How to kill one's inner voice

2008-01-20T16:21:00.000+09:00

2008-01-15T22:09:00.000+09:00

I think the 'I' at the beginning of your name stands for i think you're absolutely fantastic. Yes,siree.

2008-01-13T19:03:00.000+09:00

And how does time stand still?

2008-01-03T12:56:00.000+09:00

I only cried twice
this year
during
the holidays.
Once
was for a bookshelf
which I improperly put together
and needed to undo
and redo.
The other was for loving you.

I have you, I know, I have you
I just don't know where you went.
You're right here, I know, you're right here,
but I haven't seen you around for years.

You don't know this kind of fear
until it stares you in the face
as you're closing the door on it
mid-sentence
trying not to.
Knowing you shouldn't.

The second time I cried
during
the holidays,
I was afraid I would have to
undo
and redo
you.

2008-01-02T13:31:00.000+09:00

Here's to you, F.

2007-12-16T01:46:00.001+09:00

for a moment
they looked at
each other as if
each could
satisfy every
craving and
spent the rest
of their lives
trying to
outmaneuver
the facts.

2007-12-14T15:11:00.000+09:00

He's killlllllllin' it.
Woohoooooo.

2007-12-06T16:55:00.000+09:00

Only the rich have the luxury to afford crazy
the poor get gifted crazy
ironic commodity you see.

2007-11-22T00:06:00.000+09:00

It's like it only exists in my head.
Like yesterday was a flaw ignored,
Just so we can justify today.
How unreal are the false accusations we set.
But here we are in the games,
Playing against each other,
When all we ever did was play for each other.
This is what they call growing apart, not up.
I came this far, just to start over.
I'll tell you I am happy through my front,
But I can finally say it and mean it today.
I'm fixing up the future by trying to ignore the past,
It's the hardest thing I've ever done.
But you did it, so its not like I have a choice.
But the pictures, the hair ties and the watch, even the dreams will keep you alive.
I understand this like you do,
But I struggle because today is just too brand new.

For you, Thulasi.
Have strength.

2007-10-16T22:37:00.000+08:00

go down, you blood red
roses, i can't help
thinking you'll never notice

i just want someone
when i'm feeling hopeless who'll
hold me close enough for both

of us to feel each others' stupid
hearts that don't really feel
a haunted thing at all

oh you pink and posey
with the cigarette dampened
drowning in the rain i'll
go drown you'll
go down.

2007-10-02T12:25:00.000+08:00

2007-09-28T00:11:00.000+08:00

HOW TO FIND SUPERB BUBBLE-TEA. (i am not shitting you. i'm a bad joker.)

2007-09-17T23:34:00.000+08:00

you become a beached face
half washed and saline
half line-drawn
into looming sand

i become senseless
as ambiguous
as the daedal
speechless sky

i will seek another love
fashion the blade
of welled, frozen lakes
and find its heart

2007-09-03T11:14:00.001+08:00

This zen you're looking for.
is far and few between.
Lesser luck to you
when you question the concept of the c-word.
and act all surprised when it does a boomerang.

Poetic justice, if you ask me.
You erm, zen assassin, you!

2007-08-20T14:18:00.000+08:00

The threads have been pulled
Where do you stand?
Somewhere encased in the sentence
Trying to outlive the hourglass
Well sweetheart the time has come to
Be something more
Be something else

This inability to love
Does it not disgust you?
It mustn't
For you to incorporate cloak and dagger
I only wish to send a message
Ignite the sparks, wake you from coma
Can you not see the abstract that you breathe?
Churning with lost messages of optimism

Yet the worm still excavates far underneath
Unable to breathe true life
Frightened to know love and purity
Pray for rain
So we can see the face of false security

Again

2007-08-07T01:13:00.000+08:00

I could wake you and tell you all this,
but when you rise from your dreams
finding nothing has been interrupted,
the excuses will start; the reasons
are less important than the leaving.

These small points of recognition
show me nothing that I have need for,
nothing that I can put a name to.

I pretend love, for now,
I am not afraid of you.
Tomorrow I will re-invent us.

