter with the instructor beside him, sharing war stories of life on the line.

The downside was the preparation required going into every flight. He had to wake up at 3.30, set off for the school at 4.30, and prepare the flight plans, fuel, weight and balances, weather and all by 6.00. It was a massive undertaking that took some practice but the flight the next day was much smoother. He also had to prepare and familiarise himself with the routes, approaches and aerodromes along the way. Quite a bit for a lazy bugger like him.

Therefore, it meant late nights prior to the flights, many short naps and practically non-existent deep sleeps in the wee hours of the morning. The stupor he was in caused him to hit his head twice in two days on the edges found on the ceiling of the cabin. Massive bumps that hurt to the touch reminded him of his clumsy childhood and each time he rubbed his scalp, he smiled to himself like a silly old fool.

What was to happen on the subsequent evening took the cake though. He had fallen asleep after a quick snack of instant noodles after the second flight, all the weariness of the preceding days bearing down upon him like an avalanche of sledgehammers. When he awoke, he first saw the faint light peering through his garage room door. He panicked at first, and grabbed for his mobile phone to check the time. The first impression was that it was dawn. He had a simulator session the next morning at 6 as well. "Damn!" He said to himself, when he saw that it was already 6.07. He slept through the night! The fatigue was getting to him. The sense of dread and a rush of adrenaline washed over him as the dashed for his uniform. "Double Damn!" The uniform wasn't ironed yet, and he grabbed the old uniform he had just worn on the second flight, stinking of hours-old perspiration. He guessed that it would fit his own body odour as he hadn't bathed since the flight anyways. The sounds in the kitchen must be made by his buddy. Got to hurry now! His hair was still immaculately in place, held in by the industrial strength hair wax that is the Duff's staple. At least that was one thing going for him.

In the midst of buttoning his shirt, afixing his wings and zipping up his trousers, he stops suddenly as awareness and a greater sense of calm broke through the clouds. "Triple Damn! It was 6pm, not 6am!" Phew. Another crisis averted, albeit one created wholly in his head. He had thought he was done for, as his career was one hellbent on punctuality amongst many other qualities. Missing a session would be the death knell.

He laughed, deep and loud. Those 2 bumps must have caused some short circuits in his head. He emerged from the garage, hoping the sounds of his scampering around hadn't been noticed by his housemates. A quick peek out proved that to be the case, and his recovers nicely to visit the bathroom and helped out in the kitchen to make DINNER.

Such is life. Ups and Downs and All Arounds. One really has to laugh at oneself sometimes.

2010

2010-01-02T23:51:00.000+08:00

The New Year.

A certain nice ring to it, isn't there? 2010. Rolls off the tongue, glides into the ears, skims off your skin and tears into your consciousness. It smells of spring, of fresh starts and new cycles. So much to work towards, so much to begin on, so many lists to come up with and to the plans to finish them. So many open doors, so much promise.

The Duff had always enjoyed the start of new years. Some were held with dread that soon passed once familiar faces were once again reacquainted with in class. Some were otherwise eagerly anticipated as the year would usually contain some special dates, and half written chapters that would be closed with the surest certainty of the next sunrise.

The coming year though is one of those that lay ahead with an echoing emptiness waiting to once again be filled by memories filtered through his experience. Tabula Rasa. Once again, targets and lists. Once again, a breaking down of limitations, and fulfillments of various endeavours. Surely a dead end to some, unavoidably dangling threads would be left, but these are NOT to stop him from beginning them, lest the wallet threatens to disavow his freedom and quiet desires.

He is still in Brisbane. Maroochydore to be exact. An hour's worth of driving from Brisbane proper. A quiet hamlet, full of retirees and ignorant Aussies (always shouting japanese at him while driving by). Friendly and helpful ones too, to be fair (invited to x'mas party, but politely declined). Beautiful beaches (gold coast, surfer's paradise, noosa, mooloolaba and mudjimba), sea turtles (he saw one at night at the beach, awesome!), birds (they are everywhere), lizards (them too!), foxes (he saw one crossing a highway late at night) and frogs (after a storm, they were abundantly squashed on many a road). Theme parks (Dreamworld, Sea World, Movieworld, Wet n' Wild) and thrill rides (Lethal Weapon, Superman, Giant Drop, etc.), dolphins (always deviously smiling) and penguins (still wearing a tux in the hot weather). Bikinis (he likes) and bodyboards (he so wanted to buy), tanned curves (he likey more!) and washboards (he envies). Business jets (flying one) and summer holiday-makers (surrounded by them), tough simulator instructors (love/hate relationships) and dusty garages (living out of one). Heat waves and thunderstorms (every other day), 3D movie (AVATAR kicks ass!!!) and cooking (helping out whenever he can).

And that's his life these past 2 months. He can't wait to get back home, to once again start another chapter. To fill it with the pitfalls and perils, the trials and tribulations, the triumphs and the achievements that only hard living can bring.

Own it. Do it. Follow your bliss. Ain't that The Truth?

Deadweight

2009-10-31T02:20:00.000+08:00

Have you ever felt the weight of all your failures bearing down upon you? The Duff thinks it feels like a boxer who'd been knocked down upon the canvas, and while the referee is busy ogling the Fixer's wife, the opponent takes a step closer and kicks the loser in the balls.

And twists his foot.

Its true. The Duff had another one of those days, where the shit hit the fan at a diarrhetic ballet of equal consistency. The pile up was unsightly and his stress rose with it in a direct, voluminous ratio. Moments of sanity and laughter punctuated by more issues that had to be handled, managed, solved, and worst of all, put off for a later date.

And he doesn't have much time left on his favourite island in the world. He's leaving in a week's time, once again for that other island down under, where the water in the bowl spins in an unsightly direction and has a knack of producing surprisingly gorgeous people with amazing liver function.

All the crap did give him more impetus to work his ass off in the gym. It also galvanised his resolve to shoot the shit outta all the zombies. Nothing like a double tap to the head from distance. Bloody zombies. What would we do without them?

He wishes he has been able to throw his boomerang though (nope, no euphemisms here. Literally a boomerang. And yes, it does return). He hasn't had any practice in a long time. Somehow he felt that throwing a stick would help calm him down, or at least act as an avenue to vent.

He'll find more violent hobbies in the future. He has it all planned out. After the next 3 months down under, he'd return to begin the rest of his life. And oh, what an act it will be.

Project Phoenix to continue, in spite of the shit.Perhaps he should take up boxing after all.

Invictus by William Ernest Henley (1875)

2009-10-28T10:09:00.000+08:00

OUT of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my SOUL.

Full Slate

2009-10-26T15:49:00.002+08:00

The Duff is once again in a funk. He'd been staying on the path for the last 2 months, gently treading on the straight and clear, bathed in the euphoria of accomplishments that boosted his ego and self worth to a level he hadn't experienced in many a season.

He'd finally escaped from sleepytown. He misses the flying, but not the stagnant, putrid feeling of imprisonment. His return was almost akin to the proverbial hero's welcome. His parents, recently retired, were an instant source of comfort, satisfaction and anchor. Finally, something tangible to focus upon, for his efforts to be geared towards. The want to provide a stellar lifestyle for them is a major reminder to push himself.

An intense study course back at work occupied the first month. Constant meet ups with old friends were enjoyable, although the feeling of being so far behind them started being a point of contention in his soul. More than ever, the desire to excel is reignited to phosphorescence.

Now on the cusp of the next stage of his training, an intense review of his path is sorely required. Being told by the company that he isn't cut out for the job was a major bummer and buzzkill. Should that dull his drive, or push him to work harder? He found the wind taken out of his solar sails, feeling an animosity to the company which he was just starting to build some loyalty towards.

It was however, a great reminder of his initial decision to walk down this path. A simple plan to gain more ammo. He realised that what he was doing all along was steering away from the path, or rather, walking parallel to the original plan. He was letting vital skills he had attained atrophy.

Therefore, he has initiated Project Phoenix. A return to THE PLAN. It will be a shock and awe tactic, a multi-pronged return to the perpetual beta, to the way of the Truth.

14 Months

2009-08-04T02:12:00.003+08:00

The Duff enters his fourteenth month of exile furtively, almost unknowingly. It crept up on him, clawing his back with its prong-shaped talons of hate, poisoning his soul with dejection and desolation. And thus he is nursing himself with a cup of warm green tea, soothing his itchy emphysemaic throat and firing up his fever. He thought he could make it through the tenure down under without a bout of sickness, but as many wise men had said before, "Shit Happens."

It must be the air on the ground, for he hasn't danced amongst the clouds for quite some days now. It also doesn't help that his room-mate had moved out, and in the process given new life to a year's worth of cosmic soot into the small room's aneurysmic circulation. It also followed a stretch of sloth where he stopped jogging for 4 days, and filled those 4 days with junk food, beer, sleep and facebook games. It was a perfect storm of sorts.

And all this free time stems from him waiting for his final flight test. A long queue, a smorgasboard of ridiculous reasons and of course the balmy weather that drifts away at the most inopportune time. His luck seems to have never clicked here. Could the magnetic difference with his yin and yang? Could his chinese compass needle have dipped?

The Duff tries to always look on the brighter side of things, that the glass is not half empty but full of dark matter *snigger*. He has finally resolved the issue of selling his car. While it worked perfectly before, now it practically drives itself. Again, a confluence of misfortune has perturbed him and his friends unendingly, with vehicle inspections (and exchanges with an obnoxious racist), trips to the mechanic(a friendly yet disappointingly careless operator) and a nail-scratching-on-blackboard level of experience when dealing with the new buyers. Never had The Duff met a more irritatingly penny-pinching excuse of a man. The whole experience left him with a tangy taste of bile in the mouth.

And thus, when he went out to the movies yesterday, he borrowed another car instead of using his (co-)owned mode of transport. This other car belonged to a friend, and it requires a push start everytime. While it started nicely twice during that evening, it refused to do so at a petrol station, the last start up that we required. The Duff, being the OX OF A MAN that he is volunteered to do the pushing instead. After 8 ATTEMPTS, his heart almost exploded. A better comedic act was never on display. 2 funny looking men pushing a car all around a petrol station. It finally started on a last ditch attempt. Boy was the Duff relieved, for his buttocks and thighs were aching like there's no tomorrow, and his heart was exploding in his chest. If he was to have flown the next day, he would surely have failed the sortie.

The Duff learnt today that his ex-boss has cancer and is closing down his company. While he was hardly in my good books, I found myself still managing to feel sad over this situation. As harsh an impression I had of him, no one should ever have to suffer this fate. The Duff wishes him all the best, and that his religious beliefs hold him over this predicament in as comfortable a manner as possible.

The Duff wonders if its this softness of heart that prevents him from leading the crowd. The apathy to the sometimes devious acts of others, the inability to crush others under his heel. While he understands that this is a large aspect of his personality, and he is rather comfortable, even satisfied at times, with his core values, is this empathy really worth having? Could the ultimate zen masters be the largest pussies?

What is the Truth?

Playlist: Cranberries, Damien Rice, Coldplay, Keane, Green Day
Movies: Closer, Public Enemies, My Sister's Keeper, Red Cliff

3 to goooooooo

2009-07-11T20:07:00.002+08:00

The Duff has hopefully only 3 more flights before the big flight home. He has thoroughly enjoyed the last 13 months in flight school. Making great friends, exercising more often than ever, eating lots and some flying on the side is a very simple endeavour.

Sure there were times when he felt depressed or stressed due to his flying, or from situations arising from home, but they were always managed. Therein lies his strength, his ability to cope and analyse complications, coming up with solutions.

Sadly this comes far short from making up for his faults. His laziness, his lack of social skills, his 2 left feet and short attention spans for starters. Once again, the immediate gratification and payoff from his other silly activities contribute to most of these failings. Gaming, sleeping, hiding in the room and reading brings him much joy, but perhaps depriving him of other forms.

Some say knowing is half the battle. Well, the Duff then has started the other half of the battle. He has come up with a plan for the rest of his life using gaming principles. Certainly sounds silly, but he is from the apex of the gaming generation, and while he surely isn't as hardcore as some gamers are, he is hoping that he at least has enough ideas to push these plans through. His method is simple.

Set long term goals. Hard ones. Goals that if he was on his death-bed, he can say out loud with pride that he had accomplished them. Then, set intermediate goals that would help him reach the end goals. And then another layer back, and another and so on. The first goal though, would be so simple, its almost laughable. However, the entire aim is to get the journey started. To take the first step. Finishing will come in due course.

And with any game, there should be contingencies, and parallel avenues which make the entire plan interesting. His original plans from his adolescence have failed miserably for they came without contingencies. He's hoping that this time round, there is a way out, or at least around, insurmountable odds. Like his upcoming flight test. Everything for now hinges on this path being followed through. His starting token.

Problem solving. Character improvement. Obtaining loot and experience.
Game on!

Needsmoretvtoescapereality

2009-07-03T01:44:00.002+08:00

So the Duff is almost done with his flight training. Almost being a subjective term. He's almost done with this part, but he has so much more to learn in the near future. However, the future seems ever more elusive as the terrible winter weather has arrived and he only gets to fly once a week. Seems he won't make it for his brother's birthday, and the great family event which is the Liverpool match back home. He's anxious to rediscover his family, and the new dynamics that exist now that his parents are back home and in retirement mode, with a fresh slant towards a new religion.

SO FUN!

For now he has nothing much to do other than focus on his preparations, having passed the last phase check and is now on the home stretch for the final flight test. He'd recently sold his car that he was sharing with 3 other buddies, and that sucks majorly for he is ever more shackled to the mental asylum that has been his prison for the last 13 months. The horrible weather doesn't allow him to keep up the mileage on his jogging shoes, and the gym is cold and strange without his usual gym-mates who had gone back before him.

And thus the escape that television programmes and books provide are so very vital for his sanity. He'd recently finished The Great Gatsby, the quintessential american novel apparently. He skipped the 50 page foreword for it was a deep analysis of the ENTIRE STORY, and went straight to the novel proper. It was approximately 150 pages long, of a bygone era and populated by fuckwits. He then returned to crawl through the foreword, and was vehemently reminded why he had dropped literature in high school. The way scholars analyse a piece of prose at times comes across as grasping at straws, straws with holes all along the shaft that makes sucking anything of substance out of it a royal pain in the butt, and utterly unsatisfying. Why did he pick the green pair of underpants? Because it matches the glistening grass in the country club that he is going to now to meet hte love of his life. Why the fuck must it be that? Why can't it be because he had a wet fart in the red one the day before and its in the washer due to the hot curry over lunch with the fiery redhead whom he's seeing on the side and is into BDSM?

Straws.

New shows he's catching. True Blood Season 2. Who would've known that the cute little girl from The Piano would one day flash her tits on HBO? Virtuality, a reality show staged on a space craft that is departing the solar system to the next nearest star that appears to be able to accomodate life on one of its planets, a new show from the collective geniuses behind the Battlestar Galactica relaunch. Things the duff thought of from catching this cliched yet fresh premise;

1. Every scientist on this mission should have their own fuck buddy/spouse.
2. Especially the highly stressed commander
3. Or better still, Scientists by day, Swingers by night.
4. And since the sun never rises in space..... HELL YEAH!!!!
5. All airlocks must be as fucking manual as fucking possible. Fuck's sakes people, how many have we lost from a fuckingly stupid airlock that blows unprotected scientists into the darkness of space.
6. And always not have an AI that seems suspicious.
7. The crew would be better served by having a prostitute than a shrink, no?
8. Wouldn't the multi-racial setting only create more avenues for conflict?
9. There should never be an old hard-ass geyser on board.
10. Or someone who had lost any children lately.

Playlist: Orbital, Dune, old Jap tunes from the 90s, lectures from The Teaching Company
Reads: Catch-22
Games followed closely on facebook: Mafia Wars, Airline Manager, Farmville, Mousehunt and Battlestations

Crack of Dawn

2009-05-31T08:40:00.002+08:00

The Duff woke up early today. He'd gone to bed dead tired the night before, even though he hadn't been up to much before that.

At 5am, his eyes opened and his body didn't resist the call of consciousness. He felt refreshed, rejuvenated even. He enjoyed getting up early. This contradicts much as he had prided himself as not being a morning person. He had always struggled with school and lectures before 10. Or any time for that matter. Hmm....

He supposes that it might be that the accomodations are quiet at that hour. He had always enjoyed walking through his house when everyone else was asleep. He'd look at his dog snoozing under the moonlight in the backyard. Sometimes, the dog would be awake, and could somehow sense him in the kitchen. Much remains to be learnt on the acute senses of Man's Best Friend.

He had his usual breakfast of eggs (half boiled), cereal drowned in milk, and coffee. A mix of both the traditional and the modern, eastern and western. Eating alone in a quiet dining hall, reading more depressing news of the world on food encrusted week old newspapers, he was joined by 2 others who were older than most of the cohort here, being that they were previously from the Air Force. Perhaps only older fools leave the bed early.

He decided to walk through the open air quadrangle enroute to his room. He breathed in the fresh, crisp air, and was immediately brought to an earlier, simpler time when he was in the army, of mornings met with aching pains of sleeping in the great outdoors, squeezing the cold out of the joints, and yet feeling healthier with the clean, oxygen rich air that his lungs relished. Getting into his position while watching the fog rise out of the freshly minty dewey grass, he runs his tongue over the plaque coated teeth, awaiting to pour hot lead into the soft, weak flesh of his enemies. Surreal to say the least.

He cleaned up his room, made his bed and started preparing for his flight this evening. The weather spoke solemnly of the likelihood of going up for the sortie. Even with the wonderful morning, his nightmare continues. To alleviate his mood, he watches the last episode of the Tonight Show with Jay Leno. 17 years on a programme, 5 nights a week. What an industrious personality. No matter what his life is like, every night he would appear in front of a worldwide audience and bring laughter and cheers into many a living room. What a professional. And you thought women were good at faking it.

He ended the show with a talk of his legacy. It all stems from his crew of wonderfully loyal participants, from the cameramen to publicists, writers to editors. Most had stayed for all 17 years, and during that time, there were many unions amongst them. His legacy thus was all the children borne of these unions. The curtains rose to show them, all 68 of them. Wonderful. And so appropriate for the Duff truly thinks that all children are our legacy. Every one of them. And thats the undeniable Truth.

As The Wheel Turns

2009-05-27T21:35:00.002+08:00

So the Duff is lying in bed at a supremely early hour. He's feeling a little under the weather, something he has the fortune of avoiding all year long in-spite of being in a new environment and with all the changes that accompanies such an exodus. Alas, all good steaks must come to an end, and his armour of invincibility shatters like the broken dreams of a crack whore.

He has been trying to ascertain the origins of his mild sickness. The usual reasons come to mind; the lack of sleep, an unhealthy diet, non-existent exercise and inclement weather. All the above though, doesn't exactly hold water. He's been sleeping at least 8 hours each day, or more, as he hasn't had much opportunity to fly of late and thus, he stays up till 4am each and every day, catching up on movies and such, waking up at noon to all manner of aches and pains that are associated with sloth. Diet is something out of his hands, as the nutritionist has taken an extended vacation. Junk food and instant noodles have made a more regular appearance in the menus, but never to the extend of being THIS detrimental. Fruits and vegetables were still ingested fastidiously. Exercise have been reduced, but not absent. A shitload of weather popped a cap on his schedule's ass, but he stayed out of it; however, it did prevent him from jogging his usual daily 10km;->

You are only as healthy as you feel. That has been a line constantly pounding in his head, for he has recently felt apathetic. An overall lack of luck has attributed to him not flying, and thus not progressing. To not feel overly upset over these proceedings, he has numbed himself to these facts, and instead let the fates decide. There is only so much he can do. And perhaps, this is whats causing him to be bed-bound by 9.45pm, an absurdly early hour for him.

The Duff has thus once again spiraled down into procrastination and dread. Instead of studying for his coming tests, which he views as a very distant inevitability, he watches lots of shows and reads quite a bit. Both at the movies and on his laptop, he has caught at least 20 movies in the last 2 weeks, and a multitude of tv programmes ranging from sitcoms to sci-fi. He has felt the magic of falling in love, the pure blandness of mindless violence, the beauties of the written word and the fascinating locales that they can conjure, and most of all, emotions that run the gamut of possibilities.

Another active waste of time are the games on facebook, which he has started delving fully into to while away the eons of hours. His current favourites are Hell's Kitchen, a multitasking and prioritizing-centric game that might just help him in his flying, Mafia Wars, for the sheer joy of character advancement and fortune building, and Chain Reaction, for the lovely tunes and colours. He knows he's like a kid, and he's loving every eon of it.

But all too soon, darkness will fall, but with it, the hope of light that comes with the dawn. The end is nigh, but to what end? At least some movement forward is better than being stuck in limbo. The Duff braves on, as he must. The alternatives are not to be entertained. He leaves with a line of Truth from the recesses of his sinful mind,

"You do what you have to do, so that you can do what you want to do."

Have you Ever....

2009-05-05T02:26:00.002+08:00

Have you ever been in the shower long enough with your thoughts wandering, only to wonder if you had already shampooed your hair? Then do it and realise that you had already done so?

Have you ever tried unrolling a sock from a new laundry wash, only to find that you are only rolling it onto itself, but you do not realise this until the sock is halfway into becoming a singularity?

Have you ever been in a situation where your stress levels are dissipating, but only for a few hours before more shit hits the fan, and you are so tired from the first dose of adrenaline washing off, that your limbs feel like dead weight, and yet your bones feel hollow, and you only wish that the next adrenaline rush would suffice to pull you through the next ordeal?

Have you ever been so hungry for so long that your stomach get bloated from the gases created in your digestive track as your acids work their way through the mucus and stomach lining? Hmmmm... villi.... (sounds like a new pasta)

Snikt-choo!

2009-05-01T01:18:00.002+08:00

The Duff just got back from a screening of the first bullet fired from the Hollywood studios this eventful summer of thrills and spills. Wolverine has hit town, although he landed flat on his face.

Being the comic reading intellectual that he is, and an avid fan of the x-books no less, he is sure that this pathetic attempt to cash in on the world's favourite mutant has inevitably backfired, for there is no way Marvel would, or should, green-light a sequel to this expectedly disappointing origin story, unless its done by Abrams, Spielberg or Tarantino.

While wholely bastardizing canon is a part and parcel of adapting comic book material consisting of entire volumes spanning the works of creative minds unleashed over decades and compressing it all into a mere 120mins is absolutely understandable and commonplace enough to numb his senses and sensibilities, he is nevertheless appalled at how much they can squeeze onto the screen for the lousiest excuse of just having the character in the picture, and simultaneously stripping the character of all its richness and history. All for the merchandising, and the split second a fanboy's heart rate is increased by easter eggs. WTF.

He is ranting. He shall try to stop now. Sounds horrible now that it echoes back at him through the interwub.

Once again, the powers that be are sending out misdirection into the hearts and minds of the masses around the world. His bullshit-detection-meter is off the charts this time round. The lack of cynicism and curiousity quotient is amazing, and he just thinks that everyone buying into the nonsense perhaps deserves all the fear that is being shoved down his throat.

The recent outbreak of 2009 H5N1 virus for example, and its immense coverage in the media is astounding, as are the precautionary measures being taken, and at times suggested. The Duff thinks that it is a superb exercise in misdirecting attention away from more pressing matters like the economy. The statistics of this flu pandemic's possible effects, the outrage and panic that is aroused by papers, news programmes and web articles border on the mad. The irrationality of it all pisses him off. If it is lives they want to save, they are better served warning everyone to stay away from swimming pools, alcohol and staircases. If it is lining their coffers, Tamiflu it is.

Rant again. Fuck. FUCK!!!

The spew from his fatigued mind coupled with some all time favourite songs are causing him to become delirious. How could anybody give a flying fuck about what he's pissed at?

He should stop. Now.

