Gesamtkunstwerk

imaginary friends?! haven't updated myself (read: haven't read their blogs for a while) with those folks in syd. whaddayaknow? jordan and joshua and bob - all nonexistent personalities. ok i should rephrase... bob is actually a strong personality but just... absent concretely. apparently he belongs to bryan, and wanmun made jordan for deb. i dunno bryan but his xanga is not bad. i prefer bob's blogging though. and i haven't figured out who or why joshua is.

of course, the irony lies not in the fact that it's an immature fad, and not even in the fact that i've had my 'friend' with me since i was 3yo and just capable of cohesive thinking... it was that i'd just gotten acquainted today with lin-yong, lai-wong and siu-long... haHAAAHaahahahahHHAAAAHH!!

and no, having imaginary friends isn't creepy, unless u establish your belief so strong that they promote themselves to hallucinations. until it gets out of hand, that is. but i understand how some find it creepy to address and acknowledge someone who isn't there. do it a few times more and u slowly appear psycho, even to your loving gf 2 inches away from your face. i should like to share that i do talk to my 'friend' (never had to address him = never named him, and i like to keep him anonymous as per the 17-year-old status quo) and that i have been caught talking to him. by my sister, in fact, who at the time no doubt thought me psycho. and i don't blame her.

so, to all who know me... don't freak out when i whisper and smile to myself. it's a hobby.

and whilst on the topic... go and check out this comic called "i feel sick", by jhonen vasquez and rosearik simons. the drawings are crude, std-2-kid-crude, but therein lies its graphic strength and uncluttered storytelling. it's as deplorably sick as only comics can get, with a saturation of black wit and self-conversing little voices (or are they...?) devi becomes a comic artist, a world of change from her pathetic bookstore attendant job, and she slowly loses her sanity. by and by, her rampant thoughts possess an unfinished painting which... finishes itself. her friend tenna becomes obssesive-compulsive in drilling into devi's head that "u don't get out enough!" trust me, this shit is hilarious... and all character development is done with little dead-sarcastic scenarios, little snippets of ironic memories, and since these allow for a wide scope for humour... everything is funny. essentially they're just a collection of damn-9-funny short comic strips and the story just runs as a whole across all these. it's genius.

and to end today... my windows is fucked. every thing i do gets error responses and i only have a hunch where the probs are. some of my keys yield the wrong symbols and the right alt button is out of action. no synaptics touchpad extras, yet. no msn too... so my bro is gonna phone-troubleshoot for me later.

he just did something silly. put the laptop on battery, unplugged it and turned it over to check whether it had his cd key on the bottom. going to reformat... all systems go. i've noticed that he notices urges to do things and does them straightaway. besides burning all the backups the other day, he'd bought a lot of stuff, replenished the kitchen... sorted out the tray of art materials (and yet more postcards and metcards) and took out his watercolours... dunno whether i'll use them or not.

anyway, these are just the li'l bits i did after coming home from dinner with babydunguwanlian. and before that, spent an obscene amount of time her, at least 50 over hours, Together... though must've been more than that =p and my third egg meal... for her! hahah... it had a very pancake-y feel this time.

is that something to brag about?

well going to format. see how long it takes for me to get back, hehe... the time is right below.

this fella has been pretty diligent today. waited for his new shades to be put up, and one rogue blind had to be 2mm too long. so the blinds guy took the rail off the fabric and downstairs to where his 'hacksaw' was. right...

this fella then went out... shopped... bought stuff... put them all in the big white post office box. bought eggs! (i once vowed if i'd never learn to cook anything, at least i'd be master of eggs.) then came home and gave the house a once-over with the vacuum. hmmm. called his baby dahlingg and keng... passed jam factory and checked, shrek2 is going full blast. goodgood. went to borders, bought a neil gaiman book.

that's not the end... haha, i surprise even myself. this bugga caught up with his long-awaited chores of burning his backups. now it's all in neat cd volumes and wiped from my hdd. ready to format anytime. and he fell asleep.

whaddayaknow? still the epilogue to go, folks. he woke up at about 4am+, made a cup of tea and neatly overturned it with both his hands. in a part clumsy, part purposeful move, he promptly spilt hot tea all over my small kitchen counter. blast. he cleans up the fucker. puts stuff - chocs, teabox, serviettes, jars - into the cabinets, Finally, and rearranged the eggs in the pan and on the stove... even the eggs got wet, damnit.

and on instinct, this fella cooked some eggs. as said, i surprise even myself. anyway i'll freely admit i've problems with even opening eggs. once wasted an egg on the floor, in a bright orange splatter, in thien loong's house. had a few more similar encounters over the years. today i got some shell scraps into the bowl, but that was all... then to the pan!! poured the beaten egg in. made another cup of tea.

after a while came the smell of cooking. wonderful! bits of scrambled egg was forming. i poked around, and wahlau! a base had formed and lined the whole pan, with some uncooked egg pooled in the middle. it was a nice crepe-y texture. folded it and flipped - the underside was slightly burnt liao... nvm, cooked for a while more on the new side.