2007-08-06T14:25:00.000+08:00

(I recycle my poem for the recyclables!
because i'm lazy like that.
This is for you,babe...)

There was nothing to stop me from disappearing
into a trail of bread crumbs

until you flung out a dragnet of knuckle bones.
A snowflake’s down settled over the bone meadow

beneath my skin. I was never looked at like I was moon,
merely tossed over left shoulder

that lucked into being a star, into dying
in the backhand wishes.

Your kisses flipped copper pennies
against rough baseboard of tongue till I blushed

an orchid’s frail bruise. But lover, my heart is hard;
I fear its vessels have toughened into gravel streams,

and there is no space for you.

2007-08-06T13:20:00.001+08:00

Hunter S. Thompson is pure genius.
But like all genuises..

Another one taking the perrenial question(if we're oh-so-lucky answer) with him to the grave.

"It was hard to say sometimes whether he was being provocative for its own sake or if he was just being drunk and stoned and irresponsible."

This reasoning should suffice for now.

2007-06-20T22:03:00.000+08:00

i think it bothers.
not that you didn't like me.
but rather,
the abandonment.
and being relegated to categories
of the lesser.

What can i say.

in case, i decide to forget.
remind me how relationships
are only symbiotic
But unabashedly self-serving.

(Note: the picture is as random as you think it is. Her hair owns.)

can you tell i'm pissed

2007-06-05T00:50:00.000+08:00

Uh boy. Where have your manners left you?
It is tedious. Yes, you.
Frightening like spooks on something strong.
I will be bordering delusional when it comes to you .
not just yet anyways.
You know you make me feel like writing.
Even though,
i think it counts for nothing.
When it comes to solving
the mystery beyond,really
the fucking.

I think i mostly hear the familiar echo.
oddly sounds like me dialing.

I think i am half-way there
developing my half-fuck psuedo prose-style.
These days,

practise makes perfect.
because you make me feel like writing.

2007-05-31T00:43:00.000+08:00

last night i thought (it came to me all heavy
sitting at the tip top of my skull and then sinking
slowly down)that flowers aren't too beautiful, sucking the sun
i imagine they are baring some teeth upward at the sky,
wanting something waiting
and with deafening colors to make fools
of whoever picks it.
do you know that i sometimes wonder what's good
at all, whats left

deary? for you to come cuddle me
to snuggle
we won't laugh in order
to keep invention alive, even those explosive red love moments are not for us
they are for some brain-want and a brain-relief, oh
"i'm just a bunch of limbs moving" and you stay awake
all night so you can survive tomorrow as a zombie
because you hate living this way,it makes
a sad frown out of me.

except occasionally you are like a lily
put to music: in this context you
are beautiful and i am unafraid.:
i cannot reduce you for
a bone structure toppling downward,
tired for a cheap ride. a lily now,
and even further: entirely. and i'll tell you something more: you smell so good sometimes. you are too soft and
you are so heavy on my skull, heavier than
knowing
how flowers grin

2007-04-01T14:54:00.000+08:00

I pretend i'm glad you went away.
I pretend my eyes are dry.
I pretend to cry for something else.
Pretending that i don't see bits of you or,
dare say, Us,in a movie.

I could only ever be a faction of Us.

I'm too entwined in this cobweb of pretense.
It's ironic that its the very way you'd remember me by.

2007-02-07T02:16:00.000+09:00

There was nothing to stop me from disappearing
into a trail of bread crumbs

until you flung out a dragnet of knuckle bones.
A snowflake’s down settled over the bone meadow

beneath my skin. I was never looked at like I was moon,
merely tossed over left shoulder

that lucked into being a star, into dying
in the backhand wishes.

Your kisses flipped copper pennies
against rough baseboard of tongue till I blushed

an orchid’s frail bruise. But lover, my heart is hard;
I fear its vessels have toughened into gravel streams,

and there is no space for you.

2006-12-18T03:22:00.000+09:00

I am your girl,
unoccupied and insolvent;
frustrated by our polar existences.
Weak from your devotion
and guilt-ridden by your unbridled generosity.