Playlist: Freakonomics, Sarah MacLachlan, The Killers, Snow Patrol.
Reading List: The Badger, Nowergian Wood, A Sparrow Falls.
Surfing List: fmylife, 3quarksdaily, englishrussia.

Tender is the Night

2009-04-17T01:18:00.002+08:00

Tonight the Duff enjoys a quiet evening alone, immersed in his solitude, free to roam wherever his moods and minds take him, recapping the near history and the far flung truths that travails his life.

Over the weekend, The Duff took a long enjoyable drive in his dependable and 15 year old Ford Laser to a tip of the Australian continent where a lazy town called Augusta lies and a prominent lighthouse is erected. It is where the South Ocean of the Antarctic meets the Indian Ocean, according to the Australian authorities, although the world community sees that line forming much further south. The drive down was fun for him. Covering the distances, absorbing the scenery and making the pit-stop at Busselton which hosts the longest wooden jetty in the southern hemisphere (almost 2km long, but closed due to instability, only allowing 200m to be open to the public).

He slept most of the way back, recovering from the previous night of only 3 hours sleep. His minimum is usually 4. Enroute, his little group encountered some bumps in the itinerary when the caves they had wanted to visit were fully booked. It was one of the busiest weekends in the year for the continent. They settled for a cave that was much less impressive, and it left a bitter taste in the Duff's mouth for he was, in a manner, the tour guide. The only excuse he had was that the drive was planned just 9 hours prior to departure. Even then, failure is a jagged pill to swallow.

Nevertheless, it was a trip worth taking, as are most trips. Even if you don't manage to accomplish all your goals, it is in the trying, in the journey, in the shared camaraderie, that makes it worth the while. The photos, the stories, the laughter and even the anguish, is what makes trips like these, and in fact the longer journey that is life, magical.

Another journey that The Duff had started recently was that of flying a new aircraft. The Beechcraft Baron 58. Twin engine, 600 HP, 6 seater and overall monster of a machine. Like with most new things, it takes a little getting used to. The usual fumbling along, the new mistakes that lessons would and have been learnt from, is all part of the process of growth. As his body remembers how to handle the great beast, his aptitude increases. He began to enjoy and appreciate the plane, which in the beginning he felt much apprehension for. It would most likely be the hardest aircraft he'd ever fly, and thus he relishes every flight and every challenge, facing it head-on like a running back into the defensive line. ILS in assymetric flight. Supposedly the holy grail of flight.

And a new page turns. The Duff recently had his 30th birthday come and go. Not so much for celebration, albeit a milestone of sorts. He lamented that he was in an environment not exactly conducive for celebrations, being without family. However, he did have his newest family around him, his comrade in arms, his fellow course mates. Brothers at war against the forces that keep us grounded. The Duff has drawn many parallels with this experience and the one he had in the army. Approximately the same period of time, the same shared experiences in terms of isolation and challenge. The same sharing of stories and creation of laughter. Friendships that last a lifetime. Even if they do not meet up often thereafter, there is that immediate sense of familiarity and the ease of which conversations settle into the old comfortable ways is astounding.

As with most new pages in the book that is his life's journey, there is always a summary of reflections and self-assessments, and a list of new things he wishes to see improved upon in his life. He constantly wonder when Life would begin. One of his greatest flaws, for he seldom lives in the Now. He pines for the past and dreams of a better future. His favourite line of late," No time like the present. No greater present like Time."

Ain't that the truth.

Now with Explosive Chest Action!

2009-03-12T23:33:00.003+08:00

The Duff is having one of those days where his heart is beating double quick, and a pressure seems to be building ever so slightly as the hours pass. It usually culminates in a hyper-adrenalised flight but it didn't happen today. There was much to be desired, and he's so pissed.

Much could be blamed upon his unpreparedness. Some could be heaped upon the fact that he hadn't flown in 9 days, and that the simulator to practice on has been broken. A relic from the 80s with temperaments to match. It also doesn't help that his check flight for this phase is approaching. Stress you might say, is getting to the duff, albeit still in manageable amounts.

And strangely when this happens, its like the floodgates opening upon an unsuspecting dutch city. All manner of insidious thoughts erupt in his forebrain. All the insecurities, all his frustrations, all his negativity comes crashing down like a house of cards. Neuroses in its element.

He tries to overcome this, with the left over adrenaline allowing him to keep his energy up, behaving like a fool amongst friends, acting like an animal in the gym, a force to be reckoned with in an arena, a maniac on his blog posting....

He tried to vent it off. He had wanted to run in the evening, to sweat it all out, to exhaust himself physically and mentally, and perhaps emotionally too. But he got sidetracked. He wished to play a round of squash, to smash the putty looking ball into a forgiving wall, but his schedule denies him thus. His normal escapades into foods have been derailed by a new plan to get back into shape, and to shed 2kg at least before returning home. He tried the rowing machine in the gym to no avail. It was hopeless.

And now his heart is still racing. He needs a punching bag. He needs a fast drive down a very lonely highway. He needs satisfaction, immediate, dirty and sinful. For now, he listens to the soundtrack to Friday Night Lights. A medly of soft electical guitars and other instruments in the background. A collection of waves that always manages to sooth his passionate soul.

An Aries on Fire. Get out of his way.

You Know You Have....

2009-03-08T04:02:00.002+08:00

You Know You Have spent too much time on the computer when a blister starts forming on the tip of your index finger at 5 in the morning due to the incessant friction against the scroll wheel on the mouse.

Time Travelling Through The Tempo

2009-02-19T03:12:00.002+08:00

It is 4am. The Duff had gone to bed at 12.30am. He'd been tossing and turning till now, and he is slightly pissed.

He hasn't had this bout of sleeplessness before in this new habitat. He had always managed to go to sleep rather easily, in spite of his activities just before hitting the sack. It is rather odd, he feels, that he should experience this now. The coffee and orange he took just before may have added to this, or the large gulps of water just before pulling the covers over his shoulders. It is doubly weird given that he had a rather eventful and stressful day, with a full 4 hours of flying in rather difficult conditions. Another reason may be a gnawing ache in his thighs, knees, ankles and feet. Its as if he was having some Periodic cramps.

But the most likely reason, deduced by his own brutal honesty on all his failures, is that he was time travelling.

"What the fuck?" you may say.

He does this pretty easily, and in recent times, within close intervals of each session. His tool of travel? MUSIC.

A choice selection of tunes easily brings him back to the past. He has made many connections over the years, with his highly sensual nature, to specific experiences and entire swaths of his life to specific sounds, smells, textures and tastes. As such, certain songs would instantly reignite emotions felt during that time.

Perhaps coinciding with his "period", he is more emotional than usual, and thus extrememly contemplative. This is a mindset highly detrimental to getting into a sleeping state. His mind was charged up with images, sights, sounds, memories both pleasant and painful. A squall of feelings bursting forth and crashing upon one another. Hours pass in an instant between short delusions, mayhaps shallow REM sleep.

He was catapulted through times of growth and exploration.
Falling in love.
The first time.
Unrequited.
The deep yearning for acceptance and reciprocation.
Philisophical debates and revelations with a JC buddy.
The excruciating pain of studying.
The adrenaline of the night before the first paper.
Wanton freedom of responsibilities while serving the nation.
The second time.
Writing notes in the corner of a dimly lit cafe, listening to songs sung live.
Karaoke sessions where he never uttered a tune.
But ate lots of snacks and fruits.
Hurting loved ones.
And the general greying of his world.

Ah, a sum of his broken parts. His undeniable TRUTH.
How he enjoys a good trip backwards. Once more, with feeling~!

25 Random Things About The Duff

2009-02-13T10:30:00.003+08:00

This 25 Random things thingamy has been circulating around the facebook quadrant of the net for awhile, and the duff had been sent one by his platoon mate. According to the rules, he's supposed to write up his own list of 25 random things about himself, may it be habits, likes, dislikes and deep dark secrets. Not only that, but the nature of the post (using the most un-userfriendly interface Notes) requires him to not only make it as honest as possible, but also spicey, interesting and entertaining. Very much the oxymoron, one might say.

Not really that different from myself blogging about the duff, but different in the sense that its a declaration of one's personality and uniqueness (and also, as unique as the next person, like snowflakes). Some of his friends have posted it like a Want Ad in the Singles Dating section, like a meme on ME. Some, just another list to bitch about whats wrong with the world.

The duff tried to accomplish the task, but he found himself not being able to just affix 25 items to the list. He prides himself in knowing what he's like, and what he does on a regular basis seems too trivial to write about. He also tries to not live his life with secrets and thus, there are not that many to OUT himself with. After a week, he gave up.

It may also be due to his current situation. He is not in the most conducive of environments for creative writing. His work and non-working hours have merged into a blur, and in such a predicament, energy and fun juice just gets mixed in and gulped into the thirsty sand-dunes of LifeSucks.

This also explains the fucking coupla months of non-posts here.

What would be interesting would be friends posting their own opinions of you. A no-holds barred, "be honest with me for my sake" kind of affair. A constructive criticism feedback forum with no(t many) repercussions. Which may turn out to be a shoe-throwing press conference, depending on how you've been treating others your whole life.

Wouldn't that be cool? Wouldn't that be awesome? Wouldn't that be The Truth?!

Lost in Oz

2008-10-28T20:57:00.003+08:00

The Duff is sitting in a taiwanese dessert parlour, wasting his time away while he waits for his turn at his phase 1 test, and performing duties required of him due to a recent election into a very visible post in the school. He leaches the free internet provided by the owner, a vain and futile attempt at gaining more business with more services provided, when all he needed was to hire some sweet hunnies to stand bent forward over the cashier counter.

Pretty good speed though. 300kb/s. Its a godsend given what the duff has had to endure thus far in this backwater suburb of 5million.

With his endless supply of bits, he does his usual surfing of the interwub at his usual multitasking frenzy, an effect of unofficially diagnosed ADD. He smiles stupidly at his battery-less laptop, drawing the irksome looks from the neighbouring customers, sucking on their spoons of flavoured "snow". Sometimes, people just hate others to have fun. Who's the duff kidding. Everyone wants the next person to suffer the fyres of hell. Just by sitting his his seat for an hour, he has seen enough idiots with kids, like the parent who allows her children of less than 5 of age to wander at running speeds between tables of eye-level sharp edges, to play with the revolving doors that could easily crush their hands, and to be within a 3m distance from the main road where cars rush by at 50mph. Another parent though, had his child on a leash. Fuck's sake people, whats with the extremities!?!??! The duff hopes Darwinism would sort these people out.

The duff however is smiling at the funny shit people put online. Like this page, a fun little website put up by the advertising prowess hired by Frito-Lay(of all people). The duff hasn't gone through the entire application, but what he has seen thus far amuses him to no end.

Another interesting subculture he's rediscovering is that of weird gadgets bewing sold online, like alarm clocks that beep and roll off the table, forcing you to get up and find the muthafucka and throw it down the toilet. Another alarm clock rings, and has a propeller that takes off with the key to switch off the alarm, forcing the sleeper to once again get his ass off the sheets, trace the din and swing with all his might to olympically crush the clock where it sits with the bladed key. Or the behemoth amongst alarm clocks, that produces a solid boom of over a 100 decibels, and vibrates stronger than the proudest jackhammer to bounce the dozey idiot off his piss boner and onto his itchy backside, off the bed and onto the floor. Genius.

This has a funny little gadget from the land of the rising sun, that requires you to stick a finger into a hole (favourite past-time of many a bored man) to play an interactive game. Fucking funny shit. The duff wants one. Hahhaaa~!

He's been missing his comics, and reading for the fun of it. Recently, reading had been a necessary evil, studying shit and reading just to pass time that excruciatingly scrapes at the insides of his skull. His memory still sucks, and information hangs tenuously like 80-year old balls. Is there a way to improve this effortlessly? There has to be a way. He's living in the future anyway. There must be something! Give him liberty, and give him TRUTH!

Things that erupt from my brain under a hot shower

2008-09-09T23:18:00.000+08:00

The Scientist pauses, his index finger a centimetre above the left mouse button, hovering, quivering.

"Have you made all extrapolations that your discoveries will bring to our reality, dear friend?" An imposing voice reverberates over his head, its origin his confidante since childhood.

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and edges his head backwards, neck muscles relaxing for an instant. His mind trails away under his mentat training as he fully empowers his concentration to this oddly procrastinated task. His programming lunges forward.

With his success in finally bridging completely and effortlessly the brain and the computing world through his cybernetic interface, within moments, the human race would be enthralled. Every person, already addicted to the ever constant contact of one another through the net would embrace his technology, essentially creating a cyborg of everyone who could afford the procedure. The economies of scale would allow every nation to partake on this revolutionary step.

Immediate internet connections could be made just by thinking about it. Networks would bounce from person to person, everyone connecting his immediate neighbour through a hyperspace of the cerebrum. Nodal ethernets and advanced IP addressing allowing a species wide network floating on the energies of its users. Each person with their own small social nets, updating each other on the slightest details of their lives Twitter style, with immediate visual inputs and opinions. A sort of telepathy or empathy of the highest order amongst friends and family, and even strangers for those open enough. Privacy would slowly be a thing of the past as each person's interface slowly amalgamates into a giant consciousness. Nobody could be separate from this as hackers, much like mind readers of lore, break into every firewall and spew forth all the dark inhibitions and secrets.

Soon, the decadent would cease to live their own lives, and instead fully live off the more productive members of the world society. The intelligentsia realising this would separate them, and social classes emerge again. Scientific advancement accelerate at a pace never seen before as red tape and laws are circumvented around national divides. Hive minds and new alliances create magnificent discoveries and illuminates the human race like a never plateauing Renaissance.

Crime would disappear as criminals are caught at the slightest hint of want to harm others. Tolerance levels are raised as ignorance dissipates through sheer diffusion of all behaviours, customs and religions. The thirst for all information fall over those with the desire. Minority Report-esque objections go to the byline as near zero crime rates are observed in totalitarian governments.

People soon learn to use the other 90% of their brains as they start designing robotic clones to enact their own actions, living multiple lives and increasing productivity 10-fold. Partitioning of their own brains to control each clone. Autistic Savants emerge to the fore, managing more simply with their higher capacities to multitask along with unbreakable concentrations. A lifetime soon seems meaningless when you can do so much more with the extended life that medical science already provides.

A Morlock mentality begins amongst those useless to the now single global society and hive mind. Behavioural economic experiments are played upon these now almost unknowing masses by the intellectually curious, bringing about greater understandings of human nature, as warped as it has become. In time, in the face of such great advances in all channels of thought and discovery, the Earth would become the epicentre of a galaxy wide expansion, the distances between the stars bringing about delays in communication that illicits memories of a very distant past known to us as the present.

The Scientist opens his eyes, tearing. He clicks the mouse button and uploads his thesis. And with that click, individuality dies, and the world changes.

Blue Balls

2008-07-04T17:33:00.004+08:00

The cold arctic air descended from the heavens to nip at the Duff's toes, turning them numb and a sickly purplish hue that threatens frostbite if not saved in time. He gnaws his teeth together as his whole body shivers. In spite of his well toned blubber, the fucking cold still manages to sneak into his very bones. All this suffering only because he's too lazy and decided to take an outdoor shortcut from his room to collect his laundry.

The lack of heat slows down the inner workings of the Duff's mind, and his subconscious reminisces over the last 2 months, and is amazed at how quickly his conditions have changed in a twinkle of a fairy fart.

For just a scant 8 weeks back, he was suffering in the blistering heat of his homeworld, hunched over stacks of photostated notes with scribblings that made no sense to him. But he had to absorb the meaningless garble and commit them to memory nevertheless. How his brain formed the requisite connections between garbage only Star Trek science could explain. In that stupor, he went into retail therapy, buying an action figure and making many trips to the park, ogling at hunnies and futilely attempting to study.

The Duff amazingly managed to pass all his papers, using ancient secret techniques that he mustered under great duress. For the more judgemental, they would frown upon his ancient secret techniques, seeing them under a different light. For The Duff, it was a means to an end, and it was all good. Just another survival technique, like how a porn star uses an uzi when she has to catwalk across the prison ground to fuck the brains out of the warden.

And once The Duff got his results, he wasn't elated. He was just satisfied that this hurdle was over and done with and he could leave the hovel that was his living quarters for the last 6 months. He then had 2 weeks of R&R, to pack his bags, to mentally prepare, and to meet loved ones and friends before he goes to the great Down Under for the next part of his training.

Which brought him back to his freezer of a laundry room. The constant flight training (almost everyday) and new accomodations, and environment, was anticipated by him well in advance. What he didn't count on was the intensity of the cold, the high expenditure and the fucking high cost of internet access in a fucking developed country, which totally fucks up his notion of a well connected western society, and absolutely fucking fucks with his fucking surfing! FUCK!

*Pause for effect. Breathe. Zen. Woooooosahhhhhh*

40 aussie dollars for 5 gigs, muthafucka! Including uploading! knnbccb!

In spite of all that, he's quite enjoyed his journey thus far. In fact, he and a few buddies had already gone for a road trip that was eventful and satisfying. Detours and disappointments were met with supreme optimism and adaptability. Good clean fun, at an affordable price, unlike some other things in this marsupially infested backwater.

So, a new place, a new life. For hopefully a short and quick 9 months. 9 months away from home, 9 months of freedom, 9 months of gruelling training, 9 months of discovery. 9 months of seasonal changes, 9 months of blue toes, and perhaps blue balls. The Duff hopes he doesn't go home a smurf. Lets see what new Truths this land would bring to his life.

3 minute job

2008-04-15T03:15:00.000+08:00

3 months, 100 days. That was how long he was given. And it didn’t even take that long to end.

The entire hedge fund job came and fizzled out within that span of time. It was interesting and fun, highly experiential and eventful. It was not enlightening nor mind blowing, neither life changing nor eye opening. The Duff learnt very little on trading, but quite a bit on human nature, and the animalistic tendencies of humans in terms of corporate survival, no matter the size of environment. Even a microcosm would have its respectively sized web of political intrigue.

The Duff was fired for being deemed unsuitable for trading. Upon 2 months of results, the head trader was able to surmise such a judgement. He was of course entitled to his opinions, and the Duff took it with the weight it deserved. The boss thought he’d figured The Duff out totally, but in time he proved to be a hopeless judge of character and manager of people. Ask the Duff out for a coffee sometime and he’ll spill all the beans, so to speak. It all sounds as bitter as a double shot expresso, but trust him when he says he has all the dirty leftover coffee residue as evidence, astonishingly filtered and coagulated into a black pulp of facts. Isn’t the truth always dirty?

But the 60 days or so on that job The Duff was living a part of a dream he always had, which was to work in the middle of the financial district, to be in the rat race, spiffily dressed to blend and yet stand out, enjoying the sights and smells of finely minted ladies.
But alas, the waking up bit was always coming.

So on to his next adventure. When you are downtrodden and weary, Reach for the skies!

HPL

2008-03-24T06:59:00.003+08:00

The Duff had spent another week sleepless as usual. The experiment from the previous week was a complete failure. While he managed to go to bed early, he found himself thinking too much, focusing too much on what was playing on his ipod, and even watching shows by his bed. As such, he had gone to the lands of faerie at his usual stipulated 4.30am each day.

And the weekend tipped everything over the edge! On Thursday night/Friday morning, he managed to get home only at 5 after partying the night away with his colleagues. Even then, he only hit the sack at 7. Friday night was an all nighter on the desktop, catching up with his favourite shows until 7 once again. The hours spent hibernating during the day was of course marred by interruptions and the sunlight just burning away at his REM allocation. Saturday night was with his posse of guys, table swimming and suppering.

As for last night? He was up throughout studying for 2 tests that he'd be facing in 2 hours. Such is his folly. His typical drag-ass routine of enjoying first and struggling later. Try as he might, his impulse control is next to nil when the promise of immediate utility dances ever enticingly right 2 feet ahead of his eyes.

The Duff shall be posting his test results here for all who want to see, as a punishment for his well-realised sloth.

As he psychically recites to me now in his dungeon of toil, he is perpetually disgusted by the state of his surroundings. It is a small 2-bedded room with rusty window grilles, uncountable geckos and their droppings laced on every open faced surface, a creaky overhead fan that threatens quick doom and decapitation in an instance, enough mosquitoes to start the next malaria outbreak, and an entire army of ants streaming menacingly across the common aisle to the ant trap that had lain forgotten for months until now, when a stumbling scout chanced upon it and called upon his brethren to retrieve this trojan horse.

His nose has just started running due to the dust and coupled with the moisture supplied by the ample greenery, his footrot has returned. He cannot wait to leave this place, even if the next destination in his course is on another continent. Bittersweet Symphonies.

Stoner

2008-03-17T07:13:00.002+08:00

The Duff stayed up all night last night, working through his homework at his usual snail's pace. By the time he had finished, it was already 4am, and he thought he might as well not sleep. He did afterall sleep through the entire weekend, almost. 80% of it at least.

So his new daily timeline is something like this. He gets up around 7.45, rushes through his things and sets off for school by 8, and arrives in class in the nick of time at 8.05am. He has a high paced, power packed schedule until 5pm, with an hour's break inbetween for lunch and a short chat with his colleagues over his Nescafe 3-in-1 Intense coffee, which gives him the boost for the last 4 hours.

However, he finds that no matter what, he will stay up late each night as he surfs/ 'studies'/ chats/ suppers until 3 or 4am. Then the cycle starts again. That's why he manages to sleep so much on the weekends, as he replenishes the week's store of required sleep. In a way, he's rather prepared for the eventual work schedule of his job, flying to different timezones and having his biological clock rewound to that of one of Saturn's moons.

Anyway, due to all these factors, he sleeps quite a bit in class, especially when the teacher doesn't engage his brain in any activity other than rote learning. Whenever he doesn't need to think or visualise, his brain switches off, and his eyelids switch on their electromagnets. His classmates all jerk him around because of this, and try as he might, he always falls back into the same habit.

And as he daydreams sometimes to keep himself awake, he constantly brings himself back to his days in the university, where the same old habits had existed. Even in junior college, this pattern had emerged, albeit to a lesser degree.

Truth is, most teachers suck, and The Duff is a horrible student. These 2 factors make for horrible learning, and studying worse so. Therefore, he is challenging himself to sleep early for this week. Its a short one, just 3 nights, of early sleep. Nothing past 1am.

Small steps. To a large goal.

Dry Adiabatic Lapse Rate

2008-02-29T02:41:00.002+08:00

So The Duff was at the local air show just last week, courtesy of some free tickets from the workplace. He managed to get there on a weekday, which was a trade only day. As usual he walked around in the sun, soaking up lots of Vitamin D, and getting his mandatory sunburn while watching the various performances by the many wonderful aircraft companies vying for government dollars.
It amused him that after awhile, he recognised the maneouvres and started dozing off. It was simply humourous as he watches the aircraft at one spot of the sky, doze off, and when he awakens a few seconds later, the aircraft is in another part of the sky, while he's still staring at the old spot. Everyone else in the stands would have progressed on. He stuck out like a sore thumb, much like a spectator at a tennis match watching the wrong half of the court.

Anyway, he bumps into an old friend of his from his university days, and goes over to say hi. The first thing this fried does is grab his tie (which was part of his uniform that he had to don for the occasion), and looked at the insignia on the tie, and spouted disgustingly," So you finally took the plunge and went for the job, huh?"

The job in question is one that he had always fancied at the back of his mind, that of an airline pilot. It would allow him to travel off the tiny island called home every couple of days to destinations far and wide, to meet new people and places, cultures and scenaries. It would bring him a fairly comfortable income and thus a lifestyle he is accustomed to. And most importantly, still afford him quite a bit of free time to pursue other interests on his journey to achieving renaissance.

He had shared this "passion" with his friends over the years, but always putting it on the backburner as world events transpired to knock him off this path, like 9-11 and the SARS event, which had almost led to a company wide pilot strike. However, he went ahead with the plan when, as in most cases, all other doors which he had wanted to open, were already open, and had kicked him on the ass on his abrupt exits from those alternatives.

