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(no subject)

Jul. 3rd, 2012 | 05:20 pm

Frustration that amounts to nothing.
Activities to sustain oneself through the day.
Mind on auto-pilot.
Nothing is challenged, this lazy equilibrium, this stale summer air, blazing and burning.
Sipping once-cold lemon tea,
While the leaves make the most of the sun, even if it scalds them.
My pointless, trickling days cannot even be described as 'existential'.
Shrinking from tangled thoughts. The ball of woolly plans, strategies, pleasures, contemplation rolling itself bigger and bigger.
Till the day comes where you face some definite threat that takes shape before your eyes.
Till the day comes where you can no longer safely say you are safe in the hands of others.
Until then.

- - - - -
I can stare outside for as long as I want to and nothing will happen.

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a la weird dream

Jul. 3rd, 2012 | 03:04 pm


Something haunting, suicidal.

Train trip with 410.
Prepared white porcelain teapot set to have tea on the train.
somehow aunt was running away from unknown people who were bent on silencing her for involvement in some secret operation.
desperate she ran to the rooftop of a tall building and jumped. Instant death, limbs contorted in a slowly enlarging dark red pool. Flesh mushy, her figure a grotesque contortion. 
I witnessed her fall, I could recall the anguish that swelled inside, but no tears formed.
In a vague lucid state I knew 'this is over' as I find myself exiting the dream to consciousness, to the sounds of washing in the toilet. 
Relief washed over me.

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Scream

Jun. 27th, 2012 | 01:22 am

Would you let go of yourself, let your screams echo? Would you allow yourself a courageous gasp of air, to pronounce those guttural shots of noise, the affirmation of the bloom of energy?
To breathe life, to let life burst forth, to feel its waves surging within you?

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Some Music.

Jun. 25th, 2012 | 02:53 pm
mood: blankblank

Needed some time alone, like now. The presence of a helper roaming around wouldn't spoil the picture.
To play some music. My music.
The presence of others, others who assert their presence by playing their own musics. How many streams of music can a household contain? My music in the presence of others is confined to the radius of my eardrums. When I really want to hear it echo off the pale white walls.
And for my presence to not be defined in relation to others'.

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(no subject)

Jun. 6th, 2012 | 04:28 pm

宇宙那么大,为什么要穿上社会的束缚衣?

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So Afraid

Jun. 5th, 2012 | 03:46 pm

So afraid of the days meaninglessly marching on.

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Blissful domesticity

May. 30th, 2012 | 12:02 am
mood: uncomfortableuncomfortable

I wonder if this awkward image is even 'normal'. My dad on my left reading papers, my mum doing the same on my right. Me sandwiched between their concentrated silent before-sleep act of leisure. Shrouded in blissful silence, neither of us chose to speak. The only audible sounds are the flipping of newspapers, the electronic wind blowing against the filmsy pages and my fingers tapping the keyboard. This might sound like a scene in a typical family at night. Yet this moment, in all its stillness, inactivity, as if frozen in time, makes me cringe and writhe inwardly. I imagine this picture to be quite disturbing, even creepy, in the eyes of an observer from a distance. The desire to shrink to an infinitely condensed point and reappear in another dimension had never been so overwhelming. It suffocates me. At the same time, my existence has never been so in focus. I am about to come to the conclusion that one's existence will always necessarily be defined in relation to others'. I never felt such rootedness in reality, in the exactitude of this precious moment.

The clock ticks. Newspapers folded. The chair screeches. Dad leaves the seat, making his way back to bedroom, a fullstop to the day's happenings. Mum flashed her IPad before her, engrossed in a game of mind-numbing Bejewelled.

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[fanfic] Wake Me Up, Tear Me Down (Zico/Joon)

May. 29th, 2012 | 11:07 pm
music: Portishead - Glory Box

Pairing: Zico x Joon

Type: Angst/ Smut

Rating: M

Note: I do apologise for the unlikely and seemingly unrelated pairing. This fic's objective is really just to fulfil my curiosity in their potential chemistry. Also it's a celebration for Zico's comeback :D Comments are greatly welcome!!!!

"You want me, I can smell it,” whispered Joon into Zico’s ear. Without warning his caressing hands crawled up to Zico’s neck and strangled it. He gripped the man’s wrists as hard as possible, but his strength was no match. Zico kicked and writhed in futile under the weight of this man, his skin going scarlet. He could feel blood pumping violently under his skin.  I could die. This isn’t a dream. His manhood was hard as ever.