Conflict churns
and burdens my willful pride,
tugging my instincts
until I find myself wanting, needing
to be more than I am.

The doubt that shifts my emotional sea
disheartens me,
and for the moment I am ashamed.
But I resist the common comfort
and pour its seduction beneath my floors
one more time
knowing that I can embrace this life;
and you.

And so I choose to live in that vision
of friendship and forever;
my wants and needs are to only make you proud.
In time you'll find that my madness
is only an inexplicable, eternal love,

for you.

2006-11-24T13:42:00.000+08:00

City lights form
my galaxy -
Euclidean matrices
of degradation; go
stop.

2006-11-20T21:11:00.000+08:00

I'll tell you in another life, when we are both cats.

The ambiguity of language

2006-11-06T19:17:00.000+08:00

The ambiguity of language
can never explain
me for you.
i want to forget metaphors,
and stop spinning webs
with letters.
here is where i am.
with you. when here
is anywhere.

2006-11-01T10:55:00.000+08:00

It's frightening, yet comforting for the realization to dawn upon that you've got abandonment issues, because at least there's a name to it.
Just like sporadic cathartic floods of emotion, therein lies the dual nature.

Climbing above this longing

2006-11-01T10:04:00.000+08:00

When you leave clothes here
I let them lay

hoping they will sprout
and grow you.

SURPRISE BABY!

2006-09-09T20:59:00.000+08:00

To the man in my life,

Look at the old and in love,
how their lives intertwine
with the grace of fretworked iron.
They live like some great flag unfurled,
they have become a covering for each other.
Is this what I imagine for us
when our energy is consumed?
This saintly passing of the hours,
this interlocking of mind instead of skin,
or is there also some dark undercurrent
that borders near death,
where days slip away until lovers
become companions to look upon,
to rock into silence with?

Today it is enough to have woken beside you,
but how many more days will we have
where the morning is amazing
just because you are here.
And time spent asleep is wasted, wasted.

Mmm

2006-09-05T01:26:00.000+08:00

I am sorely deluded to assume my fear of embracing patience will go right out the window. On better days, i see semblances of my frail attempts to blow out disillusionment, pertaining to regaining full-fledged belief in the other. We choose to neglect that Ego has to be clearly separated from our perogative to assert.
Clearly,i haven't been blatant enough. i've successfully blurred the line enough times to give a seat up for misunderstandings.

Then again,
those spoons at night are worth every civil war.

dependency has been sorely ostracised. On its good days, it has managed to be more than mildly attractive.

It doesn't go un-detected. Not really.

2006-08-15T11:45:00.000+08:00

We all could personally ooze sarcasm, and i like to think it was the sort of sarcasm that was obviously disenfranchised from what we really are like. It was there because it had to be there, not that their meanings were consistently diametrical to what we actually were, believed and wanted.

Sarcasm, when it comes to the things closest to our hearts, is often there for the sake, or in an attempt to make people believe one thing about us, when it is actually the complete opposite of what we are, what we fear.

And insecurity in other people makes me love them, as long as they don’t hide in under cockiness. There is sarcasm that feeds off stereotyped ideas of people, ‘Of course she’ll get an “A”, she’s both a bimbo and a slut’ and sarcasm that draws itself from personal experience. That admits to a person’s fears. And I think that sort of sarcasm was never actually meant to hide anything, I don’t think people hide it very well from me anyway. But I could be very, very wrong.

Donate some

2006-08-12T04:37:00.000+08:00

Rip my heart up.
Its made delicious fodder once.
Now its time for fondue.

Self-righteous

2006-07-28T23:55:00.000+08:00

If silence is power
and raving weakness
I'm not shouting
until I'm by myself

Punctuated love

2006-07-24T12:05:00.000+08:00

It's the moon
tonight that looks the lonelier,
like a parenthesis without
a mate; even as i stare
at it thinking of you curled
into an apostrophe.