and makan! standing right there. added some honey and peanut butter. i feel so proud of myself. wonder where the lazy joo khai went... and anyway will fulfil more resolutions in gunbound later.

a fine tuesday. what happened to monday? =)

wanted to go out to safeway in the morning and come back for a 12 o' clock appointment, but decided against it... so now just took a shower and waiting for afterwards to go out. what a long sentence. on my list, among other things, are: boxes, pay bills (post office), pei-pa-ko (chinatown), bankpad and a polypropylene sheet (melbartsupps), facewash, eggs, aluminium foil (safeway)...

whew. fuck. but it's nice weather.

i'm gonna be toting around my new visual diary too. speaking of which... there're like three sketchbooks and a notebook and a mag and catalogue for reference on my bed. happy to announce been drawing quite a bit. and with markers too. and speaking of my bed... happy to announce again, i've succeeded in being a slob. crooked lamp, comics, clothes, jumpers, pushed into a lining in my sleep. oh, and markers and a toblerone in another corner too, beside the phone. haha!

ralf the blinds guy just called. 20 mins...! till the blinds guy comes. haharrr... new blinds.

anyway been working on a small cigarette pack project. and filled up my beanbag. that took a muthafukkin lot of trouble. cut the first one open (as the saying goes, experience doesn't come until after u need it) and promptly spilled about 1/5 of it on the floor. ended up with about 1/4 lah, overflowed. was smarter with the second one... put it in the bag and sliced it in a neat vertical. later zipped it up, picked up all the spilled beans with the trusty green cutting mat and a bucket... couldn't vacuum coz would get stuck. then poured it into the beanbag again. pretty neat job, but i didn't even bother to see how long it took.

alright gtg...

the right and left brain controls creativity and analysis, imagination and logic respectively. how does this affect siamese twins? is it because of the imbalance of these mental drives that make the separation procedure so dangerous? do some twins share one whole brain, or will it be an extension of one side, so one twin has two left brains to deal with.

and apparently alternating between using left and right parts of your body also enhances thinking skills. i usually play nokia's snake in a consistent left/right motion. would it help if i reversed it up/down? and speaking of snake, there's this way to play with just two buttons which i damnit can't learn.

i also suffer from mild hedonism. used to go take a walk in the middle of the night, randomly. used to go for morning walks and breakfast too, after i hoi-tong-siu. my friend king, too. i found him audaciously abusing his laptop, desktop and broadband on gunbound. two accounts, one for money and one for p. Freak!! then later went down for a smoke and kacau pei wen to go to safeway, hang-gai. her horrid look said wtf...! haha! she was watching rented hk drama tapes. but he drove me to melb central, which was good.

and since of yesterday, i've had a gradual sore throat which i could feel. i think i haven't drunk water for a day, then drank a bit... of tea, i think, not water... then later another hot black tea, and later before hp3, a bubble cup milk tea. fuckkk. after that coke... then later cola slurpee. i've practically felt my throat parch itself up to be this sick. i'm even contemplating the experience, so that must be another case of hedonism.

but surprisingly, i'm daaaaamn lazy too. to do even small things like stowing laundry or sorting out my shelves. maybe if i think of them as a minutes-long user-friendly gui interface it might be easier... or maybe not. and the shelves... there's a little amassed fortune of postcards and little neat booklets, which could fit neatly in one of those white post office boxes i have. if only i could go buy them... and anyway have to go up to the city to fix the syd tickets (yay!!! but don't think will be doing the harbour bridge climb, bleh) so might as well. u know, i'm thinking of packing everything in those white post boxes, they're pretty good and come in all sizes.

my nomadII is draining batts.

and hp3 - uh... like cy said, a lot of holes. i think it's the marketing shit, they made the movies just knowing people will watch it, it will make $$. hp1 was (waving my palm face down). hp2 was a bit better. but the best part of hp3 would be the art... landscapes and sculptures and - buckbeak!!! whooo. it's interesting to see these artists come up in the credits way before a lot of people... there're posts like storyboard artists, set designers, sculptors, graphic artists. and what i'd seen from my one and only visit to movieworld was the bloody great paintings and sets. very real shit... there was this painting of diagon alley in the set which had the perspectives and everything set so perfectly that even the pavement and shops extended into it. and in a small side chamber were some of the real owls that were used... kewlshit.

wah talked a lot. uh oklah, bye.

well, first of all the lightness, when he momentarily rode neutral atop the sheer power of his mobile, while he watched the needle rev it up. then the lights would turn green, and he'd release all charged turbo and the g would slam him firm in the chest, into the crook of the bucket seat. then came the rush.

minh raced along, weaving through the sparse traffic easily. after two green lights, his mood was considerably lifted. the morning was cold and fresh, and early drizzle had enhanced all the green colours of nature. he allowed for a moment of pure enjoyment, of forgetting his earthly duties and riding on the wind. then came the next junction. the green light came alit in a moment. he could only smile.

james the tram river was already running late. he started off the tram guiltily as the lights turned yellow. and what should come rushing by but this mobile driven by a lad, painted green and grey and looking straight from fantasyanimeland.