So on the one hand you could say that he sold himself out to a boring, old slave driving occupation, but it was also an old idea he had, before he built such castles in the sky during his university days, and left practicalities and "two feet on the ground"-ness behind. A childhood dream of sorts, that hopefully would come to fruition.

For he still has a long way ahead of him while he trains for this tough career. It is arduous, with uncountable hours of studying, flight training, simulations, and apple polishing. Back into the corparate structure which he abhored. Back to the mugging of words on yellow printed pages. Back to a regular houred schedule for now. Back to a fixed income month on month. Back into the rat race. Back to terms like this post's title.

He hopes he will make it through. He hopes his Truths may still prevail, that he would still be able to do enough in his life to maintain a certain modicum of individuality. His own terms, and rules, around other more steadfast rules. Bending and poking and preferably not breaking.

May his sanity stay the course.

Not another Jumpstart?!

2008-02-26T01:24:00.002+08:00

Procrastination is the mother of all stagnation.

For it was this very word that prevented the Duff from continuing his posts here, and the sharing of his mundane life with an audience that he permits himself the luxury of conjuring up in bouts of fantastic exodii from reality.

For each time he tried to put finger to keyboard, or even entertaining hte thought of wanting to type something out on this platform, another would easily come along and pull him away from his original intent. Whenever he elaborates in his mushy collection of synapses a running rhetoric on the state of the world around him, a stray errand would prevent him from establishing his essay onto the bits and bytes of the ether. In short, he has ADD.

Perhaps in this incarnation of You Are The Truth, the final perpetual beta (an oxymoron if there ever was one), would emerge, and a constant stream of tidbits of shared consciousness with race memory would be allowed to see the light of day. Perhaps, finally, he would find the discipline to stick to a fucking schedule.

We'll see. The past few months since the last post had been tumultuous to say the least, and would be utterly an exercise in futility to dredge the events up and place them on the mantelpiece all at one go. Hence, he would break them down into worms of shared experience and let them drill to the surface, and to dump them unto the big bright world above. For his Truths to intrude into all others, and amalgamate into a mutated blob of life.

Pipmeister

2007-06-04T18:44:00.000+08:00

The reason for the duff's absence was that he has had a major shift in his life once again. A few days after his birthday in April, he was called up for an interview, and he got the job within 2 days. So once again, he's back into the slave pen.

However, this was a job he actually didn't mind doing, or deep down even wished for it. He gets a good pay to trade in the huge foreign exchange markets of the world with OTHER PEOPLE'S MONEY. In essence, he gets to trade, and while he has his targets to meet, it affects his own pocket less directly than how he used to do for the last year.

Thus, he had to change his whole mindset. Back to work, getting proper clothes, trying to get in shape due to said clothes (after a year in boxers, he has forgotten what long sleeves feel like and how a paunch looks to others under the thin veneer of cotton).

So once again, a boss, early nights to bed and earlier than usual dawns of torture. Fatigue, having to make pleasantries and being pretentious are now a daily affair. And he's loving it.
For since he was but a lad, he had always wished to be able to work in the middle of the financial district, to wear stuffy clothes and eat overpriced food for lunch, and go for a drink in the evenings at the pubs by the river.

Pity reality has other plans besides those. Instead, he has to do homework, going home early only to carry on watching the markets. A boss with high expectations and higher targets for him to meet means only more stress and higher blood pressure, which in his geniality, is as good as a death curse. Not forgetting the fact that he usually sucks at trading save for the occasional home runs leave much work, research and character building to be done.

Once again, another hard year ahead for him. Just last night he was once again wondering when the drudgerry will end, and when he would be able to rest on his laurels. 20 years? 30 years? Never? He reminded himself on how green the grass always is on the other side. How he used to want to start work when he was studying. How he wishes he could play freely as he did in school, once he started work. Then he remembers things like fighting spirit, rising to the occasion, and conquering odds and adversary.

Delusional? Which is nature's equilibrium for the human condition? Which is the Truth?

You Know Truths

2007-04-12T11:10:00.000+08:00

I haven't dumped some truths onto the ether for quite awhile.

I think its time.

These are called You Know truths. They are the facts of life that everyone knows, but do not share.

1. You Know that your fart is bad when it eventually diffuses until it reaches your eyes, it stings.

2. You Know that you are godforsakenly lazy when you refuse to move to wipe your snot as it oozes down past your chin, and threatens to drip onto your clothes.

3. You Know that your body hates you when as you peel thick skin off your toes, a flake is propelled at light speed into the space between your thumb and its nail, splitting them apart.

4. You Know that you've scooped up enough dogshit for one lifetime when as someone flings a newspaper near your face and you get a whiff, a gag reflex occurs.

Thats all I've got for now. More to come I'm sure. Please feel free to contribute your own You Know Truths.

Midweek with no view

2007-04-11T09:47:00.000+08:00

The Duff is continuing his hiatus from reality today, and thus I'm to the fore, enacting my brand of anarchy on this world.

BBC news networks never fail to depress the duff each morning on his sojourn to his lil' bro's school in Balastier. Today's news included concentration camps in Ethiopia, Suicide bombers in Casablanca, Al Gore organising a concert for Global Warming and Man U trashing Roma 7-1. All depressing news.

The concentration camps reminded me of Guantanamo, where the detainees have been held like hostages for years on end, since the Americans invaded Afghanistan. The Duff cannot imagine having one's life fucked up so, with no hope in sight, and a never-ending fear that your life is out of your hands, at the whim of the red-neck with the M-16 on the other side of the bars. The best years of your life ebbing away just because of the unlucky roll of the die of life allowed you to be born a certain race, and in a certain geographic location, and that you reacted almost like a hostile terrorist when the aforementioned red-neck (because honestly, they all look the same) busted into your house and dragged your teenage son across YOUR living room by the collar, and hollering words you cannot comprehend.

Thank the gods that we have due process, a "just", westernly system of law, and only have to put up with arrogant, elitist, over-paid civil servants.

And apparently there are rumours that the camps in Ethiopia may have the CIA behind them. There's been lots of talk of CIA operations all over the world, indulging in espionage, especially kidnapping hostages without reason, or rather, their own reasons. Really interesting stuff. Go google around and find out more.

The scenes in Casablanca were like those out of a Bond movie. Suicide bombers running away from the cops, on rooftops in the shanty towns, and pedestrians running for their lives. When one of the bombers was cornered, he literally threw himself off the rooftop, onto the cops and killed them all. Such a tragedy. And this occurs due to the riches and spoils that the only some people seem to be obtaining from their close relations to the United states, and not being shared with the entire community. Disenfranchised youths are truly a dangerous bunch when organised.

So Live Earth is a concert being organised by Al Gore, Prophet for Global Warming, to increase funds in the fight against the genocide on nature. An oscar and every other government jumping on the bandwagon, endorsing his message, stating that the world is going to hell, and its due to our disastrous efforts at maintaining the delicate balance that is life, the universe and everything. Its because we drive cars and eat all we can, we do not recycle, we burn everything, blah blah blah. Our CO2 is causing global warming, polar caps are melting, sea levels are rising, our kids will have a horrible world to live in with El Nino and the chio-er La Nina.

What a load of crock.

How can a gas that makes up only a miniscule part of our atmosphere have such disastrous causes? Isn't our world always in upheaval, since the dawn of its existence? Even mankind has lived through amazing warm periods in the middle ages, and ice-ages when we hunted the mammoth into extinction. We will survive, no matter what. As long as we do not bomb ourselves into oblivion. The world won't kill us. We will kill ourselves. With more direct methods. Global warming... pfah! We might as well stop farting. It'd really help save the penguins.

Let's face it. Global warming is a farce. It is a make belief industry worth billions. It has political clout, and it has gone mainstream. Its like greenpeace has gone legit. Its like Gen X putting on shirts and ties. Its like Madonna with spikey metal bras writing children's books. Its like implementing dress codes on nude beaches. Its gone horribly wrong.

The industry works like this. From the absolute least connected, roundabout way. A biologist wants to study squirrel fucks and orgies. So he writes to his school board, and requests funding. But instead of a heading "A study in squirrel fuck", he writes "A study in the impact of methane from squirrel droppings affecting the forest ecosystem and global warming." Here you go, here's 2 million dollars and tenure. With your study, we shall get 10 million more dollars next year at the fund-raiser.

And what's with Man U's trashing of Roma, the Italian Serie A's number 2 team? 7-1 is crazy at the top flight level, and Roma should be ashamed of themselves, as well as their fans who were very violent the last round when Man U supporters went to their stadium, getting insulted, beaten up and stabbed at. I guess fate finds a way to even out all things. Its the Balance of the Force. 7-1, amazing. Much as I hate Man U's dominance of the game, much like the Chicago Bulls of the 90s, they are to be respected. All the Duff can do is wait for his new Arsenal Gunners to come of age and kick everyone's ass to the scoreboard.

Rant complete. Consciousness close.

F5

2007-04-10T09:42:00.000+08:00

The Duff had his 28th Birthday yesterday.

He didn't really feel all that different. It was just another day. He worked in the day, and even exercised by cycling with his dog(yep, yes he can!), and bathing the creature after the run. As usual, he had dinner with his family, as he shares his birthday with his elder brother. He received some ang baos and an iPod nano, which was something he had been searching for, but was too cheap to obtain on his own expense.

He has had a weird 2 months since the last post. He had a phenomenal work month in March. The increased volatility and madness in the markets allowed him to have more entries, and an overall good form persisted. It was his first profitable month after a year of tuition fees. He wonders even now, whether he has turned a corner and is finally getting the hang of trading, or if it was just a fluke, and he'd soon re-join the rat race.

The Duff has been trying to pick up on his old reading hobby again. There was a time when he commuted a lot and read so much during those long trips on the bus or train. He misses those times when he explored the world and learnt of american ignorance and naivete in Time magazine, pipe dreams of screenwriters in entertainment journals, and of course fantastic journeys into the outer lands on our minds in fiction novels.

When he started driving, he got into audiobooks. He found them dry, and highly dependent on production values and the narrator's voice. One can only imagine how disastrous the voices are if they can massacre even the Duff's favourite Dune series of books. Only self-help books on audio seemed to work for him, but one can only take in so much new age gospel at one go.

The Duff needs to find his bliss again. He's losing his touch on reality. He needs to meet up with old friends. He needs to be reminded of what he used to be. He needs a larger perspective to plan the future.

His warcrafting stint is about over. His rogue character has reached the maximum level, and he's actually been playing a new character, starting all over again. So many hours of gameplay, so much time wasted.

The Duff needs a break. He's been "working" nonstop for a year now. While his work is more enjoyable than most and affords a lot of flexibility, it doesn't exactly bring home the bacon. That immeasurable stress as well as facing the judgement of loved ones had been piling on immensely. He's like Old Faithful, about to explode. At 40 minute intervals. Indefinitely. He needs a holiday.

Thats why I'm blogging. He's out for today. Out of his mind.

Parting words. To test if The Duff still has his adoring public.

Does anyone know how to fix a Write Delay Failure?
Did anyone here belong to a council of smartasses in junior college and wouldn't mind meeting the Duff and a certain Robin for dinner sometime?
Pool?
Spiderman 3 preview?
Blading?
Cycling huskies?
Investment property?
Woodbridge Institute for the Mentally off-centred?

Fuck.... Need to refresh... (F5)

Ride of the Century

2007-02-09T14:42:00.000+08:00

Have you seen the greatest white elephant Singapore has thus far?

Thats right, I'm talking about the Singapore Wheel (or whatever name its gonna go with. Most likely we'd have a contest, and some stuffy suits will pick the worst name, like the Singapore Wheel™). Anyway, they are in the midst of its construction now, and it has the lower arch up. Everytime I drive by, I get all excited and full of ideas. If only they're constructing a Viking ride instead.

You know the Viking ride, right?! COME ON! Its just a ship on an arm and it whoops up into the air, giving you an eternity to spend in zero g, where your balls/boobs defy nature and get altogether misplaced. And then reality pulls you down. Your stomach turns inside out and you forget how to tie shoelaces. You want to puke, and you are so freaked. Then you look down and see all the other fools, and hope they do not puke on you when its their turn in zero g. Then of course there's that huge ass tyre in the middle that propels you when the ride starts and slows the entire ride down in the end. To quote Donald Trump," ITS HUUUUGE." And it looks downright nasty.

Now imagine this. We have this viking ride, and its the world's largest. 30 stories high, with unparalleled zero g time. Astronauts could get acclimated on this ride. We'd have another Guinness Book of Records entry, ride beside the one for the world's largest musical chairs extravaganza. Yep, I believe that was us.

Now this ride, it won't come cheap. Not too expensive though, not so much that when people ride it, locals especially, the drivers on the highway wouldn't laugh and say what suckers the riders are. Preferably less than the balloon ride we have (thetered of course, wouldn't want it to roam into neighbouring airspace), and definitely last longer than that stupid reverse bungee(which had maintenance issues, probably because it couldn't afford any). Who would want to spend money on a ride to get sick, when they could just walk another 100 metres for some strong brew of your choice. Wrong location, geniuses.

Ok, back to the Great Singapore Viking Adventure. Imagine the view you would get from up there, and with the phenomenal airtime, you would really be able to appreciate future sights like the cash cow (Oops, integrated resort, and all 3 tablets of it), the scrotum(Oops, the Esplanade I mean, and the phallic symbol in its background) and the empty commercial area that is now a reputable menagerie of companies but would then be a ghosttown of bucketshops.

In fact, Singapore is so small that we should just make the entire island a theme park. You can play soldier in the far west, play out all your sexual desires in the east, play scientist in our labs in the clementi region. The central region would be for retail space. 2 casinos for the risk takers in all of us. Faux beach getaways to the south. We do have good amenities in place like hotels, transportation and air/sea ports already. You can rest and relax in our various spas littered all over the island, or massages. Be treated like a king everywhere you go. An island/park wide railway system, food at every corner at hiked prices ALREADY.

We seem almost set for it.
hmmm......

Since everyone's at it.....

2007-01-04T10:31:00.000+08:00

I have no life

2006-11-22T14:25:00.000+08:00

A blank slate is really hard to corrupt. What do you fill it with? What direction do you want it to go? Do you use the tried and true? Do you experiment? Do you test the boundaries of right and wrong? Do you make it up as you go along?

For you see, my life, and my head, is a blank now. As the focus of my family fades as they once again defect to glorious Shanghai, I am left with the tedious repetition of waking up to an almost empty house, working on my computer and coming to bad results, procrastinating on my rusty weights and generally building up fat for the impending doom, so that I would outlast all the other thin people walking about, having worked against their genetic make up to hype up their metabolism to the point of self implosion.

However, there is some holes poked into my bleak tunnel. Little rivulets of distractions as I thread on a razor thin wire each day. I started my World of Warcraft account, and have been wasting many precious hours on it each day. Right now I’m a level 28 Troll Rogue on the server Skullcrusher. Do look me up if you are in the “vicinity”.

Another would be the fact that I have the house all to myself. That means I can do anything I want to it. Beyond the list of To-Do’’s which my mum mistakenly entrusted upon me are many sub-projects that I have been concocting. A rearrangement of my room, a complete re-organisation of my ever growing comic book collection (nearing 20,000!) and my recent acquisition, a new 7-ft Christmas Tree. Mainly just to perk up my mood for the next month and a half.

I killed my younger brother’s fish the other day. A fighting fish. I changed all the water in the tank, which I think I shouldn’t have. Not all at once. Anyway, felt bad for awhile, but only awhile. It would be interesting to see how he feels when he returns from his holiday. Hahaaa!

The japs have made a neural transmitter that could make a toy train switch on or off just by willpower alone. This scares the shit outta me somehow, but it’s the future.

I miss pool.

Anyone up for paintball?

I actually like Daniel Craig.

Sigh… this blog sucks huh. I need a life. Play WOW got no life. Just watch South Park season 10 episode 8.

There’re truths in that. Hahaha! Somewhere.

Phooey, Where did the time go?

2006-10-25T12:42:00.000+08:00

Its great to be back. I’m slowly finding my routine in life once again as the dust settles around me. Pity the haze is still getting in the way.

This whole month has been one huge event after another. Pretty happening, and ultimately disruptive. It started when my parents came back home from Shanghai. My father had previously gone for a medical checkup that showed that he would require stents to 2 blood vessels, and on this trip they did an angiogram to finalise his situation. To their astonishment, he had 1 totally clogged and another 85% clogged. They immediately tried stents on him but to no avail, as the fat had coagulated to an unimaginable density, and the stents had no chance getting through.

Eventually, he had to have bypass surgery, an extremely invasive procedure that had only 2% risk of death. He went through with it and came out tops, of course, and he’s now recovering at home. For me, that entire 2 week period was just endless trips to the hospital everyday, being there for my mother as much as I could, giving her support and comfort in these trying times.

It didn’t help that our dear gahment chose this period for me to serve my country again in the depressive camouflage greens. While it may be great to once again meet up with my platoon mates, it was a challenge every evening as I returned to the hospital to check on things. My petrol use this month should be through the roof, even with the fall in oil prices.

Anyway, I survived the ordeal, and my few discomforts must’ve been nothing compared to what my father is still going through. Having your ribcage sawn in 2 is no small matter, and have titanium chains or staples holding them back together can’t be fun either. Ouch indeed.

I quite enjoyed my 5 days in camp though. I tried out a new gun which was very accurate, and did some catching up with the guys. It helped take my mind off things. For awhile, I was stressed over providing for the family in any and all ways possible. Being in camp meant that I couldn’t do nuts and thus, was relieved of my responsibilities, albeit only temporary.

So with all these disruptions, the first 2 weeks of this month was gone, and the pitfalls of being self-employed is that you lose your income when you are away from the desk. As my self-imposed deadline approaches, I’m constantly pressuring myself to hit my targets. So it was with great dismay when I returned to my desk and tried to recover my usual patterns, only to find that I have analysis paralysis. I guess being too far off from my usual routines have made me think twice over before every action.

Finally got off my ass and did some trades. Once again, profits came and went. This is one tough game indeed. Professional help I need. Yes. More research, more skills to acquire.

Wish me luck.

Sir Rant-A-Lot

2006-09-29T15:47:00.000+08:00

How much knowledge is too much knowledge? Should we really take in all the crap the world has to offer and process them all at once?

I ask this because I’d recently found myself downloading and watching way too many programmes on the environment, on saving the world from global warming, the rising costs of oil (although it has fallen recently, and I’m sure only temporarily), incredible dream-like energy machines and of course, conspiracy theories.

It sorta eats at you. It wears me out. The entire social subconscious and its guilt battling with its nefarious counterparts, like its capitalist drive. We all hope for a better tomorrow, and arrive at it in many different ways. Saving the earth is more like saving the environment for our children to grow up healthily in. Instinctively, we will always be doing that, even those who are profiting from destroying the planet now.

I have come to that conclusion simply because those businessmen don’t seem all that worried. Sure they are loaded, but if they knew that the planet would be dying because of their actions, they’d either stop it now, not have families, or purchase property in the Himalayas, to survive the treacherous weather and rise in sea levels.

There has to be some conclusive evidence out there that the planet can weather all these through (pardon the pun). They do not release it because they love to have that culture of fear, to force people to purchase now, and gain instant gratification before its too late. They have weakened us so through their many campaigns of consumer product redundancies. Bigger, better, faster MORE!

So those green people out there are just jumping the gun. They are exploring new energy sources at a premium. The big guys have it all planned out already. They are just waiting for the drillings to come up with nothing. Then they’d convert our petrol stations in a blink of an eye. Business continuity is always a priority. And they shall use up all current resources before enacting and spending millions to ensure said continuity.

I guess that has always been the case. The powerful have risen up because of the way they function and succeed in society, and once there, they would do anything to maintain the status quo, for that already states that is will be them who are at the top. It takes something monumental like a revolution to restart things, and new leaders will slowly rise up and the cycles continue.

So whats the truth behind this directionless rant? To me, its simple. Let’s chill. Let’s just let the economy run its course, for our individual actions do not really cause an impact as some people might lead you to think. Live for yourself and yourself alone. We shouldn’t worry so much about the macro, and focus more on the micro. Bring your sphere of concern closer. Cherish all around you, and just donate or do some charity for those beyond said sphere. You cannot help everyone.

Until my business, which also would be a force of global change, comes along. With great wealth comes great responsibility.

Zi bai Siao Liao

2006-09-11T17:31:00.000+08:00

I’d just gone onto the Singapore Sports Council website and booked a squash court for tomorrow. As usual, anyone would print out their booking for later reference, in case some prick thinks he booked the same court over the same time slot.

So I keyed in all the details, paid for it and then printed it out. It took an amazingly long time and I found out why. You see, the webpage is a black background, with a side panel and a main panel. The details were on the main panel, all nicely shown in white text. What came out from my printer was exactly that. 2 pages, 1 fully black of the side panel, and another fully black with the booking details. The 2 sheets were wet and dripping in my very precious black ink. It was a horrible day, and this has to occur.

I clicked on the link for feedback posting. I keyed in everything required, made my case and submitted my suggestion. It was for their own good in the long run, and also my cartridge’s, and subsequently my wallet. The next page that loaded insisted that I should log in first then submit the complaint. The thing was that I had already logged in ages ago, else I wouldn’t be able to book the fucking court to begin with.

I gave up after trying a few other iterations. Then I got worried about my credit card information that I had just given them. If their basic programming of the site is that buggy, how safe could their “secure” handling of sensitive information be?

I’m so screwed.

The ultimate bloodsucker, my car is.

2006-08-31T15:51:00.000+08:00

I almost died over the weekend again. Twice. Within a span of 5mins.

Both instances were clear examples of requiring the driver’s eyes to be on the road at every instance of locomotion. The first occurred when I was fixing up the next disc to insert into the radio. I lifted my head in time to see the car approaching towards me (its all relative, isn’t it?) at an uncomfortable pace. I braked and swerved in the nick of time. The driver horned at me, more out of shock than anything else. I mean, his warning came after the fact. The funny thing was that my heart didn’t pound as it usually does after near-deaths. Rather, I felt quite calm, and carried on my journey. I guess it was because I was in such a nonchalant mood.

5 minutes later, I did it again, this time, I was directing the air-con vents toward me as it was a bloody hot day. Same thing, only this time my little brother shouted at me, and woke me from my preoccupation with not sweating. I braked too harshly (but thank you ABS!). So there, twice. This blog could have not ever seen the light of day and you would have regained 5 mins of your life. Quick, turn away now. Close the browser and move along with your stagnant life.

Still here? Cool.

The reason I call this car a bloodsucker is that it literally sucks so much blood from my wallet. Just this week, my battery died. I called my car dealership for help, and they sent down a sub-conned tow truck. The dude suggested that he change the battery for me then and there, saving time and undercutting the dealership. I said ok, knowing full well the cost of doing so. My warranty may be voided, the battery could suck soon after, and many other factors. But I went along anyway because I wanted to carry on using the car for the evening. The money changed hands and the deed was done. The trip home was a ride of supreme introspection. I ran the scenario over in my head countless of times. I know I made my decision, but was it the right one? I live by the motto of just doing the right thing. But the right thing seems such an abstract notion now. Its all about context I guess.

So the thing is, did the decision of changing the battery then and there, and the convenience of having the car work immediately worth the risk of my warranty being voided? Give me your two cents please? I’ll take both for your thoughts, and not just a penny like most others.

This risk taking also led me to question my current immediate direction in life, that of trading futures contracts as a living. Am I taking way too much risk? Is my tolerance too high for4 my own good? It was a trying evening to say the least.

And thus, I felt the car was such a burden. It didn’t help that I had to renew my road tax this month either, and that my trading account is in a net negative for August. I was out of it for quite a while.

