Timewasters Anonymous

A Renewal of Vows

2009-10-26T00:12:00.002+08:00

Goodness me! It's been forever and a day since I last blogged. It seems have been neglecting it. I remember when blogging was a new phenomenon, the countless hours spent in the computer lab churning out post after post, obviously all in a bid to avoid doing my assignments.

So much has happened since then, hasn't it?

I never intended my blog to be a diary of sorts per se - I could never keep diaries for the life of me - but rather as a place where I can publish my works of creative writing online for the world to enjoy. As it well may be seem, I certainly must have allowed myself to get so caught up that I've even stopped writing entirely.

I do hope to gain back momentum again. I remember how content would just flow through my fingers when the blog first started. It seems now as if someone deliberately turned off the tap.

I want it back on, and badly. If I'm ever going to be the novelist I want to become, I must write. For that is what writers do.

For better or worse.

24

2008-03-12T22:18:00.003+08:00

That's how many years have sneaked by when I thought I'd just nip out for a tinkle. My life has zipped slowly by. There's an oxymoron right there for you. But it's true. I remember hearing this quote that the present moves slowly, but the past moves very, very quickly.

And I'm only 24! The future lies ahead.

And I've run out of things to say. I dunno why. But yea

To all those who wished me happy birthday, thank you. To all those who didn't. Don't worry.

You'll get your chance next year ;)

Words of Wisdom

2008-01-13T01:55:00.000+08:00

True success is not scrambling up the social ladder; it's waiting at the bottom rung and threatening to tip it over. - Eddie G., 2008

The Diaries of Sir Robert the Violent of Staffordshire

2007-11-24T01:01:00.001+08:00

For those of you who remember, I made one post with the same title. Now, it's expanded! Mei Yii and I have decided to collaborate and co-write the story together. Since this "story" goes back to the days when we played Maple. (It was a low point in my life, okay?!? Stop goggling at me like that!)

So anyway, without further ado, Tee and Gee proudly presents

The Diaries of Sir Robert the Violent of Staffordshire

So drop by and give your support.

Especially for Mei Yii cos she needs it more than I do.

Wahahaaaa kidding!

Good morning, class!

2007-11-06T14:32:00.000+08:00

That's right. It's official. I'm gonna be teacher! Can't wait to start training :)

Those who know my situation would surely know that the odds were pretty much stacked against me when I applied for the job. But there really is no limit to God's neverending grace, is there?

Shoutout time!!!

First and foremost, to the Lord Jesus Christ, without Whom none of all this would be even remotely possible.

Next to my family in Singapore and to my aunt's family in KL for the support they've given all through these years.

To the Orange Club! My group of close and dear personal friends: Jit, Steve, Jarrod and Josh (I'm doing in order of age, Josh, so don't complain that I put you last wahaha). Thanks for being there.

To my beloved Care Group in RLC, which I will surely miss to bits >< God bless you all for your prayers.

To my close, personal friends in the Monash Christian Fellowship: TMY, Joanna, Shu-shu, Lynette and Chien Aun (apologies if I left anyone out, I just can't remember all of you)

And to all those who were rooting for me (some possibly because they can't wait to see my ass outta KL hahaha)

And to you, dear reader! Just because.

So buzz me whenever you're in Singapore, and we'll go paint the town red! Metaphorically speaking of course; the penalties of vandalism can be pretty painful. Ask Michael Fay.

Scienta Est Potentia VIII

2007-10-08T12:51:00.000+08:00

Oscar Wilde's wit was peerless. Once at a pub, he wagered that he could speak wittily on any subject. A man threw down a purseful of money and said to Wilde, "so what about the Queen?"

Wilde stared calmly at his challenger for a short while, and then smilingly proceeded to pocket the purse.

"The Queen is not a subject."

Ole! Ole! Ole!

2007-09-04T22:22:00.000+08:00

Thank you for football's most magical minute in history.

That was 8 years ago.

Today, defences all around the world can breathe slightly easier knowing that they no longer have to deal with the cunning and subterfuge of...

The Baby-Faced Assassin

YOU ARE MY SOLSKJAER
by the Old Trafford Faithful

You are my Solskjaer,
My Ole Solskjaer,
You make me happy,
When skies are grey,
And Alan Shearer,
Was f*cking dearer,
So please don't take, my Solskjaer away!

Deustchmania!

2007-08-26T21:47:00.000+08:00

As a kid I learnt German for about 3 years, but it was discontinued because I began to lose interest. Today however, I wanted to revisit my childhood German, so I started to make fun of Pei Wen. To my surprise, she replied (in equally broken German, albeit). Turns out she also had a flair for German as a kid too. What are the odds?

In any case, we proceeded to have a conversation in quite possibly broken German (the kind which might make REAL Germans reconsider becoming neo-Nazi once more). It went something like this.

***

His Eminence Archduke Edwin Aegnor I says:
So wie war Ihr Wochenende?

sin(p.ÿð)² . says:
Ziemlich Ermüden, Reisen hin und her, wie um Sie

His Eminence Archduke Edwin Aegnor I says:
Es war eine surrealistische Woche für mich. Mein Freund ist kürzlich gestorben. Ich scherze nicht

His Eminence Archduke Edwin Aegnor I says:
Warum haben Sie gemusst, zu Ipoh zu reisen?

sin(p.ÿð)² . says:
Ernst? Was ist zu Ihrem Freund geschehen?

sin(p.ÿð)² . says:
Mein Vater wollte nur zurück gehen, die Großmutter zu sehen die alle, ist sie Rollstuhl gewesen der ist gebunden worden

His Eminence Archduke Edwin Aegnor I says:
Herzversagen. Sowieso werde ich mehr um dies auf Englisch später erzählen.

sin(p.ÿð)² . says:
Das sehr traurig. Mein Beileid, das an so einem jungen Alter, einem Erbarmen stirbt, der Wille von Gott, den ich annehme.

His Eminence Archduke Edwin Aegnor I says:
Ach stopft. Ich hoffe, dass Ihre Großmutter schnell wiedererlangt. Ich werde für sie beten.

sin(p.ÿð)² . says:
Deshalb wie ist jene Abhandlung von ihrem mitkommend?

sin(p.ÿð)² . says:
Dankt alot übrigens

His Eminence Archduke Edwin Aegnor I says:
Ich zweifle ernsthaft, dass es der Wille von Gott für Ein ist, Junge zu sterben.

sin(p.ÿð)² . says:
Aber Gott dürfte bessere Dinge haben, die für ihn vorbereitet werden, Sie wissen

His Eminence Archduke Edwin Aegnor I says:
Ich nehme an, dass Sie richtig sind. Dennoch ist es traurig.

His Eminence Archduke Edwin Aegnor I says:
Ich stelle es auf Halt, bis ich Arbeit finde.

sin(p.ÿð)² . says:
Wird foward anschauen, es zu lesen So wie bewältigt die Familie ihres Freundes?

***

Such fun! Yayyy! Now I've found someone whom I can converse with. Wouldn't it be fun. So what exactly did we say in the conversation? That's for you to find out ^_~

Requiem: A Tribute to Cai Zicong

2007-08-22T04:02:00.000+08:00

Yesterday afternoon I received a message on MSN saying that one of my seniors from the NYJC choir (class of 2001) had recently passed away. Nothing in the world could have possibly prepared me for the news. I just sat staring at the computer screen, reading the message over and over again, perhaps willing the news to rectify itself. It didn't, and the news still stands: My senior, fellow chorister and friend is gone.

He was merely one year my senior; and for one at such tender age to pass on is a real pity indeed. He wasn't exactly what I'd call a bosom friend, but our friendship was close enough for me to feel that lingering twinge of remorse that will probably smart for a good few days.

Zicong was one with an avid sense of humour. He could hold a conversation well, regardless of what topic was being discussed at any given point. He had a pragmatic view of life, which made him non-fussy and hence a pleasant companion altogether. My fondest memories of him were our sing-along sessions, during choir gatherings or camps, where we free, happy few would gather round and belt out various renditions of song with me at the guitar.

To top it all off, he was a damn bloody good pool player. And while our pool sessions often resulted in me being on the wrong end of a thrashing, I managed to pick up a few good techniques to improve my game.

Life is that unpredictable. We often expect that the people around us to be always there, despite knowing that they won't; and Zicong's passing is a classic example of just that. We often live our lives taking for granted that the last time we see someone wouldn't be the last time. Yea, it all sounds cliche, I know, but only up till a point where it becomes a reality for you as it did for me.

So here are my reflections: Cherish your friends. Don't take them for granted. Don't always assume that they'll be in any condition to pick up the phone when you call them the next morning, because they just might not. And whenever you fongfeikei (stand up) someone, for even something as simple as a quiet lunch together, you might have just given up an opportunity to see that person for one last time.

I know it's morbid, but at least it gets our lives back into perspective.

That is all.

In loving memory of Cai Zicong (1983 - 2007). You will be sorely missed. My deepest, heartfelt condolences to his family and close friends.

n.b. please don't mistake this Zicong for the other one. The one who was in 01A2B in NYJC (also from the choir too) is TAN Zicong. He is alive and well. Thank God for that. Seriously.

Are You Still Bitter?

2007-08-15T21:56:00.001+08:00

Okay so you and your significant other have broken up. Have you moved on, or are you still harping over him/her? Are you nursing a small grudge towards him/her or has it grown into a full-scale vendetta? Take this quick quiz to find out.

1) Whenever I think of my ex, I get

a) no reaction whatsoever
b) slightly upset
c) very upset
d) high blood pressure

2) When I see my ex, the first song that comes to mind is

a) Don't Look Back in Anger
b) Why Can't We Be Friends?
c) Under Pressure
d) The Theme from Psycho

3) Our favourite restaurant

a) is just another place for me to dine at now
b) still reminds me of my ex now and again
c) is still being boycotted
d) has been burnt to the ground

4) My ex's phone number

a) is still saved in my phonebook
b) was deleted at one point but was later re-entered
c) is deleted permanently so long as I shall live
d) is scrawled on a toilet wall under the words "For gay sex, call:"

5) For his/her last birthday, I gave my ex

a) an item that I know he/she will like
b) an item that I know he/she will not like
c) nothing. He/she doesn't deserve it.
d) Anthrax

6) Would you like to feel his/her arms wrapped around you again?

a) I don't mind
b) That's no longer possible emotionally
c) That's no longer possible physically
d) That's no longer possible anatomically

7) My only regret from that relationship was

a) I didn't give ourselves a chance to love each other
b) I didn't get laid often enough
c) I didn't get to leech off his/her wealth
d) I didn't slip arsenic into his/her drink when I had the chance

8) Do you miss your ex?

a) No, I've learnt to move on.
b) Yes, he/she is not easy to forget.
c) No, I don't miss pond scum.
d) Yes, my aiming is not good enough

9) A common friend tells you that your ex was involved in a car accident. Upon reaching the hospital, you

a) quickly head to find him/her, but only out of concern
b) quickly head to his/her ward, and then leave an anonymous bouquet of flowers
c) quickly head to pharmacy; you might need a sedative to prevent you from sniggering too much
d) quickly head to the morgue

10) Forgiveness is

a) the key to living a happy life
b) only useful when applied in context
c) overrated
d) just another F-word

Now tally your score.

For each question that you answered a), give yourself 1 point.
For each question that you answered b), give yourself 2 points.
For each question that you answered c), give yourself 3 points.
For each question that you answered d), give yourself 4 points.

10 points You are a person who can let go really easily, or perhaps simply unfazed at whatever the world throws at you.
11 - 20 points You are a person who can let go relatively easy, but not before a generous dose of heartbreak and moping. This of course is natural, and if anything, it makes you more human.
21 - 30 points It's quite obvious that you're still harbouring ill-feelings towards your ex. And while it is possible to eventually let go, it's gonna take awhile, and perhaps a lot of kicking and screaming.
31 - 39 points You are harbouring a lot of anger and bitterness. Best that you let some of it out, even if it means on the people around you. It's better than blowing up at an untimely moment, that is, if it already hasn't happened.
40 points It really is a wonder how you are allowed to be roaming the streets! You have a natural talent for bottling up emotions, and seem to have no qualms about letting the people who have hurt you know about it. Norman Bates would have killed to be just like you. Oh wait, he already has...

Gloria

2007-08-13T02:41:00.000+08:00

Gloria in excelsis Deo.
Et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis.
Laudamus te. Benedicimus te. Adoramus te. Glorificamus te.
Gratias agimus tibi propter magnam gloriam tuam.
Domine Deus, Rex caelestis, Deus Pater omnipotens.
Domine Fili unigenite, Jesu Christe.
Domine Deus, Agnus Dei, Filius Patris.
Qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.
Qui tollis peccata mundi, suscipe deprecationem nostram.
Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris, miserere nobis.
Quoniam tu solus Sanctus. Tu solus Dominus.
Tu solus altissimus, Jesu Christe.
Cum Sancto Spiritu, in gloria Dei Patris.
Dominus vobiscum. Et cum Spiritu tuo.
Amen.

Thank You for always being there; for picking me up when I'm at my lowest. I love You :)

When at Night I Go to Sleep

2007-08-10T11:38:00.000+08:00

This was the song written by Engelbert Humperdinck (what a name! Imagine the ridicule he'd have to suffer in school). It's a children's prayer, and it goes...

When at night I go to sleep,
Fourteen angels watch do keep.
Two my head are guarding:
Two my feet are guiding:
Two are on my right hand;
Two are on my left hand;
Two who warmly cover;
Two who o'er me hover;
Two to whom 'tis given
To guide my steps to Heaven.

I think that's a load of bull. Humperdinck must have been tripping when he wrote this dribble! It also seems to me that he must have been getting into shitloads of trouble all the bloody time for him to need 14 angels to watch over him. The poor buggers are on overtime!

If I had 14 angels, this is how my poem would have turned out:

When at night I go to sleep,
Fourteen angels watch do keep.
Two are just not in the mood;
Two have gone to ta-pow food;
Two have gone to buy some smokes;
Two are telling dirty jokes;
Two just fold their arms and scoff;
Two of them have nodded off;
Two whom drink hath taken toll;
Yearn for bett'r bladder control.

Whistling in the Dark

2007-08-08T11:04:00.000+08:00

A woman came up to me and said
"I'd like to poison your mind
With wrong ideas that appeal to you
Though I am not unkind"
She looked at me, I looked at something
Written across her scalp
And these are the words that it faintly said
As I tried to call for help:

There's only one thing that I know how to do well
And I've often been told that you only can do
What you know how to do well
And that's be you,
Be what you're like,
Be like yourself,
And so I'm having a wonderful time
But I'd rather be whistling in the dark
There's only one thing that I like
And that is whistling in the dark

A man came up to me and said
"I'd like to change your mind
By hitting it with a rock," he said,
"Though I am not unkind."
We laughed at his little joke
And then I happily walked away
And hit my head on the wall of the jail
Where the two of us live today.

There's only one thing that I know how to do well
And I've often been told that you only can do
What you know how to do well
And that's be you,
Be what you're like,
Be like yourself,
And so I'm having a wonderful time
But I'd rather be whistling in the dark
There's only one thing that I like
And that is whistling in the dark

Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Daye (a.k.a. Lamentations of the Ecologist)

2007-08-05T03:07:00.001+08:00

by William Shakespeare
And then some...

Shall I compare thee to a Summer's daye?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate;
That is if thou mindeth not the mosquitos.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
As the PSI index riseth in the Valley that is Kelang.
And Summer's lease hath all too short a date:
[Deleteth this line if thou art in the tropics]
Sometyme too hot the eye of heaven shines,
Or maybe 'tis just the global warminge
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
Amidst the layers of smog
And every fair from fair sometyme declines
To cleane up the environment
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd:
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade,
Unless thou forgeteth to bring thy umbrella,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, WHAT SHADE?
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
But keepe ye away from the jam that dwelleth in Subange

endorsed by the Tee Mei Yii School of Inscrutable Literature (i.e. her blog)

Footnotes:

This was the original work of William Shakespeare, unabridged. His publishers however decided to shorten it into the Sonnet that we all know and love today... ok maybe just know... because it was way too long. No one really cared about the environment during Shakey's time and hence the 'irrelevant' lines were cropped. In addition, it was specifically cropped into a sonnet because sonnets were popular in those days. Fourteen lines bespoke perfection doubled, which was used as an epitomic benchmark of all poetry during his time. The last line of the poem was later written by a hand unknown and, as it would seem, quite possibly annoyed about the public transport in the region.

Heaven...

2007-08-02T17:03:00.000+08:00

...is closer to Earth than I could have possibly imagined.

Harry Potter and the Marshy Mallows

2007-07-21T15:57:00.000+08:00

Today the world will learn the fate of Harry Potter. Now with Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore presumeably dead, and Harry without a proper father-figure, the gloves are off... or perhaps they were never on to begin with.

Still, it would be interesting to see how the series would conclude. But before that, let's have some fun shall we?

How do you think Harry Potter will end? Imagine Rowling were to suddenly die (possibly because her own Avacado Kadabra curse backfired and killed her) today, and all the copies of Book Seven were to mysteriously vanish, the story must still end right?

So here is a possible ending:

Potter confronts Lord Mouldy-Wart in the Final Showdown. As he steps up to Mouldy-Wart's antechamber, he hears the voices of all those who sacrificed their bloody lives so that his could go on telling him, 'this better be worth it, asswipe!'

Hermione and Ron sneak along, just to see how it all turns out, and of course lend a hand should it be required. Harry made it clear that no one was to follow him, so the paradox of the whole damn thing is beginning to eat into his two best friends.

Voldermort of course is take by surprise, having just come out of the shower mumbling something indistinctive about the water heater. He sees Potter, who graciously gives him time to get dressed, and they duel.

The duel is long and boring. Imagine Ryu and Ken standing on both sides of the arena canceling each other's hadokens. That's how it's going to be like, only more boring. And of course, Harry will only use one spell - the expelliarmus - while Voldermort will try to kill Harry with the Avada Kedavra curse.

So it continues for three whole hours. Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione are getting really restless as they watch the duel from the parapet above. To make matters worse, Ron has to go to the little boys' room. Hermione hotly insists to just get the job done right there and then. Ron of course says that he can't do it, not in front of her. Hermione calls Ron a wuss, saying something along the lines of 'if you've seen one, then you've seen 'em all'.

So in the midst of the fervent battle, Voldermort gets distracted by a little trickle coming from above. He complains about how it's about bloody time he got the roof patched up. As he is distracted, Harry disarms his wand.

So Voldermort starts playing mind games. This of course is complete with all his 'go on! use the Avada Kedavra on me! You know you want too...' and Harry is about to do it when Ron leans too far out of the parapet, falls over and lands squarely on Harry. Voldermort, ever the opportunist, retrieves his stricken wand and casts the Avada Kedavra on Harry. Ron valiantly pushes Harry away and gets hit by it. Harry is distraught, saying 'Ron! You didn't have to get in my way!' and to which Ron's dying words were, 'I didn't mean to - I bloody tripped!'

So Ron dies and Hermione passes out from grief. When she awakes, she's back in Hogwarts and Professor McGonagal tells her that Harry and Voldermort continued their duel until Harry accidentally opens a time-space rift. Consequently, both were sucked into an alternate dimension where magic does not exist. Voldermort found a job working for the postal service. Harry however, because of his lack of qualifications decided to act in various plays nude for a bit of pocket money.

Hermione never saw Harry or Voldermort again. She later graduated from Hogwarts with an Honours Second Upper because she got the time for one of her exams mixed up. She still bitches about that incident to this very day.

Rejoice!

2007-07-09T22:00:00.000+08:00

I've passed my LAN subjects. In other words, I graduate in September.

HALLELUJAH!

At Long Last!

2007-06-28T11:34:00.000+08:00

Disclaimer: This is a rambling post. That's because I haven't blogged in a long time, and whenever that happens I tend to ramble like how I'm rambling now. Of course it's not the kind of mindless ramble you'll find on your Average Joe's blog. Well actually, it is, but I'd like to think that it's not because I love living in denial. Egypt? Who said anything about Egypt? What does Egypt have to... OHHHH! I said denial, not the Nile, idiot! Oh look at me. I just don't stop rambling, do I?

And I'm NOT high!

I'd love to tell everyone that I'm right now lounging on a tropical island, listening to the waves, sipping from a coconut and having someone play Pop Goes the Weasel on the ukelele, transposing occasionally.

But I can't. Because there are no waves, no coconuts and very few people who know how to play the bloody ukelele here in Singapore. At least it's a tropical island.

It doesn't matter though, because one thing makes up for all that - my brother's friend's PS2, which he doesn't seem to want back for some odd reason. That means I finally get to play Final Fantasy XII.

FINAL FANTASY XII IS FER-REAKING AWESOME!

No one can beat Square-Enix when it comes to CG graphics! Take a look for yourself:

The Official FFXII Poster

(click to enlarge)
Vaan, the main character in town. He looks disturbingly like FFVII's Squall with his hair bleached... and that leads me to one of the very few complaints that I have to make. There doesn't seem to be much character diversity in this game... well that could also be due to the fact that I've only played 10 hours so far. But the way things are going now, it seems that all the characters either behave in similar fashion or they don't say much at all. There is however, one exception. More on that later.

