Needs Money

You fellas out there have any dinero you could spare?
Let's say about 7000 dollars?
Hehehehehehe

Fatty Hits The Gym Again

I have decided to push myself into shape again and hope to look back like when i was in college. So far, my fitness levels have proven to be below par of what i expected of myself since for the past few months i've been in a 'regular' gym.

So here i trudge into new teritory with Crossfit at PushMore Fitness Centre. Four sessions in and i'm addicted to the bloody pain and strain that its given me and the numb legs and sore arms. Crazy awesome excercises and WOD's and some movements i've never ever heard about before like 'Kong Walk's and Renegade Man Makers (?) '. Awesome stuff.

Crossfit's 10 minute workouts leave me more tired than spending 2.5 hours in my old gym. So that's gotta be good or i'm just unfit. Haha.

So raise the knife cut the binds to the curtains and its time to PushMore To HurtMore Baby! No i don't need to cut myself to feel the pain anymore. Heh!

Now I'm Nothing

NINE INCH NAILS : FORT CANNING, SINGAPORE
No excuses; consider me there.

Would you believe in the good and the light, to feel the warmth of the sun against your skin and let me save you because these are the moments that will change our lives. We're not free, shackled against our will and held by circumstances we never signed for. Skin and bones the cold weeps when the rain comes harder than we expected. But pull me back when you're free and let yourself into me, pull me back into your bottle and cap the cork because i don't care if its the world, i just wanna caress your stomach and pepper them with kisses.

Heh

Half a year seems like a good time to finally put some stuff up. Reasons being that i realized that over the course of growing older i have finally sold out to the corporate suit and given my life and time to the desk and whichever the next assignment demands.

I succumb to self censoring for the feeling of fear that i may offend you; my three readers or anyone who might actually stumble upon this page. I am no more profanely profound, more dickshipdeepthroatarse-ho. Which most will say that i always have been one anyway...

So goodnight and thank you for all the shoes.

You Got Feel For Sale ?

The Ass Crack-Five; heavy rock that’s damn feel

Simple Plan; heavy medal

Pedro The Lion; the new Simon & Garfunkel

To the emo-panda-eyeliner-on-pornstar-fake-eyelashes-on-acne-face, the indie-so-feel-but-i-donno-what-or-how-to-make-feel-but-is-feel crowd and the fence huggers that gravitate towards shitty radio station music; the quoted bands play to their miniskirt-netting-striped-socks-up-to-the-knee starcrossed hearts on fire with a cigarette lingering on the trigger finger in the corner of the room tears filled sorrow that gets glorified with wet panties of being so feel.

‘The emotion is so real, its like God spoke to me and told me to cut my wrist in protest of my mother cutting my allowance’

Surely it isn’t as bad as it sounds when they can roll in shit with their motorcycle buddies and fuck their cousin sisters because it’s the same theory of us making the bed we sleep in mirroring she who chooses whose cock she jerks off and the same stupid 30 year old senior who can’t tell the difference between an upside down internet cable while forcing it into its socket chooses their ridicule.

Herein lays the shocking revelation of it all. While the bands above have reached the eons of Greek demigods, the technically gifted have floundered in their own little cults with hardly any success compared to the aforementioned bands. Take for example the bands below;

Opeth; mindless inaudible sounds of evil devil expression.

UnExpect; What the fuck is this shit

Paul Gilber; Mad skills but more towards Wank-King noise.

In layman terms the two groups of bands are differentiated by the former having Feel and the latter; No Feel.

Bullshit. Such is the shame of this corporate world we live where we watch our children being forced fed into submission by MTV and a host of ‘reality’ shows that depict voyeurism, sexual debauchery, disassociation and glorified decadence. For a minute you realize that slowly and surely we are being altered to live in this so-called reality and to lose the essence of why we wanted to be where we are today. Putting music into such a perspective is possibly not the best way to describe how life is turning out the way it is but for that one minute of your life not spent thinking about the next paycheck and your selfish dilemmas you might come to realize that we’re only living for material reality and puppeteer’d into a mindless 14 hour day drone.

Take for example; your little 15 year old sister. She tries to look like Avril Lavigne, lets her nip slip from her towel after the shower and flashes her clit when your best friend is seated in front of her like Britney. She may say that it’s all about living for the moment but seriously does she really know what’s ‘living for the moment’? Or more like living in her bubble of what she thinks is ‘the moment’ because Seacrest-Out said so on television and read in the papers. While you now notice how much she has changed from being little miss sweet, doesn’t she look like Amy Winehouse with all the cocks that she might have put inside her?

So what is feel? Trying to be someone else and listening to what is perceived as the right way, the right thing, the right style and the right voice, the right shoes, the right Paris Hilton is so yesterday and Kim Kardashian is the new IN way ? As opposed to the perception of No Feel being mindless shredders of noise pollution to environment protecting Green Peach tree huggers and your little brother who decided he wants to scale the Himalayans and help the Tibetans until he is 27 before he participates in the corporate world?