But just the other night, I had a wonderful experience in the car that reminded me that it’s actually quite worth the while for instances like these. No, it wasn’t car sex in the back seat. (my car’s too small for that, or am I too big? Hmm…..) It was pure and simple. It was just a kid in the car ahead of me at the traffic lights. He stared right at me, and started shooting imaginary bullets with his handgun.

I returned fire.

He ducked, and we sparred vehemently to the next traffic light, where I had to turn off. I waved goodbye and he waved back at me, smiling. I laughed. It was pure, unadulterated joy. And it redeems humanity in my psyche. There may just be hope yet.

Bogusity

2006-08-18T16:54:00.000+08:00

I’d recently watched a documentary I downloaded off the ether. The title was Forbidden Archeology, narrated by Moses himself. In it, they went in search of fossil findings that went against the grain of the scientific community. Examples are human footprints beside T-rex’s on the same rock strata, and human bones within bedrock millions of years old. Most of these findings were disregarded, and some even had their specimens confiscated, the dig site closed by the governments and professional careers ruined.

The documentary also hinted on the old constructions at Egypt and Peru. How similar these 2 ancient civilizations are, from monolithic structures like the pyramids, which were build with such precise accuracy, in terms of astronomical significance of structural positionings, to civil engineering, wherein spaces within the blocks are so fine that a playing card couldn’t fit between. When the Spanish questioned the indigineous population in South America on the cities hidden within the forests, they replied that they did not build them, and they have been there for thousands of years.

There was a map discovered from the 16th century, that clearly depicted Antartica’s landmass, below the immense sheets of ice found there. The western civilization didn’t find out the precise look of that particular landmass till the mid 60s, when seismic probes were done to map out the area. The map from the past even stated that the knowledge was derived from 20 other sources, and was most probably compiled in the library at Alexandria. What all these facts pointed to was that perhaps there are older civilizations that we have absolutely no idea of, including the angle of Atlantis, which may very well lie beneath the glaciers at the South Pole.

Now, how could an advanced civilization exist below 2 miles of ice? Simple, the crust tilted on its axis coupla thousand years back. This they attribute to the carcass of a well preserved mammoth. In its stomach was its last meal of grassland shrubs. Now, how could a mammoth suddenly be killed and frozen over with its lunch intact? THE EARTH TILTED ON ITS AXIS! What was once tropical is now polar, and vice versa. And it occurs when the poles are too heavy with ice, and the earth’s crust is imbalanced. It happens every 40 thousand years. And thus, Atlantis, which was once in the Earth’s oceans, right smack in the middle, and along the equator, is suddenly in the south pole. The civilization is endangered, and its people move to other lands, namely Africa and South America, some to the Fijian islands, some to Greece, and some to England apparently, where they built Stonehenge.

Please find all the loopholes and give me the Truth. Frankly, I hated Charlton Heston since Bowling for Columbine.

The Experience

2006-08-18T13:55:00.000+08:00

He checks the links in his armor, and the intricacies of his chain mail. His gloves fit snugly, his knuckles capped by iron protrusions. He grips his shield, feeling its weight and balance. No turning back now. The animal mustn’t get loose too soon, else the proverbial shit would hit the fan big time. He pulls the hunting knife out of its sheath, reveling in its metallic tang and incandescent shine. Now, it must taste blood. The blood of monsters. The gates open, and he steps into the light.

He approaches the animal, his heart pounding in its place. His temples his very own boom-box. The roar from the spectators suddenly breaks into his zone. He pauses, soaking in the atmosphere, relishing his moment in the spotlight. The smells around him full of dust and iron. He stares at his opponent in the eyes, and shouts, “RELEASE HIM!”

The 3-tonned beast, upon feeling the slack in his moorings, jerks forward and breaks the last screws holding him in his place. He instinctively knew that the creature before him has to die. He hasn’t been fed in days, and his bloodlust is strong. He rushes forth, his muscles rippling under his scaly skin. He retracts his spikes to make then stand on ends. He roars, instilling fear in the heart of his prey. If he could, he would have smiled.

The warrior stands his ground, analyzing the creature’s movements and approach. The rumbling mass thundering towards him was fluid and graceful for its size. This, finally, is a worthy opponent. The rage could be felt from across the arena. The crowd bursts into further ecstasy as they anticipate the action that is to occur. All he could focus on was the beast, and the Royal pit. The King, way past his heyday, looks on solemnly on the proceedings, having seen many before. Behind him, the princess looks on in admiration. “Time to put on a good show, I suppose.” The warrior says to himself. He nods and his face plate drops.

The beast reaches his prey with the full force and attempts to gore the pitiful two-legged freak in the torso with his jade tusk. The absence of resistance tells him he missed, and he trashes about immediately, instinct taking over. He sniffs and detects the being to his right, rolling in the sand. A hit. And now the kill.

The warrior moves with the momentum, spins and kicks himself up. A lucky shot, a smart beast, almost. Before the beast turns, he throws his shield to his right, and spins the knife in his hand, holding the blade and pulling back his arm. The beast’s focus follows the shield as it turns, exposing his side. The warrior aims, and fires the knife, hitting the beast squarely in the right eye. The crowd goes wild.

He walks to the beast, and leaps ever so easily onto its back. It lurches and attempts to throw the warrior off. It tries to maneuver its spikes to pierce his victim. In desperation, he too rolls in the dust. The warrior’s lightning quick reflexes prevents him from a crushing death as he leaps off the animal. He was finally feeling challenged. As he was about to land, a spike pierces his left shin, and goes right through the armor. He is stuck, and he is brought up into midair, like a prize for the beast. His invincibility falters as he is disgracefully paraded in the middle of the arena. The crowd boos, and his pride is smashed. He feels the beast beginning another roll……

“End program.”

He opens his eyes, a twisted knot on his forehead.
“I lost again,” he says to himself. He peels off the remote lenses from his cornea, and mentally commands the nanites to remove the skinsuit around him. He feels the particles fall to the ground, reabsorbed into his room-sphere.

He has been trying this scenario for the past week, unsuccessfully. He recalls the package he bought from the Immersion Engine, and the prize at the end. A violent treat, with experiences enough to tingle the most blaise senses. The goal of course was the clincher, a simulated night with the nymphet of a princess, based upon the form of the most celebrated inter-planetary idol this past fortnight.

Tomorrow, I shall purchase the psychic cheats. No way the beast would be able to beat it.

So long, and thanks for the memories

2006-08-11T13:17:00.000+08:00

So we are losing our National Stadium soon, the iconic gray megalith of unbreakable stone and grime. I will miss the old, run down place. For a place that I had spent very minimal time in, it sure holds many sweet memories for me. Primarily from the many sports days held there over my upper primary and secondary school days, breaking rules and chatting up my NPCC friends who were manning the stairs, not letting any pass and escape the dreary proceedings under the hot sun. the 20 x 100m dash highlight; the screaming from teachers on our misconduct; the many tussles occurring at the fringes of spectator divisions between the different schools. Much as we’d like to forget, our schools always demanded and received a certain strain of loyalty from us. Me, I was always checking out the chicks from the other schools. Fresh , new blood. Hmmm…..

Hah, I’m actually listening to music from the 80’s while I type this out. Ahhh, electronica and heavy synthetic bass.

*Danger Zone – Kenny Loggins*

I never attended a national day celebration there. The closest thing to a national communal thingy was some soccer matches. I remember attending a Lions vs Pahang match, the ever deadly vendetta between provided for an electric atmosphere; and also when Newcastle came to visit, with Shearer stretching by the side, when they had just signed him on. We were so psyched up for him to hit the pitch, but he never did.

So the stadium is to go. In its place would be a sports complex. Out with the old, in with new, that’s the way cities move. An ever constantly changing organism; a sum of its constituents; a soul in flux. Love it. Change can’t come quick enough for me. I get bored easily.

So I went to fill my car with more global warming chemicals late at night on National Day. As I stopped at a junction, I turned to the left and saw this car parking, and a young fellow stepped out of it. He was wearing green coveralls adorned with many patches in the designs of our military insignias. And he was holding a Styrofoam box, walking with a clearly tired gait. He must’ve just performed for the entire nation, high up in the sky, after training for it for months prior, living with precise timings and synchronicity with his squadron. I saluted him in my heart, and remembered how I used to long to be in his shoes. Life would’ve been so different. I would’ve been so different. I’d actually be cool, and with a set goal in mind. Heck, I would’ve run for presidency at the end of that road. Hah!

Then I turned to my right and saw this bicycle go by. A guy was riding hard to move the bike up a gentle slope. The funny thing was that just behind him was a frame, and there was a lady in a white dress seated every so straightly, facing away from me. I could see her long black tresses which almost didn’t seem to move. I was bemused. Here was a classic image right out of a hongkong horror flick. I laughed, and secretly wished she didn’t turn around to show me her 15cm long tongue or empty eye sockets. Brrrr…..
I caught Lady in the Water the other day. I so do love M.Night Shymalan’s work. This time round, he didn’t have a cameo. He had an fucking starring role, which tanked. But I liked the show overall. While I profess to not fully appreciate the underlying allegory (failed literature in sec sch), I think he was talking about the war that the USA is engaged in. The war in the middle east, not the war on mutant grass escaping golf courses and invading the wilds (I’m serious, its true! The latter war, that is). What did you see in the film? I would like to know.

I also caught Sophie Scholl, nominated for Best foreign language film at the Oscars. The narrative dealt with the anti-nazi movement in Germany during WW2. It was heavy, but not fresh. It reminded me of the state of affairs today, and the differences from thence. For me, nothing beats Band of Brothers when it comes to movies or serials on WW2. Yeah, I am shallow. Toldja!

Speaking of shallow, I’d been exploring the youTubeverse lately, along with its bastard cousins Filecabi, google video, iFilm, Metacafe and DailyMotion etc.. Of course, all in my never-ending pursuit for quality porn, which was what the net was built for anyway. Use it like how its meant to be used. You don’t see me using a spanner to remove a screw.

I chanced upon the usual dreadgery of the net, from low quality fan-flicks to the pranks, the cheap skanks and the voyeur-catering performers. Once in awhile, I’d come across something that has a local feel, like this and I’d get curious, like WTF is this all about? Go take look. What do you make of it?

I read somewhere previously that youTube heralds the end of all things wonderful like TV and movies, and everything will be released on the net. While it is the most excellent method of distribution, it may not be the ideal avenue to fully appreciate most materials. Besides the fact that it’d take forever to download everything in high def and other technical issues, I do not have my youtubes projected onto IMAX screens, with dolby digital surround sound, popcorn dispensers just outside the door. Heck, I can’t even make my bedroom dark at night! And let’s not forget the quintessential noisy idiots sitting behind me with one too many opinions and a fucking mobile phone that has to ring in the middle of the most dramatic pauses,l this inspite of the fucking stupid ads (especially the Disney ones)that they screen prior to the show to tell every fuckwat to switch their fucking slave driving phones the FUCK OFF!

Inner Universe

2006-08-04T13:07:00.000+08:00

*Somewhere Only We Know – Keane*

Being in your own world has its perks. You lose track of time and become a ghost within a shell, really embracing the standalone complex that technology like the net has afforded us and cocooning from all social contact. Much like leprosy, but only in reverse.

Are humans really social creatures? If we are, why do we deal out so much grief unto one another? Is this the epitome of socializing? Whatever happened to empathy? Whatever happened to our larger brains, our developed state of higher consciousness?

Apparently I didn’t get the job that I had wanted. Lost out to a nerd. Guess I was too expensive for them. I hope he fares well, and that the company goes on to greater success without me. Wish they had told me that I didn’t get it though. I didn’t get the news from the horse’s mouth. Does it speak of a lousy human resource department, or just plain bochup on the hirer’s part?

Anyway, after yet another rejection added to the overly long list in my life. Back to trading. I had to re-adjust, re-focus and re-finance. The mental battle was almost insurmountable. My father gave me a pep talk too, about not wasting my life away, and to get a job. It was a very tough conversation, being judged before the final bell, and having no support from the sides. However, I held on to my balls, and decided to give trading another shot before throwing in the blood-soaked towel. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. February, suddenly it doesn’t seem that far off now.

On the topic of throwing in the towel, a dear friend of mine just did, and decided to pick up his set of ball and chain. He is the same age as me, and has been saving up for his big day. He is plunging headlong into the abyss, to be forever locked in holy matrimony. I’m wishing him all the best, and that we should all be this lucky, to be certain at this age, irregardless of the million other factors that our fractured psyches seem to enjoy bringing to the fore.

My grandma celebrated her 83rd birthday the other week. That’s one heckuva long time to be on this planet. I cannot imagine the multitude of stories roaming about in her head, a treasure trove of secrets and deceits, chapters on the triumphs of the human condition, and volumes of miscellaneous experiences. If only I could record all that data for posterity. Interviewing her and collating all that into a book would only be bringing her realities through the unfocused filter of my myopic pen. Such is the tragedy of our fables. Each generation fucks them up with their own salts and peppers. Seasonings of falsehoods, they are.

I’ve yet to catch a single movie since Supes. I shall resign myself to my trusty WWW to scratch my movie-watching itch. Pirates, Fast and Furious, Thank you for smoking, and shitloads more. It’s the summer man, DAMN! Brain fodder.

*Save me – Remy Zero*

Been watching quite a few Tv serials though. Entourage, Lucky Louie, Kyle XY, Jericho, Top Gear, Fast Inc, Blood+ and Eureka. Good stuff all. The Truth, I prefer TV land to movies. Watch as the power in Hollywood transfers back to the small screen.

Rantings of a Madman

2006-07-20T11:42:00.000+08:00

Been thinking quite a bit while I’m traveling around our concrete jungle (luckily it strives to be a garden city). Been surprised by many sights on the roads, which is funny because I seldom notice much other than the overly-conscientious driver ahead of me.

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

Just the other day, I saw some fresh road-kill. It was in the CBD area. A bird of some sort. Pigeon? At a traffic junction. WHAT THE FUCK WAS IT TRYING TO DO? Was it too tired? Was it just coming down for the next updraft to bring itself to soaring heights? Was it trying to cross the road, to get to the other side? When I say fresh, I mean its not exactly flattened yet. It was still pulpy, and pretty much 3-dimensional. I did pass it again later in the day. Not only was it still there, it was already 2-dimensional. Who cleans up road-kill anyway?
************************************************************************

I was heading home one morning, and the Morningstar was screaming into my optical receptors. I willed it away with my cerebral arrow, and it suddenly hid behind the bringers of silver linings. My world was plunged not into darkness (no, the apocalypse is still far off, and I’m not THAT evil), but into a world of sepia tones, the result of an un-reactive iris perhaps. The streams of the sun peeking through the livelihoods of trees that adorn the highway. Pastel brown tones on all colours, including the red Mercedes and purple BMWs. My life seemed like something out of a postcard, which got me wondering. What kind of card my life would be. A Get Well soon card? A Sorry card? What card would your life be?

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

I overtook a Porsche Cayenne Turbo, driven by a hot babe (I think, my peripheral vision has been bad since I couldn’t help myself peeking at the magnesium ribbons that constantly appear in my life.) This incident has been added to the list of cars I’ve been overtaking this year with my Toyota Vios 1.5e(A). Others on the list include a Ferrari Modena and a Lamborghini Murcielago.

Shiok.

However, I’ve been noticing more KIAs overtaking me. Fuck……

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

Last night, the moon made love to me. She lay on her back, arched ever so seductively, and her presence assailed every fibre of my being as I stared at her longingly. Then she hid behind the blankets in the sky, peeking cheekily ever so often. How I hated her teasing. I could snuff her out with my thumb, and yet she is so unreachable. So unattainable. And the worst thing was that I had to share her with everyone willing to take a look at her.

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

Is it just me or is World War 3 almost upon us. All the signs are there for the impending doom that every cryptic doomsayer has foretold since the dawn of language. The hotbed of western society is ever erupting into deeper chaos and despair. Mother Earth has cried out in pain, and teared along the banks of Java. The markets too, tell a story of the everlasting night that is to come. Fires shell descend on screens across the world. Only the strong survive. Whittle out the weak and little. The time has come to defrag humankind.

Let the seeking arm of FATE begin its work! Let the TRUTH PrEVail!

The Lifetime Between

2006-07-13T16:05:00.000+08:00

Hooo hooo hooo hooo..... Breathe. Breathe. Get the oxygen in. Get the muscles pumped. You are ready. You are ready. Breathe. Breathe deep. You can do it. You can beat them. Its just 9 seconds. You are the best. Come on. Calm down. It'd be over in a flash. Hooo... Hooo..... breathe. They are cheering for you. All of them. All ten thousand pairs of eyes on you. Look around. Wave. Smile....

Yes, this is what you've been training for all year. All your life. Just this instance. Just the next minute, and you'd have lived your dream. This is what its all about. The final 100m. Breathe.... Breathe.... the start is coming soon. Get ready. Everyone is counting on you. Mom, little bro, your wife, or soon to be wife. Right after you get the gold. Yes. You need the money. She needs the money. No nervousness now. Feel the calm. Get in the zone. Keep all these thoughts out. Hoo.... Hooo..... breathe. Tip-toe. Stay frosty. Keep your muscles warm.

Move to the line. Do not have a false start. Keep your twitching in control. Soon, your muscles will be in full burn. They will explode and you will not feel the ache. You will be the fastest. You are the man. Yes you are. Fingers and knuckles down. Legs in. Bend and flex your knees. Yes. Breathe. That's it. Look at the others. Nervous. They are fearful of you. You and your smile. Killer grin. They are putty in your hands. They will be in your wake. You are in the centre lane. Look up. The finishing line is there. Right across, ready for the taking. Hooo.... Hooo.... Breathe.... Sweaty palms. Its fine. You can do it. Pay attention. Hear the angels sing. Feel the beat of your pounding heart. Here comes the gun.

Last gasp. No turning back now. Only forward. This is it. Since high school. Since college. This is what you were born to do. This is your destiny. Have a last look down. You are a catapult. Your muscles will not fail you. They are primed and ready. They are taut, ready to spring. At the sound. Wait for it. Hear it the instant its uttered. Its waiting for you too. To come together. The symphony of you. The beauty of the dash. All the elements are here now, together. Right now. Breathe. Look up. Ready…… Steady……. GO!

Move Move MOVE! Come ON! Blast forward. Jerk. Swing your arms. Swing them. Stretch forward. Reach. Burst. Go Go Go! Shit, the guy on the right is actually good. I can see him by the corner. No worries. That was a good start. The finish is running up to me. Just 8 more seconds.

Dash Dash dash! The ground is disappearing below you. Behind you. The rest flying up to meet your feet. Your spikes eating into their soul, chewing up the distance between. There is nothing between you and your goal. Nothing can beat you. 7 seconds. Wasn’t that a song once? Move move move!

Feel it. Feel the wind. Feel the air whizzing by. Feel your feet sliding each other. Feel your arms in mechanical excellence. Feel your lungs in maximum capacity. Feel your wings flap. Feel it, the victory. The ultimate goal. 6 seconds.

Concentrate! There is only the now. There is no tomorrow. Open your legs wider. Further. Faster. Stronger. Explosive force. Kill your legs. Feel the momentum. Embrace the cheer. Feel the love. Earn it. Fly fly fly! 5 seconds. Soon.

Wait, what is that by the finish line. At the edge of my tunnel vision. Something in a black drape. His head is turning. No, focus. You are almost there. The Olympic gold is in sight. You are the fastest man in the world. Smile. 4 seconds.

There is something about this figure. Can’t take my eyes off him. Oh my god, Its looking right at me! Jesus Christ! Focus, straightahead. You are imagining things. Speed! To the finish. Mother fuck! Damn, the heart is pounding. 3 seconds.

FUCK! My chest just exploded! What the fuck is happening? Endure the pain. It will pass. The fucking finish line is just in front. Reach for it. Bend forward. Ignore the pain. My god, the pain! ARGH! Finish the fucking race, you coward! BREATHE! 2 seconds.

NO! Something’s wrong. The ground is coming up at me. Why?! NO! Finish the race. Finish it. So close. Hold back the pain. Hold back the light. That damn bright light. You can do it. Breathe. ARGH! Bear it. You are an Olympian. There it is, the last 5 metres.

Here I go. Lean forward, and cross the line. I’m so tired. Lie down. My chest! Where am I? Ah yes, the finish. I am at the end. At last. My god, the pain, its unbearable. I’m dying, I think. Never mind. I’ve done it. I’ve won. Its all that matters. I have it. The gold. I’m the fastest man… alive.

State of My World Address

2006-07-06T18:12:00.000+08:00

In a deeper funk, I've never been in. Its not like I've been depressed, but rather, a loss of direction in the day to day functions of my bodily existence. My mind wanders aimlessly down the corridors of sane consciousness. Could somebody please pull me up by the hook or stick a needle into my inner voodoo.

So I'd been delving into the tactile and mind-fucking experiences that my sordid life has to offer. Besides the aforementioned porn experiment with google adsense(which failed miserably), I'd also tried my hands at other experiments, like trying to see how fast I can get a pot-belly (pretty easy, this one. Just keep eating, and how joyous it is, shoving sinful crap into my oral-fice), how much sleep I can have on a given afternoon (result: practically the entire afternoon, given the right temperature and ambient luminosity levels), and resorting my voluminous comic collection (which gives me great nerdy joy pronto every time, like seeing a complete list of gobbledygook having been sorted by bucket sort or even Microsoft Excel).

Well, I suppose one of the reasons for my lack of direction is because once again, I'm at a crossroad. While I have decided which fork to take, the impetus is in another's hands. I’d already gone for the pre-requisite interviews, and am now a puppet waiting for others to pull (or snip) the strings. This state of limbo distresses me greatly, and thus the incessant ingestion of over-the-head yummy goodness, from granola to cornflakes, noodles to chips, ice-cream to chocolate, cheese to salads. While these may look healthy individually, let’s put it into perspective. I had them all on the same day. Within a 12 hour period. With neither a break nor an exercise regiment in between. How soon before I lose the luxury of seeing my toes when I stand straight (which is the test of whether you’ve a pot belly or not)?

So this past week, I had been paper trading again. Can’t lose the passion, or the drive, and attraction of fast wins and amazing losses. This pull to take risk is really a genetic trait that I cannot overcome. I’d jump out of a plane, or go on a killer roller coaster ride any day, over a massage or even a shopping spree, much as I love to shop. I almost traded today, and the truth is that I should have. I gave my broker an order to execute, which wasn’t followed through. Then the theories that I had learnt contradicted my previous order, which was still valid and was awaiting execution again. My broker advised me to go with the theory also. I cancelled my order, and waited for the conditions of the theory to be more exact before enacting.

Then the market laughed in my face, hit my initial order’s conditions, and ran away, all the way to the bank that I failed to open an account in.

I could’ve made 2000 bucks today. And that pretty much is in the same vein of the entire week. Coulda woulda shoulda. Hindsight is 20/20. Does anyone make contact lenses for Life?

The news has been depressing lately. Israel and Palestinian conflicts are on the rise again, over the capture of an Israeli soldier. Constant attacks on Gaza, hitting on their infrastructure by helicopter gunships, and rocket retaliation from the militia injuring inncent bystanders, really became numbing as the week wore on. There has to be an agenda going on. Perhaps it is to draw attention to the ineptitude of the new Palestinian authority to control its citizen army. I mean, why hasn’t the Mossad just gone in and get the Lance Corporal out? SHEESH. Easy Peasy to them.

And of course good old spoilt lil’ Kim decided to fire off his phallic symbols into the sea. One even of sizable proportions that fizzled out 40 secs into its performance. Not even a 1-min man, it seems. Empty threats that got everyone’s panties in a knot. Can’t we all just invade and get all those starving children out of there?

The World Cup trudges on. At this point, we are left with 2 matches, for the finals and the fight for the 3rd placing. I’d only gotten into the action in the semi-finals. All the action before was just too boring. I hope France wins. Thierry Henry, I like. The Italians just look too damn scruffy for my taste. But then again, football is a ruffian’s game. And chicks dig Italians. Must be due to the fact that they do not understand what the guys are saying, hence they cannot say anything wrong to piss them off.