Momo

2006-06-22T17:57:00.000+08:00

She never laughs
the full laugh
of a comfortable lover because
she came home early from work
on a lark
june sixth two thousand
and four to find me in our garage
with the door closed
passed out in the drivers seat of my
running car
you go on from this because
there is no choice
that is life
a series of unthinkable occurrences and
regatherings
the thing now that
has become a morbid joke
and a true hurt in her is
that i did not leave a note
it comes back to that
so many times
why would i not leave a note
if she was my one true
love.

AND THIS IS LOVE!

2006-06-03T23:38:00.000+08:00

Space is a
condition

and

none is mine but
mine is yours when you're
not here and i'm wrapped up in
night and violin

and then you're there
so i must move through it with you

and
this
is
Love.

Random thoughts. Cha cha cha.

2006-05-11T02:28:00.000+08:00

Random thought #V1
The invention of the lightbulb allows us to prolongate the span of our activities, yet it shortens life through the inculcation of bad sleeping habits.Then again, humans' true dwelling is being in complete darkness. With the introduction of light, it dulled our senses and god knows what we've missed out in terms of the quality of our experiences; or lack of. Here comes the perspective man! *clap* *Clap* Too bad he came a century too late.

Random thought #V2

For my child of the future:

Muse.
He caresses.
What's in between my ears.
The chatty little boy.
Blatantly unaware.
Of all his phallic glory.
Spins around to tell me.
His latest story.

Random thought #V3
The parameters of judging if you have a soul.
Is encased in the blatant disregard for our primal need for things like vengeance.
Which distinguishes the human in us.

Freedom of religion is but a myth

2006-04-16T18:56:00.000+08:00

Dreams are illegal,
hope; unorthodox.

Steal it all from us.
Beat down the youthful minds.
Lock the exit from tradition.
Enforce your ancient laws,
justified by theology.
Strap us to the wooden pews,
to praise your gods.
Intravenously feed us superstition.
Force our generation to follow
in the foot steps of hypocrisy.
Silence our objections.
Quell our rebellions.
Renew the established tyranny.
Squelch the scientists among us.
Mute the future's free thinkers.
Administer the contrasting ideology.
Repeat as necessary.

Freedom of religion
is but a myth.

Grim

2006-03-27T18:04:00.000+08:00

Every day I hear people
claiming they've lost control.
that they've lost hold on reality,
and I wonder,

did they ever really have it?

I've seen angels dance
on waves of logic.
I've held the hands of devils,
as they laid waste to the impure.
I've hunted with wolves,
for unspeakable prey.
and I don't claim to grasp reality.

The physical gives way
when one seeks control.

Owning your life means
defining your world.

I have forsaken, and live not in,
the world of my birth.

but that which I helped create.

Where magic exists
as a facet of fact,
and not some cold mythology.

Where men are gods by right,
and transcend enlightenment
to become their own truth in technology.

Don't you dare tell me what's real.
Mankind Cannot Handle Very Much Reality,
so let me cling to my laughable, obscure theology.

I don't seek understanding. Just pray for me.

2006-03-20T14:37:00.000+08:00

The fatalistic homosapien in me would like to believe that the crux of this
sad sad issue would probably result in the dwindling of what's left of
my respect for love to possible oblivion.

Being cerebrally match-made does a great job of validating the fact that my friends seek comfort in assumptions of me. Comes with the territory of being too
annoyingly combustive in nature, for my own good.
I've learnt today that it is easier to feign annoyance,
then to address a whole plethora of isses; especially when dealing
with matters of such.

Apparently, the hands-on method is surprisingly easy to catch on to.
I'm a stickler for seeking perfection. In both the unfortunate ones
and myself. But thankfully, no-one briefed me on the issues
that came with the famous bitter-pill: disappointment.
That layer of skin definetely did not come easy. ("Desolation, desolation, i owe so much to desolation" --Jack Kerouac)

My poor easily-demarcated character.
Yet ironically, it still serves as a bane to others, rife with its alleged complexities that come packaged with it.
But it warms my heart to know that a shield would no longer serve its purpose if my achilles heel is marked with a generous cross-hair; ala Night Of The Living Dead.
And yes, i'm deathly afraid of the day i lose the resistance to hold up my ever-reliable sword.