The exception. Balthier is easily the most colourful character of the game, playing the role of the lovable scoundrel. Balthier is a Sky Pirate, speaks with a Brit accent, and is pretty charming despite being a rogue. He's got a snide sense of humour to top it all up. You'd trust this kind of person with your life, but you'd be daft to trust him with a dollar. Looks a bit like Seifer from FFVII doesn't he? Are Square-Enix running out of character ideas?

(click to enlarge)
The battle in FFXII is now in real time. That is to say, no more random 'encounters' while running around. Your opponents are visible for you to attack - kinda ala EverQuest and WoW. Another difference is that unlike the previous FFs, your party members now attack simultaneously depending on how quickly their ATB charges. Really refreshing change in the battle style. The 'random encounters' system can get pretty annoying after a while.

(click to enlarge)
Character development is now based on licences. This is rather similar to the Sphere Grid in FFX. However, one major exception is that you even need licences for equipping stuff. Another major difference from the Sphere Grid is that the Licence Board is more flexible, allowing your character the choice of either becoming a jack-of-all-trades or a master of one.

I haven't forgotten the chicks. Save the best for last. This is Princess Ashe. Apparently the Imperials staged her death, for reasons completely unknown to me. Need to play more to uncover the plot I reckon. Ashe is quite possibly the female protagonist of this game. Her character? She's not someone to mince her words. Sometimes she resembles a feminist who woke up on the wrong side of bed, which is VERY dangerous.

This one is of Ashe during her wedding. Again I have no idea how, why or when this all comes into play, but the beauty is that with CGI this sophisticated, it's not going to matter, is it?

This is Penelo. She is Vaan's childhood friend. She quite a lovable girl - chirpy, bubbly and optimistic. Slightly similar to Rikku in FFX. Very girl next door type.

Well that's it. Every minute spent here blogging is one minute less to get on with my game. So there. I'm off!

On a before-I-go note, I went shoe shopping with Lynette yesterday (well okay... more like she had to shop for shoes. I just tagged along for the free amusement). At one point she asked me, with reference to her company, "I'm not that bad right?"

To which I replied, "compared to tubercolosis, I guess you're alright."

It took her about 4 seconds before that sunk home. Naturally, I followed up with the truth. I chose to spend time with her over Final Fantasy XII. That in itself spoke volumes! She of course didn't see the import of that choice, but I bet there are a lot of guys right now probably complaining how stupid I was to do that.

But spending time with her is worth it. AND I managed to get find my mushrooms! :)

I'll blog on that another day.

Sports Entertainment

2007-06-07T17:13:00.001+08:00

I feel like I'm in Year One all over again, especially after running through several concepts in Media Studies with the hopeless freshpeople. Of these concepts, included was the difference between sports and sports entertainment. In a nutshell, sports entertainment would be the stuff you see on WWE (i.e. professional wrestling). Everything else falls under sports.

And then, on Tuesday, while having a drink at Murni, I witnessed the perfect example.

Wrestling is a sport.

But watching Sze Jia wrestling the Kit Kat vending machine, now THAT's sports entertainment.

To all the freshies, good luck for your exams.

You're all gonna need it.

MUAHAHAHA!

Six Feet Underground

2007-05-31T12:51:00.000+08:00

At one point or another, we'll learn that history is written by the winners.

About a week ago, I couldn't sleep, no matter how hard I'd try. And then, at about 3 am, inspiration struck. Immediately I got up, and began scribbling earnestly at the closest sheet of rough paper I could find. In about 15 minutes, it was completed, and I sank back into my pillows.

It was a song; and I had only planned to record it when I would next get back to Singapore and meet up with my the mates from my band. As it turned out, I was in the M-lab and Fikri brought his guitar in to be tuned. Coincidence? I didn't matter. It was an opportunity too good to be passed up.

So the song commenced recording. And two days later, after wrestling with the mixer, poor acoustics, a renegade microphone and TMY (don't ask) it was completed. And here is the final result. Granted it's not very professional - seeing as of course how the people involved in the recording (i.e. myself and then some) knew only so much about operating the mixer (in other words, we knew where the on/off switch was and that was it).

So if you would pardon the rawness of the whole thing, I think this might be a song that you could very enjoy. But that's just me.

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Track details

Six Feet Underground
by Eddie G.

Remember Columbus
The dude who lost his way?
He founded his country
But they're just as lost today.
Despite the circumstances
They are here to stay,
And they seem pretty pleased about it.

Remember Hitler
The one with the weird moustache?
Killed six million Jews because
They were making too much cash.
He fought with C. Columbus
It was over in a flash,
Now everyone hates that piece of shit.

Chorus:
And history's written by the winners
The ones that make it safe and sound
History's written by the winners
'Cos you can't hold a pen if you're six feet underground

Remember Stalin
From the Motherland?
He could make the people cheer
Just by raising his hand
But feeding his population
He could never understand
But the people loved him anyway

Now back to Columbus
He's pretty rich by now
Has a problem with Uncle Jo
So they both get in a row
Making super weapons
That they don't need anyhow
O, but never fear, 'cos America saves the day

Chorus:
And history's written by the winners
The ones that make it safe and sound
History's written by the winners
'Cos you can't hold a pen if you're six feet underground

Remember Lee Kuan Yew
He needs to see a shrink
Built too much on his tiny island
Now it's starting to sink
At least they needn't worry about
What they're gonna drink
So get your life jackets while they're still on sale

Remember Mahathir?
...no not really.

Chorus:
And history's written by the winners
The ones that make it safe and sound
History's written by the winners
'Cos you can't hold a pen if you're six feet underground

History's written by the winners
The ones that make it safe and sound
History's written by the winners
'Cos you can't hold a pen
Let me say it again
You can't hold a pen if you're six feet underground

A Pair of Shus

2007-05-09T13:15:00.000+08:00

Well, it looks like I've found the perfect time to pick on Shu, just because TMY started it. Quite simply, I get to elicit a few juveniles yoks at Shu's expense AND have TMY for scapegoat should any of the subsequent blame ever decide to look in my general direction.

Again, Shu, I cannot stress enough that this is for your own good! A couple of days back, I attempted to strike conversation with her, being the amiable, socialite I am. However, I was in for a rude shock when Shu suddenly started arguing with herself before even acknowledging me!

Now Shu, I've known you to be somewhat... ah... what's that word... unstable in the past. However, the events of the past twoday have really left me apprehensive; and as your friend I can say that I am concerned to say the least.

Please don't get angry for telling the whole world about your schzophrenia, Shu... um... both of you. But I've weighed and measured and found your sanity wanting. Having said that, I believe that admission is the first step to cure. And perhaps, after months of rehab and faithfully ingesting your prescribed pills, we might look back at this incident and laugh (hopefully without cackling too much).

Now I know that you will attempt to deny your condition in front of everybody. And therefore I deem it necessary to put out the damning evidence. Believe me, doing so hurts me much, much more than it could possibly ever hurt you. Unfortunately, for your sake, I must play the unwilling martyr. Please don't ever forget that.

So here it is, ladies and gentlemen, that fateful 'conversation':

click to enlarge

Get well soon. May you find your healing deep within your true soul.

Because currently you're a pair of Shus with two different souls.

Lazlo Bane: I'm No Superman

2007-04-24T22:15:00.000+08:00

Thanks to Anna, I managed to procure a copy of the themesong from "Scrubs", entitled "I'm No Superman" by Lazlo Bane.

As I listen on to the song, the lyrics really leapt out at me; and I began to see myself singing this song to God, secular as it may be, like it were my personal prayer.

Sometimes, we tend to think that we're capable of accomplish everything - so much so that we wind up feeling afraid to fail. But remember always, that His strength is made perfect in our weakness :)

Enough preaching, on to the song...

Lazlo Bane - I'm N...

I'm No Superman
Lazlo Bane

Out the door just in time
Head down the 405
Gotta meet the new boss by 8 a.m.
The phone rings in the car
The wife is workin' hard
She's running late tonight again

Well
I know what I've been told,
You got to work to feed the soul
But I can't do this all on my own
No, I know, I'm no Superman
I'm no Superman

You've got your love online
You think you're doing fine
But you're just plugged into the wall

And that deck of tarot cards
Won't get you very far
There ain't no hand to break your fall

Well
I know what I've been told
You gotta know just when to fold
But I can't do this all on my own
No, I know, I'm no Superman
I'm no Superman

That's right

You've crossed the finish line
Won the race but lost your mind
Was it worth it after all

I need you here with me
Cause love is all we need
Just take a hold of the hand that breaks the fall

Well I know what I've been told
Gotta break free to break the mold
But I can't do this all on my own
No I can't do this all on my own
I know that I'm no Superman
I'm no Superman
I'm no Superman

Someday we'll be together
I'm no Superman
Someday
Someday we'll be together
Someday
I'm no Superman

Toss Salads and Scrambled Eggs

2007-04-06T21:38:00.000+08:00

I want a Jack Russell, just like the one in Frasier. And since Frasier calls his JR "Eddie", I'll call mine "Frasier".

That's about it, really. This is a NBTD (nothing better to do post).

Oh yea, and I can't wait for this Sunday's TMNT outing! Woot!

So You Think You Know Me?

2007-03-25T22:51:00.000+08:00

So how well do you think you know me? Only one way to find out.

Click Here to Find Out

The Scores thus far...

Good luck :)

Idiot Nation (of Faltasia, The)

2007-03-06T22:29:00.000+08:00

The title was done on purpose to make me sound like... well... an idiot.

Catch the Presidential election speeches LIVE on Faltasia News Network. And then cast your vote here.

Exercise YOUR right as a slave, uh I mean believer of democracy and vote NOW!

Only one Stat Booker will prevail

The Battle for Faltasia

2007-02-27T15:08:00.000+08:00

This March, Superratty Films presents yet another acclaimed short film by TMY, entitled The Idiot Nation of Faltasia.

With elections fast approaching, and after the fringe players had all fallen along the wayside, four candidates remain in a bid to fulfill their lifelong dreams of making Faltasia a better place. yea right!

Presenting the candidates

Fikri H. Jermadi as
President Zulfadhli
Neo Nationalist Party of Faltasia

The current President, no doubt aiming for another 5 years in office. Many of the other candidates spurn his 'incompetent dictatorship' like they would spurn a rabid dog. Regardless, while his bully-boy tactics might invoke the ire of the more educated folk, his charismatic nature will probably prove most valuable in swaying the minds of the general citizenry, which consists mostly of, well, idiots.

Tee May Yee as
Candidate Lily Lola
National Anti-Idiot Union

Lily Lola values academic excellence above all else, in particular her own. A well known figure amongst the National University of Faltasia Alumni, Lily seems to be leading a personal holy war agaisnt ignorance rather than running for Presidency. While she has all the makings of a shrewed, astute political leader, her puritan arrogance may well prove a stumbling block for her campaign.

Eddie G. as
Candidate Stat Booker
Faltasia Party of Insane Statisticians

Representing the Faltasia Party of Insane Statisticians, Stat Booker is a walking encyclopedia for facts and figures that, in all honesty, would not change your life one bit had you not known them. However, his ability to pluck a statistic out of nowhere like a prestidigitator pulling a coin out of your ear is staggering. This, coupled by the fact that 48.23% of all statistics are made up on the spot, would undoubtedly make him a formidable adversary. However, his matter-of-fact approach towards running a country might put off voters with either a short attention span, or the Intelligence Quotion of a cereal box.

Lynette Goh as
Hottie Harriot
Vanity for Monarchy Club

If looks could kill, Hottie Harriot would be murder in the first degree. Aside from that, little is known about her past. Further observation will be required before a decent appraisal of her strengths and weaknesses can be obtained. And we're not complaining.

Voting starts 6th March 2007

Super Mario Calypso!

2007-02-13T01:56:00.000+08:00

I was bored, so I decided to start arranging the theme song of Super Mario. I've given it a Carribbean feel to it using steel drums and kalimba's. Has a nice tropical feel to it. Remember this whenever you're sipping on your coconuts. Enjoy ^_^

Eddie G. - Super Mario Calypso

I got !@#$% tagged!

2007-02-10T00:49:00.000+08:00

This rarely happens, but I'm responding to Shu-Fenn's tag. Now, for those of you getting ideas, don't even bother. The only reason why I'm doing this is because I'm showing face. And believe me, this is a privilege and not a right.

So without a care in the world, here is my response to the tag.

Each player of this game starts out by giving 6 weird things about themselves. People who get tagged need to write in a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state the rules clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. After you do that, leave them each a comment letting them know you tagged them and to read your blog!

i) I have a stuffed orca whale that my parents bought for me in Ocean Park, Hong Kong when I was 9. I still keep him to this day and love him to bits.

ii) I had a thing for one of my ex-teachers, who's 8 years older than I am.

iii) I get surges of inspiration for my writings/compositions when shit starts happening. When everything is smooth sailing, I just can't do anything creative.

iv) The busier I am (or I'm supposed to be), the more I blog.

v) After my voice broke, I was able to sing notes that were much higher.

vi) No matter what people say, I'm still a fan of Michael Jackson.

It's your turn!!

Yokie
Mei Yii
Pei Wen
Leanne
TMY
Joanna Lee

Confessions of Frustrations

2007-01-30T02:14:00.000+08:00

I confess that I was infatuated with you the very first moment I saw you.
I confess that I was still infatuated even when I found out you were attached.
I confess that I was still infatuated when you left, as abruptly as you came.
I confess that I was still infatuated as I continued my feeble attempts to ensure that you would not disappear from my life.
I confess that I was still infatuated when I heard you broke up.
I confess that I was still infatuated as a glimmer of hope arose from the abyss of my heart.
I confess that I was still infatuated when that glimmer was squelched after you found someone else.
I confess that I was still infatuated even as I reasoned that I should give up hope, since we were so far apart.
I confess that I was still infatuated when you broke up, found someone else, broke up, found someone else, broke up, found someone else, broke up.
I confess that I was still infatuated even as that glimmer of hope, like a cockroach, refused to die.
I confess that I was still infatuated when I nurtured that hope during the few precious days we spent together; after so, so long.
I confess that I was still infatuated when you left for the second time, taking with you a part of me that I can never regain.
I confess that I was still infatuated as I cursed myself for not having the courage to tell you how I felt when I had the chance.
I confess that I was still infatuated as I cursed the distance that separated us.
I confess that I was still infatuated as I cursed my inability to bridge that distance.
I confess that I was still infatuated even while you told me you found someone new. Big surprise.
I confess that today, I no longer bear an infatuation for you.
I confess that it has now become an obsession.

I confess that obsessive behaviour is detrimental to my sanity; but at least it gives me something to do in the meantime.

That is all.

Diaries of the Sir Robert the Violent of Staffordshire: Vol. I

2007-01-23T11:25:00.000+08:00

by Eddie G.

Disclaimer: The characters and events portrayed in the following are purely fictitious. Any resemblance to any event past or present, or person alive or dead is purely coincidental. In addition, the author deems it necessary to reiterate that he is not against feminism, nor is he against females. He does however occasionally take to wondering about the silly things they are capable of pulling off from time to time.

14 Mirtul 1832

Woke up this morning and went straight to the mirror to remind myself how incredibly handsome I am. My squire Mazzy Fentan should be back from the polishers' with my sparkling new helmet. As Uncle Oswald used to say, "protect thy assets, laddie, protect thy assets" - although he could have been referring to my jock strap, along with the fact that he cannot have children. Regardless, my face is my fortune, and I shall endeavour to do my utmost to keep it pure and dashing. My how the courtesans will swoon.

16 Mirtul 1832

Mazzy has not yet returned with my shiny new helmet. I swear! All those talks about equal gender rights must be getting to that prawn-sized head of hers. Speaking of heads, mine is still unprotected!!! The King has been questioning my lack of valour in the recent battles; but isn't discretion the better part of valour? Besides, I doubt I could bear to face anyone should my beautiful sculpted features get marred while fighting some ugly turd. It's simply not worth the hassle.

17 Mirtul 1832

Mazzy has finally returned with my helmet. She accredited her tardiness to 'that time of the month again'. As if! You've got to wonder what these scheming women are up to; always complaining about 'that time of the month' when nothing apparent seems to be happening. If you ask me, it's just another one of their feeble excuses to get off a decent day's work. Our King has recently commissioned me to slay the dragon that has been plaguing our lands. What does he take me for? As if it's my bloody job! If he'd wanted that damn thing killed, he might as well have hired some nasty brigands to do his menial work for him. I'm a knight for crying out loud; dragonslaying is NOT in my bloody department.

18 Mirtul 1832

Letting the King know how I felt was the smartest thing I've ever done. In fact, I'm still smarting. Now that I cannot evade this daunting task, I shall do what all knights brave and chivalrous do best, and have this task delegated to Mazzy first thing tomorrow morning.

19 Mirtul 1832

Mazzy has responded positively to my demands. I've never seen her so excited before. Because of my lack of education, I have some difficulties in fathoming what she had meant when she said, "up yours!". She was probably paying me a compliment for my noble actions. I must remember to use "up yours!" in tonight's Grand Gala Ball to show the dignitaries how learned and civilised a knight I am. Speaking of Balls, I've been to many Balls in my life, and I daresay the King's Balls are by far the biggest and best.

20 Mirtul 1832

The Ball was not as I had hoped it would turn out to be. The people there were most impolite towards me. It really doesn't pay to be courteous. I would like to go speak with our King and demand an explanation for their incomprehensible hostility; but I cannot, by token of the fact that I now languish in prison. Apparently the King doesn't like to be complimented either.

21 Mirtul 1832

Still in prison. Played cards with the rats today.

22 Mirtul 1832

Still in prison. Played cards with the rats today.

23 Mirtul 1832

Still in prison. Played cards with the rats today.

24 Mirtul 1832

Still in prison. Played cards with the rats today.

25 Mirtul 1832

Still in prison. Played cards with the rats today.

1 Atraie 1832

Still in prison. Played cards with the rats today.

2 Atraie 1832

I think the rats are cheating!

Boxing Day Debate

2007-01-01T17:48:00.000+08:00

Boxing Day nearly took on a more literal meaning as I sat down with a friend for coffee in Orchard Road. It has always been customary that our debates normally end with us raising our voices to a point where people often mistake it for a husband-wife quarrel and give us plenty of room. It has also always been customary for us to willingly engage in such debates despite knowing the outcome almost 90% of time.

This time, the debate topic was on Good vs. Evil. For brevity, I shall refrain from naming who she is... for now. She doesn't read my blog anyway, but I'm not taking any chances >_<

Agitation Meter: 0%

She: I wonder how the World will be like if there was absolutely no evil.

Me: Very, very boring. I'll get senile from doing nothing but watering potted plants every day.

She: No, but think about it; a World where evil is non-existent, and good reigns unprecedented.

Me: If evil does not exist, then neither does good.

*fast-foward 5 minutes later*

Agitation Meter: 7%

She: I don't get what you mean, if evil doesn't exist, then the opposite should be true - good exists in superabundance

Me: Quite the contrary; if 'evil' doesn't exist, then the concept of 'good' doesn't exist either simply because there is no longer the benchmark of 'evil' whereby 'good' can be compared to. In other words, neither 'good' nor 'evil' has no intrinsic value (and all the Commies say 'Amen!').

She: What the hell are you talking about??? (Agititaion Meter +4%)

Me: Don't be so dense, woman. If there was no 'up', there will be no 'down' because the concept of 'down' can no longer be explained as 'the opposite of up'.

*fast-forward 5 minutes later*

Agitation Meter: 21%

Me: Do you get it now?

She: I'm beginning to see it from your perspective yes. But if this is true, then which concept came first? 'Up' or 'Down'?

Me: That's the thing, one cannot exist with the other, therefore it is impossible that the concept of 'Up' existed before the concept of 'Down'.

She: I find that concept even MORE impossible.

Me: And I find you the MOST impossible. (Agitation Meter +12%)

She: Don't patronize me, asswipe!

Me: Sorry. (Agitation Meter -3%)

*fast-forward 2 minutes later*

Agitation Meter: 38%

She: See what I mean? Someone has to come up with the concept of 'Up' before the concept of 'Down' can be conceived. It's common sense; which was never one of your departments.

Me: Okay then. Give me the definition of 'Down'.

She: Simple. 'Down' means... to descend.

Me: No. That's 'Down' used as a verb, which is irrelevant to the discussion. Give me the definition of 'Down' used as the preposition.

She: Oh that's easy. 'Down' means... um...

*fast-forward 7 minutes later*

The Agitation Meter hasn't moved, because nothing was being said.

She: Okay fine. I give up. What is the definition of 'Down'? As the preposition?

Me: Simple. 'Down' means 'not Up'.

She: WTF?!?! (Agitation Meter +17%) That makes no bloody sense at ALL!!

Me: That's what I've been trying to tell you!!! Without 'Up', 'Down' makes no sense at all. Without 'Evil', 'Good' is nothing more than a four-letter word.

She: I'm thinking of ANOTHER four-letter word that I'm rather tempted to use on to you right now.