The Truth? Master your Destiny. Follow your course. Everything happens for a reason. Question those reasons constantly.

This has been your voice of despair. Weep openly.

Testing

2006-06-30T16:33:00.000+08:00

Please disregard this blog-posting.

I'm trying to test the ad-sense shit-thing.

So here goes.

Cum-licking, mother fucking, cock sucking, cunt titillating, titty fuck, underage, teenage, redhead, blond muff, anal rampage, beastiality, nipple pinching, condom bursting, lubricating japanese, asian, whore bitch slap ass penetrate whip leather belt finger fisting outdoor milehigh FUCK.

There. Let's see what ads appear now. I expect more hits on my blog too. Hahahaaa!

Lifestyles of the Lazy and Indulgent

2006-06-23T12:12:00.000+08:00

Haven't been doing too much lately. Gaining the pounds like Arnold at the onset of puberty, only the mass is of a different density. Mine's a little more huggable. And they congregate beautifully at my abdomen, and form a support function while i bend over the table while I type, click, ogle and absorb the world through the cynical minds of others. My only gripe are the lines they form, which are only visible when I stand up and look in the mirror. Wonderfully deep, long-lasting lines to show where my body folded while my spine lost its perfect lumbar poise.

Been hitting the sack a whole lot more too, and during the day. Yeah, sucks to those who can't. But then again, I should enjoy it while it lasts. Hopefully it won't be long now before I start dressing up, looking good and waltz around Raffles Place during office hours, hahahaa!

Anyway, 1 piece of advice. Try not to nap under the sun, or intense light. I've got a theory. I seem to get the most fucked up dreams that money can't buy when I sleep under such conditions. It happened to me twice just yesterday. The first was a 20 min short nap, but I felt
like I had 10 short nightmares in that timespan. And they were trippy. I was in those side-scrolling game environments, from the Sega days, like Mickey's journey into Castle Transylvania,
or Sonic the Hedgehog, that kinda game. And the games were always those "scarier" types, like
with zombies, monsters and freaks who wanna screw you in the ass. And eventhough I know its only a game, and I can kill them by throwing apples that do not get affected by projectile motion or gravity, I still felt the fear, and anxiety, and that I had to run faster, swing further, catch the other fucking vine else I'd perish below the television-scape, and of course, throw them apples.

Not trippy enough?

I had another dream later in the day, or rather, evening. I know, not as bright, but i still had my room lights on. And one of my bulbs have started buzzing, damn motherfucker. If only i had the impetus to get the ladder and unscrew that irritating bulb. Anyways, this second dream took 3 hours, and all i did was surf around (like Silver Surfer) on a mirror about the size of a hobo's house, in a dark and dank carpark, which had a shit load of ramps, humps, old cadillacs, blinking lamps, and one heckuva view from its roof. The skies were post apocalyptic, stormy with lightning, windy and super dark clouds blowing in. The ceilings were always leaking and I was always fleeing from some asshole, always running(surfing) on my mirror, and I'd always worry that it'd crack when I'm descending the ramps. Cos once it breaks, I'd have to actually use my legs and run.

Maybe that would have done my new weight some good. But man, my mind is fucked.
And in the mornings, i can't remember any dreams i had during the proper sleeping hours. must've been good dreams. bloody selfish subconscious.

Been baking some brownies with my lil' bro's new oven. Quite fun. Eating them that is. Finally found the formula of converting farenheit to celsius. it is minus 32, then divide by 9 then multiply by 5. Commit it to memory, and appear cool with the chicks who give a flying fuck.

Hmm... a flying fuck......

Been paper trading. making good paper money. sonuvabitch.

Roller bladed the other day, after 2 years. Didn't fall, but moved like a pussy. Legs like a virgin. Gotta get my own skates back. Somebody remind me, please.

Been "watching" the world cup. Making good money in that too. inconsequential, but good fun. Can't be left behind by the other 3 billion people tuning in. Gotta keep my finger on the pulse.

I want Spain to win. I don't care.

outta here. this post sucks.

Shorts: The First

2006-06-23T02:33:00.000+08:00

“I can’t go to sleep, Dad. Tell me a story. Tell me of the war.”

“I’m tired, Son. Go to sleep.”

“But please, Dad. Just a short bit. Tell me what you did in the war, and what happened thereafter. Just a little? “

“Oh all right. Get comfortable. Here, put your head on my lap. It was a long time ago, when I was not much older than you are now. It happened in the year 2027……”

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

The bombs were launched a little after midnight, and balls of fire poured down from the heavens over New York, Washington and all major cities in the North-East. They said it was the North Koreans, but we’d never know the truth, even to this day. There were rumours that it was the Americans themselves whom that war started that day.

The skyscrapers, parks, national monuments and hundreds of suburbs were wiped out in an instant. Hundreds of thousands died in the first few seconds, and many more wished they did. The economy crumbled as Wall Street was destroyed, and started the domino effect that crashed every developed nation’s economy. Amidst the chaos that ensued, local militias in the south, the South American armies and drug cartels, terrorist cells and gangs of all ethnicities began their quick descent on the meek and the weak. The government forces in their compromised state were spread thin across their own nation. The entire country fell into anarchy.

As such, the United Nations relocated to our tiny island, here in the southernmost tip of the Eurasian continent. They saw a vibrant community with an excellent infrastructure and spotless governance over its people. By 2030, the world was back on its feet, minus the misbegotten empire that was The United States of America. Only the British, in their misguided attempt to cling to worlds past, tried in vain to help the once proud nation.

The tiny island grew in power and stature, and it wasn’t long before it was deemed unnecessary to think of itself as separate from the United Nations, which was giving the entire nation its economy by gravitating multinational corporations and itself requiring an army of industry to feed its voracious appetites. The island gave up its national identity and assimilated itself into the global association. Its armies, treasuries, influence and people were united in this action, and in essence became servants to the global community.

The S.E.A. war began in 2038. The demand on the lands on the island was just not sustainable. The surrounding nations, in fear of being invaded, decided to attack first, to attain first blood. Naturally they were pushed back, and then the real invasion plans were put into action, since the island, and the United Nations now had the reasons to. It lasted only 1 year. With surgical precision and minimal global involvement, the island became a region.

************************************************************************
“I was a mere tank commander, supporting the troops to gain footholds in villages and cities that had been their defenses pulverized by our warships and air might. It was relatively easy. The people were welcoming. It was the governments that tried to hold on.

Are you still listening, son? Son? Huh, guess not. These old stories are as interesting as a stray cat. Ah. How I miss my glory days. Before the Amalgams came to the fore.”

How the Hell?!

2006-06-16T12:19:00.000+08:00

Have you ever gone into the kitchen from your bedroom, and then forget why you went there to begin with? You ever wiped your arse, then take another wipe cause you can’t remember whether the last wipe was really clean? Ever lathered your hair with soap, and your body with shampoo? Ever brushed your teeth with someone else’s toothbrush by mistake? Ever gone into a warzone dressed as a bulls-eye target?

This very morning, I decided to pump petrol as it was bright and early, and the air misted with fresh dewdrops from heaven. I eased my car into the lot at the SPC station along Siglap Road, and gave my order to the pump attendant.

Immediately, I felt something was amiss. There was a certain lack of warmth, almost bordering on hostility. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I attributed it to the early hours, and left it at that. It must’ve been quite a long shift for the uncle there.

I entered the shop and browsed, knowing full well roughly how long the tank took to fill up. I also needed some car wash solution. I walked through every isle, flipped through the magazine rack and analysed the varied items on the car products shelf.

I finally queue up for payment, and the cashier almost growls at me as I pass her my purchases and gives her my pump number. I was amused at all the unhappiness emanating from all the staff at the site. Its almost as if the big boss had just screwed them or something. I made my payments, and happily returned to the car. I even waved a note of thanks to the uncle as I got in. He grudgingly returned the motion.

As bemused as I was, I left the station feeling a little shortchanged. For all the positivity that I gave off, I didn’t even get a single smile in return? Then I pondered as to why I’m so chirpy this fine morning. Perhaps it was the fine breakfast I was then going to have once I reach home, or just the cool weather and friendly sun, or the bright blue Shell polo t-shirt I have on, the one I got from my previous job, the one that said Shell fuels are better as they give better mileage, the very Shell fuel that wasn’t being pumped into my car……….

No fucking wonder!!!!

I laughed my ass all the way home. It was so ridiculous. And then I remember how smug I was the whole time I was there. Hilarious.

The Truth? I screwed up, by not being fully aware of myself and my surroundings. It is alarming that I didn’t notice. Have I gotten to that stage where things in my face may not occur to me to be there?
Worrying, truly worrying.

When was the last time you did something like that?

WingWing* Blogging to the soundtrack of life

2006-06-14T14:18:00.000+08:00

Currently playing: "Bicycle Race"

In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.
Somehow this exquisite piece of common sense had been bouncing in my head this morning. I suppose it pertains to my getting through the 1st interview on Monday (Thank you thank you, *politician-styled wave*). Sure it felt great, getting through that round. Then the anxiety attacks came, as the follow up sessions are just next week. NEXT WEEK!!! HOLY SHIT!

Currently playing: "Under Pressure"

But then news started trickling in. I‘ve got my sources. I’ve got intelligence. I’ve got the inside track. And while the news gave me strength, it may also lead to my folly, from overconfidence. Complacency has been my greatest vice since time immemorial; my misguided optimism coming in at a close 2nd.

Currently playing: "Bohemian Rhapsody"

It reminded me of trading. Overconfidence leads to complacency, which in turn causes overly aggressive risk-taking to arise and finally, the big fall from grace. Oh the pain of such mistakes will sting your soul. Its like the guilt from not studying for an easy exam. Such a waste.

Currently playing: "Another One Bites The Dust"

I’m actually looking forward to starting on this job, much as a surprise as that may be to you (uhhum, I write for YOU, my audience. I don’t just bitch for the sake of bitching, but rather to educate and share, and to force my existence onto any who stumbles unto this little binary facade). The interviewer was cool, giving me more meat to the job description. Apparently if I am selected, I would be working on a large project for the next 6 months, on top of other things. That just excited me to no end. I have no idea why. But upon further reflection, I think I’d discovered THE REASON.

Currently playing: "Heaven For Everyone"

I am actually quite lost, in terms of direction in life. For all those recently tuning in, my life had taken quite a few bumps just this year, derailing most of my best-laid plans which were formulated quite a while back. Of course, being a resilient and effervescent member of this concept called humanity, I have to balance and mange whatever curveballs life, the fates and all other gods decide to throw my way. Rolling with the punches and getting up to return two uppercuts, that’s the way to go.

Currently playing: "The Show Must Go On"

And therefore, getting this job would mean quite a bit. In fact, it would realign my destiny with another plan I had made even earlier than the last, when my mind was less cluttered by Ponzi schemes and the like, a simpler path that nevertheless would eventually lead me to my goal(s). It may actually be one that is smoother, without the bottomless crevices by the sides, awaiting for me to slip up on the wet, glistening moss, like the gaping maw of a megalodon , yearning for my loss of balance. I believe I set that for myself 15 years ago. And they say kids say the truest things. I was a smart kid.

Currently playing: "We Are the Champions"

So I am not going to take things for granted anymore. I really have to work for what I want in life, and not to just wait for things to fall into my lap. My luck will eventually run out sometime, much as its my namesake, and things seem to work out for me thus far. I went through my book of goals recently , and discovered that I haven’t met any of my short term ones, save for passing my IPPT. Pathetic really.

Currently playing: "We Will Rock You"

Thus, for next week’s round 2, I have started reading up on the relevant topics. Let’s see if I’m just talking the talk and not walking the walk. I hope that putting it out here would push me to strive further and faster too. Afterall, I have to start living up to the expectations of you 3 once again, my loving audience.

Currently playing: "Who Wants To Live Forever"

A quick update for the dying

2006-06-12T17:47:00.000+08:00

Today is June 12th.

Fuck. Get ready for a ramble.

Just had an interview a while ago. This morning. Why? Why am I heading back to work for another? For others? Simple reason. I screwed up. Big time.

(Shit, I ‘m speaking as if I’d already gotten the job. I’d soon know though, by the end of today.)

I’d lost most of my trading capital earlier last week, and the final nail on the coffin was hammered in on 6/6/06. Yes, how apt. The Morningstar shoved his fiery pitch fork up my ass for sure. Delightfully, gleefully, slowly…… And yet, I almost feel nothing. Its just another step. I’m not in shock, nor in depression. Its almost weird. Its supposed to be traumatic. Am I that zen? I miss feeling stuff. FUCK!!!!!

And I’d just watched, as a buck would at approaching headlights. Damn, that looks pretty. So bright. So alluring. I was at my wits’ end. I knew I’d lost all my discipline. And entered the markets blindly. Theory went out the window, 5 miles before self control and 2 miles after desperation. This when my fellow traders are reaching their tipping points and posting really interesting shit on the blogs. Ahead of my time, or lagging far behind? You decide.

So I swallowed my pride and applied for a job. Pretty quickly actually. Within a day I’d gotten a reply and an interview date, which was this morning. And I fucked it up gloriously. Another case of the headlights. I really have to start controlling my destiny and make the best of what fate throws at me. Somebody wake up my idea, please!

Sigh… on to things of a lighter nature.

Lindsay Lohan’s album sucks. Nelly Furtado’s weird and all sexed up. Keane’s album came early, and was a treat for the ears and the soul. I realized that I don’t really know much about Robbie Williams, I’ve yet to sample the Ramones’ Greatest Hits album, I have 13 out of the top 20 albums purchased at HMV, Angels and Airwaves are cool and The Animaniacs soundtrack brings a smile to my face.

I tried to add google ads to my blog for some side income, cause the 3 of you who visit my site may accidentally click on them and thus, giving me some much needed ka-ching. One can always hope and wish. Anyways, I tried to authorize and confirm that I want the ads there, but the system screws up, and now there’s an ad, but I ain’t getting’ a single cent from its clicks, yo! That sucks majorly!

(Fuck, Microsoft word doesn’t recognize the word google. LOSER! It’s a number, for fuck’s sake!)

Went to the Pc convention the other weekend. Bought a pussy ass speaker system that totally matches El Cheapo. I’m happy, In spite of having to rub shoulders with a million other geeks and nerds. And I really mean it when I say, A FUCKING MILLION!

My table arrived. I assembled it. Perfect. Then I sat down, and realized the table;s too high. Its been a week, and I’m still too damn lazy to adjust the legs. I’d just have to get a higher chair. Lucky me, one more chance to shop.

Oh yeah, shopping. I was at TopMan the other day. I spent 200 bucks on me, myself and I. Not bad, 60 bucks each way. Quite cheap. And damn, they look good.

The World Cup started last week too. 22 men running after a ball, cheered on by billions around the world. A spectacle to behold. An escape to dive into. Another opportunity to make money. Me, I’m up by a little, according to my unreliable bookie. Then again… he IS unreliable.

Haven’t been reading up on the news. Nor my comic websites. Nor done much writing of any sort. Nor been socializing. I’d done some reading. That much is interesting. Was just reading a book today, a collection of short stories by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1982. Columbian. Told you conflict spurs creativity. Anyway, his shit really hits it in, with full blown morbidity and feelings. At first glance I wanted to write like him, in its full flavoured descriptions and imagery. On 2nd thoughts, hell no! The dude’s so obviously messed up. Its frightening the world his mind exists in. I’m also reading Blink by Malcolm Gladwell, and Lucifer Vol.4 by Mike Carey. All excellent in their own right. Wonder how much they’d suffered for their craft.

Are there biographies of people who write biographies of people? Hmm…..

Wow, this posting is going nowhere. I apologise for wasting your time. Do come back whenever my sanity returns. I’ll let you know. Telepathically.

*wing*wing*wing*wing*wing*wing*wing*

Back to sunbathing on my bed. That’s the life!

Technophobe

2006-05-31T15:06:00.000+08:00

So here I am, sweating buckets on an afternoon like most others, except that I have absolutely nothing to do. Work has stalled, if you could call it work to begin with. Hence I decided to escape into the ether, right here, cool as hell. Escape......

It wasn't that long ago that I was here. I had an excellently written blog entry just 2 days ago, and when I clicked the "Publish Post" button, the muthafucka ate up my Pulitzer-worthy entry, and somehow a webpage that was biblically themed appeared. No numerical representation could safely justify the level of contempt I had for that webpage, whatever techno-wizardry that allowed it pass my blockers and proxies, and the ether in general for being so unforgiving. I lost my post. The deed was done. After some major dialectic entries into various chat windows, the trader in me took hold. Look past a bad trade. Learn, and move on.

Hence, my trusty Microsoft Word shall be dusted off the electronic shelf, and will find a 2nd life as holder of my typed word, before entrusting the blogger interface to share my shallow wisdom to the hungry masses. Ahhhh, my adoring, patient public. Yes, my legions of fans. All 3 of you. Ha-fucking-HA.

Recently, the writing bug has bitten me in the ass again. I have been putting it off for the longest time, as my trading business gained prominence and priority. It took a string of losses to jolt me back to reality, after a wave of good profits. Nothing like a wake up call to emphasise my predicament to my proud self. Nothing like failure to instill humility.

So I’d decided that perhaps I need proper working conditions to be in my peak form. Even though I would be going to the office more often, but when the writing needs emerge, I would need a proper desk to store my research, and organize my thoughts and ideas tangibly. Ever since I got El Cheapo, I had moved my desktop into the family area, desk included, so that my ENTIRE family could have access to it anytime they want, without feeling that they have encroached into my personal, private sanctum. It also allows me to sleep better. And therefore, I have been working on the stools and sitting on the floor in my room, papers strewn all over the floor as well. Hardly feasible in the long run. And my wrist would ache from the weird angles that I put it through. While using the mouse, not the joystick! GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE GUTTER!

Anyway, El Cheapo is serving me well. At times its memory is a little strained, when I have too many programs running. Well, in the first place, the supplier installed way too much junk for my liking. I shall have to remove them, once the warranty is up that is. Can’t afford to make that null and void that soon. The cream coloured border around the keyboard is also quite irritating. Perhaps I should’ve gotten some colour kits when I was doing the purchase. Yes, they have kits for laptops now. Wonder how else I can zhng my dear El Cheapo. Then it’d be El Presidente or something grander sounding. Yeah, that sounds good. El Presidente! Si Senor, mucho grande. Me Like.

Ok, side note. Now I remember why I had so fuckingly hated Microsoft word. It’s the goddamn spelling and grammar checks. They constantly remind me how many liberties I take with my sentence construction, our various local colloquialisms and the fact that we use the Queen’s English. Should we be proverbially finger-pointed for being differently correct?

So I’d been surfing more lately, as the markets seem to have fallen asleep on me, or rather, I know not how to beat them, and they appear to be gibberish and random to me right now. I’ll get the feeling back though. Anyways, there’s a shitload of crazy stuff out there. I mean, just from the usual news websites alone, there’s lots of interesting reportage and articles. I’d been sending cool links to my friends, and they say I’m so damn free. In a sense I guess I am, but I am also gathering research for my future writings. I miss reading. I’d been doing more lately. I miss the written word. I definitely got the bug back. The whole year when I was in the slave camp, I totally neglected this part of my development, and had resorted to audio tapes while I commuted in my slave car through hour long jams. In a sense, at least I took that step to further myself, although it doesn’t in the least bit atone for the disregard I placed on myself in that aspect.

Hopefully it will translate into better writing here. This shall be my testbed for my ideas. And you shall be my best/worst critics. How cool is that? Also, I shall be sprucing up this blog with pictures soon, once I figured out this html shit, and flickr. Damn, I;m so far behind. Well, at least I figured out the home networking thingy all by myself, in double quick time I might add. I guess that thing they call a degree was useful after all. Where is it anyway….. oh yeah, over there, under the table’s leg. Well, I had to prop it up with SOMETHING!

Till next time folks. The Truths be with ya!

Dell Hell

2006-05-18T11:45:00.000+08:00

So my laptop came the other day.

I had ordered it online sometime around the middle of last week. Picked an affordable model, added all the features that I love, and bought it with a credit card. Even with a public holiday inbetween, they took less than the stipulated 5 working days to deliver it. An idiotic delivery guy sent it over. But nothing could jar me from the good trades I had just done before his arrival.

As it happens, I was so busy that I didn't open the box till the next evening. Quite amazing, considering how much the bloody thing costs. Although, comparing to whats out there in the market, it is pretty affordable.

Hence I have named it, "El Cheapo"!
Also a stab at my own frugality (if you can call it that, purchasing a laptop is no small matter to someone like me, not being gainfully employed).

Anyways, I took it out and started reconfiguring it. You get so used to your usual set up on the desktop that you are almost lazy to change everything on the new laptop to what you've been using all along. It is an arduous process that will take days to accomplish and weeks to fine tune (yes, I can be quite anal about some things, if you haven't noticed).

Another mind-boggling thing is setting up all the usual software that I use, and files that I need. Could someone please teach me how to connect my lappy to my desky? I could never figure out home networking connectivity. And yes, I am a graduate of NUS, Computer Engineering at the School of Computing. Doesn't really count for much, does it? Check
this out.

Overall, pretty happy with El Cheapo. Hopefully it will serve me well. For a long time to come. I don't ask for much, just perform as well as my desktop and I'll be happy. Muhahahhaaa!

My Voice is Huskie

2006-05-01T14:40:00.000+08:00

What a tumultuous week it has been. Or rather, month, or even year. The end of the month has come and gone. A third of the year has come and gone. April used to be my favourite month, as it contains my birthday and all. But I think it won't be my favoured 30 days of the year anymore. Not in the near future anyway.

A year of great change, as my sis-in-law said. And it feels fun, to a certain extent. A real shot to the arm of my life. Wonder when these self-destructive, chaos loving tendencies will subside and give way to reason and order.

So I got a new dog this past Wednesday. My elder bro said over dinner that he was gonna check out a huskie later in the evening. It got me all excited, yet bittersweet. For so many reasons. But it was time to get a new dog. My previous dog had passed away late last year, and in a sense, I've been longing for a new one, after a proper period of mourning. After all, she had been with me for 20 years. She was a mongrel, strong and stubborn, yet loving and protective. She had spunk. She had character. She had the most amazing brown eyes that spoke volumes to me. Her name was Mickey.

So we went all the way to Choa Chu Kang, one of my most hated places on this tiny island we call home, and hated for so many reasons. Those in the know would know why. We met up with the owners, who were first time pet owners, and it is such a sin to keep such an active dog in such an enclosed space. He bore a fine stance, evidence of his pedigree. He was proud and playful. A pup at a mere 7 months of age. We fell in love with him at once, and also for the fact that we'd be getting a fine animal at a fantastic price. For Free! We did give a customary Ang Bao, and hastily retreated to the car with our prized possession.

Its been quite a few days. He has settled in. Notice how I haven't said anything about a name. That's because we can't make up our minds on one. A few that stuck harder than most; Max, Eiffel, Tiki (Stubborn in Teochew, my personal favourite), Lucky, Ah Gao and an assortment of Russian names. He loves to nibble on human flesh, pounce, shed fur, sniff assess, poke groins and hump.

All dogs go to heaven. Because they are so true to themselves. If only we humans did the same.

Please post some ideas for names. Thank you.

Down the Spiral

2006-04-24T10:14:00.000+08:00

I've been feeling like I'm in a dream state of late.

Like I'm floating through life like the smoke from spiral incense hung overhead, those big grand things that move on their own accord. And you know, sometimes, the smoke seems to follow a path, like it has a mind of its own, and not really just going with the wind? That's how I've been feeling.

