when you fall in love
it is like a temporary madness
it is like an earthquake has erupted in you
the earthquake brings with it
pains, injuries and lessons
learnt and picked up
the hard way
when the eruption has subsided
you have to work out
if the two are entwined together
that it is inconcievable that
you shall even part
i have seen many
endured and survived the earthquake
together as a couple
with love
a third member is added to the family
and because of love
the third member is left in a puddle of tears
at the crossroads
between mom n dad
these are the dreaded days
where rains bring with them acid
where rains bring with them stones
where rain kills some
but brings life to others
these are the days where marriage is
often a step after courtship
and divorce has creeped in
often to fill up the void
sad statistics:The divorce rate has quadrupled from 4.3 million in 1970 to 18.3 million in 1996
looking around me
the figures are increasing
the hurts are rising
just think before
putting that ring
please.

been gift shopping.
online n in the physical stores
( thanks nicho for the use of ur credit card!)
i enjoy gift shopping
for others
though there might be a little sore on your pockets
after the massive craze
but with the sore comes the sweetness
sweetness of getting a gift for the ones you love
christmas is near
and i urge everyone
to sink in the spirit of giving
doesnt have to be a bought-physical matter
a smile
a hug
a kiss
a good listening ear
makes a good christmas gift.
*peace

i am supposed to pop by everyday to pen my thoughts down here. what a drag.(for once, i find this a daunting job!)

too tired to blog!
been sending out so many resumes
so much so that my fingers are numb.
and i need my sleep.
to keep sane.

goodnight world. sweet dreams earth.
make me a useful gal. gimme a job.
anyone lucky stars out there who has a recommendation, please do not hestitate to email me: crumbled@toast.com
architecture related jobs only, preferably in areas served by trams. thanks mates!

i am not here.
sometimes i wake up
to find myself on another planet
sometimes i wake up
to find myself losing gravity
sometimes i wake up
with eyes shut tightly
sometimes i wake up
but the dreams continue rolling
sometimes i need a tight pinch
to open my eyes
to the sad realities of life.

vietnam vs venice
cambodia vs canada
afghanistan vs america
where would i head
i would head to the former
where smiles emanate from the heart
where thank you-s are so finely executed
where every crease on their faces
are chiselled from their daily chores
i would carry my american made camera
canada manufactured palm
venice printed notebook
to record down the thoughts sights smells sounds of
3rd world countries
cos i know, it wouldnt be long
before the kids grab hold of an electronic toy
before the adults install an electric television
before the aged sit on a massage couch
and all thats gone into a chapter called
history.

i tried to
fill the lacuna with you
i tried to
cover the void with you
i find myself
struck by the sheer flashes of
sweet memories

its easy to say
forget me as a living being
but its hard to not have
the one i so was close to
beside you.
to whisper encouragement.
to poke fun.
to wallop and wail.
he had to
leave. abruptly.
leave. without a last goodbye.
leave. without your eyes shut.
all to the black tarred roads.
and these days. i wake up to a damp pillow
soaked with tears
i hold in the day
but i fold and crumble up in the night
you were all that you wanted to be, right till the day you slipped into the other room.
your voice rings in my head, just like my pop's.
you will be cherished missed just like my pop's.

how much is a nod of agreement worth
how much is a nod from academics worth
how much of how the world holds its perceptions, you?
ironic how the world sees things
how the world does things
its oddling saddening
how much the world does things
are based on how the world sees the things done
every action is executed
with a shadow of acceptance
every act is rendered
with a shadow of worldly nods
its a pity
how many shun the beaten track
to take the frequent path
common to many
its a pity
how your parents smile
how the world glows
how friends back you up
when someone boards the vessel of the
ordinary
its a pity. many are living.
few have lived.

bags perched on the hallways
lugguages line the passageways
smiles greet me
laughters fill the air
i see faces
faces glowing in the sveltering heat
i see muscles
weighed down by the heavy lugguage
but enjoying the every act of packing
i see the machines
passing by
i see the smiles
turning into huge grins
i see the excitement
the joys of returning home
i see the sparkle in your eyes. but i know. i have stood in your position. but the sparkle arent there. i have stood in your position, but the joys and excitement's missing. i stood in your position. in the cold. during summer. the hot sun's rays bite on my yellow skin. cos i wonder if i am returning home. or just to another place on earth with 2 pillows and a comfy bed. the people that pick me from the airport. yes. they look familiar. yes. we speak the same language. yes. i guess i came from your womb. yes. i call you mom. yes. i call you dad. but this there where do i call home. i guess my country's failed asset is me. i have been thru character education. but i am glad i picked nuts up. cos i have my unique god given character and who the hell are you to come along with a prescribed text to teach and impart your 'knowledge to me. i have been thru national education. and yet i still dont think i have absorbed the essence of being a citizen in my country. citizenship is one thing radically different from residense-ship. at least to me. is peace a sign that shows that everyone is living at ease with everyone else. is silence a sign that shows we are united as one. or is that silence emanacting a hack-care attitude from everyone.
i hate it when i talk to fellow countrymen
and all they can say is
oh i love where i am cos theres no disasters. no wars. no lack of food.
bullshit! you are a god damn too protected arse!
like your island. you are shadowed by protection.
first. your parents.
second. your teachers.
third. your government.
yes. i am not at ease with what i see.
yes. i am upset that my younger generations only know
the latest games gadgets brands
yes. i am upset that few are taking the less travelled paths
yes. i am upset that your hack-care attitudes
have pushed me to pen this down.
*morosed me

i am kinda stuck
lost and disillusioned
in a state
i could aticipate yet hate

i m like a mammal
lost in the woods
trapped under the twigs and weeds
unable to break free

time is more than your watch ticking
time is more than having another meal
time is more than harbouring hatred
time is more than losing hair
time is more than gaining white hair
time is there for you to grasp
hold grab cling
pin it down
stretch it to the max
life is like a sponge.
absorb as much knowledge experiences & lessons one can
but squeeze the hatred gore unsatisfaction qualms and complaints out
when you turn old. continue to absorb thy things
else you may turn into
an old mouldy sponge
that loses the essence of a sponge
cos you cant absorb anymore.
my sympathies to you O mouldy sponge
you aged unlike wine
you ferment and rot
cos you have harboured all vice.