Me: Sorry, you're not my type.

*one minute of silence has elasped*

Agitation Meter: 59%

She: Ok, you know what, let's start over again. Hear what I have to say, and only cut in AFTER I've finished, alright?

Me: Fair call. But before that, I must say something.

She: What?

Me: [shift into TMY mode] They say that when you meet the love of your life, time stops; and that's true.

She: [rolls eyes] Which moron did you hear that from?

*fast-forward 2 minutes later*

She: So my concept of 'evil' is 'the absence of good', just like how 'cold' is the absence of 'heat'.

Me: You're only reinforcing my point. If 'evil' -

She: I'M NOT FINISHED YET!!!

Me: Sorry

She: Remember the e-mail I sent you? Even zero celsious is 'heat', but in low amounts. Only zero Kelvin is considered as 'no heat'. 'Cold' is merely a term to describe the lack of heat. Just like 'evil' is to 'good'. SO if 'evil' can be defined as 'the absence of good', then the absence of evil is the 'omnipresence of good'.

Me: You came to that conclusion because you're applying circular logic. Just because Evil = No Good, you're assuming that No Evil = Good. And only an economist will make a more retarded assumption than that. [pause for effect] Ceteris paribus.

She: FUCK YOU! (she's an economist)

Me: I didn't bring protection.

*another minute of awkward silence*

Agitation Meter: 67%

She: Actually it's pretty damn easy to understand. The same also applies to mathematics.

Me: The last time I did math was when I was 17.

She: That's because you suck. Now listen to me. In mathematics, 'zero' is not a number. It merely symbolizes that absence of a number. That's why anything divided by zero is impossible because zero isn't a number anyway.

Me: Yes. I understand that. Go on.

She: So that's it. There's only two ways to it: either it's a real number or it's zero. Plain and easy. So if you were to apply your theory that 'zero' has no intrinsic value-

Me: It's not my theory.

She: You're right. I give you too much credit sometimes. Whatever. So if you were to apply the theory that 'zero' has no intrinsic value, then the theory cannot stand because without zero, you can still have other numbers.

Me: Alright then. What comes after 9?

She: Ten

Me: Not if there is no 'zero'.

She: That's a weak argument!

Me: No, it isn't. Never mind then. Let me ask you: What is the lowest integer?

She: There is no lowest integer, it's negative infinity.

Me: That's right. What is the lowest positive integer?

She: One

Me: What separates negative integers from the positive ones?

She: Zero

Me: I rest my case. Zero is the pivot of the number-line. Without it, the other numbers become meaningless because every conceivable number is with respect to zero i.e. 5 is 'five more than zero'; -7 is 'seven less than zero'.

Agitation Meter: 74%

She: I don't get it.

Me: Geez! I bet that when God was giving out heads, you probably heard 'beds' and asked for a soft one.

Agitation Meter: 81%

She: What the HELL is wrong with you, Edwin Goh Seng Phoon. You keep putting my ideas down!

Agitation Meter: 86%

Me: That's because your ideas are shit, and your arguments are feeble and insipid!

*The rest of this debate has been censored because nothing of further insight could be gleaned from the remainder, and primarily because there might be kids reading this blog*

So that was my Boxing Day for you.

n.b. I hardly get into arguments with other people, simply because it's not worth my time and/or effort. This incident however, is an exception. We're still good friends despite everything. We'll probably argue again in the not too distant future, only to call up the next day to tell each other how much we enjoyed our little debates.

Yes, it's masochistic. But lesser beings will not understand.

Happy New Year peeps :)

Scienta Est Potentia VII

2006-12-21T13:44:00.000+08:00

We get disappointed when Saints fail us simply because we tend to forget that they are also human.

My Name is Echo

2006-12-18T12:19:00.000+08:00

This piece was my final assignment for my Writing II unit which I recently completed. I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

And to my regular blog readers, you might find that the introduction of this story is EXACTLY the same as the intro of another (See Agent Johnny Constant). But don't worry about plagiarism or anything - I've asked the author if I could reproduced his work and he has given me full authority. Now wasn't that nice :P

My Name is Echo
by Eddie G.

Our story takes us to the depths of a bustling metropolis in the distant future known as Kayel City, named after the Capitol of a country long forgotten. There were no longer any countries after the Fallout anyway, but rather individual cities that arose with the preference of being self-governed, for the people by the people, auspicium melioris aevi, blah blah blah, yada yada yada, so on and so forth.

Individual Cities meant that they would be easier both to manage and control. It also meant unwavering loyalty on the citizens' part, mostly because leaving one City for another had recently knocked off "detonating a bomb with your teeth" from top spot in Riddly's Top 10 List of Messy Suicides.

However, Cities took a very feudalistic view when considering their neighbours (if they should be considered at all). This probably meant that throwing up on the wrong side of the City border could very well spark off another inter-City Holocaust. Little is known of the outcome that stemmed from the prototype offender, mostly because there were too little body parts around for a proper forensic study.

Petty disputes between cities were not uncommon, and were normally "settled" with Diplomacy. In fact, the use of Diplomacy became so commonplace that the microwave oven shot up to first place in Riddly's Top 10 List of Redundant Home Appliances overnight and had stayed there ever since.

”Diplomacy Nuclear Warheads will make all your problems immaterial. Literally!” its famous slogan rang.

Time became immaterial in Kayel City. Society had no longer a need for it. The rising and setting of Solaris was no longer relevant, for Her rays could hardly penetrate through the thick layer of radioactive dust; many Cities relied heavily on artificial sources of lighting, explosions being the most popular by far.

*****

My name is Echo.

You heard correctly. My name is Echo.

From the day I was born, I never saw the face of Solaris
For eons, She was our source of light, hope and solace.
Now the dust has hid Her from us, and all that lights our city now
––is ambition.

Yet I do not envy those who had seen her face to face
Some say that her brilliance was so overwhelming that
one direct gaze at her will turn you blind.
Perhaps the dust saved us from her wrath.
But we’ll never know that.

Plop!

A single tear fell, hit the pavement, disappeared.

Plop! Plop!

The tears began to flow more freely now. Echo wept.

She mourned the beautiful past – a past in which its denizens took for granted.

What what she did not know was that in years to come, this cycle will repeat itself.

Repeat itself, repeat itself.

Provided Terra would still be around then, which seemed rather unlikely.

She remembers the Hymn clearly:

Tell me then, what are stars,
For ne’er have I seen them
Winds blow, cold and old.
They teach us how to believe them

Decide ye now, ye fools of young
How ye want this world to be.
The rays of Solaris oft will blind
But ‘tis a world I’d rather not see.

*****

Oppression is a beautiful thing. Without oppression, you will not know the sweet taste of freedom. This has been prevalent across the span of time. The cycle continues.

“What then is the first stage of this cycle?” the Rabbi droned before a congregation of thousands. “It can be summed up in two words ––status quo. As the Solarian Chapters thus say:

“There is first a Balance
Disruption is not of the Balance
Those that are not pure
Therefore thou art not of the Balance
Repent! Repent!
Thy Reckoning draws near!
- Amaunator 4:19”

Echo stifiled a laugh.

Foolish man she thought. A cycle has no “first stage”; that was more or less the prerequisite. Something which has no end surely meant it had no beginning either.

“Every new beginning comes
From some other beginning’s end
- Semisonic 1:16”

The line was adapted from an ancient folksong, and for some reason, the Canons of the Solarian Chapters had “ordained” it. Echo had a strong feeling that this reason fell nothing short of uninhibited intoxication.

“Draw close to Solaris, my children. Allow Her redeeming light to purify you!” the Rabbi declared.

How can a Light that cannot even penetrate dust purify souls that are clouded with more than just grit?

*****

Echo frowned. Every time she got to that line, the Archive Reader was unable to go further. She knew for a fact that the passage was truncated on purpose, even though she was unable to prove anything. It however was a powerful statement – whatever Sir Walter Reighs had written, it contained truth that the regulatory bodies did not want the general populous to find out.

She thought back on the dream she had last night. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the key to restoring Time back to society lay within books. It was planned to perfection; to keep society repressed, remove the one and only thing that they truly owned – their awareness of time – and the masses would be nothing but putty in your hands, doing what you commanded them too. After all, nothing else mattered.

Keep the peasants uneducated, keep them ignorant, keep them unaware, and they will be eating from your hand. There was no other reason why knowledge was so bloody expensive, except for the fact that only the oppressors could afford it.

“That will all change in due time,” Echo whispered to herself, “tomorrow, they will know.”

*****

Damnation! It was like talking to a bunch of kids. How on Terra did she wind up with such losers? The mutants in the “convention centre” milled around aimlessly, which pretty much described their current outlook of life. Aimless. It infuriated her that apathy was no longer a shortcoming.

It was now a lifestyle.

Presently Echo cleared her throat, and noted how only some had bothered to look up. Getting these sods motivated was akin to pulling teeth, and at least for the latter, some anesthetic would have be administered to help deaden the pain.

“May I remind you all why we are here?” she said, her voice resonating all across the “convention centre”. Sporadic coughs punctured the silence that ensued. Piqued, she attempted to continue her rally.

“We must restore Time! Not time as in the entity that separates one event from another, but Time as a concept. It is the only way. Time must be restored!”

Murmuring consensus rose from the crowd, although many of their faces betrayed an “easier-said-than-done” look in their expressions.

“Why?” a voice had asked.

“Why? Why?” Echo’s arm flew out. “What do you mean why? Did you ever for once question why you wake up every morning? Have you ever challenged why you breathe? Time was part of us, and without it we have no meaning. Our lives have no meaning! Do you truly want that? Waking up and realizing that all that you do in this life is of no eternal value?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

The murmuring started again, but this time with more conviction. By the rays of Solaris Echo thought, am I truly surrounded by such fools? There was a word that eluded her, the word that summed up her predicament.

That word was “inertia”.

*****

Echo awoke to find herself strapped securely to a chair by meta-fibres. Panic threaten to overwhelm her as she surveyed her unfamiliar surroundings. Surely this must be a dream.

“Ye who spurn the warnings of Solaris shall be raptured into judgement.
Men shall not seek for thee; thy punishment is fair and just”
- Mortaris 1:6”

“Indeed they shall not search for you,” a disembodied voice said, “they will say it was destined to happen.”

Echo tried to call out, but the gag that secured her mouth was effective.

“For a girl as young as you are, you certainly know much,” the disembodied voice was visibly impressed. “I also cannot help but notice that you’ve been trying to access the musings of Sir Reighs. Foolish of you. I can’t believe you actually subscribe to such nonsense.”

Better that than to be a slave to dogs such as you she thought bitterly.

“Indeed,” the voice had said, “but conformism is the way of life. No… that’s not entirely true. Allow me to rephrase it: Conformism IS life. And this, you shall surely find out. Such a pity. We could have used one as intelligent as yourself.”

*****

In every society, there are cowards.
In every coward, there is fear
In every fear, there is apprehension
In apprehension, there is doubt
Therefore, without doubt, society cannot exist
- Amaunator 3:16

In the heart of Kayel City stood a foreboding tower called Left. It was short for the "Left Half of The Kayel City Centre Something Towers" (names, like buildings, eroded with each turn of the Centuric Hourglass). Unlike its surrounding buildings, Left only sported less than a hundred storeys, and possibly had the least glamourous of futures. Yet, of all the buildings in entire Kayel, it had the most glamourous past. In a relatively happier, there were two such towers standing side by side, connected by a skybridge. It was truly the envy of the World, especially after a certain Country in the West had theirs blown up when a couple of planes crashed misguidedly into them; and all because their pilots had decided to leave their consoles unattended just so that they could go for a nice, long piss.

At the foot of Left stood a fountain that too had seen better days. Long gone were the days when streams of crystal clear water were shot into the backdrop of a bright, blue sky. Yet, still it stood, a testimony to the fact that nostalgia for the most trivial things was indeed what every self-respecting City should possess. Radiation Control Centres were in dire need, as more and more denizens began to succumb to the dust. Medical outposts were also in great demand. But the fountain was more important. The fountain served as constant reminder to Kayel City of who they are and what they once were ––idiots.

*****

The Tomb of Tomes
By Walter Reighs

Indeed there has been much debate on why books can fetch such ridiculously astronomical amounts despite having no practical use whatsoever. It is ironic that if you have a book in your possession, your networth is immediately augmented by tens of thousands, and yet you can still starve to death; clutching on to it tightly as they lower your casket.

There is much to consider in the production of books, which will certainly lend some weight in the attempt to explain the unreal value that has been pinned upon them. The raw materials in which to print a book per se are easily available, but the material in which to replicate the contents of the book is already exhausted –inspiration.

In order to make sense of this, one must realize that aesthetic history has been divided by one groundshaking event – Renaissance Prime (RP for short). RP was hailed by many philosophers as “an era where understanding reached its Plateau” (Robinson, 642 RP, Ln 15). In other words, RP symbolized not only the “Terminal of Academia” (ibid, Ln 42; italics mine), but also implied that there was “nothing new” to be learnt. By the same token, this was why authors who had written before RP was considered priceless, just as how works of authors after RP were considered worthless.

Of course, this doesn’t explain fully why pre-RP books attained values of which they are hitting as of now. Upon closer scrutiny-

*Error 404 – The remainder of this file seems to be corrupted and hence unreadable. A log of this error has been submitted to the Central Archives for reference*

Goodbye, Sigmund Freud

2006-11-10T11:30:00.000+08:00

Three years ago, I knew what a double entendre (pronounced: doo-bel awn-tawndr) was. But never for my life did I ever expect that I'd be negotiating my way through web within web within web of seemingly harmless words laden sickening innuendos.

I owe it all to one person.

DR. ANDREW NG HOCK SOON!

Yea right. Let's not give him so much credit shall we? After all, you do not blame the delivery boy when your pizza tastes like crap. Cold and soggy pizzas yes, but the psychoanalytic pizza that Dr. Andrew delivered was nowhere near cold and soggy. Smelling of manure, yes. Cold and soggy, no.

So if we look past the delivery boy in his silly cap and his Winnie the Poo (sic) plushies, the real person to blame for corrupting all our minds is none other than.

SIGMUND FREUD!

Yes. He is the man who professed that every man wants to sleep with his mother - which is totally gross!

His mother is hundreds of years old.

But I digress. It's because of this man that Monash Commies can never ever EVER! see the most harmless looking signifiers WITHOUT attaching them to sexual connoted double entendres. And on Monday, (ironically) after my Screen Theories exam, as a "parting gift", it hit me like an oncoming train.

I was in the MUSA lounge having a game of chess with Joanne while Aron observed from the sidelines. Joanne wasn't playing to the best of her abilities and it therefore came as no surprised that I totally pawned her (there you go, another double entendre!). At the end of it all, she said, in sheer resignation:

"See, I told you it's easy to mate me."

As soon as those words came out, the three of us knew that it was WRONG! Three years ago though, it would have meant nothing to me, and I would even have given her some words of encouragement, telling her that pratice makes perfect. But not that day. The double entendre was so overwhelming that the three of us couldn't stop laughing (albeit, Joanne in some embarrassed fashion on how easily she can get 'mated'), and what's worse, I began to realize how even a seemingly innocent game of chess can contain sexual innuendos (like how a King takes solace behind his phallic tower whenever he castles).

On the other hand, it is not the words, the symbols or the signifiers that are dirty, but rather our minds that are corrupted enough to think of all these things. And since the signified differs depending on our cultural capital, one might see something through the eyes of psychoanalysis while another might not.

Dr. Pat also mentioned one thing - if something is implanted in your mind, it cannot be removed. The same applies with psychoanalysis. The only way to "get rid" of it is to replace with something else. A truth more flawless and unshakeable.

That Truth, that Way and that Life is Jesus :)

So here's the litmus test:

"On Monday, while playing chess I mated Joanne. And Aron watched."

Did you wince?

I still did. Just a little though. Hahaha

Goodbye to You

2006-10-11T15:36:00.000+08:00

It was fun while it lasted. But then again, he blamed myself for taking things too seriously. He knew for a fact that she toyed with him, but responded in kind no less. Verbally, he was wed to her, and they exchanged romantic sweet nothings. And they truly were nothings. Nothing more, nothing less. But he was foolish enough to keep them close to his heart, like butterflies encased in a glass frame.

He knew it would be over soon, but he kept hoping. It came much earlier than expected. They were talking about wedlock, as usual.

This time, it was a different tune.

It was ironic. Her words used to elate him, edify him, comfort him. But now, they stung him, like the piercing, fiery sting of a hornet.

He reeled backwards, cradling his wound; there were no tears. Tears are for the weak, and the weak will always be the first to be consumed. Show of strength, lad, show of strength!

But wait, that hinted insecurity; another weakness. A feint within a feint within a feint.

He closed his eyes, but her face refused to go away. He cursed and swore at it, but it only made him feel worse.

A single rose pervaded his awareness, a beacon of sanity within the turmoil that churned in his psyche.

But the rose began to fade, first from blood red to pink, and then to white and then it turned grey.

Grey is a colour - a mixture of white and black. But white and black in themselves were not colours - they were merely terms to describe the absence and omnipresence of colour.

In her, he had everything, and nothing at the same time.

The rose stayed grey, and then faded into oblivion.

Goodbye, my love. It has finally ended.

Or has it just begun...

Eye-Cue

2006-10-11T15:24:00.000+08:00

Your IQ Is 135

Your Logical Intelligence is Below Average

Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius

Your Mathematical Intelligence is Genius

Your General Knowledge is Genius

A Quick and Dirty IQ Test

I dare say this test is 75% accurate.

Actually it's accurate and paradoxic. I agree that I never saw myself as a logical person; but then again, logic is required to answer most of the questions featured in the test... So what gives?

And don't answer "Santa Claus" I'm not in a mood for lame jokes today.

Music Tag

2006-09-28T15:49:00.000+08:00

I'm bored. I'm supposed to be doing my assignment

The keyword here is "supposed"

The requirements:

1. Put your music player on shuffle
2. Press forward for each question
3. Use the song title as the answer to the question (but it seems you can insert lyrics from the song if you want... in addition to the title...so if it's suitable, just go ahead… you know what, you can just insert the lyrics anyway. And stop saying ‘lah’. Bah!)
4. NO CHEATING!!!

* * *

1. How am I feeling today?

Reel Big Fish - Brand New Hero

Always talking
But, I never say a lot,
And I'll blow it if I
Get another shot,
'Cause it seems like
No matter what I've got,
It feels like it's nothing,
I feel like I'm nothing,

Goin' away,
Leavin' today,
You've gotta find
A brand new hero,
Goin' away,
Leavin' today,
You've gotta find
A brand new hero,
What will they say
When I've gone away?
Gotta find
A brand new hero,
Brand new hero!

As always, I'm stroking my Messiah complex

2. Where will I get married?

Bebo Norman - Falling Down

Angels on a subway
She's buried in a magazine
Stuck inside a replay
Of someone else's dream

Prophets made of paper
Don't tell her anything
She wants someone to save her
So she lifts her head and screams,
lifts her head and screams,
lifts her head and screams

"I don't know you
But I love you anyway
I can't see you
But I hope you're here to stay
I don't know you
But I need you here with me
Cuz I'm falling,
Falling...... down"

Didn’t really answer the question… but the chorus really means a lot to me.

3. What is my best friend's theme song?

Fountains of Wayne - Mexican Wine

But the sun still shines in the summertime
I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine
I tried to change, but I’ve change my mind
Think I’ll have another glass of Mexican wine.

I got a few of my close friends hooked on this song, so I guess it's rather accurate. Hehe

4. What was high school like?

"Weird Al" Yankovic - Ode to a Superhero

(Sung to the tune of Billy Joel's Piano Man)
Peter Parker was pitiful
Couldn't have been any shyer
Mary Jane still wouldn't notice him
Even if his hair was on fire

But then one day he went to that science lab
That mutated spider came down
Oh, and now Peter crawls over everyone's walls
And he's swingin' all over town

La li la, li de da
La la, li le la da dum

Sling us a web, you're the Spider-Man
Sling us a web tonight
'Cause we're all in the mood for a hero now
And there's evil doers to fight

Now Harry the rich kid's a friend of his
Who horns in on Mary Jane
But to his great surprise it seems she prefers guys
Who can kiss upside down in the rain

"With great power comes great responsibility"
That's the catch phrase of old Uncle Ben
If you missed it, don't worry, they'll say the line
Again and again and again

Oh, la la la, di de da
La la, di di da da dom

Now Norman's a billionare scientist
Who never had time for his son
But then something went screw and before you knew he
Was trying to kill everyone

And he's ridin' around on that glider thing
And he's throwin' that weird pumpkin bomb
Yes, he's wearin' that dumb Power Rangers mask
But he's scarier without it on

Sling us a web, you're the Spider-Man
Sling us a web tonight
'Cause you're brave and you're strong and so limber now
But where'd you come up with those tights?