I would prefer not to go trigger-happy with my heart.

An ashtray wouldn't do.

2006-03-14T23:18:00.000+08:00

Teasing a cigarette,
feather-waisted smoke
giggles past the computer screen
licking lustfully the lot of
chronic wreckage
left over from past fist fights
with willful poems.

The lamp shade guises a 40W sun
singing copper-bellied ballads
to passing bird flocks,
too impatient in their flight to befriend
an autumn of deflated color.

Random evenings, cross-legged on the floor,
creep in like the voice of a woman,
wailing,
light scent of lilac and coffee
renewing an invitation to rummage
under more than her skirt, in abandonment
yellow socks wake to
play hide-and-seek with a single
stuffed mattress of scribbled notes.

To cremate on nights
smoke crouches between eyelashes,
purple and tight like a ribbon
around which one man has weighed the darkness
without her, too long,

"does anybody care how we love,
darling,
with all this time left
to miss?"

Self portrait of a wordy child

2006-03-09T13:43:00.000+08:00

I'm told I have a democratic voice
I strive so others understand
the things I speak and write,
or is it just that I found out
the simplest route
is very often plotted
in the most convoluted way?
When I was small
some snotty, snippy silly
neighbourhood girls
refused to play with me
because they said
they couldn't comprehend
the labyrinthine things I'd say.
All day long I'd listen
to their silly nursery rhyming:
Dip and dip and blue and ship,
bad and sad and good and bad,
words that didn't matter
filling up familiar space
with endless freckled chatter.
I spot them still
on the street, in a shop, in my mind
looking vexed and wrong
because they never grasped
no-one finds their way
out of the tangled maze
if all they ever learn to sing
are soppy, sentimental songs.

Even foul names are to be earned

2006-03-06T11:52:00.000+08:00

Don't use the fact that i am of self-sufficing nature as a pretext for me to condone your blase actions.
Do me a favour and commit that to heart, will ya?

This shovel isn't working...

2006-02-15T04:39:00.000+08:00

It was a temporary reprieve from my 'much-too-serious' state of mind.
I'm picking at stories 6 feet under.
He's more real dead than the other could be alive.

Crossroads galore!

2006-02-12T01:27:00.000+08:00

In the thick of all the bitterness i've felt and reacted suitably
to all of it, i've learnt hopefully; not too late that whilst my
reactions have reaped positive results, they did not originate from
somewhere pure.

Is it easier to ignore this on the grounds that survival comes first,
before anything?A resounding yes.
Is it valid to speculate that such behaviour of mine, under my assumption
that i'm avoiding harm's way might actually be me simultaneously digging another hole just behind me? I'm honestly afraid to find out the answer.

Someone should write a book about achieving the right mix of motivations that drive a person, without selling your soul. But that would be taking the easy way out.
In theory, it might actually be a cinch to understand the points an acclaimed writer makes. But in reality, to connect the dots in your life seems like a tough feat right
now. However, if this is the balance i seek, this is me taking one step closer to shifting my goal to one of a more satisfactory and fufilling nature, instead of one which is borne out of belligerence.

Who knows? My means to an end might even be more gratifying. The end is an ever-
changing dot, but i hope the beliefs i take with me on my journey will
be kept constant.

Artist's self portrait

2006-01-30T01:36:00.000+08:00

I ponder myself in my own distorted reflection.
Look true, despite restless discomfort, honest sight prevails.
I am Herculean, yet insomnia reprehensibly restrains.
The picture is unclear, but I think of things long past.

O that I am still alive and see the world through these.
My passionate, melancholy, bottomless eyes.
My body continues I fight for a semblance of normal.
An artist eye sees beyond the caricature of a man.

I am too much in quest of solitude, a successful loneliness.
Although others sit before me, I travel lonely lanes.
Like Atlas, I bear a hefty burden.
I keep it hoisted while I yet walk this plated orb.

Mechanical inventor extraordinaire, portrait or hands, not drawn.
Stopping existence for an instant, look within to see.
Coming back rhyming, always so tired and restless.
Painless torture, continue on, outward I look okay.