i have a disorder.
i like to ponder.
and wonder.
what others are doing.
in the different continents.
in the different time zones.
in the different cultures.
in the different climates.
while i am doing my daily chores.
even right now
as i am blogging.
mates in melbourne: in slumberland
indonesia1032pm: nicholas is on his mobile yanking bout some gal @ HMV
toronto932am: nigel just woke up and is munching his oat cerals
singapore1133pm: chloe is out clubbing
seoul1233pm: jae is netmeeting with some dumbarse chick
london333pm: jon is rushing his goddamn research papers
new york933am: trev is still in bed with some gal he picked last night, after his final gig
maybe thats not all that fascinating
but its oddly insightful for me
i like to work my brain
on what i may be doing
if i was on a different time zone
climate
culture
and of a different sex.

have you ever
listened to the silence
in the wee hours to morning

have you ever
watched the empty streets
in the wee hours of the morning

have you ever
while listening
while watching
in the wee hours of the morning

heard the silence, punctured by a car's alarm
watched the streets, walked by a loving couple

have you ever
stopped to watch all thats around you

i like to press the pause button
while watching dvds
i like to press my pause button
while watching the world fly pass
i like to stop a moment

cos that moment's unique
cos that moment's a one time event
cos in life theres nothing called NG
cos in life
every fall
serves as a lesson learnt
its a pity
some people are crippled
some people are bedridden
cos they keep falling
but with each fall
they pick nothing up
and they end up thinking they are able-bodied
but its a lie
they see a handicapped
in the mirror

does the following test results spell out:
FREAK? damnit. i knew i hate tests.
*i should get down to writing uplifting wisdom filled blogs,
and not waste my time n earth's oxygen
following my good O loafer frds links
to corny websites to reveal the alter ego moi
to all my blog readers.

What box do you get put in?
brought to you by Quizilla

its been proven.
i am indie.
its strange or just mere make believe
how often we believe the good things
but shun n damn the bad results
tests show.

How can I label you?
brought to you by Quizilla
*alter ego moi

"Japanese`s killings were so cruel, savage, their ways of killing are beyond human imagination. They took killing people as a game. For instance, once, Japanese invaders tied up more than one thousand refugees from several places in a square, and made them stand in rows. Some of them wore long robes, some wore suits, some were women, some were children, all bare-feeted. Japanese first sprayed gasoline on their body, and then shot them with machine guns, a big fire set off whenever a person was shot. Dying refugees being shot and burnt, their body shivered in pain, it was a field of flickering flames. Japanese invaders laughed wildly, took great pleasure in it."

"Some Japanese soldiers took scores of refugees to a pond, forced them to take off their clothes and broke the ice to "catch fish", they (the civilians on the ice) froze to death immediately. Some resisted and were shot right at the spot, and then thrown into the pond. Japanese soldiers hang a young man for no reason at all with wire, and put dry wood below them, bake him slowly. After half of his body burned black, the Japanese soldiers left, shouting wild. One day, Japanese soldiers set a store on TaiPing avenue on fire and then forced the clerks to fight the fire. When people were fighting the fire, Japanese tied some the clerks and threw them into the fire and burnt them alive. On another day, some Japanese soldiers tied the hands and feet of some refugees and threw them into a shallow pond, then the Japanese threw grenades, blood and flesh flew all over, the Japanese laughed wild. In an other occasion, Japanese forced several hundred POWs to climb to the roof of the Department of Justice building, some knew they would definitely die, jumped off and died. Others climbed to the roof, Japanese then set fire from below, the POWs could not get down and cried painfully in the fire."

"In another occasion, several Japanese soldiers broke into a store and captured a young man, they forced him to take off his clothes. Then they poured nitric acid down from the top of his head, his body eroded right away. The young man shouted curses in anger in order to die fast. Japanese soldiers then followed him, shouting and making fun of him, until he died. Some Japanese gathered several hundred POWs together, scooped out their eye balls, cut off their ears and noses and then burned them alive. Even more savage, a group of Japanese soldiers gang raped a middle-aged lady, later they learned that the lady was pregnant, so they cut open the lady and took out the fetus. They took the fetus as a toy and played in the streets, met with a Japanese officer, they wavered the fetus on their bayonets to the officer, the officer returned a smile. The brutal killing game like this, who knows how many happened. Hundreds? Thousands? Above, we have only listed a few instances."

credits
i suspect. i may have been tortured by those japs in my previous life.
i cant explain my
xenophobia of japanese
i will not harbour deep hatred
but i will not forget
what your forefathers did

a mere beauty contest
leaves more than 100 dead in nigeria
and many more injured
what is the muslim religion about
the radicals are making
us see them
with tinted eyes. i rub my eyes vigouriouly
i dig my brains profusely
i open my heart widely
only to pass one day
and to wake up another day
to more horrors revealed by some others'
faith.

you guys dont feel anything.
maybe i m alittle more sensitive.
i dont like a place
with people more than its supposed to hold
i dont like a place
with oxygen levels depleting at a faster rate
i dont like a place
where lies and white lies
where scruntiny lies
i dont like where i am right now.
cos the surroundings have changed.
imagine. the surprise. that springs on you.
when the gates open.
hate surprises!

silence.
silence.
shouts of ecstasy.
screams of anxiety.
silence silence.
you dont come thru my doors
and break the silence i adore
you dont belong here.
now scram!
all things visible i view as the invisible.
cos some things are better unseen. unknown. unheard.
i hate strangers lurking around my radius.

some mysteries of life that i reckon everyone should ponder around.
its time some of my good O friends put their brains into use.
1)why is there a mode on the toaster that makes your toast all charred and totally unsuitable for consumption?
2)who was the first person that looked at a cow and gathered that he/she should try to squeeze those dangling stuffs. and to even move on a step further to taste those white substance. hah*
3)why do you not believe that the paint's wet when the "WET PAINT sign is up. i cant find a decent explaination to why people get paint on their hands, even though the warning signs were up.
4)why dont people learn the simple mannerism of asking? before springing you a surprise.
yea. i m a goddamnfreaking loser that holds on to fucking grudges for the fucking longest time.
i know. accept me as i am. cant do anything to change that.
you could drift away from me though.
guess you should. shun me. for the longest while.
thanks.