It's a pretty sad day at the funeral
Norman Osborn has bitten the dust
And I heard Harry's said he wants Spider-Man dead
Aw, but his buddy Pete he can trust

Oh, and M.J. is all hot for Peter now
Aw, but Peter, he just shuts her down
Mary Jane, don't you cry, you can give it a try
Again when the sequal comes 'round

Oh, la la la, di de da
La la, di di da da dum

Sling us a web, you're the Spider-Man
Sling us a web tonight
'Cause we all sure could use us a hero now
And we think that you'll do all right

LOL!!! How apt!

5. What is the best thing about me?

Smash Mouth - All Star

Spot on, baby!

6. How is today going to be?

Final Fantasy XI OST - Currents of Time (instrumental)

I need assistance on this one…

7. What is in store for this weekend?

Reel Big Fish - Suckers

Hey everybody I’ve got somethin’ to tell it's what I learned from relationship hell
Lust turns to disgust a heart of gold into rust a soft touch to a slap in the
face- it gets old it goes away

This one's for all the suckers who still believe in love, this one's for you.
This one’s for all the suckers who still believe in love, this one’s for you.
It never works but we keep tryin' like fools learning and breaking the rules
At first you're excited then you're less than delighted by the end you wish
they would drop dead it can't last, it's gone so fast

HAH! Not that I'm worried that anything of that sort is gonna happen to me this weekened.

8. What song describes my parents?

Bowling For Soup - Hit Me Baby One More Time (cover)

Uh... Perhaps I wasn't really disciplined well enough as a kid?

9. How is my life going?

Reel Big Fish - Drinkin'

she told me
that I was lame
with her middle finger in my face
wont waste her time with such a loser
so now I wallow in regret
wanna do something right but I haven't yet
why do my endeavors end up in failure

I think I'll go out drinkin'
drinkin' all night long
cuz if I go out drinkin'
then I can stop thinkin'
bout how the world done me wrong

I guess I shouldn't feel so bad
ain't got much reason to feel so sad
'cept that I'm poor untalented and ugly
I know its like they always say
good times and bad will come our way
but theres only one thing that'll make this easier

I think I'll go out drinkin'
drinkin' all night long
cuz if I go out drinkin'
then I can stop thinkin'
bout how the world done me wrong

Close enough, close enough... burp!

10. What song will they play at my funeral?

The Offspring - Original Prankster

I was hoping to land on Pop Goes the Weasel for this question… but I guess this song would be a fitting tribute.

11. How does the world see me?

Bowling For Soup - She's Got A Boyfriend Now

OMG!!! Art thou clairvoyant?

12. What do my friends really think of me?

Avenue Q (Broadway Musical) - Everyone's A Little Bit Racist

Gary Coleman:
It's sad but true!
Everyone's a little bit racist -

All right!

Kate Monster:
All right!

Princeton:
All right!

Gary Coleman:
All right!
Bigotry has never been
Exclusively white

All:
If we all could just admit
That we are racist a little bit,
Even though we all know
That it's wrong,
Maybe it would help us
Get along.

Um... it's a good laugh, but this isn't true. I'm VERY racist muahahah! (i.e. if you're not an elf you have no right to live in this world)

13. Do people secretly lust after me?

Def Leppard - Long, Long Way To Go

Agreed. Getting me is like reaching Nirvana - few will get there, and those who do will wonder if it's bloody worth it all...

14. How can I make myself happy?

Final Fantasy VIII OST - Maybe I'm a Lion (Instrumental)

Oh. So now we're in delusion I see?

15. What should I do with my life?

Jimmy Eat World - Bleed American

I’m not alone
'Cause the TV’s on yeah
I’m not crazy
'Cause I take
The right pills everyday
And rest
Clean your conscious
Clear your thoughts
With speyside
With your grain
Clean your conscious
Clear your thoughts
With speyside
Salt, sweat
Sugar on the asphalt
Our hearts littering the topsoil
Tune in and
We can get the last call
Our lives, our coal
Salt, sweat
Sugar on the asphalt
Our hearts littering the topsoil
Sign up
It's the picket line
Or the parade
Our lives

Ok. Lemme go fetch my AK-47

16. Will I ever have children?

Final Fantasy VII - The Shinra Corporation (Instrumental)

Not good. My future wife is going to become a frickin' factory.

17. What is some good advice?

Bowling for Soup - Almost

And I almost had you
But I guess that doesn't cut it
almost had you
And I didn't even know it

And you kept me guessing
And now I'm destined
To spend my time missing you
I almost wish you woulda loved me too

Here I go thinkin' about all the things I could have done
I'm gonna need a forklift cuz all the baggage weighs a ton
I know we had our problems, I can't remember one.

I almost forgot to say something else
And if I can't fit it in I'll keep it all to myself
I almost wrote a song about you today
But I tore it all up and then I threw it away

Good advice. Wish I could take it too.

18. What do I think my current theme song is?

Lit - My Own Worst Enemy

This thing is so accurate it's beginning not funny anymore...

19. What does everyone else think about my current life?

Reel Big Fish - Rock n' Roll is Bitchin'

Hahahahah! Baby baby you're so bitchin'! Yea yea yea!

20. What type of style men do you like? (wtf are you trying to ask me?)

Final Fantasy VII OST - J-E-N-O-V-A

HAHAHA! I like my men genetically modified please. Even if it means getting killed by Sephiroth himself. Woot!

21. Will you get married?

Splender - The Loneliest Person I Know

All the more reason why I should marry you, right?

22. What should I do with my love life?

Lit - Addicted

Go on rehab?

23. Where will you live?

Gin Blossoms - Follow You Down

Everywhere you go honey, I'll follow you down.

24. What will your dying words be?

Jimmy Eat World - The Authority Song

Honesty, O Mystery tell me
I'm not scared anymore
I got no secret purpose;
I don't seem obvious do I?

Listen well, young Padawan.

25. When I'm having sex I say

Smash Mouth - Ain't No Mystery

I'm a mystery man, doin' what I can
With a continental international plan
So!
Come on now, it's all now
This player's here to stay now
Let me break it down, make you understand
Don't you know your history
I'm feelin', I'm leanin'
This player's here to stay
You're a woman, I'm your man
It ain't no mystery

Actually I won't talk during sex unless it's something serious like "I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU WERE ON THE PILL, BITCH?!?!"

26. When I meet a guy/lady for the first time I say

The Chordettes - Mr. Sandman

Mr. Sandman bring me a dream
Make [her] the cutest that I've ever seen
Give [her] two lips like roses and clover
Then tell [her] that [her] lonesome nights are over.

27. When my parents are angry I say

Crazy Frog - Axel F.

DING DING!

Scienta Est Potentia VI

2006-09-20T14:52:00.000+08:00

I remembered being given this problem to work out when I was 16, by a good friend of mine. She refused to give me the answer, not even till this day (and a part of me suspects that she didn't know the answer either hehehe). Fastforward to last night, as I tried to sleep, I tried having a go at it one more time; and this time, the solution hit me like an oncoming train. After six years of being in the dark, it finally felt good to put this problem behind me once and for all.

Now, I throw it back to you, dear reader. Can you find the solution to this problem? Will you take six years like I did to solve it? Probably not, because I'll give you the solution soon.

Soon.

The Dollar Dilemma

Three men went to spend a night in a hotel. Because they were on budget, they agreed to split the cost for the room. The room was $30 for the night, so each of them forked out $10, grabbed their key and headed for their room.

After they left, the receptionist realized that he the room only cost $25, not $30. So he sent the bellhop to return the surplus $5 to the men. On his way there, the bellhop thought to himself, "I can't possibly split $5 amongst 3, so I'll keep $2 for myself, and then return them $1 each."

So he did just that, and each of the three men had $1 returned to them. Here's where the problem arises. Technically each of the men paid $9. So $9 x 3 = $27, and add this to the $2 that the bellhop siphoned, and you get $29.

So what happened to the last $1?

Think about it...

Scienta Est Potentia V

2006-09-13T16:05:00.000+08:00

While having a conversation on MSN, a friend told me to think about someone, anyone - the first person that came to my mind.

I thought about you.

And then my friend asked me this, "if you had to sacrifice this person to save the world, would you?"

I am no Messiah. I replied "no".

And I logged off. I thought about you once more, and softly I chuckled to myself.

A world without you is no longer worth saving.

Announcement

2006-09-05T15:37:00.000+08:00

Alright ladies and germs, an important announce I have to make, hrmmm.

The filming of Police Story II, Man will be delayed for a few more weeks. Due to unforseen circumstances, the plot of the story has to be altered somewhat. I won't go into the details of how and why (a nicer way of saying 'none of your bloody business'). Until the altered story is finished, filming will be postponed.

Of course, I do realize that assignments are beginning to pile, and while such matters are of no concern to one such as I, I am fully aware that not everyone is blessed with laziness at such a chronic level, or genius at such an overwhelming extent (not mention a touch of modesty for good measure). I will try to get the filming done and out of the way as soon as possible.

People involved, you will be called upon shortly.

Here is a list of people who will be contacted:

Trudy Au
Aaron Lee J. M.
Wilson Lee
Goh Kel Li
Linora Low
Tan Meng Yoe
Abdullah
Nikhil Singh
M. Yasir
Zeck Pulle
Soo Chang Hao

There are many others I believe, but their names elude me presently. And if you're interested in being part of this project, I'll need all the help I can get, so either leave me a comment or call me.

Police Story II, Man is projected for an October 3rd release, simultaneously with TMY's Lov. That of course is being overly optimistic. Still, it might work.

That is all. For now.

Ways to Get Your Girlfriend to Dump You

2006-09-04T11:50:00.000+08:00

by Eddie G.

People always talk about how to get this girl or that girl to fall for you, and - in a nutshell - how you can wind your way into her pants. Well that's fine and dandy. Actually, it isn't. On the other side of the coin, there are many who wish to break up with their girlfriend, but don't really have the heart to break the news to their significant others (albeit not so signifcant anymore). Take heart, friend, for I have managed to compile a comprehensive list of things you can do to get your girlfriend to dump you.

Disclaimer: These are merely suggestions and, if truth be known, solely for the sake of humour. You are of course welcome to give them a try. I, however, will take no responsibility should anything unpleasant, particularly if you wind yourself in a nuthouse.

n.b. The same could be applied to girls wanting to get their boyfriends to dump them, but as far as I know, guys are more or less immune to stupidity, being carriers of this disease ourselves.

Without further ado:

1) Take your girlfriend out for an expensive steak dinner. When the bill arrives, hand her a pair of rubber gloves. When she enquires about them, tell her that it’s to protect her delicate hands while she washes the dishes. Publicly announce what a loving boyfriend you are.

2) When your girlfriend asks you “do you think I’m fat”, tell her you’ll be able to get a better view once this solar eclipse has elapsed.

3) Shave your head bald, insist that your girlfriend follow suit. If she does, constantly lament on how you miss running your fingers through her hair. Buy her a wig for her next birthday.

4) Whenever your girlfriend asks you to do something, call home and ask a member of your family to consult your Magic 8-ball for you. Relay the results of the 8-ball to your girlfriend. If she remarks on how silly you’re behaving, act affronted. Ask her to apologize to the 8-ball.

5) Fake an epileptic seizure. When the paramedics arrive, explain to them that you’re merely getting your girlfriend prepared “in case of an emergency”.

6) When she’s not looking, place a strand of your hair on her shoulder. After a while, direct her attention to the hair and start making a big fuss, heatedly challenging her fidelity. When you finally realize that the hair does in fact belong to you, begin to sob out of relief. Hold her close to you and tell her how much you love her.

7) Buy a pair of handcuffs. Insist that she uses the handcuffs as part of foreplay. When she’s firmly secured to the bedposts, leave the room and enjoy your football match in peace.

8) Auction your girlfriend on E-bay. If she protests, apologize to her profusely. Offer to give her 10% of the proceeds as a means of making amends for your actions.

9) On her birthday, offer to buy her an ice-cream cake, and then buy her a normal one. If she comments that it isn’t an ice-cream cake say, “Sure it is! I took one look at the price, and I screamed.”

10) Drink lots of soda, and then belch really loudly. When your girlfriend complains about you belching before her, assure her that she can have the first go the next time around.

11) Insist that your girlfriend drive at 60km/h and ONLY at 60km/h. Yell at her whenever she goes above 60km/h, even just by 1km/h. Keep complaining that you're going to be late.

12) Speak in Tongues.

13) Announce that on her next birthday, your girlfriend will get a chance to see the world, courtesy of you. Constantly excite her about that prospect. When her birthday finally arrives, buy her an atlas.

14) Offer to make your girlfriend dinner at her place. Thrash her entire kitchen and ruin the meal. Call for pizza. Remark on how this whole dinner idea has turned out to be a major success. Offer to do this three times a week.

15) Whenever your girlfriend puts on one of those green facial masks, splash a bucket of icy cold water on her while yelling expletives. Apologize to her, saying that you thought she was the Wicked Witch of the West.

16) While waiting for your girlfriend to get ready to go out, spray on some fake cobwebs and wear a long, white beard. Pretend to be going deaf in one ear.

17) Develop a sudden aversion towards garlic, religious items and sunlight. Make small nicks all over your chin and complain that you cut yourself while shaving. Stare at your girlfriend's neck for a long time.

18) Start speaking in archaic English and carry a skull wherever you go. Talk to the skull. Tell your girlfriend that the skull thinks she dresses funny. Keep this up for one week.

19) Announce that you're intend on writing a sonnet for your girlfriend. For the next 15 minutes, stare at a blank piece of paper rather frustratedly. Finally look up and ask, "how do you spell your name again?"

20) Call your girlfriend at 3 in the morning. If she picks up, tell her you're just checking to see if she's awake. Call again 15 minutes later.

Scienta Est Potentia IV

2006-08-30T13:16:00.000+08:00

So you think you have wisdom, friend? Well then, let's see if you can prove that. Below are a few riddles, some of my own concoction whilst others I have solved in the past. So put your thinking caps on, and we shall see whether your intellectual capabilities stand to the test, or fall short miserably.

Get them all right at a first guess, and I shall hold you in high regard - a privilege that only few can boast.

Begin.

I.

I am lighter than a feather,
Unseen to thy eye
But just try ye, to hold me
Thou surely wilt die.
What am I?

II.

At night they come without being called.
At dawn they leave without being told.
What are they?

III.

I am a word of letters three.
Add two more and fewer there will be.
What am I?

IV.

How far can a dog run into the woods?

V.

Take two apples out of three.
How many apples now rest with thee?

VI.

I was going to St Ives
When I met a man with seven wives
Each wife had seven sacks
Each sack had seven cats
Each cat had seven kits.
Kits, cats, sacks and wives
How many were going to St Ives?

VII.

When the more there is of me
Then truly of less thou wilt see
What am I?

VIII.

I am too much for one person
Just right for two
But for three people I no longer exist
What am I?

IX.

I start with "E"
I also end with "E"
But I only contain one letter.
What am I?

X.

I was born the same the this Earth was
I am destined to live until the Earth dies
Yet I'm never five weeks old.
What am I?

XI.

Like time, I have an ebb and flow
Through lands of high, I reach the low
I have a bed but never sleep
I have a mouth but never eat.
What am I?

XII.

A bee with an itch,
I am also a dogma.
What word am I?

So get your brains cracking (or whats left of them). The solutions will be revealed in the next post. Or maybe I'll just be the evil twat I am and won't reveal the answers at all. That should cause give many of you a sleepless night or two. Better yet, I should just tell you to go Google. That is, if you already haven't yet, you lazy bastards :P

Scienta Est Potentia III

2006-08-23T13:43:00.000+08:00

Would you rather be cheap or be free?

If you want to be cheap, I have nothing to say

But what if you want to be free?

Does't being free mean you're of less value than if you were cheap?

Hmm...

A Picture Speaks Louder than a Thousand Words

2006-08-21T11:52:00.000+08:00

I believe I've said enough.

Wishful Thinking

2006-08-07T20:42:00.000+08:00

Wishful Thinking
Lyrics and Music by Eddie G.

[Verse 1]
I've never been so enamoured
By someone like yourself
I look into your eyes and
I feel like someone else

And I can't help but feel that
Our happiness has been denied
It's traumatic; I feel so pathetic
But I hope one day you'll be by my side

[Chorus]
I think about you all the time
So take my hand we'll leave everything behind
And when we've nowhere else to go
We'll ask the stars and maybe
They will let us know

[Verse 2]
If flirting was a game then
It's a game I'd rather lose
I'd rather stay committed
'Cos no one else will do

And I can't help but feel that
Our happiness has been denied
It's traumatic; I feel so pathetic
But I hope one day you'll be by my side

[Chorus]
I think about you all the time
So take my hand we'll leave everything behind

[Musical Interlude]

And I can't help but feel that
Our happiness has been denied
It's traumatic; I feel so pathetic
But I hope one day you'll be by my side

[Chorus]
I think about you all the time
So take my hand we'll leave everything behind
And when we've nowhere else to go
We'll ask the stars and maybe
They will let us know

[Repeat chorus and fade]

Favourites: An Omnibus

2006-07-25T21:00:00.000+08:00

So far, I've not been getting much inspiration to write any new posts. What I have done though, was to scour all my previous posts that I've particularly enjoyed over the past few years of owning this blog. Yes, it's been that long already. To all of you, thanks for your endless support, and thank you for keep coming back. It means a lot :)

And now, without further ado, allow me to present to you a compilations of the pieces of writing that are closest to my heart. Hopefully, you will enjoy them as much as I did.

Chloe
Written on March 10, 2006

This probably ranks at the top of my favourite posts. The idea for this story was conceived when Leanne requested that I write a story on Chloe, her alter-ego. I did, and here it now stands. It also took me till now to realize that this post was actually written on my birthday, which goes to show how preoccupied with writing it that I didn't even notice.

*****

The Curse of Being Eddie G. II
Written on June 10, 2005

This story is the first time when the fabled Cathedral of Shattered Emotions was first mentioned in my writing (those who were in my writing class will understand). Of course, a first mention always bears some significance. I wouldn't go to great lengths to expound on what my inspiration was, but for those who have been around me long enough, you should have a vague idea ^_~

*****

The Difference Between Malaysians and Singaporeans
Written on April 18, 2005

I remember this post to be one of the most frequently visited one. I had recently installed my counter then, and shortly after this post, the hits just started pouring in to a point that I thought that there was a bug. In about 12 hours, I garnered about 800+ hits. In addition, this post has been quoted a few times by other people whom even I did not know. That really speaks for something.

*****

Kite
Written on December 10, 2004

It was a song I wrote, just for the fun of it. The lyrics pretty much sum up my writing style - nonsensical, but with a method to the madness.

*****

A Really Lame Short Story
Written on July 28, 2004

This story is probably the starting point at which I began to notice my flair and interest in creative writing. Of course, I've had spells of inspiration prior to this, but this short story (about 3000 words worth) is arguably the catalyst that started it all going.

*****

MURDER-CAR!
Written on September 1, 2005

During Malaysia's National Day in 2005, I sat down and began to reflect on what I was proud most of being a Malaysian. Of course, there wasn't much to choose from. So it took awhile before I decided to add a sardonic twist in my "favourite" characteristic of each and every Malaysian.

*****

Sawto Voase
Written on February 14, 2005

When it was still functional, Anna's blog was "organizing" an invitational for writers across the blogsphere to contribute their most creative descriptions of a room. Naturally, being me, I decided to view the room from a whole different perspective. I went off tangent (big surprise!) but I'm still proud of this work no less.

*****

The Dream
Written on April 30, 2005

As the name suggests, the story was based on a dream that I had. It was a dream that was beautiful yet disturbing. Today as I look back, this post reminds me of the struggles that I encountered last year. Heartbreak isn't something that goes away in a day... or night, for that matter.

*****

The Dream II
Written on August 24, 2005

Pretty much the same as The Dream, only much more beautiful... and disturbing.

X-Commies: The DotA Allstars Crossover

2006-06-21T12:16:00.000+08:00

With all the talk about X-Commies going on, Imagine what would have happened if the X-Commies wind themselves up in a game of DotA. Here's a list of the Heroes you can expect to see:

The Blue Ape

Monkey Rage

The Blue Ape goes into a maddened frenzy, increasing his attack speed, movement speed and damage significantly. Lasts 10 seconds

Level 1 - 5% attack speed, 5% movement speed 10% damage
Level 2 - 10% attack speed, 10% movement speed 15% damage
Level 3 - 15% attack speed, 15 movement speed, 20% damage
Level 4 - 20% attack speed, 20% movement speed, 25% damage

Monkey See, Monkey Do

The Blue Ape has honed its skills of mimicry to a point where he can reproduce any Hero's passive skill with amazing likeness. Of course, it won't be as good as it's original. The length of this skill is determined by its level. He can even do accents too!

Level 1 - 50% likeness, lasts 30 seconds
Level 2 - 60% likeness, lasts 40 seconds
Level 3 - 70% likeness, lasts 50 seconds
Level 4 - 80% likeness, lasts 60 seconds

Blue, Da Ba De, Da Ba Dai

The Blue Ape has a close affinity to all things that are blue. This allows him to turn invisible whenever he is near a blue object. This skill is passive.