Today a movie, dinner with mate, and chocolate cream pie for cake.
The wind of the fan tickles my feet as I recline within the couch.
Inside this modern day cave, I am safe and sound and everything is okay.
Life in the slow lane, I have let the speeders pass, I view the scenery.

Bitter is life's wine, the poisonous concoction ravages my body.
Liberty and mind with price, costly passion through oppression.
I must run on, head on towards that finish, and look not back.
Finish last. Just let me finish even last my self-portrait.

I have traveled halfway around this sphere physically.
Mentally, I have circumnavigated the globe many times.
Libraries are glorious institutions; they allow light travel to a distant oasis.
Treasures on shelves for all to see, read each line, but carefully.

I paint myself too well, stupidity too I see there.
Honesty mingled with stupidity shows another side of me.
Courage with cowardice I see too. Opinionated malcontent stirs within.
I have fought in the mud of disobedience; I am no victor, victory I seek.

My god, or my enemy, allows my slow destruction, as happens to all.
Hatred I see within those eyes, yet compassion softens the blows.
Love cannot be beat from me; I will remember the smell of burning autumn leaves.
Sorrowful soul hold onto love, finish the portrait and sign it at last.

Look back at better times, and hope for good times again.
Keep the thoughts deep within, of times that grow me well.
Forget the uncomfortable, sullen days, and pretend them all away.
I will paint a true picture of my yesterdays from todays recollection.

Composition of subject(s) under study: 100% Bull

2006-01-08T16:24:00.000+08:00

My flurry of emotions can no longer be quelled.
No, i'm not talking about myself.
It's the self-proclaimed victim(s) i'm addressing.
Karma is a cruel thing, to those that do not address it face-on.
But whose ignorant mistake is it to take that step of disregarding
its blatant signs.
Blatant signs such as one's lack of emotional intelligence to
recognize that a finger lifted would at least be appreciated, albeit
its strength.
Using the guise of obtuseness as a shield is tantamount to shooting yourself in the foot.
The crime however is to sit back languorously and point fingers.

We've got one hell of a hailstorm coming up.

Happy new another year everyone!

2006-01-02T13:34:00.000+08:00

A year away is what i'd like.
New year seems to reek with overflowing optimism.
Little chances people sneak in here and there to condone their
weaknesses. Convincing oneself about fresh starts are only
further encouraged by the ever-lengthening tentacles of commercialism;
far-reaching into the depths of more minds.
However, to apply the word 'depths' is giving some (minds) more credit
than they deserve.
"Bring in the new, out with the old!" , They say.
Old ways of aversion are just further disguised by attempts to gain
more control and power over those favorite habits of yours.
In lieu of your half-baked reassurances....
Remember, you've endured one more year of allowing everyone around
you and yourself to hibernate with your shit. To say the least of the
people you thought remotely liked you. (Maybe now you know the reason
why, considering you're a FEW DAYS smarter with the new year and all that).

By allowing yourself to come to terms with that,
the next year will be a breeze.
Happy 2006!

Out of focus

2005-12-25T13:33:00.000+08:00

Whiteness now
scurries
across open blight,
which usually never
captures my attention
at all.
The plainness,
and placid
landscape
feeds a determination.
To cultivate
an eccentric idea,
without being
spoiled or raw.

While I rotate back and forth
grasping this swinging chair,
a cigarette still
embraces free upon my lips.
The exhaled haze disrupts my
vison to capture this life.
Agony cries so an
imagination
slips.

Would you scrape the dirt off
my fate?
Drugs have devoured
my inner sense to feel.
These family ties scatter away from
a sense of perception.
To their golden gods they bow,
and kneel.

As
lifestyles,
and morals
bear
their teeth,
using pure pressure to
escape me of my youth.
Responsibility
has been hard to concieve,
these parents
never riddled me
the truth.
No
one
ever
did.

Direct TV loves you

2005-12-07T21:50:00.000+08:00

If words don't have meaning and people do,

and if a person is defined by their actions,

the fact that I spend most of my time watching T.V. and masturbating really puts humanity in a tough spot.