Take the test thanks to emily.

i bet there was something wrong with the results tabulations!! seriously think so! i am a clean uplifting-wisdom spewing gal!

i am particularly bad
walking
backwards

i was taught to thread my paths
one foot infront of the other
to do the reverse
i fear
i may
fall.

alright. i know.
not all human beings are sentient.
i just want
awareness.
and 'nice surprise' does not show in my
dictionary.

after a night's rest
i thought i would recovery
from the shock
but guess not.
i still hate surprises.

i tried. sorry.
i still hate surprises.
i still am hungry for my rights.
you are a good gal. i know.

*activist crumbled

now. dont point the finger around.
now. dont stare at everyone else.
now. dont look at me.
now. i know. i may look blue.
i am blue.
blue bout many things.
blue bout rights.
i feel u shld at least let me know
so that i can expect
someone.
roam.
*ponder on.

sad truth.
she didnt know
i dont like
surprises.
never liked.
and never will like.
surprises from
her.

a circle. it feels like a circle.
a square. it feels like a square.
an oval. it feels like an oval.

running.
i ran. run.
i ran. run. am running.
away.
to realise that i
actually ended up where i started.
cos i was running in a
circle.
square.
an oval.

one fine day.
i will run out of that circle. that square. that oval.
i will run free.
i will run amok.
where wide open spaces & pastures are.
the road to freedom.
the road to non-scruntiny
the road to liberty.
is a straight road with a horizon.
yes dad.
thats where i am headed.
yes dad.
thats where you will seek me.
yes dad.
i only wish
i have the
stamina.
*runner 101 crumbled toast

my grandpa
was a unique creature
with idiosyncrasies, many detest
at 5, he travelled in a junk for weeks
to settle in a new country
at 6, he had to bear the burdens of a man
not a boy
at 7, he was earning his own keep
by 15, he started a bookshop
by 18, he started a medical hall
by 35, he was white-haired
those hands of his
without the need of a piano teacher
churned out melodious tunes on his aged piano
those brains of his
without the need of uni lecturers
flowed out knowledge and experience of an established academic
every wrinkle on his face
every fold and crease on his hands
every scar and vein on his legs
are evidences of the toils he's been through
lessons learnt thru the hard way
YeYe. i miss you heaps.
its been awhile. a long while.
i miss those moments. when we yelled at each other. when we watched game shows, and we tried to guess the right answer. and it was always you who got the right answers. i miss the times when we both were snatching to play the piano. i miss your screams at me, when i play with your expensive herbs. i missed watching you shave. i miss watching you heal. i miss watching you eat. munch. i miss your squabbles with nanna. i miss your deadpan humor. i miss your entire being.
it was all gone, when they pushed you into the inferno
i lost my physical YeYe to the furnace.
to the clock. to bad health.
but YeYe's spirit, drive and idiosyncrasies
will stick on with me
i have all those. and an urn.
i miss you. rest in peace. YeYe

i ponder over life.
a tad bit too much.
i eschew over ethics.
a tad bit too much.
i munch on brain food
a tad bit too much.
mom says its not good for me.
you say i should just cast
deep thoughts away.
maybe i should.
lump my thoughts
worries. unhappiness. hesitation.
practicalities. pragmatics.
and cast them into the azure waters
always easier said than done.
i will try.
for ur sake.
* i miss andi. seriously. friendships are about forgiving one another. about one failing the other. about one helping the other up when he/she falls. about uplifting one another. about not bearing grievances. about not harbouring hatred. this may sound morbid, but cherish every word your mates n pals churn out. cos tat may be the last string of speech.they are churning out for you. Twice. once for my grandpa. second for andi. i didnt allow them to have a meaningful dialogue with me. i brushed them away. its all a lie.
dead men dun tell tales.
they make the living dig out tales.
memories.
and tears.
*regretful-crumbled

i have a life
outside of personality tests
and i arent a self loving freak
thanks to nicho
check out

What Sign of Affection Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla"
all for fun's sake.
*narcissistic me

more tests for me. courtesy of nick. this is my results for
what sign of affection are you?

disclaimer: i have a life outside of taking cranny personality tests.
*narcissistic me.

i just had to click on the link for this test.
i had to find out how i rated on the EVIL SCALE
hope this clears the air.
they are meaner witches out there!
witches n wizards, find out how you rate!

for crumbled evilish toast: Well, you're kinda evil. They haven't reserved a place for you in Hell yet, but the leasing agents are starting their calls. (Sorry, no air conditioning.) We're guessing you find others' pain funny, your backstabbing knife is probably pretty sharp, and your sexual wiles have likely brought you enjoyment at the expense of your bunkmates a time or two. If more than one of those three things rings true, consider yourself a card-carrying evil person. If you're interested in recanting the evil thing, sensitivity counseling isn't a bad idea. Or else find a more sadistic career, like a bouncer or a metermaid. But hey, to each his own, and if your evilness fits, wear it. Keep reading for more evil details!
black hearted / not blackhearted
Your heart's a little dark, but your kindness makes up for any evil deeds (except for that stunt you pulled in elementary school — yes, that one — tsk, tsk, that was pure wickedness). But you can forgive yourself for coming off as a meanie, because if you were 100 percent sweet, you wouldn't be normal. So continue being considerate of others, and remember — when you get cut off in traffic, it's okay to give the finger every once in awhile.
*omitted the sexually evil or not section, who are you to me to read bout tat! hell no!
*jester crumbled

i.
you.
everyone.
not only exists.
but we have an inate ability
to change our existence
we mould our exisitence
by the decisions we make in
a moment.

i dont mind the bad english that spews out from your mouth.
i dont mind the words that hurt so much cos u dont even think before blabbering
i dont mind the radiated injuries
that i sustain
which you inflict
cos words. they build. they hurt.
why do the words that emanate from your mouth
never fails to hurt.
i hate the alphabet 'J' cos you bring a bad name to a string.