Level 1 - Invisibility lasts for 2 seconds
Level 2 - Invisibility lasts for 4 seconds
Level 3 - Invisibility lasts for 6 seconds
Level 4 - Invisibility lasts for 8 seconds

Blue Banana Bomb

The Blue Ape tosses a blue, glowing banana which explodes upon impact, doing massive damage and then splitting further into smaller bananas. Each small banana does 100 damage when contacted.

Level 1 - 300 initial damage, splits into 3 bananas
Level 2 - 400 initial damage, splits into 4 bananas
Level 3 - 500 initial damage, splits into 5 bananas

*****

Electric Boy

Taser Shock

Sends a powerful shock that courses through the target's body, paralyzing the nervous system. Targets suffer from further speech impediment after the initial shock, rendering them incapable of casting spells.

Level 1 - 1.5 second stun, 1 second silence
Level 2 - 2.0 second stun, 1 second silence
Level 3 - 2.0 second stun, 2 second silence
Level 4 - 2.5 second stun, 3 second silence

Lightning Bolt

Quite self-explanatory. Electric Boy fires one at you; you get roasted; end of story. This skill is 50% less effective when used against Heroes wearing rubber soles.

Level 1 - 200 direct damage
Level 2 - 250 direct damage
Level 3 - 300 direct damage
Level 4 - 300 direct damage, rubber soles or no.

Energize

When Electric Boy is standing near a power socket, his energy regenerates at an alarming rate. This ability is passive

Level 1 - Regenerates 3MP/second
Level 2 - Regenerates 4MP/second
Level 3 - Regenerates 5MP/second
Level 4 - Regenerates 6MP/second

Angry Storm

Wherever Electric Boy goes, an angry thunderstorm is prone to follow him. Or maybe it's just the weather in KL. Regardless, whenever a thunderstorm ensues, everyone - friend and foe alike - within the vicinity is pelted with random bolts of lightning. Nobody is spared from the torrent.

Level 1 - 40% chance of attracting a thunderstorm
Level 2 - 50% chance of attracting a thunderstorm
Level 3 - 60% chance of attracting a thunderstorm

*****

The Terminatress

Mad Eye

One gaze from The Terminatress is all she needs to get the boys around her going gaga. Targets of the Mad Eye are rendered disoriented for a short period of time.

Level 1 - 3 second disorientation
Level 2 - 4 second disorientation
Level 3 - 5 second disorientation
Level 4 - 6 second disorientation

Searing Gaze

Fires a devastating ray of fierce microwaves, burning everything in its path. This ray is not impeded by obstacles, thus making it possible to hit multiple targets in a straight line.

Level 1 - 100 damage, 6 meter ray
Level 2 - 200 damage, 6 meter ray
Level 3 - 200 damage, 12 meter ray
Level 4 - 300 damage, 12 meter ray

Farsight

With the help of her bionic left eye, The Terminatress is capable of seeing long distances. Rumour has it that she might even possess X-ray vision. Whatever she uses her powers for, it's really best that we not inquire.

Level 1 - Can see up to 500 meters away
Level 2 - Can see up to 1000 meters away
Level 3 - Can see up to 1500 meters away
Level 4 - Gains X-ray Vision

Narcissism

The Terminatress is extremely mindful of her appearance, and does everything to look her best despite being in the heat of a fierce battle.

Level 1 - 5% chance to heal 25% of her max HP whenever hit
Level 2 - 10% chance to heal 25% of her max HP whenever hit
Level 3 - 15% chance to heal 25% of her max HP whenever hit

*****

Nicotina aka Steamy Shu

Smoke Screen

Fills the area with a thick fog, slowing opponents by 25% and causing them to miss their attacks. Last 7 seconds

Level 1 - 5 meter radius, 40% miss
Level 2 - 10 meter radius, 50% miss
Level 3 - 15 meter radius, 60% miss
Level 4 - 20 meter radius, 70% miss

Tear Gas

After a good meal of garlic and onions, Shu's breath can cause massive discomfort to her opponents, causing them to tear profusely, subsequently blinding them for a short period of time. Blinded characters will wander aimlessly around for the duration of the blindness

Level 1 - 3 second blind
Level 2 - 5 second blind
Level 3 - 7 second blind
Level 4 - 9 second blind

Nether Blast

Better out than in. And when Shu's mouth is busy spewing a thick fog, there is still another outlet available. Nether (as the name suggests) Blast creates a blast of exploding pulses from her *ahem* posterior, dealing damage to units and buildings. 2 second casting time (must charge up mah). 5 second cooldown.

Level 1 - Does 100 damage to all within the area
Level 2 - Does 175 damage to all within the area
Level 3 - Does 250 damage to all within the area
Level 4 - Does 325 damage to all within the area

Mistform

Shu herself takes the form of her smokey namesake, rendering her invulnerable to all physical attacks for a short period of time. Shu's Nether Blast also becomes more effective when she's in mistform

Level 1 - Lasts 8 seconds, Nether Blast +20% effectiveness
Level 2 - Lasts 12 seconds, Nether Blast +30% effectiveness
Level 3 - Lasts 16 seconds, Nether Blast +40% effectiveness

*****

CanonWoman

Cannonball Run

CanonWoman fires an unrelenting barrage of cannonballs through her eyes, dealing damage so long as she maintains contact with her opponent

Level 1 - 75 damage/second, 2 seconds
Level 2 - 75 damage/second, 3 seconds
Level 3 - 75 damage/second, 4 seconds
Level 4 - 100 damage/second, 4 seconds

Fireblast

Fires a fireball at a target, which explodes upon impact, doing splash damage to all those around the target

Level 1 - 100 damage, 50 splash damage
Level 2 - 175 damage, 100 splash damage
Level 3 - 250 damage, 150 splash damage
Level 4 - 250 damage, 250 splash damage

Protective Goggles

CanonWoman's protective goggles not only prevent her from firing cannonballs uncontrollably, they also protect her eyes from opponents' strikes. This skill is passive.

Level 1 - 20% chance of blocking off 30 damage
Level 2 - 30% chance of blocking off 40 damage
Level 3 - 40% chance of blocking off 50 damage
Level 4 - 50% chance of blocking off 60 damage

Fire of Judgement

The ultimate finishing move. Does massive damage to a single opponent. The X-Commies all rely on this finishing move because of its destructive nature. Kenny Roger's Roasters, anyone?

Level 1 - 600 damage
Level 2 - 900 damage
Level 3 - 1200 damage

Scienta Est Potentia II

2006-06-14T11:38:00.000+08:00

Athena by Raffaello Sanzio (1483-1520)

Challenge: Where dost thou findeth knowledge?

Response: From whence it first was lost.

Challenge: How much thou giveth for this?

Response: I yield to any a cost.

Challenge: Choose ye, thy knowledge or morals?

Response: Truly I cannot say.

Challenge: If for thy life, a wiser world?

Response: I'd be the last to pay.

Scienta Est Potentia

2006-06-09T10:49:00.000+08:00

Challenge: Why are all men such bastards

Response: Because if not, girls won't date them

Challenge: Why aren't there any nice guys out there?

Response: Because you have pushed them aside, chucked them in one corner and turned them into bastards

Challenge: Then what about you?

Response: "I" has no intrinsic value

Level Up

2006-06-06T15:04:00.000+08:00

After sitting for the media audiences exam yesterday, I felt like I could take on the World. Of course, I wouldn't have managed it without the help of Abdullah my "fellow" Singaporean, whose kiasuism proved both invaluable and contagious.

LEVEL UP!

Eddie G. is now a Level 51 Bard! (Chaotic Good)

That is all. I doubt anyone would even bother what new skills and stats I would have gained from leveling, so I won't bother either. Now, it's time for me to get back to studying for exams...

FOR NEXT SEMESTER, THAT IS!

Muahahahahahahaaaaaaaa!

X-Commies: The Last Hotdog Stand

2006-05-29T16:29:00.000+08:00

If you were to take a look at TMY's or Joanne's blog, you'd realize that, in celebration of the latest X-Men III movie, some of the Monash Commies have been made into heroes. Thanks to TMY's genius with Adobe Photoshop, and Joanne's shameless advertising, five unlikely heroes have arisen.

TMY did the characters. Now it's my turn to do the story.

X-Commies: The Last Hotdog Stand

In an age when mutants walk freely amongst the humans, prophecies of place called "1901" have arisen. Like all places of untold power, 1901 caught the attention of both good and evil alike. Now, evil seeks to harness the powers of 1901 for their own; an evil conglomerate has arisen and will not rest until they have made 1901 theirs. So begins the epic battle between good and evil, in a bid to capture the Last Hotdog Stand.

Characters:

Callsign: Electric Boy
Real Name: Unknown
Place of Origin: Unknown

Database:
The self-proclaimed leader of the guerilla strike force known as X-Commies, the origins of Electric Boy (called "Sparky" by his peers) are yet unknown. Some believe that he was accidentally created from a short circuit in an Engineering project, which does to some extent explain his geeky looks and tendencies.

With the ability to manipulate electical charges at will, he uses his powers for the good of mankind. His favourite hobby is to purposely flatten his car battery so that he can get the thrill of jump-starting it with his tongue.

*****

Callsign: The Terminatress
Real Name: Joanne Soo Liyeng
Place of Origin: Puchong

Database:
It looks could kill, then The Terminatress would be murder in the first degree. Joanne acquired her powers when she was attempting to put on her left contact lens while standing too close to the microwave. The resultant radiation not only infused the lens into her left eye, but also gave her the power to fire fierce microwaves just by looking at something.

Everybody agrees that The Terminatress is the best looking amongst the X-Commies. Because those who did not are now nothing more than a bubbling puddle of chicken fat. The painful irony is that she cannot look herself in the mirror any longer, for her eye and her reflection would trigger off a massive chain-reaction that would knock her out senseless. And for someone as shamelessly narcissistic as she is, her powers are certainly more of a curse rather than a blessing.

*****

Callsign: CanonWoman
Real Name: Temme Lee Wei Wei
Place of Origin: Penang

Database:
Temme Lee has always had a passion for cameras, with Canon being her favourite brand. However, she never did publicly admit to her fetish for shutter and lens. And as Sigmund Freud suggested, when something gets repressesed, it would only be a matter of time before it finally surfaces, consuming all. And surface it did. When the X-gene finally began to affect her body, Temme began to uncontrollably fire flaming cannonballs through her eyes.

When she joined the X-Commies, Electric Boy discovered that the only way to stem the flow of her terrifying powers is through the use of Canon lens' caps, and proceed to forge for her a pair of Canon goggles. There is one problem: the goggles are opaque, thus explaining CanonWoman's natural tendency to make friends with lamp-posts and trees. Despite this, she continues to wear them, insisting that they will protect others from unwanted fireball blasts. Many feel that it's nothing more than shameless product placement on her part, though.

*****

Callsign: Nicotina
Real Name: Tan Shu Yi
Place of Origin: Subang

Database:

n.b. some Databases have reported Tan Shu Yi's callsign to be "Steamy Shu". This is incorrect. Only Electric Boy calls her that, for unknown reasons. To friend and foe alike, she is known as the feared Nicotina

Not too long ago, a girl called Tan Shu Yi was involved in the Black Lung Project, researching the effects of cigarette smoke on individuals. Though not a smoker herself, Shu aspired to use her research findings to encourage other smokers to quit. When the sponsors of the Black Lung Project found out about Shu's involvement, they locked her in a chamber full of cigarette smoke and left her there to die.

Miraculously, her X-gene not only saved her from an ignoble death, but it also imbued her with the power to exhale billows of noxious cigarette smoke at will. Nicotina powers make her a master of escape, and she is heavily relied upon whenever the X-Commies need to make a quick getaway (which happens rather often).

*****

Callsign: The Blue Ape
Real Name: Eddie G.
Place of Origin: Singapore

Database:
No one really knows how and why Eddie G. became the Blue Ape. Some say he was born blue, while others theorize that it was excessive listening to Eiffel 65's Blue (da ba dee, da ba dai) that slowly altered his genetic structure to take on the colour in its entirety. As for the ape bit, well even evolution has its closely guarded secrets.

The Blue Ape's powers are also yet to be deciphered. There have been reports of him being able to turn invisible whenever he is close to a blue background. In addition, he is believed to be able to psychically track down anyone wearing blue. These reports have yet to be confirmed.

What we do know of the Blue Ape is that he is currently the official mascot for all things blue and beautiful. His amiable disposition and sense of humour have made him the spokesperson of the X-Commies. He loves all things blue, except for Chelsea Football Club because they're a shit team. Ironically, he supports Manchester United. "We all need a paradox in our lives," he would say with a grin, "this one is mine." -Rotters

*****

Callsign: Ugly Lizard
Real Name: Wong Meng Hong
Place of Origin: Penang

Database:
The Ugly Lizard was once an X-Commie, but Electric Boy expelled him on the grounds of him being an Engineering student. He lounges around now, seeking revenge. Currently, he is attempting to rally together the Engineering mutants in a bid to destroy Electric Boy and the X-Commies once and for all. He seeks to make the power of 1901 his own, believing that it would result in the downfall of the X-Commies.

His powers include scaling walls effortlessly, rotating his eyeballs in any direction conceivable, doing that lizard-tongue-thinggy, eating flies and making those annoying clicking noises that lizards make. Like a true lizard, Meng Hong has the power of regeneration, making him exceedingly hard to defeat. And like true lizards, he loves to take a crap in people's kitchens.

The Chromatic Scale

2006-05-22T09:28:00.000+08:00

This piece was submitted for my second writing assignment, where readers are introduced to a character. It's only 600 words long, as per the word limit of the assignment, so it might seem somewhat truncated. Regardless, I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing. Cheers!

The Chromatic Scale
by Eddie G.

As the manicurist did his nails, Stephen Danforth narcissistically observed himself in the mirror, while an equally self-obsessed musical genius stared back at him with awe-struck admiration. As far as musicians went, there were mainly two kinds – those who specialized in a single instrument, but only up to a point where they would impress but not flabbergast. Stephen did not fall into either category, for he could play almost any musical instrument conceivable like a true virtuoso.

It was time. Stephen rose from his chair in deliberate fashion and sauntered towards the exit of his dressing room. An attractive young lady opened the door for him, her eagerness to please unashamedly blatant, and he made a mental note to “reward” her by inviting her over to his chateau after the performance had concluded. As he made his way along the corridor that lead to the stage, he was mobbed by a pack of journalists, like hungry wolves desperate for a few morsels of meat, and he responded by clinically withdrawing into his contemplative shell, eradicating them from his awareness like how a library would to unwanted babble.

They think my talents are a blessing, he mused, those poor fools! Has it never occurred to their pitiful minds that the curse of being able to play every musical instrument is that I have to play, well, every musical instrument? Ironically, this had to be forgiven. After all, the mind of a genius could hardly be fathomed; that was the very reason why they were called geniuses to begin with.

If only it were so simple, he lamented silently within, I hear imperfections in my playing that you do not; I detect the slightest of flaws that even the most acute of connoisseurs are blessed with the ability to overlook.

A voice had audaciously attempted to encroach on the periphery of Stephen’s awareness, but was nonetheless rewarded for its persistence.

“How do you feel going into tonight’s performance?” it had asked.

It had taken Stephen Danforth a considerable amount of effort to refrain from swearing aloud. Imbecile! You display the creative capabilities and the mental capacity of a squashed apricot! Must you fools always ask me the same old questions time after time after time? In a sudden movement, he swiveled round to confront his questioner, a scowl strewn across his angular, clean-shaven face. It was a scowl reserved for whenever he saw a cockroach or other creepy crawlies like moronic journalists.

“With my hands, just like everyone else,” he snarled, and allowed his mind to chuck the fool out of his awareness once more. However, in doing so, he allowed another voice to creep in. “I’m sure you have God to thank for your amazing talents,” this one had said. Stephen had chosen not to further encourage them by responding, but the comment had set his mind thinking regardless.

God? God? he thought, Oh yes, I have God to thank alright! I have Him to thank for all the misery I suffer every bloody day. After every performance, the standing ovations mean nothing to me! Because no matter how well I play, it will never be perfect! I always fuck up each and every performance; and tonight’s performance will be no different. He’s screwing me over on purpose, no doubt about it!

Stephen briefly looked up to give the Almighty an accusatory glare, fooling the journalists into waiting expectantly for his next quote, which was not forthcoming.

You think it’s funny, don’t you? the soundless tirade continued. Well now You damn well know why Lucifer rebelled, just as I am rebelling!

Nationalism

2006-05-17T16:05:00.000+08:00

As a wise man once said, "it is good to laugh at others." I don't know who said that but there have been some noted flaws in this theory, especially if you've tried laughing at the Indians in Bangsar. Sure, you'll probably live to blog about the story, but you'll probably be doing that with only one good arm.

Nothing wrong with Indians, by the way. They're cool people; friendly and with a great sense of humour, so long as you keep the bottle away from them... or is that vice-versa.

But that's not the point of this post. In this post, we'll take a look at how we can be patriotic enough to include our Nationality/Ethnicity in our everyday speech.

Disclaimer: This post may contain content in which you deem as "racist" and "bigotist". And I frankly couldn't be shat over this... well actually I can, but that wouldn't be very nice, now would it? Seriously though, if you're the type that easily gets offended by such jokes (i.e. you have no sense of humour), then I'd suggest not reading on. You know what, actually you should. The look on your face would be priceless.

Disclaimer 2: This post is classified as VERY LAME (11 out of 10 on the Lame-O-Meter). This kind of lameness is potent enough to make Fikri throw down his kimchi (or is it "throw up"), get on bended knees and scream "WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THAT!!!" Still, you get my point. If you're the kind that pukes when you see one too many lame jokes, you'd do well to have a plastic bag handy nearby.

Without further ado, let's get nationalistic

What's Scot into him?

You're making me really Hungary

Can I have a glass of freshly squeeze orange Jews?

Greece lightning, go Greece lightning!

What a con-man! I still can't believe Egypt me!

I'll be needing the package soon. Can you Korea it over?

That's how Madagascar can get if you floor it!

Alaskan you see the irony of it all?

I'll need a knot here. Can you Taiwan for me?

I think I'll try some of the coffee Hebrew

Inuit! I knew he was the murderer all along!

Ukraine your neck if you want to get a better view

Stop that! Jamaican me crazy!

I'm trying to read here. Kenya keep it down?

I American I don't like my name

We heard there was an emergency and so we decided to Russia

I tried so hard and got so far; Indian it doesn't even matter

Our cause needs New Zealand new vigour!

I know you like milk, but that doesn't mean you can steal Macau.

What the hell Turk you so long?

Grab on to a Poland hang on tight!

What a nice sweater! Dubai it for me, please.

Waiter, can we have separate Czechs please?

During the monsoon season, all we get is nothing Bahrain!

Winner Takes All

2006-04-20T11:53:00.000+08:00

I did this short movie just after cultural night when I was hanging around in the holding room with Mr. Korea Oh Sang Yun and a couple of other friends. Kindly enough, there were two WHOLE pizzas meant for the participants that were left uneaten. So after a free supper, we decided to film a short film courtesy of Mandy's camera. Enjoy :)

Winner Takes All
directed and written by Eddie G.

Synopsis: An altercation over a slice of pizza escalates to Videogame-like proportions. Insert credit to continue

It's official. Communication students really do have a bloody lot of free time on their hands. Until next time, wankers!

Your Horoscope for Today

2006-04-07T09:57:00.000+08:00

An astrological report analyzed and compiled by Eddie G.

Aquarius
Avoid going hunting today. That's about as big as a bloody tip-off from the Heavens can get. But the stars have also predicted that a good number of idiots will not pay heed to this warning and endanger the life of someone else. Big surprise.

Pisces
At this current point in your life, your name means a lot to you. In fact, your name is the very reflection of your self-image. If your name is Jason Abugegobaba, then it's about bloody time to change it. John Abugegobaba would be ideal. Do not hate your lover for breaking up with you. Love is relative, especially if you're from Alabama.

Aries
Dropping a two-tonne bowling ball on your toes will bring about immeasurable pain. Restraint is the best form of medical advice anyone could possibly give. However, if you are persistent about this course of action, you might consider the use of a local anesthetic beforehand. If in the event that they don't work, you should consider imported ones.

Taurus
The planet of Saturn is situated over your Constellation today. Translated, it literally means "The Cows Are Coming Home". Don't give me that look turd; if I knew what that meant I'd be a professional crossword solver or working for the CIA instead. For what it's worth, you might wanna clear out a closet or two.

Gemini
Do you believe in déjà vu?

Cancer
People wonder why you are always so bloody pessimistic. Unfortunately, it takes an astute mind to realize that to be born under the Constellation that shares its name with a chronic and potentially life-ending disease isn't exactly the most optimistic thing in the world. On the bright side, would you rather your sign be called "H5N1" or "Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy"?

Leo
Seeing as how Jupiter is sitting rather squarely and comfortably behind your Constellation this week, it means that you will be the scapegoat of many torrid accusations for next fortnight to come. As far as we are concerned, you didn't do it; as far as the police are concerned, you're RM50 waiting to happen.