“Please…” Zico whimpered."

------------------------------------------------------------------

Read it here! :D

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Dream log - the wedding disaster/ matchmaking/ chi tcher

May. 25th, 2012 | 02:55 pm
mood: weirdweird


Was at this wedding dinner of some relative at a huge convention centre. Concurrently there's a matchmaking tv programme filming next door and the crew's desperate for contestants. I crept away from the wedding which was going nowhere and then I went into the filming studio without anyone knowing. The crew directed me to a runway and asked me to walk to the other end to wait for my 'potential matches' to appear from the doors facing me. I walked to the looped remix of 'walk walk fashion baby' part of Bad Romance, feeling a little excited. Finally the spotlights were on the doors. The men came out all smiley. Their appearances alone invoked some mild sense of nausea. The only 'eyecandies' that were present, after which i got to know, were 5 year-olds. 'Oh they'd definitely look hot when they grow older. Oh well.'

I simply cannot go on with this show and left without a word. Wandering around I found my way through a tiny alleyway to a floor of classy hotel rooms. Apparently my secondary school was having their Chinese lessons in each hotel rooms as an innovative approach to Chinese lessons. I sneaked in as a relief teacher. 3 to four kids squeezed on a bed, 3 beds to a room and whiteboard on a wall. An old Chinese female teacher (who looked like my sec 1 Chinese teacher, or maybe she was) was babbling on with her microphone while the students were not even trying to stay awake. "How are they gonna learn like that?" I can't help but exclaim. This drew the teacher's attention to me and she asked, in suspicious tone, "Who are you? (to criticise?) Are you one of the reliefs? Find yourself some room, and don't interrupt," I joined in one of the beds. Strangely, all of the students were 5 year-old Caucasians. I sat on the edge of the bed watching them sleep. 'Ah, this is really going nowhere,' I thought to myself.

After dozing off for a while, I got up and recalled the ongoing wedding. I rushed off without saying a word.... And I woke up before I could go back to the wedding.

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Dream/ Nightmare log - between Heaven and Hell

Apr. 26th, 2012 | 01:24 am

I got on a taxi.
Told the taxi man (a bald middle aged guy) 广福村 but he heard as something like 运福村 and drove me all the way to HK island.
Seeing the meter going higher and higher I freaked out and asked him to drop me at the nearest subway so i can take a train home. He dropped me off somewhere without a word.
The subway was supposed to be Tampines. But the area was shrouded in touristy Egyptian themed park settings. I roamed around for a bit to find the entrance into the subway but couldn't.
There were two sides: the good and evil.

The good:
Wooden carved people with blond frizzy hair and protruding boobs shaped like a spinning top. Their facial features made them look like discarded voodoo barbie dolls. Triangular face, large eyes, small mouths.
Someone told me "they pleated their hair with gold" and after a moment a revelation struck me that it was an anecdote to their golden hair.

I stepped on a hut structure and got a bird's eye view (of a few storeys) of the surrounding and it seemed like it was a huge theme park.

It turned dark. The hours are slowing down. It was midnight and I was beginning to fret. Still I could not find the way out.
Everything was dim. It was as if I got night vision goggles on. I stumbled into a temple, a traditional chinese looking one, and bumped into JT at the courtyard. She said, in a plain tone, 'Why are you here? You're not supposed to be here,"

Her blank but powerful stare compelled me to believe her and that something is seriously wrong in here.
Just as I was about to find my way out, a voice thundered down from somewhere within the temple.
"People come in, but no one gets out."

A huge black shadow started seeping out from the roof of the temple, covering every remnant of light in the overcast night sky.
I looked up and around in horror; zombie-like people in shabby clothes started swarming out from within the temple. JT who was beside me grabbed my arms with extraordinary strength; it was only futile to struggle. I shut my eyes tight from the impending zombie apocalypse. Even more horrifying images flashed through behind my eyelids. I could tangibly feel the physical torment, the rotting smell of hell and its infinitude.

This must be what hell looks like.

This is what I get for stumbling into a place like this.

God get me out of here.


For the very first time I prayed. Hard.
How I survived I don't know. But I remembered seeing rays of light showering upon me. Those Wooden dolls appeared before me, in a symbolic V-formation, each of them donned in white dress. The forefront lady in white jewellery said, 'you prayed, and you're salvaged.'

I thanked them profusely, and decided I would follow their path.

This is salvation.

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