Someone was round here asking questions about
Someone who looks like you
I said I don't know where you are
It sounded like he was going to be back someday
So I told him where you are

This would not be the first time
This will not be the last
He only knew slow moves in the past
I hope he's not too fast to last

i plucked up enough courage
to click on those words
for once, the mere clicking of a mouse button seems like an ardous task
i might have fought a WW3 battle just to execute that simple act

its never easy. its been an enigma
its strange odd queer quaint
how things are what they are today
i never seriously meant them to be of this result
guess i liken it to be like nature's work
as mountains disintegrate slowly
lands sinking slowly
water levels rising slowly
icebergs melting slowly
before an inferno
i ask myself. is this what i want. and i perpend more.
and i know. i wouldnt know the final result.
till the day i decide to face up to reality.
and accept the fact that. yes. i did let many people down.
yes i did.

its independence day.
liberty
from towering hideous looking notes.
liberty
from regurgitating fed-knowledge.
i totally abhor fed-knowledge.
*spelled tat out in the letter to lecturers n academics
boy! am i glad the whole episode of
swallow-n-puke-as-accurate-as-you-can is over

anyway. will blog more when i get home.
this blog was processed in a cafe in Melbourne City. Using a brand new Mac i-book.
my reviews on the i-book:
*too attention calling. not something you wanna bring out when you reckon that you are having a bad hairday and look like you just came out from a Incredible Hulk set.
*too white. too clean. too minimalist.
*too soft. i cant show my anger when i m angry. keys are just not attention grabbing!
*not waterproof? alright, i shall try if its caffeine proof? *holds latte. checks wallet. contemplates. better not!
alright. i have to thank Mr Anonymous for the use of his ibook. ( i was so close to typing notebook! Macs.. they just have to give a new name to every machine!)
Mr Anonymous gives a shy and sly smile as i end this blog, still having no idea why he refuses to let me get his name down on the blog.
not that i have trillions of visitors! oh but i do have a million of alien pals.
* another-satisfied-user-cos-its-free-and-for-novelty's-sake : crumbled toast

i know.
you have only slipped into the other room. i am i and you are you.
whatever we were to each other, we are still.
call me by the old familiar name.
i will wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
laugh as we always laugh.
i will play, smile, think of you and pray for you.
life still means all that it was ever meant.
it is the same as it ever was.
there is no absolute n unbroken continuity.
what is your demise but a negligible accident.
you will never be out of mind, though you are out of sight.
i know you are just round that corner
in remembrance of Andi, its been a lonesome 3 months.

mobile rings persistently *beeps
hey mean witch! hows the goin? [trev]
the going's good .. cant wait for tomorrow man! [crumbled]
yaddda yadda ... yank yank ....
when did you morph into crumbled toast? [trev]
werent you 24seven for quite awhile? [trev]
crumbled ponders* only trev and a few dumb blokes would spend tat mean amount of money on IDD to ask me such questions.
psst.. i shall enlighten you! isnt crumbled toast=bread crumbs that are toasted? [trev]
*trev breaks into a frenzy and laughs like a crazed hyena
the next time you pop by my place, we will go down Central Park
and we go feed the flying mates (aka birds) some good O crumbled toast! [trev in giggles]
... .... .....
*duh! do i know the dude over the other end of the phoneline connection? [crumbled]
shrugs. forced a "yea ... yea ... [crumbled]
i dont have to get to the other hemisphere to get fed to birds.
the crumbled toast is already being fed on by ravens, parrots, pigeons and a big bird.
here in Ozland.
but it was heart warming to hear from you, trev!
the next step to show that you are a true pal is to fly by during christmas
or i will await your 'promise in the mail.' (nah .. kidding!

*chuckling crumbled toast
peace. not everyone needs to see eye to eye. thats why we were given 2 eyes. look elsewhere!

YEESSHHHHHHHHH!
i have exams tomorrow
YEEEEESSHHHHHHHHH
i have to cram. mug. regurgitate.
YESSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHH
i will depart from blogging soon.

sick of concerned-didactic frds (CD-frds)
but do appreciate your showers of warning. seriously.

the heavens are pouring rain down the city
finally.
rain, i love
when i am indoors
with a cuppa
and a good O book

rain i hate
when i am outdoors
without a brolley
without a shelter in sight

i cant control rain though
i can do the rain dance
following the 'macarena' tunes

*jester me enjoying the heavenly showers, alas that lasted for 5minutes. darn!^!#%^^&!

dont deny it
i saw you
trying to turn back the hands of time

i saw you
loitering behind the big ben
turning the minute hand
then the hour hand
to that perfect day

time goes by
in the wink of an eye
regrets
mount up as high as K9
hopes
get dashed
dreams
get slashed
humans
get bashed
but
humans pash
dreams drift
hope floats

seriously & assuringly
i say
store regrets in the back of your head, as valuable life lessons
let dreams and desires motion your future
and dont let me catch you
trying to turn back the hands of time
cos i cry for you everytime i see you do so.

the night has fallen
the wee hours of dawn has crippled its way in
the streets are empty
but the lights in your room are still lit
i may be falling asleep
i may be in slumberland
but i know when i awake
i will see the lights emanating from your room

i didnt wanna ask. i did try to guess. ponder.
who's the girl you are waiting for
to switch those lights off
to give your weary eyes well deserved rest
maybe in the course of doing so
you may have to rest, on a bed of lies.

love.
its a four letter word, without doubt.
too much of it brings you on cloud nine
and it hurts a mean amount to fall back to ground zero
from cloud nine
love.
its a responsibilty which needs to be shouldered by strong limbs
not empty promises and lip service
love.
can wither, die and depart.
but the memories it leaves are evergreen.
so are the scars.
love. is but a game.
enter it with uncertainty and unsurity
but if you have the guts to enter the gates
have the courage to depart from the gates as well.
certain things are just meant to be let go and gone with the wind.
but i did enjoy the cool breezes brought with it
everyone should.