Big change in my life. I'm single again. Its been quite a while. Quite a long while.
My own doing, of course. Perhaps I'm at my self-destructive tendencies again. Then again, it wasn't an impulsive decision. It was painful, yet inevitable. Funny, this thing called the human pathos.

The road ahead now looks more ominous then ever. I can see the mountain whose peak I will eventually reach, but right ahead is another steep, sandy and uneven road, with rocks and all sort of other debris.

Thankfully I do have my friends around me. Not everyone is as lucky however.

Back to my world of numbers and words, of music and art and life. The Renaissance continues as planned.

What has your truth been thus far?

Post-Dated, Pre-Checked, Pre-Fabbed and QC-ed

2006-04-15T13:12:00.000+08:00

Half the month came, fucked me up, and went.

April Fool's was interesting. My father was due to arrive at the airport, and for awhile, i was afraid that he wouldn't turn up after i'd waited for him at the gate, cos it was April Fool's. It was the dumbest thing. Of course he turned up. With the alcohol I ordered. Derrick, if you are reading, I'm all set. Black Label and Chivas.

So my parents were in town for the first 2 weeks of the month. Nice to have them around, although my life does it interrupted quite a bit. My car disappears in the mornings, and whenever I want it, it wouldn't be available. Life's like that. You never get what you want, when you want it. As I've said many times, the fates are cruel.

My toilet pipe burst the other day. Its very surreal to see an indoor fountainin your house, when the night before, it was just a flight of stairs. The water flowed from my 2nd floor toilet, down the stairs, flooding the whole 1st floor, and finally out the main gate. Quite a journey. Quite a water bill coming next month. Took the whole morning to dry up. Thankfully the damage was minimal, and no one died from electrocution, which was a very possible likelihood.

Due to this flooding, my brother was late getting to school. One of the discipline masters called me up and reprimanded, in a sense, that my lil' bro should get to school in a timely fashion. I tried to pacify the prick by saying there was a fucking flood at home, and it was my fault getting out of the house late. He replies by saying that they only look at the matter superficially, and that he is just late, end of story.

I almost opened a case of verbal whoop-ass on the muthafucka! As if superficiality is a virtue, that sonuvabitch. Self-righteous cunny bastard. I'd never liked teachers, and this instance reminded me totally why. Its because of their high and mighty authority over the kids that have made them drunk with power.

In future, please constantly remind the teachers of your children of their real status is life. And ask them to really do something worthwhile with their lives. Like really teach things that are worth teaching.

My trading had taken a downturn once again. In spite of better discipline, the road is still long, and steep. Am I doing this to myself? Pretty sure, to a certain extent. I wonder how long more can I keep this up. Really a test of character. I'll keep you guys posted here.

Been loving the weather lately. Melancholic. Makes you just want to grovel in self pity and jump into your bed and pillows. Hide under the covers while the thunder rages around you. April Showers. Love them.

Doesn't help that my birthday lies during this period. And birthdays are, in a sense, a new year. A new start. A time once again to reflect on your accomplishments, or lack thereof. Pain and regret always appear, in my reflections. Been listening to Pearl Jam's Present Tense.

Of course, joy and bliss peek out from behind the clouds, embodied by the silver lining. Celebrate whenever you can, my friends. Life's too short, as they say.

Sorry for this rant. Order and regularity to ensue. For now, live life. To the fullest. Carpe Diem!

Episode 5

2006-03-30T15:34:00.000+08:00

So the word "Empire" has been on my mind for the last week or so. Keeps popping up, everywhere I turned. Thing is, its such a versatile word that it can easily be applied in various contexts.

It started off with my thinking of opening up businesses. These days, everyone says its risky as hell to invest so much into a business venture that may never reap any rewards. Fact of the matter is that since the dawn of capitalism the the concept of the coin, businesses have been starting up, and closing down.

For without the little mom and pops operations, life would really have been that much more harsh. The availability of goods and services by professionals (or at least more professional than yourselves, your family members, or your friends)and the parting of your coin in exchange for said goods and services, have been the way for the longest time. Of course, if your family, friends or yourselves had such operations, it'd be a bonus, with discounts and free favours. But nothing is truly free, just withdrawals and deposits in emotional bank accounts. But I digress....

It wasn't until Henry Ford and his super-industry of specialisation of labour that ushered in the Era of the Corporate Empire. All the big names started coming up thereabouts, and that's when they truly seem to embrace the Empire mold. By buying up all the mom and pop operations, those successful ones anyway (the sucky ones simply spontaneously combust), they pretty much will act like Rome of old, conquering foreign lands, co-opting their ideals and governance from afar. This is the only way after awhile, for operations to grow, to deliver increasing profits, simply by playing the numbers game. R&D, and coming up with new products definitely add to the bottom line, but nothing beats being more present, and more visible, to the consumers.

America too, had become The Empire of the 20th century. We are all familiar with their foreign policies all over the world, from Panama, Africa, Bosnia, Japan and now the Middle Eastern States. They push into foreign lands, to further grow their Empire, to permeate their so-called culture, to fill the pockets that produce the politicians, who press the policies for further growing their Empire. Its a vicious cycle.

And much like all cycles, The Empire has one too. It eventually fails to expand any further, and crumbles inwards. Corruption and greed at its core will destroy the very mechanisms that had made it successful thus far. In time, all large companies will disappear, and even countries will fade. Others will take their places, but what would be the nature of these upstarts. Would they serve for the betterment of mankind? Would we settle for Corporate Governance? Therein lies true power and purpose. The Truth.

Such a company, I will build. Care to join me?

Making sense of it all.

2006-03-24T10:18:00.000+08:00

I've been steadily heading into a crisis of faith, faith in myself that is.

Been doing pretty ok in the markets. Made some here and there. And all it took was one string of bad trades to bring me back to square one. Humbling indeed, and the funny thing was, it wasn't as if I'd never lost before. But somehow, square one is quite a threshold. Quite a wake up call.

Tell you what. If I do screw up today, I'll be going through tomorrow's fat ass Classifieds.

Just to get back the fear, and the disgust, of finding a job, and going for the horrid interview, and the anxiety, tension, butterflies in the tummy, light-headedness, immobile tongue and overall lack of control of all mental faculties.

Then I won't try and test the fucking system. Discipline truly is key.

But now, discipline has never been my forte. I was always trying to push envelopes, however small and insignificant it may be. My little bits of rebellion, so to speak. Mostly with people of authority at school. Never really had much to rebel against at home, being that I was left to my own devices pretty early on in my adolescence. Big gamble on my parents' part, but I think its a gamble that paid off. I didn't really screw up badly.

Did I?

Well, maybe the slide starts here. We'll see.....

To The Past

2006-03-13T11:12:00.000+08:00

So I had quite a happening week. In a sense.

Been feeling down lately, since the last post. Sorta Shields UP, keep ur distance kinda mentality. Made some concerned people worried. My fault of course. Cocooning.

So I sorta disappeared, on Thursday night I believe. Took a bloody long drive to sort out my head. Walked quite a bit too. Went to NUS and re-lived regret. Went to Changi to listen to waves and planes. Kept away from my phone, and didn't reply to anyone. That sorta ignited a few nerves. Much to my regret later on.... However, at that point, I simply didn't want anything. Numbness was the key.

So as I got home, feeling much better, I got my phone working again and a deluge of messages and missed calls assailed my poor puny mobile. I returned some calls, and got some reprisals. However, while I did feel remorse, I felt humour as well. It was funny. Real funny. That I caused such a big fuss.

Twisted, am I?

I kept thinking of how technology has totally fucked up our lives. Being in constant contactable virtual radii has deluded us of the notion of privacy and the self.
Societal structures and pressures exerting on us to perform and live up to expectations may not be as beneficial to oneself as previously predicted. This constant barrage of unnatural external stimuli in the long run feels downright detrimental to the psyche. That's why waves crashing and winds blowing, grass and leaves rustling, are so soothing to the soul. It harkens back to the distant past, when life was simpler.

Remember how we used to have to fix up meeting places and timings way before we even leave the house for social gatherings. Nowadays, its "Da Fuck you mean, meet where??? Just call me when you are in the vicinity, muthafucka!"

I'd like to think I'd metamorphosed into something else. Emerged as Another Creature. Shrugged off the old shell(pun intended). Fresh start. Clean slate. My mind all set. My world to conquer. Nothing matters but the relativity to my ego. The Self. The Pain. The Truth.

Stand by me, or weep in despair.

Hahaaa, melodrama mama.

Music and Mood Swings

2006-03-03T16:58:00.000+08:00

Hey WASSUP You'all!

I was having an excellent day. Woke up refreshed, totally ready to trade. All set to go, all engines to full throttle. Started off well. Then not so well. Then badly. That's the name of the game I suppose. But I was still in good spirits.

Then I started going through my music collection. Just to see if I can add to my good mood. Started playing songs I could sing to (Yes I sing, if you can call it singing). Firstly those sappy love songs,and fun songs, and then slowly turned to love songs on unrequited love. Then to songs on dying, and lying, and pain. I went through U2, Sheryl Crow, Sting, Eric Clapton, Guns N Roses, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Maroon 5, Jet, Keane, John Mayer, Robbie Williams, etc.

I ended with Who Wants to Live Forever by Queen.
And I felt so fucked up. The end.

Now I have no idea what sort of madness made me do such a thing to myself. It was totally unconscious. And thus, I had a rollercoaster of an emotional day. Fun Ride. What a rush.

Have I mentioned this before? This is Highlander's 20th aniversary. I want to go to Scotland, and wave a sword at the cliffs, hundreds of metres above the killing waves. The last song was from this show.

There can be only one.

Anew

2006-03-01T19:17:00.000+08:00

So I'm trying to start a new regime in my life. My plan is to wake up early, send my bro to school, return home and go for a run. Have breakfast and start trading till lunch. Maybe trade a little after lunch, while at the same time trying to find other forms of passive income.

So far this week, failed miserably. But I did get some gears in motion. Been setting up all my spreadsheets to trade with that I'd lost after my computer died so spectacularly. Been running. Twice this week already. Did some mock trading, etc etc etc. I guess its because my parents are around and breaking my momentum. Am I using them as an excuse? Definitely. But a certain level of reason and empathy must be thrown my way. I am human afterall.

Does anyone out there know how to lose a belly? Could you please teach me? Besides dieting. I find it a sin to diet. In this day and age when technology, worldwide capitalism and greed have come to cooperate and bring us a gazillion calories at each meal, who are we to dismiss their efforts and say no to genetically enhanced, biomedically improved and chemical accentuated carbon-based(and sometimes not) dead organic material? Engulf and ingest, people. ENGULF AND INGEST!

Woah, where did all that passion come from? Must be from the run I just had. Endorphins ROCK!

I miss my friends. Where are you guys? Let's meet up! I'm officially NUTS.

Fortnightly Update: Take 1

2006-02-27T22:38:00.000+08:00

Guess who's back....Back again...I am back....Finally....

Thank you for patronizing this pathetic blog. Updates itself once every fortnight, and fills itself with that wonderfully tasty goodness that only a sinful prick like me can provide.

So I left the company. Went back and chatted with everyone, throwing my newfound freedom in their faces while they carried on slogging, waiting for the final axe to fall. Me, I pick my own axe. They bought me a wonderful lunch at Fish and Co. It seems the best Fish and Co are in town. Those in the neighbourhoods seem to serve leftovers. That's probably why they don't have those huge-ass slushies. Those things are fantasterrific.

The period after that till now has been nothing short of bleeding my pocket dry. As I carry on practicing my trading, I can't wait for the day when I actually start with real dinero. However, I found myself commmitting mistakes time and time again. Absolutely unacceptable. Got to brush off the demons on my shoulders.

Went to the Asian Aerospace the other day. Boring hell. Only highlight for me was the new Fat Ass Airbus. Its no wonder I have an affinity for it. I'm more of a Boeing fan. Its kinda like dogs versus cats. Anyway, to quote The Donald," Its Huge!"

Nothing much else interested me. I did get a $4 Snapple. That sucked. And oh yeah, I got a freaking sun-burn looking at the stupid UAVs and Trainer pussy jets while waiting for the fat-mama. Till today, I'm still peeling.

I have found that the only way to get enough frequent flyer miles to be entitled to special status with airlines is to travel in Business Class minimally, and take planes like most others take buses. That's what my old man has done, and he has gotten enough miles within 6 months. Bet his internal clock insists its been 8 months. Its surely all screwed up.

Feasted on Saturday and chionged thereafter. I suck at that. The Chionging that is. Feasting is 2nd nature. Chionging is Shiong. I was dazed after a little dancing at MOS. Stupid place really. Doesn't live up to the hype. Anyway, I take it as a sign that I'll have to start working out for real this time. Yes, I haven't broken an exercised sweat since my return. Blow Me.

Well, the final nail in the coffin has to be the great dinner I just had at Long Beach in Marina South. Prawns, Fish, Crabs (Chilli and Black Pepper), Chicken, Noodles, Vege and desserts. I am officially the Glutton of Bedok.

And I've got to pass my ippt within a month. I'm so screwed.

Current affairs have been boring me. On a WorldWide scale, the entire planet is going to hell. Nothing new. Same old shit. I really with they could just escalate all the issues and just duke it out, kill each other and finish off with it. Why drag an old crusade for hundreds of years? Its just nonsense.

On the home front, a founding father has passed on the the great big lalang patch in the sky. Kudos to him for all he has done. Don't really know him well, but many people seem to like him.

And in the same paper where this great man's obituaries can be found, is another article on another celebrity of sorts from home. A poly gal whose mobile phone containing videos of her and her boyfriend in compromised situations was stolen. And said videos broadcasted. Worldwide. We seem to have a knack for such racy conduct. And from an island that is supposedly uptight. I think its just sad that her life is ruined because of pettiness on the part of the person who stole the phone. What a way to have your future dashed. On another note, I'm surprised at the enterprise of others who took this opportunity to make a quick buck. Unscrupulous, but enterprising nevertheless.

Lost my car today. Got it back in the afternoon. Stupid. My parents lost it in the car park. Its a classic case of emotions overbearing rationale.

Truth of the fortnight," Think hard before you act. But think too hard and you will never act."

Gush of shit to blog

2006-02-15T02:44:00.000+08:00

All right, so I lost track of my blogging regiment. And almost all discipline in life since the last blog. Seems like life is throwing me all the good stuff, and resistance is futile and meaningless. Why say no to the good stuff? Why torture yourself? But then I remember that life is about balance. And that the downturn is gonna come real soon.

So here is my confession, and the beginning of my penance.

*Can you believe I just went to search for the right spelling for penance? Although I got it right, but damn! To think I have illusions of being a writer. What a mind fuck. Long way to go, dick....so to speak*

Anyways, the trip was magnificent. Shanghai in all her glory. And its a she. Cause most cities and female and this one was a babe. In most aspects. I ate and gorged and feasted and gluttonised myself. Even now, I still feel some remnants of the food in my tummy. No wait, its just the converted coagulated fats at my abdomen. Sorry.

I did a shitload of shopping too. Don't you just hate me? Along with my own babe, we had spent 1000 Singjiakpore Dollars. Excluding food. Just shopping. I came back with 4 pairs of shoes and 2 jackets that I don't know what I'm gonna do with them.

Forget it, I'm not lending them to you either.

However, I dreaded the last few days before returning to our sunny island. It was all due to the fact that I'd have to stay in the freaking office for another week and a half before my last day came about. The icing on the cake was when I went in the next morning, my boss told me to clear my leave.

SWEET! BEST!

Thus the soulfest continued and I enjoyed myself for another week and a half. I will go in tomorrow morning, to outprocess and wipe my ass off the company.

Now I'm fatter, lazier and overall rounder than ever. My six-pack aim seems further than ever. It would be interesting to see if I ever meet it.

Today's Valentine's. Great. More couples breaking up. Hearts broken, relationships trashed. Was St. Valentine from hell?

Dick Cheney shot his hunting partner. Haha. Purposely? Danish papers printing comic strips depicting the prophet Mohammed. Gives comics a bad name, really. Even if its strip. Jarhead was good. Funny shit. Don't think I'm catching BrokeAss Mountain. I'm homophobic.

Trading has been fun. Can't wait to start the real thing. That would be interesting to watch too.

Ok, I'm losing focus. Come on, cut me some slack. Its 3 freaking am!

I'm outta here. No truths this time round.
I'll leave you with this excellent url.

http://www.rapidnewswire.com/atom.htm

Escapism to the Nth degree

2006-01-30T02:32:00.000+08:00

Here I am, posting from far-away Shanghai.
I'm here for the Lunar New Year holidays for 9 days straight. Yee-haw!

I hadn't had a break in the whole of 2005. The pussy Duff didn't allow me to have one. Limey Bastard.

Its been great thus far. Arrived in the dead of winter. Froze my socks off. The North wind was at his best, and his frost queen was taking a leisurely stroll up my groin.

Had a wonderful Lunar New Year's eve. Right about midnight, the fireworks were going off like bombs in Iraq, but much prettier. I had my fare share of the bangs and booms. We had a few that went off splendidly. I nearly lost my hand, when amongst our stash was a dud that exploded almost immediately. Just seconds before, I was holding a similar one, and was igniting the fuse before setting it down properly on the ground. Major boo boo on my part. I kept imagining my hand lookiing like a bunch of sausages, held together by tendons and sinew. Would have had to use my other hand henceforth for all stress-relieving activities.

Played golf today. Sucked big time. Will have to work on it when I get back home. Ah... Home.... such a foreign concept at this point in time. Aching forearms, lower back and quadriceps thereafter. Even as I type, the bitching muscles are complaining to my now frozen brain, but to no avail.

Anyway, it was excellent weather today. The New Year literall ushered in Spring, and it was a balmy 15 degrees on average. Had a leisurely walk home after a hefty dinner that was coupled with Red Wine. Groovy. Stopped off for an excellent massage by a true blue blind masseuse. Excellent fingers. Pity I dozed off.

Well, my own queen will be arriving soon. I had better catch some Z's before picking her up at the airport an hour's drive away.

Anybody reading got any shopping requests?

The new Me

2006-01-22T23:10:00.000+08:00

As I shove the Duff aside and piss all over him, I review what he's done with my life thus far and he really lives (lived?) up to his namesakes.

The Bugger is utterly useless.

The amount of procrastinations shoved up his ass knows no bounds. I rip them out irregardless of the consequences to his anal-retentive ravages, and toss them all into the toilet where they belong. Heavy flushing ensues.

Thus, just this weeek, I have left the slave camp, and am working towards the proverbial unbeaten track. Many an objection has been hurled my way, but I have just bought a new set of baseball club, gloves and ball(just under $100, join me for a game?), just for such occasions.

I will practice my swing, pump up on steroids, bat away well-intentioned but stupid criticisms, catch their envious remarks with the gloves, and flush them down the toilet with the above-mentioned hurdles that I've overcome. And when the twats turn around and walk away, I shall pitch the rock hard baseball squarely into their soft-shelled skulls to expose the pussies within.

This move will be directly working towards my goals, instead of making a roundabout route. It will also allow more time and flexiblity for me to achieve others things as well, like physical perfection (6-pack and IPPT by April 9th!) and other manly duties that I personally have been entrusted with, like running the entire household with an iron fist. I am literally the king of my domain. This arrangement will also allow me to pursue my other interests in life, especially penning down ideas onto paper, and getting these stories into mass production.

This is the year of change. I can't wait.

The F Word

2006-01-12T23:05:00.000+08:00

Fuck

What else were you expecting?

I bet somewhere in the analsphere that is blogodomy, there is an exact same fucking blog as the above.

I bet ya to find it.

In case you're curious, I've bitchslapped the Duff into submission.
This year, I'm in command.

His Truths? I piss on them. Constantly.

Vogue

2005-12-13T23:38:00.000+08:00

The Duff has too many thoughts racing through his head now.
Hard to put into words.

And no, he still isn't gonna sing.

Speaking of song,

Madonna's new music video sucks.
Jamie Foxx's new album sucks.
Duff digs the latest few ministry of sound albums.
He's been getting Tour of Duty off the net, but hasn't had time to watch any.
His new, extra 8Gb external hard disk is full.
He thinks everyone should watch Boondocks, Family Guy, Grey's Anatomy, Rome and Reunion.
He wants everyone to go watch History of Violence.

He wants to meet up with his old friends.
He wants to make new friends.
He wants to make his good friends feel better.

He wants a white christmas.
He wants the old charm back.

He wants a new path in life.
He wants humanity to change.
He wants to heal the world.
He wants to go to space.

He wants the 90s again.
He wants the 80s again.
He wants to go to a place with no technology.
He wants to see grassy plains that stretch to the horizon.
He wants to see snow capped mountains that are within walking distance.

He wants to read more.
He wants to read more comics.
He wants to read more good comics.
He wants to read more good, life-altering comics.
He wants to make comics.

He wants a life.

Impulse

2005-11-22T02:14:00.000+08:00

Today, The Duff pierced his ear.

Take out your machetes

2005-11-21T01:31:00.000+08:00

It had been a tumultuous 2 weeks for the Duff.

It started out with him realising that even with his very marketable skills in the slave industry, he was soon to be out of a slave job. It was no shock. In fact, it gave him impetus to take a step towards the next stage of his short life. More on that later.

When he found out that he was to be let go soon enough, his slave master started looking out for another back-breaking position for him to fill within the same slave house, as the slave masters recognised his ingenuity and slave-drive. There were 3 positions opened to him. The ideal one was quickly filled by someone fresh from a local slave training camp. The other 2 positions, while not so ideal, afforded him a stable pittance. One was a job in another corner of the slave house, with a bastard for a slave master. The Duff would have been learning much, and although very menial work, was more interesting than the other post. That one encompassed him doing the same nonsense he has had his nose in all year, but for another slave room. Also with a slave master who was old and bitchy. There he would not have learnt anything, and even had to do things against his mild mannered nature, like down grog with people he didn't like, and yet had to smile at.

Not much of a choice, but as a contingency, he chose the 2nd post. Learning new stuff would at least take some of the dreariness off his mind.

This past weekend, during his short stint away from the slave house, The Duff went for a course that taught him skills in another industry. While it offered no regular pittance, and no career, it was an industry that caught his attention since he was but a lad. The volatility and liquidity lit a sparkle in his eyes. He is now determined, more than ever, to run away from the slave house and toil in this new endeavour, much as it would break his family's hearts.

It will be an uphill battle. It would be a David and Goliath epic. The Duff may crash and burn spectacularly like the Hindenburg. He may stand and face the elements like the Great Wall.

The Truth is yet to come. And yet he is his Truth. The Paradoxical cycle turns a revolution once more.

Path of No Resistance

2005-11-07T21:43:00.000+08:00

The Duff has finally discovered the reason for his mental drought and resulting absence here.

It has been long known that humankind thrives on misery. That's why poets and singers emerge from war torn countries, painters from poor backgrounds, out of this world theories from sleep-ravaged minds of exam-stressed students(donaq.blogspot.com), and conversely rich, fat ass brats are empty hulls.

The Duff has been lazing for the past 3 weeks, enjoying life at its best, eating, sleeping, chit-chatting with his old platoon mates while in reservist camp. Not only that, the week after his release, it was a week spattered with holidays, therefore prolonging his tenure away from the slave camp.

He just went back today. And he put in a solid piece of effort into his work. And all these thoughts assailed his feeble mind. Hence this post.

That is the Truth.

Reality Bites

2005-10-11T05:31:00.000+08:00

The Duff is back. From the Edge.

No, not U2's The Edge. the Edge. The less significant one.

The Duff caught another episode of Late Night with Conan O'Brien. And it was a spectacular episode entirely devoted to U2. The band was so cool to grace this second tier show (amongst last night talk shows in America for those not in the know). The nerdy host was so enthralled by it all. As was the Duff. The usual guest list is something like, an A-list star, then a b-list star, then a musical act. So imagine an entire episode with just U2. That's quite something.