Self

2005-11-28T22:26:00.000+08:00

Earned almost straight A's, albeit statistics. Bah.
Hell, i have to say its been a long ride with people hanging on my coat's tail. That's why we have a system where those who think will learn to lead and be at the top, while those who follow mindlessly will be nothing more than mere followers.

"Pride arrives first,
clanking.
Under weight of obliging armour.....

Loyalty slides in gently."

A case of delusion. Perhaps mine...

2005-10-27T20:05:00.000+08:00

What is paranoia?
It is said to theoretically mean "extreme, irrational distrust of others." The other definition stated is simply the consequential step from overdosing on paranoia that gets you warded.
But in real-life, it could very well be a person's lack of faith in him/herself, as much as he/she would like to deny. The unwillingness to release the reins on things reeks of a control freak.
It is perhaps the lack of self-control in one's life that gets one spiralling down the road of attempting to control itsy-bitsy components of another person's life.
Going just slightly off the tangent here, i am aware that self-mutilation is a desperate cry for help or attention.
But by the way, all you psych majors out there, may i ask you, exactly WHAT does acting like a control freak scream out for?
And yet, including a psychological one, there is no single answer for that...............
Just like self-mutilation could very well be driven by purely masochistic urges. :o)

A celebration of underdogs........

2005-09-09T00:21:00.000+08:00

All the recent brouhaha over Eric Khoo's latest production, "Be with me" amount to many plausible reasons, some of which have already been touched on in articles.
Every movie is an experience,and no experience can be complete without any intelluctual output from the viewer. His movie affected me in the simplest way, which i would like to further explain.

What Eric Khoo successfully captures in his movie is not only a single peepshow of people andtheir respective hardships. It is not simply a myopic view of how "some win and some lose." But rather he holistically presents the STAGES of how humans win or lose the struggle against despondency. We see the teenage girl's inability to cope with unrequited love. The clear underdog in a situation where her direction towards lesbianism counts for nothing next to a boy-girl relationship. However by attempting suicide, she CHOOSES to become an underdog within herself. In contrast, Theresa Chan has and still is winning that age-long battle against her disabilities. Furthermore, her choice to carry on living as per normal has made her a victor of her situationshe was thrown in.The seemingly uneducated man may have been the underdog in unsuccessfully expressing his feelings to the girl that would never learn of him personally. However,eventually, his sincerity and longingness won his internal battle against his battered self-esteem,through his proactive,perservering nature to pen the letter.

Amidst Eric koo's varying expressions of these characters, it stirs up a collective sentiment amongst the viewers, which is what truly celebrates the movie in all it's totality.

This sentiment the viewers share, points to one's personal reflection and subsequently coming to terms with ourselves. Perhaps this movie was meant to emcompass and share the difficulties of stereotypical characters.and the manner in which they dealt with it.

However, delving deeper, the movie is also pointing to the direction of us, as viewers being caught as situational underdogs. As much as each role was important in contributing to the gist of the movie,the entirety of the movie played an equally special role in being an effective trigger point for us as viewers to assess our lives,in terms of our reactions and actions when thrown into the postion of the underdog, in any disparate experience we've been put through.We may not directly understand how they might feel in those specific situations, but these stages of suffering,moments of weakness,glimpses of tenacity,or the taste of personal victory that we might have went through ourselves,when faced with adversity, does not differ much from the characters depicted at all.

Gosh. That has got to hurt,girl!

2005-09-06T01:09:00.000+08:00

Oh...those sweet memories. The wining....endless dining.
Charming little trips. OH!...He kissed me along that private trail under the stars. "they're so beautiful,i don't know how many of them are out there shining for US tonight..."

Promises cheapen a person.
especially when you knew i wouldn't believe it.
Not again.

There goes another casualty!

It's these memories that pop up now and then, that remind me of how fortunate i are.
To find an individual that stands on high moral grounds,for miles on.

Appreciation broken down.