That’s No Feel in our world today.

It’s aimless and meaningless. It doesn’t make money and wealth rules the evil axis that makes the world go round. We are nothing and its come to the point that we don’t even recognize who we are anyone while neglecting away to the little thoughts inside our little heads that tell what a waste for all the beautiful thoughts and dreams of dust coloured in different hues that we used to share with our parents and anyone who would ask to lose its self in the mechanism of growing up in corporate today? I long for the day I can break free and live as I used to with the ideals I once stood for that meant tomorrow would be a better day, the one that said I would change the world when I am older because I didn’t like the one that was 10 years ago. The same ones I lost along the way of growing old. I miss who I used to be.

Hey Des; will you help me find myself?

The Case Of The Hanging Up

There are times where a little display of etiquette, refinery and class are called for, for other times; you can simply just hang up.

Need Some Sauce With It ?

Say hello to my little baby mouse Uncle Chu Chu. The newborn little mouse that die during ratbirth and left my office with the fresh air of fresh bloody air in a confined office space shared by 4 people. Think of a perverted collection of 100 women's period pads and tampons and a pile of shit all rolled in one. That is exactly the loving smell which hovered around and left the 4 office mates including my manager running. Me ? I had my lunch with its spirit! Celebrating its probably short life of 10 seconds before getting stuck in the air conditioning and having its mother get chopped into a few chunky rat pieces. Think of Chunky Peanut Butter; that's how we found the rat.

Bloodstained carpets and the impending tragedy of Mighty Mouse's baby

That's it, time to feed the fishes.

Leftovers of Mighty Mouse

Splatter house style bloodstains.

Long Live Might Mouse and his infamous rat-scapades.

The AOL Sessions Theory Of Sadness and Poignancy

Is this how it’s going to be now? Futility, desolation, seeing nothing as it is while we’re staring right in front of it? Are our egos worth all these pointless fights? Am I being self righteous or are you protecting yourself from the hurt of a selfish person only a few months ago? Are these broken promises justified as my break stuff streak wears thin? Or is it just another one of those days where it all falls back down to simple ‘you suck get out of my life I hate you you shit fucking shit fuck you nothing great I hate you I hate you I hate you you don’t care you fucking mortal we need a break I don’t love you anymore its different fucking shit you make me puke your voice makes my skin crawl you’re useless its not cup noodles I don’t want this I hate you you never know what I want you never buy me anything anyway its not like you buy me things occasionally I feel so different from other girls and their boyfriends im young and I want to enjoy being lavished upon I want more from this I don’t want to grow up not having fun and being treated like a teenager I never see you and me going far anymore you worm you never know what I want anyway I’m leaving you goodbye’ anger phases again.

This is nothing but a reminder how its costing us our love for each other. This isn’t about who is the winner or who is more pro or who is right or wrong. It’s an apology, an honest apology from a lover to a lover, for everything you have said which in its own way has or may have been true. I have never ever once been close to perfect; more garage bin disposable waste category than your average fly on the wall decoration piece. I really am sorry to have failed you again and again and again just like they said I would. I’m sorry. I sleep the night with thoughts running through my head wondering, praying and negotiating how I can right the wrong, how I can erase the thoughtlessness of actions and the stupidity of my past.

We aren’t long; we’re not even a third movement of the bat of an eyelid in the time space of a long loving lasting relationship we often hear of and laud about. We’re still trying to iron out the creases, to try to seamlessly patch up the torn pieces of cloth in our hands isn’t it?

We have to try at least. If it isn’t worth our time; be it long or short then what’s it worth?

I still hurt.

Like a normal person. I still bleed when the glass crudely cuts the flesh in jagged patterns; it stings when the palm strikes across my cheek or when my skull is pushed against the wall. The heart does ache when the tears stream down and the muffled sobs of an infant sound.

How can we even stand anymore, let alone stare at the sun if we let our demons get the best of us? Give it / us / this / a chance, give the possibility and the transitions of time in our youth and maturing years a chance because we don’t want to look at the future and regret this ever happened. I know we will see through the dark futile skeleton closet days and you know it too; you’ve said it so yourself despite retracting those words in anger. All I want is for you to stitch me when I bleed, caress me when I’m ill, hold me when I cry and kiss me when I sleep for I will do the same for you if not more. I’m taking this and holding it up strong and proud, to lead this and show you this isn’t a game or ploy. This is as Richie Edwards painfully craved; 4 Real. To quote Ozzy in his smartest ever lyric from back in 95; I don’t need much, I just want you.

There are no incurable ills
There are no unkillable thrills
There are no unachievable goals
There are no unsaveable souls
There are no indisputable truths
And there ain't no fountain of youth
Each night when the day is through,
I don't ask much, I just want you