took my eyes off the towering notes
was directed to this cranny site
was good fun though

What drink are you?
" You're a Cosmopolitan! You're modern, hip, and always in fashion. Yep, a regular slave to society."
I'm a Cosmopolitan, discover your ALcoHoLiC personality!

dear lecturers and academics:

put the question within my reach
and let me solve them myself
let me know nothing
dont feed me facts
let me learn by myself
the facts of life

factual knowledge doesnt bring anyone to anywhere
they go obselete faster than you could spell OUT

socrates eschewed didactism
taught by interaction
Middle Ages came by
and we bid goodbye to debates
teachers became priests
transmitting religious teachings
questioning nothing

i dont want to be an empty vessel that
you will fill up with facts
but an active inquiring human
whose natural curiousity
you will harvest.

discover-ist me.

rummaged thru your diary
peered thru your journals
picked your scribbles
but found no answers
either that or i am alittle
spastic.

we must, between periods of digging in the dark
endeavour always to transform
tears into knowledge

i erased from my mind, deceptive images,
vague happiness
that hovers around in capricious shapes and sizes
cos what disturbs and render unhappiness
is the erroneous notion of
pursuing the dreams of the-gal-down-the-street

i think you are following the motions and notions of a typical mammal
write down your dreams, wants and desires
and i bet , and i would assuringly take a wager
that piece of scribbled paper
will contain the same stuffs as any toms, dicks, harrys
or lucys, annes, zoes

*mirrored me

disclaimer:
1) i realise that i am better off in english.
2) i am not trying to morph into some korean chick
3) the things in 'other' languages are very personal. since i cant afford to set up a private blog. i have to resort to this.
4) in regards to the above clause, i welcome all donations. i will gladly furnish my swiss bank account details for your kind fundings.

why am i justifying my actions?
oh well, maybe i need some zzz.

gute Nacht!
tongue twisted sleepy stony crumbled toast

to jae:
유감스러운. 우리가 친구으로서 더 낫다 떨어져 것 을 나는 생 각한다. 우리는 애인 일 수 없다. 나는 좋은 친구를 잃고 않 않는다 ! 우리는 해봤다 그러나 그것은 밖으로 나를 다시 해보 고 않않는다 일하지 않았다

smile*
owe u one! ram! (ram@startmail.ca) rocks!

to nicholaus:
这是我的第一尝试于文字在线用中文
所有由于nicholaus 这个挑战

to kim jae:
행복한 생일 ! 너는 계속 환상적인 친구 이다 !

i could have gone overboard with this diverse asian language insight
but i didnt. cos words are better left.
short & sweet.

*안녕
被粉碎的多士

the stage has been set. the lead is standing by.
who will be chosen.
who will be tossed.
who am i to make a decision.

the costumes arent ready i yelled
the props arent right i screamed
but its all cos i am trembling

would you scream if you woke up to find yourself
yellow
would you scream if you woke up to find yourself
black
would you scream if you woke up to find yourself
white
would those screams be of ecstasy.
of fear. of disgust. or simply
screams.

the ending was unexpected.
lachrymose
i dont deny.
i dont deny i have been playful.
i have been awful
been a bit untactful
sometimes like a fool
pranky, elvish, waggish
and in the name of fun
lost alittle, sobbed alittle, gained alittle
i know i should wrap things
i know i havent been the best.
i am still playful. bashful. and awful. i know someday, i will hurt myself.
but didnt you say that its from falling that i pick myself up?
didnt you say that life's about falls and rises?
now you are telling me that i am self inflicting pain?
whats the catch. when is life a challenge. when is life a game?
one thing i know. i love games. still am gamed.
and i dont deny, the risk of me losing the game.
and turning into the game.
the hunter will change his role one fine day
the lion will give chase
but no one knows the day the lion will give chase
the hunter's still holding his gun
cos he has mouths to feed.

a drawing
with apples in blue
with the sun in green
with your face in red
with my face in purple
why do you reprimand ling?
why do you insist
why do you persist
why do you resist
recieving the fact that
apples can be blue, faces can be red, the sun can be green
you have to strip your glasses
strip your colour coding
strip your entire being
to recieve the endless possibilities.

i dont know why the earth seems flat
when it is round
i dont know why truth hurts
when lies arent nice
i dont know why i keep pondering
when i know it arent right
kaput. things have taken a dip. kaput.

the #1 item on my wish list: a spy cam
cos i wanna peer.
wanna perv
wanna stare
wanna awe
in addition to the surround sound
wanna peep
wanna take a gander at
wanna get a load of
my neighbour making out.
yea. i am shallow. but its these
useless,fruitless, purposeless, good for nothing acts that one gets engaged in
that makes life alittle easier on my back and feet
cos i shoulder enough on my back
and i thread on stony, uneven grounds with my feet
hey. enough said. i want my
spycam.
*voyeuristic me chuckling

i never liked dolls
i didnt know you did
i saw you pick up barbie with your left hand
and carassed her blond hair
i saw you pick up ling, the chinese doll with your right hand
and brushed her face
you asked me
which one would i like.
barbie or ling
would my answer hold the key to my perception
or give the slightest hint
on where i stand, between barbie and ling
cos seriously i pondered
those dyed hair, fake blue contacts
are they aesthetics or pure anesthetics
to numb and nurse
a scarred tissue.
only you know.
*asian chick

let me get back in there
let me get back in there
see me without prejudice
see me without tainted eyes
let me in there
take off your tainted glasses
take off your fake sheepskin
am i de-stripping
destripping from my culture and origin
did i ever had an origin and culture
i was fed with lies
lies that the worlds out there for me to conquer
if i had in hand
a chinese-english dictionary
yes. i am
bilingual.

if you ever feel neglected
dont call for me
if you ever feel rejected
dont look for me
neglection
rejection
objection
are just motions of living
everybody's trying to grab somebody
everybody's trying to drag somebody down

are you living your life
or are you living someone else's life
seems like you know the game
but i arent keen in your game
cos i know
i might emerge as your game