2005-06-16T13:08:00.000+08:00

Life is very much ironic.
We would have to face the pending loss of someone or something close,before the long overdued appreciation kicks in.
But is it truly sincere appreciation on our part,or the inherent conscience that stokes this "reaction" in us?
I have not come upon a fair criterion to find out the answer, but although "reaction" might be the most explicit benchmark,i would think its a rather weak gauge to measure indubitable sincerity.

What reaction we may ask?
It may perhaps be;
1) Outright sadness through physical expression,
2) The almost never-ending questions of 'whys?'

These would definetely be the descriptive views.Yet how would we classify the unspoken,unseen inner turmoil a less expressive person might go through as a result of this sudden loss?
One's subtle 'proclamation' or show of his/her supposed visceral disquietude does not fall under this category.
On this count,the popular belief that actions speak louder than words does not count.
Sincere appreciation cannot simply be judged by the loud lamentations of loss,as different people deal with loss in myraid of ways.
I know of some who would dispense with the outright reactions,and acting in a fashion seemingly devoid of emotions.But through my past experiences,it has dawned upon me that these are the ones that get hit the hardest,and has a heart filled with appreciation.
It is perhaps the unfortunate ineptness of expression that holds them back from previously expressing it.
Bystanders or those in the picture might never see the light of their tumult,but it doesn't make the sincerity of the individual's gratitute or appreciation,albeit unseen,any less significant.

Pandora's box below my bed.....

2005-06-12T00:15:00.000+08:00

Not much gets me down,or remotely affects me. But recurrences of a dream concerning someone i think i care about must say something. They say dreams are a manifestation of the unspoken thoughts. It isn't the lack of ready listeners, but rather i feel it doesn't domuch justice to the problem,to air your concerns. According to popular belief,verbally communicating your problem(s) is an effective antidote for feeling better about it. Rather,i choose to believe that by doing so,it emotionally reiterates the hurt,as the probable emphatizing party might un-intentionally lead you to believe so. Frankly i think,it serves no purpose at all.
Simply said,it doesn't snuff out the pain.

I miss that someone who was once close. The strength of the fear that holds me back from asking a simply "why" is probably on par to my need to know the reason why. On such a paradoxical note,I would like to spout a cliche. Seeking the answers to this is akin to opening Pandora's box.

Partial blueprint to life.......

2005-05-09T22:52:00.000+08:00

A simple game of chess is really a peephole into the other party's capacity for strategizing; and perhaps more. Such a mind equipped with this would probably stand a better chance in facing the obstacles in the game of life. Strategizing in the game of chess is akin to being prepared in life. Luck is perhaps a poor man's excuse for not being prepared. In a chess game,looking too hard may bring other possibilities into obscurity. Likewise,in the game of life,one has to be prepared as well as open to change. The balance between adaptability and premeditation has to be fine-tuned in one's bid to survive.

The nemesis of one's inner voice: the fear of societal beliefs

2005-05-02T12:32:00.000+08:00

It is this fear of being judged and ridiculed that inspires bloggers such as Jj's sister & (of course)many other blogpages i've come across,to hide behind a facade that allows them to put someone down. Something in real-life,they would never have the strength to do. I presume it's cumulative effect of doing so breeds this self-imposed bitterness and disgust at the world. Or what they perceive as *wrong* with people. She might be under the assumption that it is a form of ignorance to disregard all that she sees. But in this case,ignorance might be bliss; One of the more crucial factors that aid's one's maturity and self-development is the ability to be made aware of one's faults. But yet, this process of criticizing/mocking or *almost* anonymously,in the bid of feathering her self-worth(one that is highly questionable) is impending her mental growth.
I admit the above-mentioned fear is something i myself have yet to completely overcome. But by directing my comments specifically,its another step i have taken to defeat this fear. If only she would peel her eyes away from the computer,or remove herself from her perpetual,self-imposed *solitude* of her room,i could tell her what i THINK of her,STRAIGHT TO HER FACE. And therefore,it would mean that i would be a few more steps closer to conquering the grounds i tread with trepidation .
Oh if someone EVER DOES catch her out of this routine,please do tell her that to verbally-excoriate one behind his/her back.......is out of line with her "non-comformist" motto.