Now for those with absolutely no idea what The Duff is talking about, please go check out these cool shows that are readily available online. There's a reason for technological marvels like that grey or black box close to you called the computer, and that little blue or grey box also close by with blinking lights called the modem, and this funny other world that these 2 boxes are connected to called the internet.

Did you know there's an entire world out there beyond your stupid little realm of existence? An amazing variety of experiences are just there waiting to swamp over your tiny ego and emancipate your soul. These journeys will squash you, devolve you into a foetal mentality, then let you embrace a higher calling known as religion.

Thank goodness all the Duff found were talk shows and menial tv serieses(what the heck is the plural for series? Serious?!)

Truth of the day, after coming back from the Edge(the less significant one), is that there is a world out there for you to pillage. Please do so now.

Aye aye, Captain! Into the Edge, 30 degrees to 6000 feet.
Dive! Dive! Dive!

2005-10-02T20:54:00.000+08:00

Move along, nothing to see here. Move along...move along.....Come on, move it! What are you still doing here? See that button on the top right corner? Next blog, move it....

Sod off you voyeuristic swines! There is a whole cesspit out there in the World Wide Web, so what the heck are you bypassing this sorry little shit for?

Jaysus, you're still here?

HTF.....? #1

2005-09-15T22:28:00.000+08:00

HTF do you get Teflon to stick to the pan?

Nothing

2005-09-04T16:54:00.000+08:00

So nothing has been going on in The Duff's life. Same old boring stuff, repetitive and dull. Never had the impetus to blog. He was just trudging on through life.

The Duff thinks that this is the case because there is no challenge in his life, and its too smooth, too good. Challenge and pitfalls produces creativity, and if he has nothing to say, nothing bad has been happening to him then.

And thus perhaps with that in his subconscious, he just depressed himself today.

He was down, irritable, cranky, obnoxious, and overall a prick to be around with.

Only one thing piqued his interest slightly. It was a documentary named "Without Borders" from the National Geographic channel. It followed a boy named Mir in Afghanistan. In a district named Bamiyan. Living in a cave. It is a harsh place which used to have the tallest Buddha statues for 1600 years. The Taliban had blown them up recently when the americans invaded.

The videography was excellent and the protagonist was utterly charming. He was skinny, to the point of being malnourished. But he was happy. He knew of nothing else that would make him realise his predicament is full of hardships.

There was a point where Mir's father was lamenting how Londoners have it good, with television, food, clothes, shoes, huge houses, etc and how Mir has no concept of such luxuries. The camera panned to Mir and he was smiling his usual smile, cheerful as always. Then he said,"I am going to run away."

That cracked the Duff up.

;->

Now that's the Truth.

Chapter 4

2005-08-16T22:29:00.000+08:00

"It has been a long time, Old Man. I remember not liking the sensations," he said to his companion. He was dreading the experience that was impending.

"You need not like it. Just do it. Think of the people. Of both worlds. Just put your head down and walk through the portal," came the retort. It was true. Much was at stake. But the fact that the prize might be in the Order's hands, and that he will be the one to wield it, was pumping his heart with an adrenaline rush.

They came to the portal. He still could not believe, after all these years, that such a symbol of mysticism in this dimension was hidden in such plain sight. It stank of the wastes of animals. "Funny how shit smells the same everywhere," he thought to himself.

"Let's get this over with."

They both walked into the sewer pipe under the New Jersey turnpike.

____________________________________________________________________________________

They emerged in darkness. Quietly, they slipped out of the baobab tree that housed the other end of the portal. Stephen Hawkings would have been proud. His theories were true after all. As they pushed apart the curtain of leaves that hid the huge split on one side of the trunk, huge spears emerged from the corners of their eyes and ended close to their throats.

"Your pathetic daughter was no challenge to our skilled interrogators, you wretched fool. Your mission was doomed from the start, once we knew that you only had this path to return to this kingdom. She told us everything we wanted to know. Most of the rubbish we had already known anyway." He spoke with as much authority as he could muster. He had to hide the fact that she killed 3 guards and 2 interrogators before they managed to pin her down and get the smallest amount of information from her. The 10 long days in between were the worst days of his life. His master was an impatient man.

"Your fear betrays you, Mordred. And you were lucky. The 10th day was his limit."

Mordred was furious. The veins in his forehead almost erupted. "Drag them away to the dungeons! And send a runner for the Master at once!" His minions moved in and dragged the prisoners away.

"Ah....Its good to be back, Old Man. Thanks a lot!"

Merlin turned his head minutely, and grinned.

Aw heavenly pungent fecal matter, the sky is gloomy!

2005-08-09T11:46:00.000+08:00

The Duff had just turned his head to see a foreboding sky beckoning. This will really ruin all his best laid plans, and we all know how those turn out. Blame it on the rain he says.

The reason he is so upset is because he has invited some friends over for a party on this public holoiday to celebrate his country's birthday. And to just get together to get an update on each other before they go their separate ways and gossip behind each other's backs.

Pricks of a feather.....

The Duff returned home last night at the new dawn. He has been at a session of mahjong at the request of his slave masters. He said no but secretly the inner gambling demon awoke from its long stupor and began his war chant.

The Duff lost $54 dineros. He was up though, his ego kept reminding him later.

However, it was some good clean fun. Laughs and elbows to the ribs. Ranks dissipated and the conversations were not as controlled as he usually experiences them with that particular set of company.

The Duff was thinking the other day (another rare occasion). There is a rage currently in his social circles, of changing work ethics. The rage is to have an additional source or sources of income, to supplement whatever slave pittance a particular slave might be receiving. There are many courses to teach anyone and everyone on how to be an entrepreneur, or to trade stock options and the like. Everyone is getting onto that bandwagon.

However, The Duff believes that such intelligent and dynamic environments are too much of a challenge for the robotic slavers being churned out from the slave training camps. Their minds are simply not adequately equipped with......societal skills, much less business acumen. What the smart guys are doing instead are starting all these courses, getting genuinely good ideas and doing them, making these slavers do the guinea-pigging and then gobbling up their so-called accomplishments when they fail.

There could be another smart bunch who instead strive at the slave camps, kill or step over the robotic slaves on the way to the top(because all good robotic slaves love to just do the work and not take the responsibility, thereby staying at their respective glass ceilings) and then gobble these guinea-piglets to make everybody in the slave camp look good, the slave master most of all?

Food for thought. Your Truths?

The Duff has been coming home to a welcome sight recently. There has been a bird, a small one like a humming-bird, which perches itself on a branch at his porch. It'd be there every night, sleeping, breathing, dreaming. At first, The Duff's gal thought it was a fake, eventhough The Duff told her otherwise. In the mornings, it would fly away to get that fateful worm. But every night, it returns. To the same spot. And dream the same dream.

Another welcome sight had been his gal, who had been working hard on a project but doing it at his place. For more than a week, she was practically living in his room, working so hard to meet oncoming deadlines and changes from the client. But having her there was good enough for him. A smile was always at the edges of his lips. If she was to do the project from home, The Duff would have had to go to her castle at the end of each back breaking slave day just to see her hunched over her laptop. Still nice, but just not as much.

Is all the slaving in the world really worth the pain and the suffering? Shouldn't work be enjoyable? To be cherish and appreciated for the challenges it brings? It should cater to one's needs and desires, and not the other way around. When did everybody learn to compromise, and worse still to accept it as part and parcel of all things?

Should each and everyone of the human race yearn and stretch to an ideal?

This has been another thought deluge. The Truth is within you. The Duff wants it.

Mis-happenings

2005-07-28T23:39:00.000+08:00

The Duff seems to be in a glut of misfortune. Like a hole in the ground, the shit just keeps piling up.

It all started on Saturday night, when the Duff fell asleep on his arm just for a while. He awoke to find his entire right arm numb. Even in the next morning, his two middle fingers on the right were non functional. He felt spastic. He couldn't use the mouse nor the keyboard with his usal finesse. Thankfully he could navigate with his left hand on the mouse. A quirk he had forced himself to take up some time back just for shit happens just like this.

Monday afternoon saw his entire right lap engulfed in hot soup during lunch. Thankfully he was sitting at an angle to the table, else it'd be Hasta La' Byebye to his family jewels. The lady who was serving him and who spilled the hot soup was less than apologetic, and kept up with some stupid comments that it's his lucky day and he should go buy the lottery. He retorted sarcastically that she should get it for him, or else he wouldn't be that lucky to strike it, but of course such intellectual exchange was lost on the simple minded specimen.

On Wednesday, he got back some control of his 2 middle fingers. Giving the finger was still out of the question however. That was a crippling effect that made him panic for awhile, much as the terror that a president of a bigoted country would have if he couldn't give the thumbs up.

Thursday saw his colleague engulf her mobile phone with her soya bean drink as the thin walled plastic cup holding the liquid exploded before his very eyes as she was trying to put back the cover. She lifted the phone to eye level, with the white stuff still dripping off it and she gasped, leaving her mouth open. Quite an image.

Ah.....Hormones......

It totally didn't help that a million drivers were trying to kill The Duff on the roads by attempting to smash into his car during the course of the week. Bloody idiots were like a swarm of moths being attracted to his flaming set of wheels. The counter on his curses went through the roof. Guess the person keeping score up in heaven must have been amused somewhat by this. piling on the negative points.

Speaking of swarms, the infestation of moths earlier in the year has translated into a swarm of caterpillar offspring in his house. The worst thing is that his maid has an uncontrollable fear of them. She freaks out and pesters him relentlessly. He wants to kill her.

The Duff caught the Island this week. Scarlett Johansson is da bomb! He knew she was jude to the core, but sometimes, nothing reminds one of such an undeniable fact more than a white lycra suit over a bodacious blonde.

The show was pretty watchable though. Lots of running, and futuretech. He loved the hover
jet-skis.

The slaving continues at a snail's pace. The Duff has his mid-year performance review with his slave master, and he was told that he needed to be more sociable, more visible, in the slave camp, and that he has a pretty good chance of being a permanent slave. While heartening to know that his slaving over the past few months has been satisfactory, and that he might have a dependable slave pittance in the near future, with slave perks, he is unsure whether that is the path he wants to take. He might just want to have his freeedom. He is thus torn between pushing harder at the slave camp, or to try harder to seek alternatives.

Truth of the week? The world is full of idiots, blondes are great to look at, slaving is shit, and that no one wants to share any truths with him.

Selfish bastards.

Where has all the time gone?

2005-07-21T23:33:00.000+08:00

The Duff missed the blogosphere.

2 weeks gone. Once again The Duff has screwed up all his time management. Too many things occuring in his life. He has forsaken his pool, and various other social activities that he tries to partake in on a periodic basis.

For starters, he's been slaving his ass off(not literally of course). Many slave projects have been thrown at his slavery way. And he has slavenly scooped up all the slavery goodness of the slavery tasks. Such slavery slavenness should be slavishly sodomised.

Anyway, he's been assigned various projects recently which would have definitely raised his profile. As such, the MD thinks he is suitable for a perm post all too soon. While this news was certainly heartening to himself, he thinks that post would suck big time in the near future, since by the time he's there, another slave(who thinks he's adding much value to the company, "urgh") would be his boss. And that would be a majorly screwed up scenario to be in.
Also, The Duff doesn't want to be in too cushy a position in the slave camp. This would deter him from his escape plans.

The Duff's parents returned from the land far beyond this past week. Everytime they come back, the Duff's plans with his friends are always put on hold to accommodate their presence. It has become routine that even his friends know that he'd be unavailable and soon forget about him. Works both ways. However, its when he has friends who are less familiar with his predicament who would make some noise and shit. "Screw it," he says. Prioritise.

The world is still an ugly place. Recent developments in the local charity scene has been the talk of the town. How utterly boring that the main public is so slow to catch on bullshit that is squarely there in their face, and even force fed into their numbskulls ever so often by stunts performed by psuedo-celebrities. The Duff was much the wiser years hence. Such a braggart, and yet so wise. The world can be fair sometimes.

4 more booms in london. such a shame. terrorists are such pussies.

The Duff is over-spending. He is seriously worried about this. And his main vice, comics.

Now this is a horrible situation, as its one of his main de-stressing avenues, yet it is so costly to upkeep. Spending almost 400 bucks a month is way too much. While this might be aggravated by his little brother's penchant to demand and get his comics as well, he still thinks he should cut down. But to compromise on his own bliss, he finds it hard to do so. Everyone should have his own bliss. Compromise is such a dirty word.

The Duff's little bro just had his birthday. He is only 15 and he is almost the same size as Duff if not more so. The modern diet is really a powerful growth bitch. Must be all the steroids. The Duff really must restart his weights routine. But perhaps after he gets his new room done. Had to fix his bed and rework all his furniture. Excellent. He is now bonafidely Ikea-ed.

Ikano GO!

The Duff believes its all about how you spend your time. Plan it wisely, stick to your plans to a certain point, but give yourselves moments when spontaneity occurs. Those are the eternities between the seconds when life has more meaning.

This coming from The Duff, who has every clock available to him set 10 minutes ahead so that whenever he is in a rush, he forgets to backtrack and rushes himself more, believing he is 1o minutes later than he really is. Stupid. Yet effective. Especially when he remembers that he set them in advance. Its almost like finding time, just like loose change in a pocket. Always a pleasant surprise.

Death and Destruction

2005-07-09T12:03:00.000+08:00

The Duff has lost half of his Saturday to the Sandman. He's pissed.

Speaking of Sandman, Neil Gaiman came into his town this past week. Hordes of fans queued up for his autographs at the local Border's and Kinokuniya. For those not in the know, he is the author of the well known graphic novel series The Sandman and Marvel's 1602, as well as various other novels like Mirrormask and Neverwhere. Mostly fantasy stuff. The real kind that just grabs The Duff and dumps him in another dimension. But sometimes, he hates it. When it gets too ethereal. Too subtle. And his barbaric brain fails to process or understand the profound meanings behind the words and images.

Maybe he's just stupid.

War of the Worlds was an extremely good show. The Duff caught it on Wednesday. The sudden violence and random death was a welcome jolt to an otherwise lacklustre week at the slave camp. Once again, Spielberg proves to be a master of emotional sci-fi. The Duff thinks its actually quite a simple formula. Normal workday leads to sudden action and death from nowhere, leading to desperation, leading to more action, leading to quarrels, leading to action, leading to hugs, leading to more action, leading to more hugs and kisses, leading to final action scene and ending in redemption.

Another oscar in the bag. Even if it was bypassed by the large categories, some technical awards will always be given to the movie. And there's always the MTV Movie awards. Just as long as its not the Razzies The Duff says.

So the Duff was ending his Thursday slave day when his Maternal point of origin sends him a short message service over the ether, to inform him that London has been attacked by some sinister force, most probably human. A quick search on CNN.com lead him to some initial articles the contributors had put online, attributing to some incidents in the London underground and a bomb blast in a london bus that had caused it to be a mushroom in an instant. They had attributed the incidents in the underground as electrical of origin. But I could never see how that would cause people to come up to ground level covered in blood, and not necessarily theirs.

The HORROR, The HORROR!

Apparently it was by terrorists opposing the G8 summit. But it also came after the IOC voted for London as the host of the 2012 olympics. Double Whammy.

The Duff thinks that was quite a bit of blood for the week. And it had only been over a 2 day period, and half of the blood was a ketchup mixture of sorts, but still. Society can only numb itself as a form of self defence.

Truth of the week, blood sucks. And see how the Londoners handle it. Much better than the pussy Americans. The British are actually used to this sort of violence. They had lived through it for decades battling the Irish.

What were your truths these past week? let the Duff know.

13 days later

2005-07-02T11:27:00.000+08:00

So, the Duff is back once again, after a 13 day absence. Well, for that, this blog shall have 13 paragraphs.

That was 1.

Above was 2.

All right. The Duff was involved in some highly secretive exercises at work. While divulging this would be tantamount to screwing himself up the arse, he would just like to say that while it was a serious situation, the exercise itself was as futile as digging one's ears with a fork. Painful and useless. But, The Duff thinks it was good to be out of the office. For too much sitting would only lead to a highly gravitated ass.

The Duff caught some movies inbetween these 13 days. He caught Batman Begins the other week. Excellent comic book movie, or just a movie by itself(without the 70 year baggage of continuity, forgetting the Crisis of the inifinite Earths reset). Did you know that Batman once used a gun? This eventhough his parents were gunned down before his very young eyes?! Yesiree BOB!

Is Batman still gay?

6. Halfway there.

Just last night The Duff caught Initial D. Yes he did. In spite of all the prejudice that the entire society places on him for his ineffectual use of his mother tongue, he still likes to watch the occasional asian production of very well executed cinematic techniques. While the acting left much to be desired, the effects were cool and the story not all that bad. Put in a young nubile wide-eyed actress and it all fits for The Duff as a weekend popcorn entertainment. No doubt the $9.50 price tag was steep, but what the heck.

He had supper version 1 at outram; fish porridge with raw fish and frog legs as side dishes. Indulgence was satisfying. Conversation was flowing. Goodwill was all around. The Duff got fatter. No biggie. Not yet anyhow.

He then had supper version 2 at the macdonalds at east coast park. Fries and a coke. A world apart, but no less satisfying. A different group, a different conversation. But fun likewise. The Duff wishes to thank those who were present, and who tolerated his madness in staying up so late. He only got home at 5.30am. He had been awake a full 24hrs.

3 More.Time to close. He notices that grammar and normal sentence punctuation has left the building with Elvis.

So, Truths for the last 13 days? Its a hard world out there. money is but a tool. passion is important in life. women are the devil. married men can be bitches. pool on slanted tables are fun. and macdonalds make piss ass coffee. which are of course, free-flow.

What were your truths these last few months? time for a mid year review of your life. contemplate and relate. educate. disseminate. This has been a Duff mental puke. Peace out.

Duff is duff

2005-06-19T23:32:00.000+08:00

The Duff is back, and apparently, hardly missed. He's been pissed with himself for letting this avenue of expression barren and at the mercy of the weather.

The Duff is back!

Has he been busy? No. A game of badminton, an afternoon of sun tanning, a movie, 3 weeks of work, and a chicken later, he is no different from the last posting.

Yes, a chicken. And it was trying to cross the road. Made The Duff's day.

Mr and Mrs Smith had some heavy boobular action. Angelina is overly babelicious, as in too painful to look at cos she's too much of a good thing, or a few things in this case. Brad Pitt does his weird eccentric bit once again. Can't see how he can keep it up.

The Duff has been messing around with simulated stock investing. He sucks at it. Playing around with pure guesswork, it reminded him of his parents' folly in real life. He shall have to tread carefully when the real thing comes about.

Work is getting boring as things clear up. What's left is a skeleton of tasks that hold little meaning to him. A lack of focus has arisen in his life. A cloud of blurring, a fog of unconsciousness. An immediate goal is lost in the horizon. He has to find it soon.

The Duff wrote a short script for an artist in Australia to illustrate. It has been 2 weekends, and no reply. Was it too short? Was it too lousy? The Duff deliberates but stops short of overwhelming self doubt. Screwit if need be. Personal tastes are just such, personal.

The Duff has also started on a book. A silly little project that his girlfriend had sown in his cerebral prairie. He plans to finish it within 2 months. Let's wait and be disappointed. Himself most of all. Starting with defeat? Almost sounds like a business plan.

He has started working out again. Albeit still as infrequent as before, its still better than none. His sloth has created a body of unapologetic fats. The constant pints of ice-cream, caseloads of carbonated sustenance and ever re-appearing snacks on his table do not help also. His proverbial 6-pack seems as unattainable as Michael Jackson's innocence.

How about the Truth? The Duff, in his everlasting map-less life, seems even more clueless than ever. Is the world really as chaotic and unchartered as it seems? When events occur, why do humans love to fit it into a so-called plan that they think is written out there, somewhere?

Where is the Truth? What is the Truth? Does it exist? Does it matter?

Life and New Experiences

2005-06-03T02:33:00.000+08:00

The Duff has been exhausted by affairs of the family and the workplace. He truly was wiped out for the longest time, and couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. Thank goodness for those fireflies.

The Duff had been getting into some new experiences lately. He had finally come to the conclusion that slaving is a bad thing. The workplace has been a dungheap of bullshit. He truly wants out. If he has the balls.

The Duff went for a concert the other night, having been given free tickets. It was an hour of spectacular dance. Music and lighting came together to accentuate a dozen dancers of unbelievable skill and endurance. All the elements came together to give him an experience like no other.

He fell asleep.

It might have been the lack of sleep the previous night, or the $5 cheeseburger he had before the concert filling his tummy and drawing blood away from his brain.

He enjoyed the performance though. Sad as it may be that he fell asleep, he really enjoyed the parts when his mind was lucid.

A meetup with his closest friends gave him the impetus to once again explore other avenues in life beyond slaving. A lunch with an old boss also gave him the urge to spice up his life further by attending a scuba diving course. Stayed tuned to see if he follows through on this. History gives small statistics of that happening.

His family is once again apart, as it has been for the last decade or so. While The Duff is saddened with this, it also allows him to continue his decadent lifestyle, without his parents' interference. Its a fine line to walk, and he is stumbling along it.

The Duff has also decided to follow once of his passions in life, which is to put down tales onto print media. Comics and novels, short stories and blogs, once again, stay tuned.

The Truth continues to elude The Duff. Every step he takes towards it, matters of sorts will push him back by 2 steps. Its only a matter of time before he lunges ahead, or plunge down the cliff face he crawled out from.

Perhaps yours Truths will save him. Please give him your comments.

End of another Era

2005-05-22T23:42:00.000+08:00

The Duff has closed another chapter in his life this week.

He is leaving some of his nerdiness behind, to be left forgotten in his youth. For this week, 2 events had come to pass. Firstly was the last episode of Star Trek: Enterprise. He watched it, the final. The finale. Its all over. No more Star Trek in the forseeable future. While some may find this franchise utterly boring, The Duff secretly yearns for such a future to be made possible, simply because the simple worries of humanity are but a thing of the past in the stories. Humanity has moved on to much better things. Exploration, and knowing that there is a great unknown attracted The Duff immensely. He had found our current situation boring instead. The entire globe has been mapped to death, and governments stumble into space at a snail's pace.

The other event was Episode III of the Star Wars franchise. The story is complete. Anakin falls, to be redeemed by his son years later. The circle started 28 years ago is final done. This simple story, adapted from many sources into a space opera, has withstood the test of time, and patience of many, to present a story not fully fresh, but in a well presented package. The expert marketing done by Lucasfilms are second to none. The Duff applauds their efforts, and thanks them for such an overwhelming experience dragged over 2 plus decades. The Duff wonders what the nerds will do now.

And thus, The Duff ends his sci-fi nerddom. The genre is dead.

A long weekend is almost over. Mostly preoccupied by The Duff's parents. Which means a lot of eating, and The Duff will be putting on some extra pounds as usual. Sit-ups to ensue asap.

The Duff's favourite comic book author, Warren Ellis, has released a new series. Titled Desolation Jones, its about an ex-spy, who had an issue with alcohol, was thrown out of his agency, but enrolled into an experiment that made his impervious to pain, sleep and many other talents yet to be revealed. The setting is in Los Angeles, where all ex-spy personnel in the world retire in. Cool.

Many good comics coming over the next few months. Guess The Duff will never outgrow his comic nerddom.

That's the truth. What are your truths?

Chapter 3

2005-05-10T22:29:00.000+08:00

She tiptoed along the ledge, cautious not to slip and plunge to a watery grave. The castle was well situated, atop a knoll that was surrounded by the seas during high tides. It wasn't easy getting to where she was. The lions and guards were simple enough to evade, but the crocodiles and eagles were something else. She knew the lord of the castle had a way with animals, but nothing prepared her for the menagerie that she had encountered, and dealt with swiftly, silently.

At last, she found the room she had been looking for. The highest point of the castle, overlooking all around the land. You could see your enemies approaching from half a day's march away. Ample time to prepare. If you knew what your enemy looked like.