*hunted me

its too late
too late to drag the past into the light
i'm too tired
too tired to pack up the feelings
i'm too lazy
too lazy to count my chances
i'm too sick
too sick to seek help
i cant be holding on. holding on to all that you have got.
cos all you have got.
is hurt.

i know. i know its hard to get reconnected to your community.
you have been dropped, from a strange land, to this place.
mom says call this place home Jon!
dad says make friends & things gonna be bright
i know its easier said than done
you havent finished unpacking
and you are to start packing again

i know it hurts everytime
someone labels you
someone tags you
someone brands you
a yellow in white covers
or a white in yellow covers
but to us. you will always be.
that unique creature you have always been.

met you at his party. thought you were snobbish. a little queer. alttle odd. a little lost. but as time unfolded, you revealed more.
been feeding on your knowledge wisdom and philosophies on life
though you reckon you are messed up, wreaked up, fucked up
i am glad to say, its been a good 3 years. but allow me, to offer, a small advice
take that critical cynical out from your middle name.
*crumbles celebrates her 3 year pal-ship.. or pal-shit (we label) with Jonathan.

you opened the door
and invited me in
when i was near
you wanted me to crawl in

you opened the windows
saying you wanted the sun in
when i was near
strong gail winds came in

you poured me a drink
saying it was cool to drink a chilled drink
when i was sipping
my lips were burning

contradictions. contradictions.
they dont come and go.
they dwell. stay and stick
till i go sick.

*dazing me

i am afraid.
afraid that i might pick up my old baggage.
afraid that i might pick up my old lugguage
and speak in a strange language

should i turn back
or should i let my heart crack
cos i am used to this wreck

i smile and sob
at your advances
cos i m lost
bout my reactions

maybe i should step back
think back look back
maybe i should ponder about greenbacks.
swing me back
back to back.

alright. my attempt at writing a true blue bloggish blog.
had my first paper: titled: Construction Law *yawns
did the usual pre-exam crams
mugged +crammed + anxiety + coffee = neurotic me
first glimpse of the paper
fuck + fuck + fuck+ what the $!%^$@%
second thoughts
leave. escape.
reality sinks in.
kudos to my lecturer! he realised that i am ruddy sick of the rigidities of life. and he decided to drop a paper that was unlike ever. he was making history hours ago. suddenly, i find myself liking rigidity. especially for exams. but it was all fun. i arent complaining. i merely had to put more brain juices to work.

i saw you put a sign up
saying everything's for sale
trade or barter

i saw you sell your dreams away
i saw you barter your freedom
for that bowl of soup
i saw you sell your cherished rosary
i saw you sell your treasured boots
i saw you sell our memories
for that short spat of freedom

shortchanged. i felt.
shortchanged by expectations.

*small change anyone?

the stain's fading
and you thought it wouldnt

the pain's easing
and i thought it wouldnt

cos i have stepped out
from viewing things too well known
from associating things of unknown
to the known
i have stepped out
of the doors that made me secure

comprehension has taken a dip
apprehension has taken a turn
comprehension is
out of question

in kafka's The Trial
in orwell's 1984
they are ubiquitous
thought to be something tomorrow holds
but tomorrow is today

dont you feel anything about their presence?
or they have just become a part of life?
mechanical eyes peering
retinas burning
rights. have turned into wrongs.
mechanical eyes.

* mechanical me

l want to be
a small girl when i grow up.

i want you to be
a little boy when you grow up.

achtung baby.

the door is closed
the windows are shut
you can speak your mind

you can profane.
proclaim. exclaim.
push the blame.
point and profane.

i never ceased to be amazed.
how beaten and blown i am
i still stand
in the face of the dust.

you have turned into
rust.

we will fly the crimson skies
we will swim the azure waters
we will wake up each day
and realise we arent dreaming

skies look gloomy
but does it dampen your heart

sun's shining
but does it brighten your smiles

its no secret that you make us smile
its no secret that you make us weep
its no secret that you have made me
crumbled up.

i suddenly find myself speechless
seems like the stream has ceased to flow

i suddenly find myself mindless
reckless clueless
a little less than usual

apologies swarmed in thousands
condolences abounded by the millions
tears trickled by the billions

junior school taught me how much a thousand equated to
high school taught me how much a million equated to
university taught me how much a billion equated to
but i picked up myself

that a million seconds equates to 31.7 years.
i havent breathed for a million seconds yet.

i arent writing poetry. i arent writing proses. i arent trying to be arty farty. i arent poking my nose in the air. i arent breathing too hard. i arent cold. i arent wasting time. i arent drinking green tea. i arent typing loudly. i arent crying. i arent losing. i arent fearing. i arent writing poetry. i arent writing proses. i arent you.

i am penning my thoughts. i am penning my dreams, visions, bubbles. i am, if you deem, wasting time, wasting mine.

i am writing no poetry. a poet, i arent. a thinker, i arent.
i only want to remain as a dreamer.
stuck in a moment.
my watch doesnt tell time by hours.
my watch records moments.
some moments pass by in a flash
others stop stay and stray.

i guess i left a bad taste in your mouth
i guess i made the right choice

i guess i made things easier
you have gotten someone to blame now
its so you

have you come for forgiveness
have you come to seek for the stream
have you come to turn eyes red
have you come to turn smiles into sobs
have you come to play jesus
i guess you failed.

the blind still cant see. the weak still cant walk. the lame is still limping.
one life. and this is what you make out of it.

vulnerable us.

i watched a kid, pointing up at the skies
nudging his dad, daddy, why's the sky that colour? why's it blue?
the dad, peered at his son,
come on, move it, chop chop, or mom's gonna be mad
the kid continued staring at the skies,
his question, unanswered.

i chanced on another kid, pointing at his dad's eyes
why are your eyes black? why does mom have blue eyes?
the dad, glanced at the kid
oh ashley! hurry, you have to get to play school in time!

daddy, i arent asking for detailed scientific answers.
daddy, lie to me if you have no answers. i will believe.
i believed in santa, the tooth fairy and the easter bunny.
daddy, tell me that your eyes are black because you consumed too much coffee.
daddy, tell me that the skies are blue cos the fairies painted them blue.
daddy, tell me that you will read me the story
the story of Noah's ark, the story of Zacchaeus, the story of the Red Riding Hood

it wont be long, before
i will pick up the books
and read them, discovering the magical lands, by myself
and travel past time zones, by myself
and doze asleep myself, without your goodnight kiss.

and it wont be long before
my daddy complains that his little angel
has stopped talking to him
conversations have circled around the mundane
the pragmatics, the chores, the rigidities of life.