fuck u, u slow monster, minh yelled mentally at the tram. slow down. but james, in his shock, did not. so minh swerved left, checking dangerously in the mirror only after. and guided himself to cut the tram's path, speedily and just barely. james stopped from crossing himself and muttered his praise for the mad stunt. his eyes lifted from fantasyanimemobile back to the road, and what else should come rushing up this time, but zuihai, drunk driver. and as minh charged past the tram, he caught other sounds, of a car. another idiot who cut the red lights. assholes. it was miraculous when u think about his constraining helmet and the prevalent growl of his own vessel.

there was no time to stop. he veered right and aimed slightly left again, completing a perfect S manouvre as he did so, to cut the mad zuihai with some margin and come up at the pavement. james was already all but on his mind. checking his brakes, and riding on the forces to jump the kerb, he landed nonchalantly and rolled away to a parking space. and went up the stairs to her apartment.

u're late! the documents are due in an hour, they're not bound yet, and u rock up this late in your bloody race gear. think u'll make an impression at your presentation? yelain wasn't in a too good mood. minh picked up all the loose sheets and checked them through by the pc, while doing some msn socializing. then he got up, opened the fridge and fished out a yeo's green tea. 500ml bottles, he stocked those up in her fridge. she doesn't drink them, bless her, so they occupy half of a large tray in there.

he took a swig, knelt down to don his tiresome racing boots, and gave her a fond kiss on the cheek. we'll be fine! don't worry, i'll shoot up to the copy shop, get all these done, u get your ass down there on time later, and it'll be a blast. and at the window yelain watched him astride his mobile, thundering away.

apparently it was first night at the new venue... on bourke, between spencer and king sts. i liked the old place better, more room and comfy armchairs. so, alternated (or attempted to) between melbourne shuffle, the simpler canadian and that thing u do with the glowsticks. twirl it in nice patterns and if u do it fast enough, it'll appear like a globe.

so when the track starts, u start with something simple, then as more beats come up u just add along. then improvise as new layers of music are added. when tired, switch to hands if u were using feet and vice versa. hahahh! it was packed. elbows-to-make-way packed. but later on it loosened up a bit, towards 5, 6am... more space to dance and then we left at 7am+. unwritten rule that if no daylight, no going home. i can say that was the best time i've had at clubbing, leaving tired to get sudden cramps 1 hour later. maybe becoz it was the first time since the nov rave (kryal castle!)...

and then went to play pool just now. whatever skills i had are so rusty i could see the brown flakes spilling out when i made a shit shot. ferum 2+, wasn't it? and ferum 3+ was greenish... why the kimia stuff now...?

so this is how my hols have started. in the car just now, i've thought a bit about my drawing comics. how i've doodled away my primary years, though they proved the most prolific... how i've not followed up in the sec school years, but honed a bit of drawing skill... how i've dabbled in new styles in foundation... but not establishing a strong comic style. finding it hard to draw comics. so i'm gonna start working on that. let this be the main agenda this break.

let this be the greatest work i've accomplished before turning 20.

2nd most important, gunbound. besides daytona, this is 1 game i'm pretty sure i can get good at. unlike tetrinet... or the aforementioned pool... or ping pong... where i start out ok-ok but get my confidence trashed later. anyone up for tetrinet again?

3rd - housekeeping.

isnin selasa rabu khamis jumaat sabtu ahad. recalling them was peanuts but then they actually sounded foreign on my tongue. always been there except that i didn't require their usage. and for an instant (as i'd experienced this particular instant many times before) i was enthralled with language. simple letters are put together to form words, in turn strung together to make sentences, paragraphs, essays. but who exactly was it who dictated what word would mean what?

"rabu" is 2 syllables, each encompassing 2 letters. sounds like simple gibberish if u don't know its meaning. if u zone yourself out, out, out... even english can seem like gibberish. take any word, pull it apart and back... then wonder how nonsensical little syllables joined can have however much significance of wahtever word that was.

...

if i'm making sense, has anyone experienced this? do tell me. and my bm's rusty. wonder how it'll be to blog in bm. not much for expression... but i might give it a try.

just finished about 1/3 of assassin's quest. there are little parables within it that reflect reality, in a fantasy which itself reflects reality. difficulty and fear and purpose and time, with subtle drug references. fitz is haunted by his fears of being defeated, is regretful he did not put his good skills to use, taken a lot of things for granted, unsure of his purpose in life, and being witted meant time passed quicker. 1 day the scene was summer grass and when he looked again it was autumn flowers. so very real, if u linger over details too long. and, a man has to have a purpose in life. i find i relate very well.

ivan ilyich, on the other hand, is about a russian judge who realized just before he died, that his whole life had been a social lie. and with the trappings of his government post he'd let the meaning of life slip him by and he has to come to grips with his soul's happiness. poignant stuff.

man, these things u read tend to give u things to think about. i think it's the timing with my break, that this is possibly the biggest impact literature has had on me.

and fuck... missed guy bourdin. totally forgot.