Virgo
Your life is filled with clutter, and the best way to get rid of it, as always, is to give it to someone else. If this "clutter" we speak of refers to a literal, tangible mess in your room, it's seriously time to take out your garbage. As far as possible, refrain from dumping on government property (despite the distinct similarities they share, particularly where the sense of smell is concerned). Remember that littering is not a bad thing, getting caught is.

Libra
You cannot spell "librarian" without L-I-B-R-A. In case you didn't get the hint, return your goddamn books before they consider naming their new wing after you. The commanding presences that radiates from you is simply astounding. Nobody dares to push you around. Not without a forklift anyway.

Oiprocs
.ti ta er'uoy elihw yb-sressap morf gnitteg re'uoy seratskcoc eht etaicerppa ot elihw a ekat dna emoh klawnoom ruoy yojne ,emitnaem eht nI .yltrohs yrev enilno kcab uoy evah lliw eW .sehctilg lanoisacco sti evah seod xirtaM eht ;desirprus oot eb t'noD .kcul hguot tsuj s'tahT .yadot noitcerid gnorw eht gnicaf eb ot smees noitalletsnoC ruoY !deedni railucep tsoM

Gemini
Do you believe in déjà vu?

Sagittarius
You have been neglecting the people around you. Don't let that become a habit! Take some time to remember those who have contributed in one way or another to make your life the way it is now and tell them how you feel about it. In most cases, we're talking about your parents. And in most cases, a simple "sod off and stop bothering me" should suffice.

Capricorn
Your stars are hinting that you might be doing the Riverdance on the thin line that separates Sanity and ah... how shall we put this... Unadulterated Bliss. We're not going to tell you which side of the line you should be favouring. We're not going to tell you to stop. Hell! We're not even going to care. But what we are going to tell you is that the least you could bloody do is get your sodding footwork right!

The Xeno Arrow Paradox

2006-03-31T09:32:00.000+08:00

I think I'm becoming a nerd. Believe it or not, I found yesterday's tutorial on Media Audiences rather interesting. Having said that, I won't be in the least surprised that I might have moved up the Nerd-O-Meter from "Dude with Nerdy Tendencies" to "Nerd with Social Life". Give me two more months and I'll be upgraded to "Nerd with remnants of Social Life", and finally by the end of this semester, I'll just be a full-fledged "Nerd". Still, there is a glimmer of hope, because the most interesting part of the tutorial had little relation to the actual topic at hand.

Our tutor talked about the Paradox of Xeno's Arrow. Now Xeno was this Greek philosopher-mathematician who probably, like every one else during those days, had too much sodding free time on their hands. In order to properly expound this theory, I would require the use of diagrams.

Fig 1.1

Okay, let's introduce you to our two friends (Fig 1.1). Seeing as how this theory was conceptualized during the Greeco-Roman era, we shall use names more suited for that timeframe.

Fig 1.2

So we have Hephaistos the archer and Leto the um... other guy. So they're standing on this little grassy plain on a nice sunny day, minding their own business. Don't ask how they got there and why they're staring at each other like that. This is hypothetical. So everything is cool until Leto the um... other guy gives Hephaistos the archer the Finger (Fig 1.2).

Fig 1.3

Hephaistos the archer naturally gets angry. And back in those days where feudalism was more openly received and less questioned, it was perfectly okay for Hephaistos the archer to shoot Leto the other guy in the head (Fig 1.3). Very commonplace incident in ancient Greece; the people learn that Hephaistos the archer is one violent bugger so keep away from him, the people learn that Leto the other guy is dead - wouldn't you know, that son of a bitch still owes us fifty denarii! - and then they go on drinking their beers. Nothing specially, really.

But here's where Xeno comes in; it gets a tad mathematical now, so if your standard of Additional Mathematics plateaus at problems like "If I have two apples, how many apples do I have?" (Fig 1.4) then I'd suggest not going further until you've rectified that. Now Xeno theorizes that before the arrow can reach Point B from Point A, it has to pass the midpoint M (Fig 1.5).

Fig 1.4

Fig 1.5

Sounds okay so far? Now as if that weren't enough, Xeno goes on to say that before the arrow reaches M, it has to first reach the midpoint between A and M, Midpoint N (Fig 1.6).

Fig 1.6

Now that's just fine and dandy. Sure, it makes sense. Before you get to the midpoint, you need to get the midpoint of the midpoint. Whatever. End of story right? Wrong-O, because Xeno now says that in order for the arrow to reach N, it has to first reach the midpoint between A and N, Midpoint O (Fig 1.7).

Fig 1.7

Yes, you've guessed it, in between A and O, there is another midpoint in which the arrow must first traverse, in between which, there is yet another midpoint. So Xeno theorizes that since there is no finite number of the divisions of midpoints (i.e. any number can be divided by half, no matter how small), there will be no end to the midpoints that the stupid arrow must first reach. And therefore, if you fire an arrow, the arrow will never reach point B (Fig 1.8).

Fig 1.8

And that is the paradox of Xeno's Arrow. Really interesting if you think about it, that this Greek Xeno actually had the audacity to come up with such a bold theory that defies the laws of Physics. Either he must have been a mathematical genius, or he just wanted to find a way to deter people from constantly shooting arrows at him.

So if you're at a rave party and are called upon to make small talk, show them that you too could be a nerd/geek/wanker (delete wherever appropriate, if deletion is appropriate to begin with) and share with them the Xeno's Arrow Paradox. It sure beats constantly commenting on how huge that chick's rack is at any rate. Besides, it's also a great time to show the girls some of your pseudo-intelligence (Fig 1.9)

Fig 1.9

And so ends my lengthy discourse of the Xeno's Arrow Paradox. For what it's worth, I have a funny feeling that Xeno might have at one point realized that there was a serious flaw in his little theory. But as it turned out, I don't think he was around for too long to find out what it was (Fig 1.10)

Fig 1.10

THE END!

The Monash Blues

2006-03-15T15:07:00.000+08:00

I wasn't able to sleep last night. So aside from thinking about that special someone whom I care for so much about, I picked up the guitar and started strumming some 6/8 blues chord progressions.

The cool thing about blues is that it complains about anything and everything in general. And what better thing to complain about than our beloved Monash Malaysia, the campus we (as in all those who are in it) all love to hate. In a matter of minutes, the lyrics started flowing in. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The following might offend some people, especially those who have a dim sense of humour. And if you are offended, then this post has served its purpose, because to cut a long story short, it's probably most likely that you are one of those wankers whom I'm talking about. Learn to laugh at yourself, because if not I'll do the laughing for you, and everyone else for that matter.

The Monash Blues
by Eddie G.

This morning I was late for class
But the security guard wouldn't let me pass
"Where's your Monash ID?" he said
I think the power's getting to his head
I've got the blues
Baby I've got the Monash Blues

I'm sittin' in lectures, starin' at the screen
My eyes are turnin' red and my face is turnin' green
I looked at the lecturer, he looked at me
I worked so hard but all I got was a P
I've got the blues
Baby I've got the Monash Blues

I'm a growin' man; I eat when I could
I guess I'll have me some cafeteria food
The cafe's a prison 'cos the food is like hell
I guess I'll eat up and head back to my cell
I've got the blues
Baby I've got the Monash Blues

I guess I must have had too much to drink
I'll pay a little visit to the toilet I think
But when I got there, you could imagine the scene
"Cleanin' in progress" if you know what I mean
I've got the blues
Baby I've got the Monash Blues

[musical interlude]

I'm headin' to the com lab to print my stuff
There are many computers, but there ain't enough
And there are some fuckers who leave their shit on
They go for a smoke and then *POOF* they're gone
I've got the blues
Baby I've got the Monash Blues

The MUSA Student Lounge is a cool place to be
Until the Sunway College bastards come in for free
They should keep to their side of the school
Instead of playing our foosball and playing our pool
I've got the blues
Baby I've got the Monash Blues

I'm just a poor sod, and that's a fact
The tuition fees have broken my back
And let me tell you somethin' - this ain't funny
The MUSA wankers are wastin' our money
I've got the blues
Baby I've got the Monash Blues

We live in oppresion and organized crime
They've stolen our money and stolen our time
All this red tape really makes me sick
The Sunway Group can suck my lollipop
I've got the blues
Baby I've got the Monash Blues

I've got the blues
Yea I've got the blues
Help me! I've got the blues
Baby I've got the Monash Blueeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!

[standing ovation; take a bow Eddie G.]

Footnote: See, Lee. It's easy to write lyrics, all you have do is be bored, or can't sleep, or whatever. You get my point. :P Good luck, dear.

Police Story II, Man!

2006-03-13T13:46:00.000+08:00

After the overwhelming response I received from the much-acclaimed Police Story, Man! I have decided to start work on its sequel. Plot framework is still in the process of gestation, but the general layout of events are more or less finished. The casting is also more or less sorted out. I don't want to spoil it for my ardent fans, so the roles will be pointed out in general.

Cast: Role

Eddie G.: Same as PSM
Max Tan: Same as PSM
Trudy Au: Same as PSM
Wilson Lee: Same as PSM
Aaron Lee: You'll find out soon enough
Kel Li: Villain role
Carrie Low: Villain role

There are also openings for minor roles, about seven (7) of them. Interested parties please let me know. There is only one pre-requisite for your involvement (besides committing your time and effort in the filming, which is a dead given), and that is you must speak better Cantonese than I do (which is nothing much, really). So give me a buzz. Those who would like to involve themselves in camara-work, please let me know too.

Cheers!

p.s. TMY, I'd like you to keep up your 100% cameo appearance in my shows. I'll be giving you a call soon.

Chloe

2006-03-10T11:25:00.000+08:00

By Eddie G.

Chloe sat quietly in her living room, her hands cupped onto her chin. She was waiting eagerly for someone to call, but the phone showed no inclination of complying to her whim. With her elbows resting on her knees, she stared at it with great intensity, almost as if telepathically willing the phone to ring. It did not.

There was a sudden rush of air behind her, but that did not take her vice-like attention away from that phone. Why wasn't he calling? Didn't he realize that she still thought of him with every waking moment of her life?

"Ring, damn you! RING!" she hissed.

"Talking to inanimate objects again, aren't we?" mused a voice from behind her. It was a voice that she was familiar with. And truthfully, it was a voice she also wanted to hear. Although it was not the voice that she had been desperately waiting for at the other end of the telephone, this one would suffice for now.

"What are you doing here, Angel?" she asked without looking back.

Many of her friends believed Angel to be a figment of Chloe's imagination, just like how a 5-year-old would normally have the tendency to make up an imaginary friend. But Chloe was convinced that Angel existed, and that was all that mattered to her. Suspicions arose when, like Batman and Bruce Wayne, Chloe and Angel were never seen together by Chloe's friends before, and yet she would always talk about him. She felt that Angel too, wherever his world may be did the same, and received the same strange looks from his friends.

"I heard your sigh from miles away and decided to come and cheer you up," Angel declared.

"That's sweet of you, Angel," she sighed, "but I'm afraid even you can't help me now."

Angel sat down on the sofa and put his arm around her.

"Try me," he grinned. It was a grin that always made Chloe smile. And this time was no exception.

"He hardly ever calls me anymore," she lamented, "and all I want is to hear his voice again."

"Oh? And whose fault is this that, pray?"

Chloe pouted. "Look, if you're supposed to be cheering me up, you're doing a sterling job," she said.

"Now, now," coaxed Angel, "before you start pointing your finger at the whole damn cruel world in general, let's take time to reflect on why you think he's not been calling, shall we?"

Chloe chewed her lip briefly. She hated it when Angel made her think like that, but she let her mind work through the possibilities. It was more productive than attempting to apply telekinesis on the telephone anyway.

"I really can't think of a reason why he wouldn't call," she said finally.

"Why don't you call him, then?"

"Because…" she hesitated, "because I'm scared." It was almost a whisper.

Angel merely nodded.

"So you're telling me that… he's scared. But what is he scared of?" she pressed.

"The same thing that you are scared of, my dear."

Suddenly the revelation hit her, and she stood to her feet for the first time in hours. "He's afraid that he might not be able to let go of me!"

Angel remained seated stoically on the sofa, and merely nodded again.

Chloe felt as if a huge weight had been removed from around her ankles. Happily she picked up the phone and began to dial.

"Who are you calling at this hour?" Angel queried, although he already half-knew the answer.

Chloe did not reply him, but merely waited for the line on the other to get through. "Hello?" she said, "yea hi! It's me. I was thinking if you'd like to, you know, go out for some coffee? Um… how about right now? Sounds great! Okay, see you in bit then! Byeee!"

Upon replacing the receiver, she did a happy little spin.

"Alright, Angel. I'm going out now. I'll see you in a bit, yea?" she said.

Angel again merely nodded. It was almost as if his energy and cheer had been transferred to Chloe, and in return he was bearing what once used to be her melancholy.

That was the role of the martyr, he reminded himself, but someone had to carry the burden.

"Have fun, dear," was all he could say.

It was about three hours later when Chloe returned to her apartment. Angel still sat there stoned on her sofa, a bottle of whiskey opened in front of him.

"Hey! I'm back! Guess what? I…" her voice trailed off, "have you been drinking, Angel?"

Angel giggled, clearly inebriated. He looked her in the eye for a good thirty seconds.

"No," he said finally with drunken determination.

Chloe gave a quiet sigh as she tried to remove the bottle away from his hands.

"Leave me alone!" snarled Angel, slapping her hand away angrily.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she fumed, "are you out of your mind?"

Angel staggered to his feet. "Chloe," he said, placing his hand firmly on her shoulder, "there is… something… I want… to tell you!"

"What?"

"Chloe, I… I…" he hesitated for a while, not knowing what to say. "Chloe, I really..." No, that's not going to work either "Chloe, I..." ah screw it! "I think I may be drunk," he said, and then he passed out on the sofa.

Chloe brought out a couple of blankets from her room, and covered the sleeping Angel. It was most peculiar indeed, this sudden change of behaviour from him. Gently, she knelt beside him and stroked him on the forehead. He was sleeping serenely now, and Chloe felt sure that the even the most tumultuous of tempests would not wake him.

"Goodnight, Angel," she said, and kissed him on the cheek.

She dimmed the lights and headed to her room, closing the door behind her.

Thou Shalt Not Have Any Other Gods Before Me

2006-03-03T22:22:00.000+08:00

So it says in the Bible. But imagine how queer life would be like if there were other gods; I'm not talking about Buddha or the Prophet (caricatures while you wait) or the deities of other major religions, but gods of everyday taken-for-granted activities or practices. Seeing as how God Himself has a sense of humour, here are some "gods" He might close one eye to.

Jeff, God of the Queue

Jeff, God of the Queue is an impatient and impetuous deity created by the awareness of irate shoppers and diabolical tollbooth operators. He sits broodingly on his Throne, ensuring that queues all over the world are going the way he wants them to. Loyal worshippers of Jeff are rewarded by somehow finding their queues shorten even before they realize it. On the other hand, those who incur his wrath find themselves waiting as long as eternity can stretch for that bloody old woman (who really shouldn't be in the Express Lane - 10 Items or Less Thank You Very Much - in the first place) to place two months worth of groceries painstakingly on the counter, fumble in her purse to find her son's credit card, hem and haw when she realizes she left it at home, place all her groceries back into the trolley and wheel them back. All this while the adjacent lane zips casually by.

The thing that gets under Jeff's skin the most is how mortals foolishly misinterpret his deified role. Nothing miffs the Queue God more than aspiring pool/snooker players beseeching Jeff to bless their game instruments. They of course are punished for their blatant ignorance, not while they are playing - that would be too lenient - but when they decide to pay a visit to the lavoratory.

Ravioli, the God of Pasta

Revered by chefs all over Italy, Ravioli's favour is hard-sought and even harder-earned. Many Italian chefs have wasted their youths just so that they could gain the patronage of the Pasta God and the inspired recipes that he bestows. Those who have found enlightenment, though, will readily tell you that it was truly worth the wait, for there is nothing more possibly gratifying than a nice hot plate of mushroom cabonara served with a side of garlic bread (Fuck, I just made myself hungry).

Ravioli sits on his Throne somewhere in the skies of Italy. While some believe it to be situated above Naples, there are those who argue that the Pasta God can reside nowhere else but above their beloved capital, Rome (much to the indignance of the non-conformists). While, until today, the whereabouts of Ravioli's Throne remain a great mystery, his prophets have assured us that he is NOT in Pisa. The answer is bloody obvious: staring at the Leaning Tower all day is more than enough to give him a splitting headache.

On the left of Ravioli's throne is a long table laid with all kinds and styles of pasta one can ever imagine (and much more). Those who are found worthy of entering this Pasta Heaven will realize that the bowls of mouth-watering pasta will never run out or be lacking. That however, is just Basic Membership. Worshippers who have made it to Gold Membership will find themselves not getting fat no matter how much they consume. And then there are those who are truly One with Ravioli; these privileged few will find that no matter how much they eat, they will never grow fat nor get full.

The space on the right of Ravioli's throne is dedicated to punish those who have maligned the beautiful name of Pasta (impossible as it may sound). Those who can be found here include chefs who use monosodium glutamate in their dishes. Their punishment is to be force-fed with their own MSG-laid pasta for all eternity, with no water source in sight. But a greater punishment awaits those who commit the Unpardonable Sin of commercializing pasta. If it's one thing that the God of Pasta cannot stand, it is the use of pasta to exploit the public. Offenders will have find themselves decapitated, have their heads stuck on a pike and forced to eat their own junk while watching eternal re-runs of their own tasteless television advertisments. Even as we speak, pikes are currently being reserved for the CEOs of MNCs who use pasta to rip off the public like Pizza Hut and, in the near future, MacDonalds.

Eleva, Goddess of the Stairs

When they were up they were up, and when they were down they were down, and when they were only half-way up, Eleva the Stair Goddess came around and shoved their indecisive asses over the railing. So the next time you plan on taking a flight of stairs for granted, remember all those unfortunate sods that she hurled headlong down while they cursed and grumbled on her turf.

As far as Eleva is concerned, it doesn't matter which God you serve, you still have to get through her heaven (or hell) to reach whatever heaven (or hell) you believe in. Furthermore, those who incur her wrath will soon find out that they'll probably reach there all the earlier. Countless fools have slipped on innocent looking banana peels (which for some strange reason happened to be at that exact spot at that exact time) and tumbled to their demise, sometimes in rather gruesome fashion. Unlike other deities, Eleva does not reward those who are faithful, for she feels that the privilege to walk up and down a flight of stairs safely and unhindered is already a reward in itself.

The Stair Goddess is easily pleased and equally easily angered. To please her, simply traverse her domain quickly, quietly and thankfully. Contrary to popular belief, those who go up one stair at a time saying "All praise to you great Eleva, without whom we are naught" will not earn extra points with her and are probably more liable to get the old "banana peel" routine. Other things that tick Eleva off are people who treat the stairs like Plan B. The one thing she hates the most is the way people always complain how the lifts have broken down and thus they are forced to used to stairs. Eleva's message to such fools is clearly stated in Book of II Ascension, Chapter 4 Verse 6 in the Stairway Bible.

"Foolishe Mortal! Quit thy grumbling, fore thou art not forced to use the stairs when the lifte faileth. Observe Spiderman and Batman, and learne ye well!"
- II Ascension 4:6

Another thing that Eleva frowns terribly upon is how people scale up and down her domain repeatedly for exercise. Her disdain is also recorded in the Stairway Bible.

"How dare ye! that you treat my Holy Domaine as if it were a bloody gymnasiume you fat tub of larde! Get thee hence before I decide to turn thee into a human pushballe!"
- Zepellin 19:8

Surprisingly, Eleva is very lenient to idiot skateboarders who enjoy nothing more than doing grinds down her stair rails. Although her motives are unclear, many of her prophets believe that she lets them off so that she can build up their pitiful egos, only to send them crashing down.

ALL the way down.

More to come in Part II...

Where Does Poo Come From?

2006-02-27T12:38:00.000+08:00

This snippet is taken from the Kelsey Grammer Sketch Show, which I found immensely funny.

5-year-old child: Daddy, where does poo come from?

Dad: Well you see dear, when we eat something, it goes into our body. Then our stomach takes in all the good bits to help you to grow. And those icky little bits that the body cannot use will be flushed out through your bottom. And that is poo.

5-year-old child: Are you sure about this, Daddy?

Dad: Absolutely, sweetheart.

5-year-old child: Then what about Tigger and Piglet?

The Pensieve

2005-12-31T01:58:00.000+08:00

Remember that cool little gizmo in Harry Potter that Albus Dumbledore has? Yes. The Pensieve. For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, it looks just like a fishbowl for really rich goldfish. It is here that thoughts and memories are and dragged-and-dropped into for further reference. Kinda like your KIV folder for the mind.

As 2005 winds to a conclusion, here's what you'd probably find in my Pensieve; assuming that I owned one and, perhaps more importantly, assuming that I knew better and didn't use it to keep my goldfish in:

To love someone is to let her go?