*crumbled me

the earth ceases to rotate
the clock stops ticking
the clouds stay still
when i pen stuffs down

many have come
many have called
expressing awe
at how much i pen
how often i pen

just 2 secs ago, i was drinking
now i drank
just 3 secs ago, i was yawning
now i yawned
just 4 secs ago, i was speaking
now i have spoken
just 9weeks ago, we were chatting
you were you
now you are gone

i have come to realise how fast we have to change tenses. from the present to the past.
how accelerating time is moving.
how the world unfolds carelessly, even when you are asleep.
how writing, stops the time, pulls me away from gravity, and teach me to view the world, with tainted eyes.

*delusioned me

i love to peer over your shoulders to watch your every movement.
i love to glance in your direction and watch you batter your eyelids.
i love to be 2 steps behind you and watch you thread each path.

watch those little prints before they turn bigger
watch those little limbs before they grow in size
watch your words cos the little imps pick stuffs up
as fast as the winds sweeps up the trash in the frontyard

let the children teach the grownups
to dream dreams
to see visions
and to read fairy tales once more.

i wrote my first haiku when i was 10
a shame i havent written much since
but the mood came by
and i was enticed

mountains of notes
in front of me
agony, i cant get them in

*i hate washing rice! repine me

of all things that my nanna taught
i am glad i picked up this
the art of forgetting

call it forgetting
call it escaping
call it the run from reality

but many a times
its much easier
to bring to remembrance
the things you so wanna trash
than the sweet memories you wanna hold on close to

nanna will tell me to
write the stuffs down
and toss them in the drains

i used to scribble on walls
the names of those i detest
and strange enough
even though physically you see them on your walls
they dissipate into thin air, erased from your memories

but this time around
i did the same
but i still hear your hauntings
refusing to grant me freedom

but given enough time
i believe nanna's art of forgetting
will work miracles once again.

' hi there crumbled, how have ya been?' [anna]
' pretty good, yourself? hows it goin?' [crumbled]
'oh, i am alright. going on well, without you. seriously, you dont give a damn whether i live or die! am i right?
you dont bother bout the past, you dont care! you arsehole! you never bothered. all the memories? have they all departed from ya?" [anna]
'oh, i do give a damn. i do!' [crumbled had to leave, as she had reached her destination.}
*anna is a name used to protect the privacy of the 'accused or affected'. above conversation took place on *****2002@1204GMT+1000

how does one attempts to define 'giving a damn?'
i mean, each of one has different and various degrees of needs. i could shower you with heaps of concern, and you label me sticky! i could shower you with minimal concern, and my middle name suddenly became 'cold'. i mean, what the hell do you want me to do? i am appalled by what has happened and i seriously didnt even see that coming.
its odd, strange, an enigma.
my reaction levels have taken a dip
my reaction levels are in limbo
my name's the Hobo
i just stand there
after the ordeal
and watch your back
slowly, disappearing
and it doesnt take a while
for me to realise
that the story's ended. but repercussions will resurface.
like an internal wound tats yet to be treated.
rotten you, go on desecrate more bout me!
"i dont give a damn!" you profaner!

i dream too much.
i m encapsulated in a bubble.
and the bubble's growing.

i see visions too often.
visions that seem a distance afar.
visions that the human eye reckons is an illusion.

visions and dreams that mom so loved to
pull me away from and propel me back to earth
reminding me that there's something called gravity
and i should stick my foot close to the ground

now that mom's not with me
are you the one trying to burst my bubble
why cant i stay in the bubble, whats with my bubble

i deal with enough gravity and pragmatics in architecture
all i am asking for
is a bubble, a bubble i can reside in
where dreams remain as dreams, visions become illusions
and all i do each day,
is to stare into the endless empty space.

why is it that
when you give something to a thief
it gets stolen?

stodgy n alittle dodgy moi.

in one dream, i was the odd one out
trying really hard to mingle with the rest
i failed. the outcast.

in one dream, i was the popular one
hob nobbing with The Ones
did i enjoy the ordeal, guess not.

in one dream, i was you.
stuck in your being, doing the things i so detest. saying the stuffs i so dun mean. watching the scenes i totally abhor.
victim once more,
in dire straits and stranding in execrable conditions.

*staid me

we beat bout the bushes.
we try to be as apt as we could.
we live by the white lies

i wont stay in a place for too long.
i wont hang around your presence for too long.
time breeds queerness.
time breeds an odd feel.

i wont look in your eyes for more than 5secs.
i wont talk for more than 5mins.
but i ponder n weigh myself down
for 5days even 5months
for the tomorrows that are 5years away.

my left brain says i should be sleeping
my right brain tells me i arent tired

my left brain laments that i should be resting
my right brain assures me that i will be fine

how true is it that you look to your left when you are cooking something up.
and look to the right when you are telling the truth?
how true is it that you should listen to what your body's saying?
how true is it that we should be drinking 7 glasses of clear water each day?
how true is it that caffeine harms the body?

one fine day, the doc tells of coffee being good
one bright day, another doc says that alittle wine is good
one stormy night, another doc storms out with the findings that wine is bad

bugger it all.
balance is the key.

zen-ish me.