The Artifact was nestled where the Old Man said it would be. It almost seemed all too easy. She thanked the gods for watching over her on this simple yet dangerous quest. She was the only one qualified enough to take up this venture. The Order knew this painfully, as others sent before her had not returned.

She knew the import of this quest, and to not take it lightly. It could well tip the balance of the war to their side. The glory will be overwhelming. She might be promoted, to stand along with the Gifted One. Ah, the Gifted One. How she had missed him. How she longed for his gaze to set upon her once more. She knew as she set off on this quest that so too was the Old Man, in search of the Gifted One. When he returns, if he returns, and with this Artifact in his hands, the war would be as good as over. Finally, after the decades of strife, peace could once more grace the kingdom.

She heard the shard slicing through the air. "Too late," she thought to herself. She had let her wishful thinking delude her of her situation. She was in the direst peril. After all, she was in the enemy's lair.

She felt her skin tear, and fibres in her shoulder splitting as the shard made its way through her conditioned body. The pain shot to her spine like lightning. She stifled the scream that almost escaped from her lips. She spun and tumbled to the wooden floor. Blood erupted in front of her as the shard peeked its head back out into the air. The thick crimson liquid dripping from its tip. She heard the laughter and the rejoicing approach with an orange flame as the door swung open. Another character appeared from the corner, hidden the anubian shadows.

"They sent a wretch! The guile of those fools. To think that a mere bitch could steal the prize from us. I will enjoy making you suffer the err of your Order's foolishness."

She tried to appear strong, but the fear overtook her once she saw their scaly bodies bathed in the orange glow. Their once human eyes sparkled as the flame danced in its position. And slowly, the flame made everything blur into oblivion as she passed out.

humidity sucks

2005-05-08T20:18:00.000+08:00

So The Duff had his futsal tournament today. Went through to the quarter finals. Improvement from last year. Still, The Duff wasn't all too happy. Guess losing sucks, no matter what. A small consolation was taken when eventually the teams that The Duff lost to were the top 2 teams of the tourney. They were class acts, and a cut above the rest.

The Duff's younger brother is having his exams this week. The lazy bugger thinks he's so good at his various subjects. The Duff can't wait to get his results, and hopefully need not kick the little tyke's ass.

Mother's Day. Or is it Mothers' Day? Anyway, once again, it is sad that western civilization requires a specific Sunday to show extra appreciation to their mothers. Mothers should be cherished all year round, and loved in a sense like no other.

Are sons closer to mothers than daughters? Are daughters closer to fathers than sons? The Duff knows it is subjective, but he would like to know the statistics. He believes there has to be a trend to it. Human relationships are predictable after all. For example, a man and a woman out by themselves in a platonic relationship, for a whole afternoon by the beach? Hard to believe, and some just delude themselves into thinking so. Given different circumstances, these two would definitely get together. Dumbasses.

The Duff has been getting some low-level hands on training with regards to his slave labour. Note that low-level does not equate to easy. Each job has its own difficulties and challenges. Context and subjectivity blah blah blah......

An Ex-President passed away this week. The Duff was saddened, for eventhough in his youth he had made fun of this president's name (along with a brand of sauce), he always felt that this man was a classy guy. He had an air of nobility, and with such caring, soulful eyes and features. His passing even made a senior political pillar, who is commonly known for his stoic presence, break down.

Such are the truths of the world. We are human after all, each and every one of us.

The Duff has spoken. Now its your turn.

The Hills are Alive

2005-04-30T12:26:00.000+08:00

As frightening as the title may have been, a simple tune has made it into one of the most recognised melodic words in recent history. The Sound of Music phenomenon is truly quite outstanding.

The reason this has come up is that The Duff had gone to watch the musical version of this movie classic on Thursday night. A birthday treat from his girlfriend. He thoroughly enjoyed the evening, eventhough he feels that the movie version was better somehow. Maybe it was just Julie Andrews.

It actually is a true story. The Von Trapp family escaping into the States during WWII. Of course it was made easier being that they were not poor Jews, but nevertheless, the creators of the musical and movie made the tale that much more emotionally involving. A few creative aspects were added, like making the eldest child a girl, and giving us the lovey dovey song "16 going on 17".

They eventually started a music school in America. I cannot imagine what it must've been like to be a student in such an environment. To be surrounded by such talent. But then again, The Duff wonders just how talented the whole family really was. Cynicism is such a party pooper.

The Duff hasn't read any new comics in quite a while. He misses the escapism tremendously. He has been on this Earth for too long. He longs for the fantasy and the unreality. Does this mean he is less rooted? Does this mean he is aloof, and less ambitious to get ahead in life, to have the finer things?

The Duff thinks not. Life is a balancing act, and he thinks we should all really just learn to have fun when we can, even when misery is perpetually following us. For really, life is too short. We have all heard that before, but do we really do anything to seize the day?

So chase that dream, marry that girl, start that company, paint that image, buy that handbag, go for that holiday, squash that bug, test drive that car, get his number, watch that movie, help the poor, .............................Just Do It.

Share your truths. Its within you.

Lessons

2005-04-28T01:04:00.000+08:00

The Duff has just returned from a finance course. He is mentally drained, yet curiously satisfied in having learnt and experienced much, from the course material and his coursemates as well. Life is good for him. He wonders when it'll start tumbling down. He has been on an upturn for quite a while now.

During the course, his usual ADD brain kept wandering away from the topics, or blacking out into oblivion, for as usual his cerebral cortex was lacking a few dozen hours of sleep recharge logging. If sleep came in a pill, he'd be popping them by the hour.

Financial terms and going-ons (goings-on?) had been a puzzle to him, but like a magic jigsaw that solves itself, some gaps in his company's structure has come to light. Group work was interesting for he interacted with colleagues (in a loose sense) from other countries. Friendliness and cooperation were the rules of the day, and effort prevailed to produce good work from some humble folks.

Accomodation was in a hotel, with very good service and facilities. The room was clean and comfortable. All in all a wonderful experience.

The Duff pumped V-power fuel into his chariot today. He has used 98 for his last tank and had noticed increased mileage. He has decided to continue with the test for an even higher grade of petrol. Of course, this all depends too on his method of usage. Hard acceleration and exorbitant speeds all could eat into the better mileage claims on the posters. Time will tell.

For now, share your truths. The Duff awaits you, for you are the Truths of the world.

Peace out.

Cahos Toehry

2005-04-11T23:48:00.000+08:00

The Duff spent zero dollars today. As in no cash from his wallet was reacquainted with another's sticky paws.

But in another sense, he has spent hundreds. He drove his car, he paid for his car. He has a home. He used water. He used electricity. Such waste. Such Decadence. Rots the soul.

He went for a Defensive Driving Course today. Supposed costs for each participant was around 200 bucks. He went through slaloms, emergency brakes with ABS and without, screeching and skidding over dry and wet surfaces. He even drove towards a live instructor at 70kmh before swerving away. Nerve racking it was. The Duff wonders how much the instructor's insurance premiums cost, if he has any anyways.

The Duff had 3 chunks of ham, 1 and a half slabs of steak and half an English sausage for dinner on his birthday. He didn't really eat anything the next day.

Maybe it was because the ugly English royalty decided to have a joyous affair on The Duff's birthday. Bad enough he had to share it with his sibling.

The Duff thinks Sin City the Movie rocks.

The Duff went to Malaysia last night, just for a Coffee. Without his passport. He went into the railway station along Keppel.

Verbal Diarrhoea on a Monday. Accepted in most developed countries.

Earthquakes again. Has our time really come? The news over the radio had a Minister insisting that Singaporeans are safe from Earthquakes. Just because some idiots felt the ground shake, they are scared shitless. Pussies.

If only an earthquake hit Singapore. It would be the only earth-shattering event in modern history here.

Truth of the Day. The triangle of survivability. In case an earthquake strikes, do not hide under tables, or below beds, but rather curl up just beside them. Rationalize this. The Truth is within you. Live and Learn.

My mental sphincter shall now become operational.

Ancient History

2005-04-09T00:57:00.000+08:00

26 years ago today, a young and lovely lady was carrying a cake to her son's kindergarten. It was his birthday. He was 6. The appearance of his mother made his day, as well as the many kisses he received from his class mates.

The lady was also carrying other things, namely a handbag, another bag with clothes, and a foetus in her womb.

As she put down the cake on a table in her son's class, she felt a huge kick and started feeling contractions. She stayed on through till her son blew out the candles before excusing herself from the scene, rushing to the hospital. She registered herself in, and made sure the nurse informed her husband of the impending arrival of their second child.

As she lay on the hospital bed, waiting for the next contraction, she thought to herself,"Damn stupid baby. Had to be early. Had to be on the same day as the other kid. Which is kinda cool, but, what the??? Oh, here comes the next one. Ooouuuccchhh!"

A few hours later, the doctor held the slippery baby by the legs and bitch-slapped his ass. He started crying, and cheers went around the delivery room. The husband smiled, and held his wife's hands. Both were very happy. Nothing could go wrong in their lives at that moment.

The doctor faced the couple and offered his congratulations. A nurse approached him and stretched out her arms to take the babe. The doctor absentmindedly handed the baby over before she got to him. The baby fell to the ground and landed harshly with a "DUFF"

Death is but a moment away.

2005-04-05T22:45:00.000+08:00

The Duff almost died today.

It wasn't bad enough that he had a swollen ankle and a stiff back. After a hard day's worth of slog, he got into his chariot, and away he rode, down the concrete roads that maze around the kingdom. All too soon he had bounced unto the straight country road, and he got into the "fastest" right lane, keep in mind that it was rush hour. The speed was sleepishly hypnotic.

And with his eyes ahead, at the tail of the chariot was his focus total. Yet, with just a blink, the chariot ahead suddenly seemed much closer. The Duff slammed on his brakes, and skidded. He could feel the shudder of the machine and the roughness of the granite on his pedal. He had thought that his chariot's bodyworks had hit the ground.

He stopped just in time. He trace the dust patterns on the number plate in front of him onto his windscreen. That was how close he got.

In a daze, the journey continued, uneventfully. The teachings on Sun Tzu on his MP3 player did not alleviate his lethargy. He was glad to reach his destination, his spirit totally spent.

The Truth he learnt today, was that Death is but a moment away. All the devil had to do was to complete the swing of his scythe, instead of pulling back as he did, however out of character that may have been. Its times like these when The Duff believes that everything happens for a reason, and that sometimes humans may just be part of some grand design.

Carpe Diem!

2678400 seconds later

2005-04-04T00:11:00.001+08:00

The Duff™ is back.

So the Duff had some time off. Laziness took hold over his being for an entire month. He uses Opera as his default browser, but this disallows him to post blogs through it, and he has to use the Devil's browser (IE) to blog. Probably some problem with his cookie settings.

Too many things to recall over the past month to state back here. The Duff would rather state what is now.

The Pope is dead. Another earthquake hit. A lady is slowly dying in the US from malnutrition. The Duff's ankle is busted. Star Wars M&Ms are for sale. The end of Science Fiction is nigh. The Duff wants to get out of the rat race. Sin City debuted at number 1 in the US box office. Comics are expensive. Movie tickets are rising in prices as well. Weights are heavy, water is wet and air is polluted.

The world is going to hell.

But the Truth is out there. Within you. Enlighten the Duff. He is bored. Lift this cloud that lingers over humanity. Do the right thing.

The Duff is outta here. More to come later.

Rhyme Thyme 1

2005-03-05T01:50:00.000+08:00

The Duff painted his gate.
Yup you got that right.
He painted it late,
in the middle of the night.

He painted it black,
over the whites.
He did not slack,
after dinner bites.

His father forced him,
in a subtle way.
He just started painting,
in his seat The Duff couldn't stay.

So his arms are now spotty,
with thick black paint.
It actually looks quite gory,
like his skin is nothing but taint.

Give it a day he thinks,
it should all come off.
If not he'd rub it pink,
with something that is rough.

CAR

2005-03-03T23:23:00.000+08:00

The Duff has his car. His own car. His own piece of transportational excellence. His very own slice of motoring excitement. His one and only spot of mercurial travel equipment. Alas, it has arrived.

For 2 whole dreary months, The Duff had awaited the arrival of his carriage. For 2 months, he went through nail biting anxiety while he awaited the arrival of his carriage. For 2 months, he waited.

The wait is now over.

But, he has limitations. He cannot rev the engine beyond 3000rpms. Or go above 100km/h. He cannot jam on the brakes nor swerve too harshly. In fact, he is supposed to treat the workhorse like a metallic virgin.

However, he has flaunted all the above rules. His workhorse shall not be spoilt. Much like his previous 4 wheels, this one will be treated to the utmost toughest regiment of mechanical gruel.

To him, machines are tools to be used, not to be fussed over.

The Duff will simply not stand for pussy cars. That is his truth. Is it yours?

Redemption

2005-02-19T01:36:00.000+08:00

Carrying his case, he enters the casino resort through the front door. Along the carpet he strolls in between the slot machines and makes his way through the crowd. Surrounded by people losing all their money to the casino while hanging onto their hopes, he shakes his head and smirks. He sees a family with 2 little girls laughingly enjoying their holiday. They remind him immediately of his own family. Or rather, what was his, but is now lost.

All was fine before the casino came to Sentosa. He had a good job, manning the bridge, and collecting toll for its short 1km stretch. It paid him enough for his frugal living habits and to support his loving family, even enough for his 2 young girls to see them through to whatever tertiary institution that might gain their fancy. He had his whole life planned out beautifully. His wife was gorgeous, and supportive. There was nothing more that he could have asked for. He was truly in bliss.

All was fine in the world, until the Government accepted a proposal for the Casino to be built on the island. The management immediately decided that the immense traffic that would use the bridge would be jammed up if the toll booth were to continue its lucrative, but ultimately unnecessary existence, and he was fired.

It really went downhill from there. He never got another job. His wife left him, along with the 2 girls whom he never saw again. He took to drinking, and blaming the world for all the ills he had to suffer. In the months that came, he had to sell his apartment just to make ends meet. After the mortgage and monthly payments to his re-married ex-wife, he was quickly siphoning off whatever sum was left.

He couldn't find the light at the end of the tunnel, and decided to go out with a bang, literally. He plotted his revenge.

As he carries the case filled with a timer and explosives, his mind fixes upon delivering it to its target. He nonchalantly puts the other hand into his pocket, and fiddles with the few coins that are in there. They are all that's left that he can rightly call his.

He fishes them out. A dollar and twenty five cents. As he passes the 5 cent machines, he pops a coin in, and continues walking. The machine rings and pops but simply swallows the gold-tinged coin. Small loss.

He turns left into the alley with the twenty cent machines, heading towards the lobby. He inserts the twenty cent coin in his hand, simultaneously getting a static shock from walking on the carpet. This time he stops. Cherry. Banana. Orange. Just as he expected. Again.

"Almost time," he thinks to himself. He imagines the collateral damage that would occur when the timer reaches its hour mark. It would be amazing. He had spent his last eight thousand dollars building this bomb over the last six months. He still remembers how to build one. National Service may have been years ago, but his time in the Engineer Corp was well spent on training.

He took another left and reaches the lobby. As he covers the expanse towards the reception counter, he passes the largest slot machine in the Casino. He pops the last one dollar coin. A million to one were the odds, largely branded above the machine in bright neon lights.

He hits the jackpot.

Immediately, bright spotlights shine on his person. The hotel manager, dressed in a suit, offers his hand and grabs the man's from his side, shaking it fiercely. The man goes into shock. Music starts blasting from all directions and a person announces over the intercom that the ten million dollar jackpot has finally been won. Confetti starts falling from the ceiling.

As he regains his senses, his left arm suddenly feels infinitely heavier. As he grasps the concept that his life has undoubtedly taken another turn, he starts to sweat profusely. It can all be salvaged now. He can even have his family back, and not worry about a thing again. With this jackpot, he can live like a king. Now he just has to excuse himself from such overwhelming attention, and quickly turn off the timer away from prying eyes. There is still a chance. Adrenaline courses through his veins at light-speed. His other hand shakes. He wet forehead glistens in the glare of publicity. The man in the suit grabs the case from him, and gestures him to follow as he leads the way towards a stage.

"NO!" He screams, and lunges towards the case. The hotel manager struggles with him, and tries to persuade the man to let go, and assures that the case would not be lost, that the concierge would take care of it. The man jerks it free violently. He hugs it and turns to run.

BOOM.

Everybody's Birthday

2005-02-15T23:21:00.000+08:00

Today is officially Everybody's Birthday. The Duff wishes one and all, a happy birthday. A year older, a year wiser. Hopefully.

Its been a week since The Duff blogged. Time really flies when you are having fun. The Duff visited many relatives whom he last saw a year ago, under similar circumstances. The Duff also planned to steal his great-grandparents' portraits during one of these visits. Ask him about that story sometime.

Collecting Hong Baos will never lose its charm.

Gorging has been the rule this past week. The Duff is a few kilograms heavier for sure. Which is good. He plans to use alchemy to turn it to muscle.

Valentine's came and went with the usual hoo haa. The reason all these money churning festivities are planned in February is becase the month is the shortest of the year, and all businessmen still have targets to meet. First a festivity that requires enormous spending, and giving away of money to the age group with the highest spending power on Valentine's, and then followed by Valentine's itself in quick succession. Coincidence? The Duff thinks not!

The Duff had a great time with The Nix. A most excellent time. Points to take note. Cooking is good. Washing is bad.

The Duff just realised that A&W Root Beer has been around since 1919.

The Duff is getting bored. No more holidays to look forward to for quite a while. It is time for him to start looking for other things to do, and more Truths to seek.

Share your Truths. Peace out!

Been a while

2005-02-08T23:18:00.000+08:00

9 days have passed since The Duff last blogged. Have you seen more Truths in the world? The Duff eagerly await your sharing.

The Duff had a wonderful 9 days actually. Events have piled up in his life such that he didn't really have time to blog. During the time since, he had worked his ass off, and played his ass off. Spent a bundle on doodads and knick knacks. Shopping truly is therapeutic. Read some excellent comics (We3 rocks! go check it out!).

Had some fine dining. At the Esplanade. On a rooftop. In the evening. With his soulmate.

The celebration of life with festivals and holidays. They break the monotony and liven up everybody's lives. They remove people from the norm and dull routine that society has pigeonholed everyone into. Only the daring escapes this circle of routine, but may fall into another nevertheless. Thus, Holidays do enliven lives.

With the Lunar New Year officially minutes away in this time zone, The Duff would like to wish one and all to have a most excellent New Year, to thank everyone for contributing to the economy, and lastly, to show him the money.

Drink<->don't drive.

Truth to ponder.

"I'm just giving my two cents worth."-> Giving my opinion.
"A penny for your thoughts?"-> What are you thinking?

Does everyone talk more than the listener wants to hear?

Exhaustion is exhausting.

2005-01-31T00:25:00.000+08:00

The Duff had a tough week. In between helping his elder brother move, he also had functions to attend, soccer to practice, work to do and food to eat. On top of that he had to fix up his own home, especially the supreme mess of the Universe, his room.

Time seem to be a very limited commodity to The Duff. He finds that it is getting out of hand. Time management is required in his life. Does anyone out there have any suggestions?

The Duff had soccer practice yesterday. Right now, he cannot feel his legs. They have disappeared from him, and are reluctant to return to his body because of the strain that he put them through. In spite of a rigorous warm up, they were still tortured into putting up a good show for The Duff's new colleagues. They are pretty sure the moment they return, he would put them through a regular exercise regime. They are sure of this. Very sure.

Right.

Nothing much going on in the Comics scene. A few good comic-based movies are premiering soon though. After the abysmal Elektra, the next one will be, woah, Constantine. Matrix with magic. Sin City is in April. Nice. Star Wars in May. Fantastic Four some time in the summer. Very exciting year indeed. And who can forget, BATMAN! The Duff wishes to watch all these at sneak preview weekends, and cordially invites all his friends. RSVP.

That's all for now. Till the next time The Duff gets more inspired, do share your Truths, right here in this blog.

As the days go by

2005-01-27T06:06:00.000+08:00

The Duff slowly finds his days being taken up, even after work. And this pisses him off. His so called free time to spend with whomever he wants is being spent on people that he might not want to spend time with, the decision being not his at all. When doesn life spin out of control, and out of your hands?

Just this week, 4 evenings have been booked. Now one might suggest that this isn't that bad, as it would seem a healthy social life is in place. Unfortunately, a social life beyond control is not what The Duff thinks of as ideal. One should have some time off each day free from committments, and to spend finding one's bliss.

Committment. Has it become a dirty word? Where do your loyalties lie? How do you prioritise? Can society as a whole destroy the individual to such as extent? Share with me your Truths.

Give The Duff A Break!

2005-01-23T11:34:00.000+08:00

The Duff had just gone through a break. No, not a break-up, but a 3 day long weekend break.

While most of it wasn't rest, The Duff somehow feels rejuvenated. On top of helping move some heavy duty furniture and getting his hands dirty, it was good clean hard work, and not of the cerebral nature. The Duff believes sometimes a little physical toil is what the body needs. Maybe the endorphins the body produces during phycial exertion cleanses the soul.

The Duff recently read a comic book (Planetary Issue 21) wherein the writer spins a yarn regarding how shamans and mystics manage to know so much about the afterlife and other things. Usually they indulge in some herbal concoction before performing their rituals. The writer suggests that its perhaps because the herbs come from the deep forest, with roots going way down, sucking nutrients from animals and even men who have died before, and thus retain the knowledge somehow. Good stuff.

The Duff also had 2 excellent nights with his gal. After all the hard work during the day, he can only manage sitting in front of a screen in pitch darkness with a whole other bunch of strangers, watching photons hit the screen seemingly at random. How this phenomenon coupled with timed sounds manage to whisk them to Neverland and the Marvel Universe must seem like magic to people from a 100 years before, but something everyone takes for granted now.

The Duff is constantly amazed at how magical technology has become. Has the world come full circle? Are the shamans of today the so called technological wizards? There will come a point when the technical know-how needed to understand how a certain piece of technology works will be way beyond the common man. Wouldn't that, at that moment seem like a magical object?

That is a Truth that the Duff is slowly learning to accept, much to his dismay. What do the rest of you think? Do you share in this Truth?

You Are The Truth!

Testing

mbloggery

Unending Blur-icity

2010

Deadweight

Invictus by William Ernest Henley (1875)

Full Slate

14 Months

3 to goooooooo

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Crack of Dawn

As The Wheel Turns

Have you Ever....

Snikt-choo!

Tender is the Night

Now with Explosive Chest Action!

You Know You Have....

Time Travelling Through The Tempo

25 Random Things About The Duff

Lost in Oz

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Blue Balls

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HPL

Stoner

Dry Adiabatic Lapse Rate

Not another Jumpstart?!

Pipmeister

You Know Truths

Midweek with no view

F5

Ride of the Century

Since everyone's at it.....

I have no life

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Zi bai Siao Liao

The ultimate bloodsucker, my car is.

Bogusity

More stories from the Concrete Kampong

The Experience

So long, and thanks for the memories

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Rantings of a Madman

The Lifetime Between

State of My World Address

Testing

Lifestyles of the Lazy and Indulgent

Shorts: The First

How the Hell?!

*Wing*Wing* Blogging to the soundtrack of life

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Technophobe

Dell Hell

My Voice is Huskie

Down the Spiral

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Episode 5

Making sense of it all.

To The Past

Music and Mood Swings

Anew

Fortnightly Update: Take 1

Gush of shit to blog

Escapism to the Nth degree

The new Me

The F Word

Vogue

Impulse

Take out your machetes

Path of No Resistance

Reality Bites

HTF.....? #1

Nothing

Chapter 4

Aw heavenly pungent fecal matter, the sky is gloomy!

Mis-happenings

Where has all the time gone?

Death and Destruction

WingWing* Blogging to the soundtrack of life