Note the question mark here. On paper, the answer is as obvious as Robert De'Niro's mole on a 2000-inch TV. However, in reality, this is hardly the case. When you know someone (or at least when you think you know someone) up to a certain point, familiarity can certainly be a damper on any romantic aspirations that one may so harbour. On the flip-side of the coin, without familiarity, would there be room to get yourself involved in a relationship? People often tell you that balance is the key. They make it sound so easy, don't they? It's like having a piano virtuoso saying to a five-year-old kid, "Oh come on, it's only Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu, it's dead simple! I don't see why you can't get it."

The question now, as it always has been for the past twelve months, is: what should I do now? I give myself all sorts of answers. People give me all sorts of answers. They are good answers. They are decent answers. But I still ask myself the same question. Give it one more year? That's what I said last year. Let go? But what if I fall and can't get up? Don't give a rat's ass? I don't even have a rat's ass, what are you talking about? Stay friends? Is it humanly possible? Become a monk? You're not getting anywhere close to my mane!

Just a friend

Now this can get whiney, but if you choose to look into my Pensieve, you'll have to live with that. It's been frustrating to learn that everyone sees me as a friend. It stops there. I don't know about you, but I get the feeling that nobody has taken the extra trouble to look beyond that. Two reasons: (1) They don't bother, or more insidiously, (2) they don't see a need to. I once stumbled across this greeting card that goes like this "I have enough friends. Fuck off". To be honest, I have been tempted to adopt that kind of mindset. But would that betray my true identity? Do I really have a true identity? Is there such a thing as an "identity"? Fuck you, Sigmund Freud! Fuck you and all your gay partners which include, but are not limited to, Althusser and Foucault!

A friend indeed!

If you think my worries stop there, think again. Being everyone's "friend" ain't exactly a bed of roses either. On second thought, with all the thorns, it actually could be. Whatever. Someone once said that it's sometimes better to have enemies than friends because you don't have to work so bloody hard to keep them. Okay I'll stop being modest. It was ME who said that. Yes, I came up with that. Regardless, in retrospect, I find this really true. If you kept a log of all the telephone conversations that I receive, a good 80% of them start with "Hey, you know our assignment ah..." What sickens me the most is that everyone should know by now that I only start on my assignments one day after it's bloody deadline. It is also interesting to know that the same people who open with that aforementioned line tend to conveniently forget my entire existence when they're planning a night out. Ho-hum. If you're feeling queasy after reading up to here, then chances are I'm referring to you. Either that or it must have been the pepperoni pizza.

Do unto others

Still, I see no reason why I shouldn't lend a helping hand whenever I could. The reason: helping others is a reward unto itself. I kid you not. The idea of being walked on all over like a doormat is repulsive no doubt, but if that were to stop me from going the extra mile to help my friends (with our without the inverted commas), then my name isn't Eddie G.. Of course, the daily task of reminding myself of this is not easy by any means. Still, I find it a constant challenge to be able to help people unconditionally. A word of warning for those who intend to abuse this knowledge though, my middle finger has a mind of its own. If in the event that it should rear its ugly head, take a hint and get stuffed, for both our sakes.

Well that's about it for now I guess. Happy New Year, everyone, to you and yours. And remember: in the Bible, the number "7" represents perfection while the number "5" represents grace. Take it from me, it's not a coincidence that E and G are both the fifth and seventh letters of the alphabet respectively.

Rock, Rock, Rock Your Boat

2005-11-22T21:45:00.000+08:00

By Eddie G.

Let me tell you a story. A story about 3 dolts on a boat. A story about 3 dolts on a boat that was cast out to sea. A story about 3 dolts on a boat that was cast out to sea on dark stormy day. This is the story of Everybody, Somebody and Nobody. It's not anything important. Your existence probably wouldn't be affected if you didn't read this story, but chances are you'd probably spend the remainder of it wondering what the hell I could have written about, despite even knowing that it would probably waste 5 minutes of your life.

It's never easy when you're out at sea in a dinghy little boat with two other idiots who, for a lack of a metaphoric allusion, probably don't have both oars in the water. The last time I pictured a scene of similar nature, it was when I was five and was introduced to the nursery rhyme Rub-a-dub-dub, Three Men in a Tub. Surprising, really, that Society gets so surprised when these children grow up to be so fucked up after listening to little ditties like these. And don't get me started on Ding Dong Bell, Pussy In The Well. We all know it's bound to get wet at some stage, but shouldn't they at least give us a chance to go through puberty first?

But anyway, back to Everybody, Somebody and Nobody. The first thing that one should realize about being on a boat is that it is liable to capsize at any point. This of course is worrying for our three friends because experts have managed to prove that the probality of a boat capsizing is usually inversely proportionate to that of the intelligence of its occupants.

To make matters worse, Everybody had a sickening habit of splitting everything into three equal parts. And I mean everything, from food to lodging, to even a piece of mint-flavoured dental floss. This would of course explain why their drab little excuse of a boat hardly got anywhere seeing as to how it only had two oars. Nobody knew that it was going to be a bad idea, and Somebody was urged to voice his suspicions, but he couldn't be bothered to.

Now of course, what one would quickly begin to realize when on a boat (especially one that had both its oars divided into three equal parts) all alone out at sea, chances are the basest of human needs like food, drink and sanity run out much quicker than what one would normally hope for. In the first ever occurance of an event similar in nature gave birth to the term of "rationing", a term which was coined about 5 minutes before "international waters" and "laws of Ochenga-Wanga not applicable here, Paleface!" were.

So imagine the sheer delight on Everybody's face when Somebody found a can of beans stashed away in a god-forsaken corner of the boat. Nobody stopped to question why it always has to be a can of beans. Always. You never see disgruntled castaways trying to open oh say, a bucket of Original Recipe Kentucky Fried Chicken and a 1.5-litre bottle of Diet Coke. Noooo, it has to be a can of beans. Why? Because it's genre, and as we all learn in Authorship and Writing, Nobody fucks around with genre. Nobody.

After congratulating their good fortune for a good ten minutes, there was now the issue of actually opening the bloody can.

Everybody was aware of the laws of physics, so he said, "Why don't we bang the can on the side of our boat until it opens?"

So they tried, and gave up after ten minutes.

Somebody, who was a chemist, suggested, "Why don't we put salt water on the lid and let the sun corrode its molecular structure?"

So they tried, and gave up after five.

Nobody wanted to be an economist, so he announced, "Unlike you two, I have the solution to our problem."

"Let's hear it."

"Okay. Let us assume we have a can opener."

Nobody's dinner was rich in iron that night; and that wasn't a metaphor.

Happy Hunting Grounds 101

2005-11-11T22:29:00.000+08:00

Happy Hunting Grounds 101
A Lecture by Dr. Eddie G.

So, I was prowling around Erin's blog. I'm sorry I have to say this girl, but unless your attention span is more than 5 minutes long, chances are you probably wouldn't get to finish reading her posts. Her blog is just too darn nice for one to stay focused. Ah well. But today's posts isn't about her blog, but one of her posts. Now THAT is rare. Because like I say, she only blogs about three things. And because I want to live to a ripe old age, I shall refrain from mentioning them.

In a nutshell, this highschool kid tries to pick our dear friend up. He applies all the right tactics, but somehow leaves a gaping flaw in each and every one of them. Now observe, mortals, and watch how Dr. Eddie G. systematically tears his pitiful, albeit valient attempt apart.

*****

Case Study (adapted from Erin's blog; so "I" obviously refers to her):

I was out with [a friend] mostly to catch up and partially to celebrate my big day. We were just exiting Gelare when this high school dude came up to me.

Kid: "Hi, were you from Gelare?"

Immediately [I] wonder what I left behind.

Erin: "Uh, yes"

Kid: "What do you recommend?"

Erin: "Go with the Wild Strawberry."

Kid: "Oh, the chocolate cream one is good too"

Erin: "Oh... Okay"

And then comes the all famous line

Kid: "You look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before? What school are you from?"

Erin: "I was from DJ"

Kid: "Ohh, maybe that's where. I'm from DU. What form are you in?"

WTF?? What form?!?!

Erin: "I'm in University." -_-

Kid: "Ohh, me too! What year are you?"

Erin: "1985"

Kid: "Me too! In fact I just came back from UK"

Erin: "Which part?"

Kid: "Bristol."

Fastforward a few minutes later...

Erin: "I'm sorry I don't give my number to strangers."

Kid: "Haaaarr? How about Frienster leh?"

Wtf? What uni student asks for Friendster emails.

Erin: "You know my name, where I study and how old I am. You go look for me."

*ding ding ding* KO!

*****

Ok class, now pay attention so that whatever happened to this poor sod here will NEVER happen to you. As I've said before, his tactics were sound. The only problem is, they weren't applied properly.

Tactic I: "What do you recommend?"

Tactic Analysis:

Full marks to our friend (who really isn't our friend; so from now on I shall refer to him as "our subject"). This line is actually quite good in starting conversations. In fact, "what do you recommend" is probably the most casual way to get a chick to at least say SOMETHING back to you. Unless she's some lancilanyong bitch. Before you even write off this maneuvre, do bear in mind that this opening line did get Erin to waste 5 minutes of her life talking to our subject.

Tactic Execution:

Our subject apparently did his theory homework, but his practical sorely let him down. Notice the way after Erin responds "Go with the Wild Strawberry", he immediately jumps in with "Oh, the chocolate cream one is good too". BAD MOVE! It shows that you never intended to ask her for her opinion anyway. i.e. If you already know what flavour is good, then why the heck bother to ask someone what they could recommend? Immediately after this statement, Erin shifts into defensive mode. Like every other chick in a similar situation, her sixth sense kicks into overdrive. Our subject is faced with an insurmountable problem now.

Appropriate Maneuvre:

If you wanna play the "what do you recommend" page, then stick to it no matter what. Show genuine interest in her recommendation; show that you take her words seriously; show that you're willing to humble yourself and take advice. That is one way to get her interested in you. And even if she never was really interested to begin with, at least you won't leave her with a bad aftertaste of your desperation.

Tactic II: "You look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?"

Tactic Analysis:

Again, a sound tactic to determine whether a girl is interested in you or not. Bonus points if you really have seen her somewhere before, be it in a pub; in secondary school; on the bus every morning; boning your best friend; or (to put it all together) on the bus boning your best friend from secondary school whom she met in a pub, you get the picture. Contrary to popular belief, there are three expected responses from this tactic, not two. a) "No", meaning that she doesn't know who you are, nor does she care. b) "Umm..." (hesitates for a bit) "I don't think so... but I think I may have seen you before", meaning that either she really did see you before while she was on the bus boning your best friend from secondary school whom she met in a pub, or she might be playing your game too, which means that she's interested in you. c) "YEA!! It's Eddie isn't it!! I remember you! I remember you! We went to the same secondary school together", meaning that she knows you already, so it's just about the right time to vacate the premises, especially if you come from an all-boys secondary school.

Tactic Execution:

Our subject unwittingly spoils his own chances when he says "What school are you from?" immediately after "You look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?". Again, it's a big mistake. By asking "What school are you from?", he causes Erin to start trying to remember him in the context of her secondary school life. When given such a specific memorial database to search from, it makes it much easier for her to rule out whether she did see his face from secondary school or not. The verdict is clear: File not found.

Appropriate Manuevre:

In truth, the "You look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?" tactic is merely something you should use to test the waters. The key to this tactic is to just say your piece, and then let her do the talking. Chances are, she probably knows what you're up to. But, if she is interested in you, she'd try to humour you. If not, take a hint and go pee at some other fire hydrant.

Tactic III: "I come from the UK"

Tactic Analysis:

Again, a tactic that is sound and effective. Studies have shown that many girls tend to go ga-ga with people from the UK. See also: Singapore Party Girls. A quick browse through in pubs all over the region will soon reveal that White guys, no matter how ugly and fashionably distasteful, always end up with a chick on their laps. Like quantum physics, the more you study this phenomenon, the more it frustrates you. Nonetheless, "I come from the UK" bit can prove effective.

Tactic Execution:

Notice how our subject doesn't have a damn clue how to go about executing this theory. If you analyse the case study carefully, you'll realize that there is no coherent link to his mention that he comes from the UK. For crying out loud, what does being born in the year of 1985 have anything to do with just coming back from the UK? In addition, our subject doesn't even execute this maneuvre properly. He instead says "I just came back from UK", leaving people to assume that he probably just went there for a holiday. And statements like "Haaaarr? How about Frienster leh?" only makes that assumption more legitimate.

Appropriate Maneuvre:

To be honest, the "I come from the UK" tactic only is effective if you... wait for it... really do come from the UK. And if you're Chinese, refrain from using this tactic, especially if you're prone to go "Haaaarr? How about Friendster leh?" in any point of your conversation. Also, most girls are not so easily charmed by the matsaleh factor now. But hey, if you're one of the UK blokes, for a free shag, anything's worth a try.

Conclusion:

And that ends today's lecture. Be sure to grab a copy of this week's lecture notes if you haven't already done so. Also, please be reminded that your 60% Major Essay is due three weeks from now. You know how I feel about *cough* late submissions, don't you. For those of you who haven't received the essay question, please copy it down now.

PART A (750 words) - 20%

With reference to one of the case studies covered, discuss whether the failure to pick up chicks lies in trying to hard or not trying at all.

PART B (1500 words) - 40%

Evaluate whether the Althusserian model of culture and communication can help explain the incompetence of the case study you have selected for Part A. Include relevant examples from Louis Althusser's personal love life (however non-existent) to substantiate your claim.

The Eddie G. Semestral Commie Awards, July 2005

2005-11-01T21:30:00.000+08:00

Ok, the reason why I'm doing this is because 1) I'm bored, 2) I'm supposed to study for NEC and 3) I'm supposed to be doing my wayyyyy overdue NEC assignment. But you know what they say: All work and no play makes Eddie G. a nerd. In true style of the Annual Emmy Awards, each award will have their nominee, followed by the winner. There are 7 imaginary judges in our panel today. You don't have to bother who they are, simply because THEY ARE IMAGINARY, YOU DUMB FUCK! And for added bonus, the winner's favourite quote or projected reception speech will be written. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: This post was put up solely for fun and bears no animosity towards any of my peers whatsoever. Honestly, the Monash Commies are a cool bunch of people and hence I know that I can safely take the piss out them without suffering from (too severe) repercussions. Should any of you take offense at your name being mentioned here, please let me know privately, that I may laugh in thy puritan face!

Biggest Slacker Award

The Nominees are:

Wilson Lee
Eddie G. (yes, I can win awards in my own Awards Ceremony. So sue me!)
Ting Jer Huan
Davin Chew
William Lo

And the Winner is:

Ting Jer Huan!

Decisional Majority:

Unanimous

Judges' Comments:

It was a close fight between Eddie G. and Ting Jer Huan. But when we found out that the latter didn't even show up for the exams, we knew for certain who our winner was. Sorry Eddie, but the fact that you own this blog wasn't enough to change the score in your favour.

Winner's Projected Speech:

Yea! I'm the man! Triple H beats Batista! It's time to play the game!

Shop-aholic Award

The Nominees are:

Goh Kel Li
Erin Tan
Lindy Goh
Koo Yi Shu
Yong Sze Mun

And the Winner is:

Erin Tan!

Decisional Majority:

5 out of 7

Judges' Comments:

Eddie once said that all she blogs about is shopping, rock-climbing and food. That's not true anymore. Now that she sprained her wrist, she blogs about food and shopping only. And shopping takes up like more than 75% of her posts. It was an easy pick for us. The reason why Yi Shu did not win is because she'll buy two pairs of funky Adidas shoes at the beginning of each month, and then not buy anything else on account that she'll be broke. The other two voted for Sze Mun only because she had personally threatened to kick the stuffing out of them if they didn't. It is indeed heartwarming to see that at the end of the day, democracy ultimately triumphs over treachery!

Winner's Projected Speech:

You like it? I bought it yesterday. Guess how much it costs? Go on, guess. Nope, lower. Umm... not that low lah (Music plays) wait, wait!!! They haven't guessed how much it costs yet! Wait! Hey, don't drag me off stage! I'm not done yet. C'mon guys guess! (as she is being carried off) Okay, you give up? (Now offstage, shouting) I BOUGHT IT FOR $19.90!!!

The Best Rubbish-Talker Award

The Nominees are:

Aaron Lee Jun Meng
Nikhail Singh
William Lo
Eddie G.
Tan Meng Yoe

And the Winner is:

Aaron Lee Jun Meng!

Decisional Majority:

3 out of 7

Judges' Comments:

Now this is one close fight! Technically Aaron would have not have won with such a low score, but the other four judges casted one vote for each of the other candidates, so he wins by virtue of that. Let us remind you that there is a really fine line between sounding overly intellectual and simply talking rubbish. The reason why Aaron won was because while the other nominees were more than capable of crossing the line as and when they pleased, Aaron took the extra trouble to erase it.

Winner's Projected Speech:

You know, this reminds me of the story when I was young. You see, I had this friend of mine whom I had a tiff with over some trivial matter, and after that he tried to reconcile with me, but (music plays) I didn't want to and soon after he died of cancer (music stops abruptly, everyone listens intently). He left a note saying that he was sorry for all the trouble he had caused (sniffing from the audience) and that no matter what, I'll always be his best friend. So yea, this award is dedicated to you, wherever you are in Heaven (crowd gives a standing ovation, tears in their eyes)

The Golden Jagung Award

The Nominee is:

Fikri Jermadi

And the Winner is:

Fikri Jermadi!

Decisional Majority:

Unanimous (obviously)

Judges' Comments:

What choice did we have? The moment Fikri was nominated, everybody else refused to challenge him for the award.

Winner's Projected Speech:

Okay, stop me if you've heard this one. What do you call a Swede who doesn't eat fish? "Ikano". HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH (Music plays) HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAH (he gets carried off stage) HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH (his laughter trails off as he gets carried to the dressing room)

The Blur Sotong Award

The Nominees are:

Erin Tan
Joanna Lee
M. Yasir
Sophia Wong
Audrey Woon

And the Winner is:

Joanne Lee!

Decisional Majority:

6 out of 7

Judges' Comments:

What can we say? Some people have it all! Not only is she blur, she's blur AND lovable. That's a huge plus in our books. One judge did vote for Yasir, but that's only because he likes Maldivian boys with curly hair. How superficial!

Winner's Projected Speech:

Huh? What? Who? I'm hungry. I'm bored. I want ice lemon tea!

Most Hyper Award

The Nominees are:

Natalya
Melody Song
Linora Low
Yap Jin Yao
Trudy Au

And the Winner is:

Natalya!

Decisional Majority:

Unanimous

Judges' Comments:

Talks real fast; almost unpunctuated speech. Gets super excited when she sees you. Has a tendency to bounce rather than walk. Enjoys engaging in conversations, even without prior knowledge of the conversational subject at hand. She's just simply adorable, and you'll never be bored with her around.

Winner's Projected Speech:

Oh my God, I won? Like wow. I didn't expect to win. Yayyyyyyy! Hey am I on TV? I hope I am. Hi Melody! Look I'm on TV! Oh wait you're a nominee too? Sorry you didn't win, yea. Next time okayyyyyy? (music plays) Oh! I gotta go now! Byeeeeeeeeeee

The "Ladykiller" Award

The Nominees are:

Tan Meng Yoe
Lee Aaron (without the Jun Meng)
Zeck Pulle
Phoon Chi Ho
Fikri Jermadi

And the Winner is:

Zeck Pulle!

Decisional Majority:

4 out of 7

Judges' Comments:

One thing is for certain, he's half Dutch. And that kinda won the game for him. He has the looks, but more importantly he has the personality. Nice and easy-going fellow. Sure of himself. And to top it all off, HE'S BALD! But too bad, ladies, he's already taken. And you can forget about making a move on him when Yokie goes to Australia because he'll stay faithful. How do we know? Because 1) Eddie will kill him if he doesn't and 2) HE'S HENPECKED!!! Muahahaha! So I guess the chicks should sae sum and go for Meng Yoe instead. Incidentally, Meng Yoe's nominee has expressed his, I mean, his/her wish to remain anonymous. We however have a hunch who he, I mean, that person is.

Winner's Projected Speech:

Aww. I don't think I should have won lah. I think Lee Aaron should have won. I mean, c'mon, look at him. He's so good-looking, and he's nice. I dunno lah, really. But thanks anyway. (Modest as ever, I see)

The Most Condescending Award

The Nominees are:

Eddie G.
Aaron Lee Jun Meng
William Lo
Oh Sang Yun
Yong Sze Mun

And the Winner is:

William Lo!

Decisional Majority:

6 out of 7

Judges' Comments:

There was never any doubt who the winner is in this one. He knows how to make you feel inferior, and with style too. Feel his cold, cutting words and tremble with fear! And again, the only judge who didn't vote for William was reportedly bribed by Sze Mun. It seems apparent that she's desperately trying to win an award.

Winner's Projected Speech:

Aiyoh of course I win lah! Look at the rest of you. So stupid! You guys suck man! Hahaha!

The Narcissus Award

The Nominees are:

Fikri Jermadi
Tan Meng Yoe
Aaron Lee Jun Meng
Erin Tan
Yong Sze Mun

And the Winner is:

Tan Meng Yoe!