you told me He is lying on a hospital bed.
was told that he hurt his leg, in a soccer match
he is the one who punctures my thoughts daily
he shuffles between being a pain in my arse and a good O mentor

he is rich, drives mean machines.
he is poor, clothed in insatiable desires
he is avaricious, eyes on all things new

he fathoms the untouchables
we would dream of stuffs other cast away
he was the only one that met my nana
he was the only one that saw You.
though you didnt quite like boys,
i had a feeling you adored him
i guess i am right.

though you are perched on a hospital bed
sadly, you were erased as demised in my brain logs
memories i cherish and hold on
and allow them to linger
so dont speak, dont call, dont rave
lest the memories get tainted.

speedy recovery. nig.

i have to get my resumes sent out
i have to whine less
i have to get my brains cracking
i have to stop blogging that often
i have to lower my expectations
i have to compromise sometimes
i have to dream less
i have to get my arse down to studying
i have to quit , quit this game of mine. quit the game of hunted and being the hunter. cos my energy levels are depleting at an astonishing rate. the rules have been set. i have trained. i have longed for this day. but when it nears, i turn my face away. when it nears, i shudder. when it nears, i ponder. maybe i shouldn't have even threaded into the realm. i am in limbo. in confusion. invertigo.

i throw in the white towel. you grasp it. and pounce down on me.
words thoughts and dreams i once fantasized, you regurgitated back at me
i get reminded, of old dreams, new visions and unlimited tomorrows.

i guess i know what should be done. but whether i will do it, is an entirely different episode.

dear stalkers,

my latest hangouts:

acca @ sturt street
aust museum of moving images @ fed square
vac @ south melbourne
fitzroy street @ st kilda
caffeine@ rmit

pop by the architecture. building in melbourne uni to intoxicate and get ur design n creative juices oozing! oh .. and you might chance into the toast that draws, drafts, and craps. (i.e: crumbled toast!)

*peace!

its all a fallacy

half a day spent looking thru the windows
half a day spent waiting by the phone

half a day spent lurking by your door
half a day spent recaptulating thoughts

half a day spent staring into the atmosphere
looking for myself
where did i stray into
where did i intrude
how long was i out looking for myself

when will i find me. my withness. my entity.

i love visual dialogues
i adore verbal conversations

they say a picture paints a thousand words
but a picture cant say something a word sums out

to me
both are sub sets of one another
i will perish without either

talk to me. sketch for me. write for me.

on my way to your place
i took the wrong turn off the tollways
i find myself in a deserted town
no one lives here anymore

but i can still hear the giggles of the children
playing by the pond

i can still hear the rantings of parents
yelling at the kids

all mixed with the sound of my tyres
falling on the gravels
i didnt linger

lest i disturb the tranquility.

i cant get my butts down in front of my towering notes and start devouring em, and i dont even wanna do tat!

i enjoy the sheer pleasure of intoxicating myself with books
readings on philosophy add spice to my life
readings on autobiographs add speed to my motion
readings of poetry add sweetness to my speech

i talk with a slur. i watch with a blur. i walk queer.
how do you talk normal, walk normal and watch normal?
normality breeds mundaneness.

carpe diem!

if we were together the world

Could be ours. No one sees the world like we do.
No one threads on the ground like us.
No one watches the clouds dance or
Hold his breathe to hear the quiet

If you were with me

We would be outdoors
Even in the brazen cold
Even in the fiery inferno
Even in the darkest nights

i know us too well.

i feel something when my spice gals album ... moves from the pop folders to oldies.

-jester me

*peace: an eye for an eye would only leave the world blind.

you and i, we are two of a kind. in as much as i refuse to acknowledge it, what makes you tick makes me smile.i never mind the way i had to see you. i love to wear my work inside my head, i cant complain but you should never react the way you did. it shudders me. you were lying wide awake in the studios. i can never see you departing away. i think it is a sin. that we should even harbour thoughts like i did. do you ever stop and see what i am doing to you? i think maybe you should.

time flew away, but something wont forgive it all, days weeks hours & minutes. lets start from the beginning of a life. you called today, pretending not to care at all, for days and weeks, now you are hanging from the ceiling. whats with your life? is something wrong with you. with me. with us? you show me things i have never seen. you showed me things i would only dream of. you never change, something wont forgive it all.

maybe i should talk less. crap less. and spite people to a minimal.
sometimes i ponder over the remarks people drop.
are they hints with truth embedded?
am i a pain in the ass?

maybe i should cease to babble
and pepper my daily speech with the profound thoughts on life that i hold on so strongly to
maybe i shouldnt even bother

maybe i shouldnt even rely on others
maybe i shouldnt even have a certain expectations of others
maybe i should view the world from a different angle
maybe i should cease complaining
maybe i shall change my room's colour
maybe i shall call You
maybe i shall peeve someone off
maybe i should get some christmas presents
maybe i shall just do what i deem right.
i guess i ought to lower my expectations on others. and realise that the world's unjust and good things doesnt always happen to the goody two shoos out there.

-nihilistic me.
*peace

a protagonist.
being led by the scrpts.
re-enacting moments
director's screams, co-actor's smooches, co-actresses' slutty disposition
i countered em all
to emerge as the protagonist

it would never be a breeze
as i meander thru the process
i know i would
be a puppet maybe
led by His hands

i have cut the strings off my hands in defiance
i have expressed my narcissistic nature
but one day
the strings will return back on His hands
and i would be open to Your control.

The more I search for who I am, the more I realize that it is not some kind of final conclusion I long for, but appreciation of the process and the uncovering of truths and talents about myself. Identity goes hand in hand with truth, and when ones beliefs and values are challenged, convictions can change in strength and intent, in turn changing ones identity. The creation of some superficial metaphor or symbol that tries to communicate an identity that anyone can clearly see on the surface anyway, is futile.

The paradox of knowledge lies in the fact that we must grasp in the object that which is not the object by means of a process which, by penetrating into the object, modifies its objectal statute. The processes we create are going to have biases toward the conclusion we draw about the identity or truth of something. But how can one start to understand a process by means of an object, a process without biases. This challenge can be rather baffling!

how much of the world is objectively true, and how much of it is truly subjective. It is often through something that disrupts our sense of inner peace that makes us question the external world around us.