Decisional Majority:

4 out of 7

Judges' Comments:

Of course TMY was the obvious choice. His fiercest competitor was Fikri, but seeing that TMY talks about how he's the most handsome male in Monash University 24/7, in and out of context, online and offline, we felt that he was most deserving of this award. The other three judges who did not vote for TMY succumbed to Sze Mun's kesihan (pity) me pouty look. Looks like she really wants to win an award rather badly I must say.

Winner's Projected Speech:

Well! Obviously the answer is ME! I mean look at me! And they say that when you meet the love of your life (music plays, bouncers immediately rush in to drag TMY away from stage, kicking and screaming) *short pause* (offstage, yelling) TIMES STOPS, AND THAT'S TRUE!!!

The Ganas Award

The Nominees are:

Lindy Goh
Goh Kel Li
Yong Sze Mun
Trudy Au
Joanne Liyeng

And the Winner is:

Yong Sze Mun!

Decisional Majority:

Unanimous

Judges' Comments:

This time there was nothing we could do. We were all threatened at knifepoint. But that does go to show that she deserves at least this award

Winner's Projected Speech:

Huh! Finally hor! You all ah! Slaaaaaaaaap you then you know! Biatch!

The Sultry Voice Award

The Nominees are:

Sophia Wong
Kuan Sueet Ying
Kam Shi Ying
Wani
Dr. Andrew Ng Hock Soon

And the Winner is:

Dr. Andrew Ng Hock Soon!

Decisional Majority:

6 out of 7

Judges' Comments:

If you've attended his subjects this year (authorship and writing, contemporary fiction and screen theories), you'll soon realize that Dr. Andrew's voice is so smooth and sultry that it can provide a cure for all but the most persistent of insomnias. And you should hear the way he sings. Simply mindblowing!

Winner's Projected Speech:

(music plays) First I was afraid, I was petrified...

The Eddiegness Award

The Nominees are:

Eddie G.
Goh Seng Phoon
His Grace Lord Edwin Aegnor Goh I
The Edster
G-Man

And the Winner is:

ALL OF THE ABOVE!

Decisional Majority:

Unanimous

Judges' Comments:

Yes, the 5 nominees for the Eddiegness Award are all in fact one and the same person. There is a reason behind this. No one else comes close. Ever.

Winner's Projected Speech:

Thanks for each and every one of you out there who has made this semester a fun-filled yet enriching one. I'm glad that I was barred from entering NUS, because I wouldn't have met you crazy buggers if I wasn't. I wouldn't trade you guys for anything in the World (save for ultimate world sovereignty of course, but that's not the point). To all those who (music plays) SHUT UP! (music cuts) To all those who are leaving next year (either graduating or transfering), go with my blessing. I'll certainly miss you lots. As for those who are staying on, see you next sem, enjoy your holidays and look out for the Febrary 2006 Eddie G. Semestral Commie Awards! Good night! (Sir Edward Elgar's Pomp and Circumstance March No. 4 in G plays, the crowd rises to give Eddie G. a well-deserved standing ovation as he regally takes his leave. And rightfully so!)

General Consensus

2005-10-18T21:34:00.000+08:00

Ok guys. I really need your opinions. If you're reading this, I'd appreciate it if you could leave your comments behind, no matter who you are.

Question 1: (for everybody)

Do you think I should continue having a friendship with someone who doesn't appreciate me? Okay that may be a bit too harsh. Let me rephrase it. Should I continue having a friendship with someone who claims that I'm her best friend, admits that she's not been showing her appreciation for me, promises to make things up, but ultimately doesn't lift a goddamn finger to do shit? The thing is, I really want to. But deep down inside, I feel bad if I were to do so. What do you guys think?

Question 2: (for those who know me and know my predicament)
This question is for only those who know what's going on. If you have no idea whatsoever, please don't bother asking. I won't tell you anyway.

Do you think I'm being to selfish here? Have I treated her in such a way that I truly deserve the way she's treating me now? Is it being hypocritical of me when I say that she should appreciate me more? Is it ever possible to be a friend of anyone without expecting anything in return?

Take the floor, people!

The Eddie G. Timeline

2005-10-14T11:06:00.000+08:00

I found this from TMY's blog as I was scouring it to kill time before I start on my assignments proper. Found it quite a nice way to get the creative juices flowing. So there.

1984: 21 years ago.

10th March is a much celebrated holiday around where I grew up. I figure there's no need in explaining why?

1986: 19 years ago.

My ever memory was when I was around the age of 2. If memory serves, I was being fed. Explains a lot, doesn't it? Also, I remembered snippets of my life where my mother would carry me in her arms while she went out for a walk around the neighbourhood every evening. These were my pre-Singapore days.

1995: 10 years ago.

I was in Primary 5, Rosyth School. It was apparently a prestigious school, one of the best in Singapore. Established the reputation for being the laziest and most apathetic bastard-prankster in school. Yes. I started early. Bonus points for holding such a title in a prestigious school.

2000: 5 years ago.

I was in Secondary Four, doing my "O" Levels in Anglo-Chinese School (Independent) - another prestigious school. Had a girlfriend, but broke up because she was stupid. Became damn lan-ci-lan-yong (stuck-up). Began to think that the World owed me a living and that my Literature teachers shouldn't be offended by the use of the word "fuck" in class because they were supposed to be more liberal. Ho-hum. Began having the misconception that my Chinese teacher also shouldn't be offended by the use of the words "fuck", "bollocks" and "genitalia" simply because she probably didn't understand any goddamn English. "Big mistake!" my Discipline Master later told me.

2002: 3 years ago

I was in my second and final year of Junior College, preparing for my "A" Levels. I didn't have a girlfriend, although I was in love with a girl from choir (cliche huh?). Obviously, she didn't give two fucks about me. Ho-hum. Still bore the notion that my Literature teachers would appreciate a little profanity in my essays because their meaningless lives must probably have bored the bejeebers out of them. Tried that in my Macro-Economics essay too. The look on my tutor's face after that was priceless!

2005: This year

Currently doing second year in Monash University. I won't say which Campus, though. I still don't have a girlfriend, although I'm in love with a girl from my course. Obviously, she too, doesn't give two fucks about me either. Ho-hum. Decided to drop the notion of using profanities in my written work, mostly because I'd rather lose marks in more meaningful ways (i.e. handing them up late). The July Semester must have probably been the most meaningful to me by far, minus the emotional roller-coaster ride, of course.

2006: Next year

I would be doing my third and final year in Monash University. With any luck, I might have a girlfriend. But you'll never know, eh? It's hard to predict the future, but I hope to get the Camel's second album fully recorded by the end of next year. Now that I've more or less grasped the key concepts of filmmaking from Fikri, Meng Yoe and Wilson, I'd dare say that the sky indeed is my limit.

2015: 10 years from now

Holy shit! I'll be 31 then! If my plan works out, I'll probably have attained my Ph.D. in English from University of Cambridge, and lecturing in NUS or perhaps even... wait for it... Monash University (I still won't say which campus). Hopefully I'll be married with children. That would be nice, wouldn't it? Or maybe I'll be a rockstar. Either suits me.

The Curse of Being Eddie G. III

2005-10-13T23:35:00.000+08:00

Guys, you know what. You're right. I have been doing something stupid all this while in College.

But guess what, I'm still going to continue doing that something stupid. Perhaps she may be taking me for granted; but you know what, I want to continue to believe the best in her, even if I should do so at the expense of my sanity.

I have been soft to her, but that doesn't mean I'm weak. On the contrary, I'd say it takes massive fortitude (with a touch of stupidity perhaps) to carry on with something many others would have long given up on.

Perhaps I'll see the consequences of my folly one day. Perhaps I'll learn my lesson one day.

But it won't happen today.

I still love her.

Monash Film Festival

2005-10-05T21:10:00.000+08:00

This is a public service announcement:

Come next Monday (10th October 2005), the Communication Students will be hosting its first ever Monash Film Festival. Featured will be 4 films (and perhaps more) done by our very own Monash Commies, two of which have been submitted as entries for the Astro Chinese Short Film Competition.

The short films that will be screened are as follows:

Goldfish
(approx. 15 minutes; Mandarin with English Subtitles)
by Fikri Jermadi, Wilson Lee and Phoon Chi Ho
starring Max Tan, Eddie G., Mindy Wong and Ting Jer Huan

When a young man finds it hard to let go of the one he truly loves, his unbridled anguish is kept in check by the appearance of a mysterious stranger. Pain lets us know that we're still alive. But an unexpected twist in the plot may very well just throw that train of thought right out of the window.

Captivation
(approx. 9 minutes; Mandarin with English Subtitles)
by Tan Meng Yoe
starring Yong Sze Mun, M. Yasir

A young girl finds herself helplessly smitten by the charms of a boy on her first day at college. Though having only seen his face once, she cannot seem to shake him from her mind. Will she end up with him? Only time will tell.

Police Story, Man
(approx 20 minutes; Broken Cantonese with English Subtitles)
by Eddie G.
starring Eddie G., Max Tan, Wilson Lee, Aaron Lee and Trudy Au

A young police cadet finds himself under the wing of a violent, foul-mouthed Officer. Join the adventures of this ill-conceived partnership in their quest to vanquish the insidious Chee Cheong Fun in this hilarious parody of Hong Kong's Police films.

In Search of Bangkok
(duration TBA; English, Thai with English subtitles)
by Sharifah Shazana and Sarah Jane Cheong

Join 17 students, their lecturer and then some on their study trip to Bangkok during the June vacation break. Get an insight on how life is in Bangkok, as well as how the aforementioned bodies negotiate their newly subjected space in this enjoyable yet educative documentary.

So make a date with the Monash Commies next Monday and be prepared for an entertaining afternoon. Here's what you need to know

Date: Monday, 10th October 2005
Time: 1400h - 1530h
Venue: Journalism Lab (1st Floor)

Tell your friends! See you there!

Don't Worry, Be Happy

2005-09-10T10:17:00.000+08:00

Don't Worry, Be Happy (Extreme Cynic's Version)
Sung to the tune of "Don't Worry, Be Happy"

New lyrics by Eddie G.

Performance notes: Sung preferably with a Jamaican accent. Smoking up before singing is encouraged, but not entirely neccesary.

You got caught for speeding? No need to shout,
‘Cos fifty bucks is gonna bail you out
Don’t worry, be happy.

Cigarette prices going up again!
Don’t make a fuss, just take from you friend!
Don’t worry, be happy.

Don’t worry, be happy!

Lee Kuan Yew seems alive and well.
Enjoy it while you can, ‘cos you’re going to hell!
But don’t worry, be happy.

If you are worried you've got nothing to drink,
Just chill out, man; your Island’s gonna sink.
So don’t worry, be happy.

Don't worry, be happy!

The Israelis are out of Gaza now.
But it won't stop the fighting anyhow.
Don’t worry, be happy.

Wander in the desert for Forty years,
But don’t give that Burning Bush four more years
Don’t worry, be happy.

Don’t worry, be happy!

There have been tidal waves and earthquakes too.
So if you can’t swim, here’s what you can do.
Don’t worry, be happy.

An aeroplane just crashed in your tower,
Don’t sweat it dude, you’ll be dead in an hour!
Don’t worry, be happy.

Don’t worry, be happy!

If you are hiding things that go “boom”
Then the U.S.A. is gonna rape you soon
But don’t worry, be happy

If Saddam Hussein is hiding in your home
Then they’ll do to you what Nero did to Rome
But don’t worry, be happy

Don’t worry, be happy!

Don't worry, be happy!!!

If Eddie G. went to South Park

2005-09-02T20:26:00.000+08:00

I can feel my IQ dropping already...

This website is wicked sick! Design your own South Park character here. Thanks, Leanne! Muackz!

MURDER-CAR!

2005-09-01T21:38:00.000+08:00

MURDER-CAR!
By Eddie G.

So Malaysia celebrated it's 48th year of *cough!* Independence yesterday. Well "Woopidy-Doo!" I say. Still, I'm not entirely apathetic about this whole Merdeka schtick, simply because I am, on paper at least, a Malaysian. And that has always been something that both my Singaporean and Malaysian friends will never let me forget.

On 31st August, I treated myself to a sleep-in. Not that it made a bloody difference anyway. Upon waking I dragged my sleepy behind to the kitchen, had a little breakfast and moped around aimlessly until the resounding thud of the morning paper being tossed, with all the diplomatic defiance of one forced to work on a public holiday, onto my front porch gave me some thing useful to do.

So like a decadant businessman, minus the spiffy shirt and the shitloads of moolah in the bank, I sat at the dining table, browsing through the paper. As I flipped through the 48-page Merdeka Special sandwiched in between, each page progressively became more vomit-inducing. Its contents were sickly riddled with the Government's feeble attempts at propaganda.

"Malaysia is great because it's multi-cultural!" declared one.

No, Malaysia is great for you because you're just another one of them delusional Bumi-Puteras whose idea of a decent job is to leech off the hard work of others.

"Malaysia is great because we can chill out at mamak stalls until the wee hours of the morning!" boasted another.

And nobody bothered mentioning how they got their sad asses mugged while on their way there from the Automated Teller Machine.

So I've been cynical thus far. And while I do realize this post will certainly be trodding on the toes of many, allow me the privilege to remain there for a little while longer.

The thing I'm proud of most in Malaysia is how you maniacs drive.

I really mean it. Again, I'm being cynical, not sarcastic. There is a significant difference, believe me. It's amazing how some jokers on the road will just cut in, without signalling or such, as if they bloody owned it. What's even more amazing would entail how the same drivers actually manage to pull that stunt off with one hand on the wheel and the other propping their mobile phones against their ears.

Surprisingly, the Government seems to encourage such reckless behaviour. Many, if not all, drivers see RM50 as the perfect tradeoff for the thrill of violating the red light, U-turning when they're not supposed to, doing 80km/h in School Zones, doing 80km/h above the stated speed limit practically everywhere else and running over pesky kids in Shah Alam.

Furthermore, our Government, as always, gets its priorities right by spending a huge portion of their already strained budget on building the Sepang Circuit. Whether they realize it or not, they're indirectly telling our youngsters today, "Oh it's perfectly alright to treat (and drive) your car as if it were an aeroplane. In fact, we'll build you a nice little 'runway' to show our support!"

So the buggers at Petronas, who grow fat on our profits, choose to focus their resources on maintaining the Sepang Circuit rather than alleviating the woes of the public caused by ever-increasing petrol prices. But then again, an F1 Circuit does sound an awful lot more exciting than, oh say, petrol subsidies doesn't it?

And can someone also please tell me what a zebra-crossing is for again?

Of course, our famous driving abilities do come at a great expense. In Singapore, pedestrian crossings are painted with warning signs that say, "Many more Singaporeans die from smoking than from car accidents". It's especially funny when you look at it from a Malaysian perspective because I'm pretty damn convinced that many more Malaysians die from crashing into Tak Nak signs than from smoking.

So yes. This is what I'm most proud of being a Malaysian. There! I've said my piece and done my part for my Country. To conclude, I would like to use the lyrics from a famous REM song:

Oh no, I've said too much
I haven't said enough

Happy Merdeka, by the way. I hope I haven't ruined it entirely for you. And to all Singaporeans, who had recently celebrated their National Day on August 9th, I'd just like to express my heartfelt condolences to you all when I say that Lee Hsien Loong is one big prick.

Oh no, I've said too much
I've said enough

The Dream II

2005-08-24T10:29:00.000+08:00

The Dream II
By Eddie G.

The beauty about Dreams is that each and every one of your desires, however pure or wanton, is allowed to fester. In your Dreamworld, you are faced with the juxtaposition of being uninhibited by your conscience, yet at the same time bound by the whims and fancies of your subconscious. And only in your Dreams are you both participant and spectator.

It was just another day in College. I, by fate of some incomprehensible happenstance, was early and the only one in the Lecture Theatre. It shared distinct similarities with its Real-Life counterpart, yet held very stark differences. The tables and corresponding benches were aligned in one general direction, all except for the one in which I occupied. It was the third row from the front and, as the Good Book so aptly puts it, ‘let him who has understanding [make sense of it]’.

One by one the students began to stream in, and words of curt greeting were exchanged with each and every student who whisked by. No one seemed to notice my wayward arrangement, nor did they bother. It gave me the inclination to do likewise. I forgot their faces soon afterwards, for it made no difference. This Dream was not going to be about them.

And then she came and sat down right next to me.

I recognized her face. I knew it all to well. It was a face that riddled my College life with joy, sorrow, laughter and apprehension, sometimes all at the same time. As the lecture progressed, the line that separated Dreamstate and Reality began to waver in and out of conscious existence. My mind began to replay real-life snippets of whenever she had sat next to me. It wasn't long at all before I began to wonder whether I was dreaming or truly awake.

Until, that is, the moment when she placed her hand in mine.

Our eyes locked briefly, before my gaze swiveled down to where my hand was. Her hand was still there, holding mine. The feeling was indescribable, and yet it carried with it a rueful knowing that all this wasn't real.

But then again, what is?

Around us, the scenery began to change, almost like a systematic tear-down and build-up of an acting set. Everything, save for the wayward bench, had changed.

We now sat by the beach, facing the silverblack horizon, with soft moonlight bouncing of the silky ripples of the ocean. Immersed by the lulling rhythm of the crashing waves, she snuggled closer to me, not saying a word. I merely sat there, neither resisting nor reciprocating, reflecting on how I would have reacted had this all been real.

But it was real. At least for the next few hours. Her eyes, her hair, her perfume, her smile, they seemed pretty real enough. Her voice, when it parted from her lips, would in all its beauty put the Sirens to shame.

"You look scared," she said.

"I am."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know what to expect from you. I never do."

"But I told you not to expect anything from me to begin with," she tossed her hair playfully to one side.

"So why the sudden change of heart?"

"There never was a change of heart on my part," she warned, "I still hope you're not expecting anything from me."

I withdrew my hand from hers. "You're doing this to spite me," I said, the bitterness inherent in my voice.

She leaned over and planted a kiss on my lips, and then smiled.

"I'll never do such a thing to you," she said.

"How can I tell that you're not lying?"

"You can't," she said. And then she took my hand again. "What you can do, though, is savour the moment while it still lasts."

I squeezed her hand softly. For once in my life, the words that I've been meaning to tell her since the day we met found themselves.

"You're beautiful."

She smiled slightly, placed her head on my shoulder and said, "I don't ever want this night to end."

"You don't know the half of it."

I learnt that there's no point in trying so hard to make your dream a reality, when Reality, in itself, is already a Dream. And it really matters not which is which, because in the end, only one thing remains crystal clear.

You're beautiful.

I didn't want to wake up. But all good things must come to an end.

How to Write a Good Chain Letter: Part 1

2005-08-05T10:17:00.000+08:00

How to Write a Good Chain Letter
By Eddie G.

Eddie G. expounds the key principles of succeeding in the ancient art of Chain Lettering in easy, comprehensible steps.

1) Make sure your Chain Letter is not messy, poorly spelt, and riddled with grammar mistakes that even a five-year-old wouldn't make.

aLlMosT evRy ChA in Let TeR cOnTeIns Tr ACEs of Ab ySSSmEl EnGr IsH. AnD, hIDEoS As i t mA y Be, fOR sOMe SiCk rEaa SoN, dis Hae pens tO attra cts many pPer son, be Coz GoOd hA lf-hOUr Wou ld bE spENded tr YinG 2 fig uures Out wHat the fUc k iT's trys to SaY. A nD s IncE yOu alReAdy Are Co Mes dis FarR, y noTt fInNish rEa DiNG tHe hOle tHi ngs lar!
(But surely someone of your intellectual capacity wouldn't stoop to something as base as this right?)

2) Make the plot of your Chain Letter as interesting as possible

For some reason, your standard issue Chain Letter always talks about people getting raped and petitioning for signatures to solicit support from the otherwise apathetic public sphere. In all honesty, this doesn't change the situation one bit, assuming that the bugger really did get his ass probed in the first place - I mean the dude gets fucking raped and all he gets is shitloads of people signing his metaphoric E-cast with time-honoured witticisms like 'better luck next time, stud', 'hope you can sit properly soon' or 'pepper spray, man! how many times do you have to get analed before you finally learn?'. Of course, nothing gets done about it, because nobody really gives a rat's ass that poor Bernie got shagged by a donkey last weekend because he tried to milk it.

Rape incidents constitute about 49% of all Chain Letter subjects. The other 49% would consist of people dying of chronic and/or terminal ailments that they picked up while horsing around somewhere in Zimbabwe, or about a poor little girl who's dying of leukemia and needs your support. For added effect, an MNC is dragged, often innocently and unwittingly, into the fray. "McDonalds has taken pity on this pour soul and have pledged to give her a Big Mac for each signature collected here" it would normally say. And people sign it willingly and unquestioningly, without ever stopping to think what a Big Mac can do to a perfectly healthy human being, let alone someone with leukemia.

The last 2% entails threats on how, if you don't send this to 5,362.16 (go figure) people in the next 48 seconds, your girlfriend will dump you for your brother because he's got a larger phallus and makes so much more money than you do.

The point I'm trying to make here is that your typical Chain Letter is so bereft of imagination, and sorely lacking in substance. I can assure you that in your entire cyber-life, you'd probably never have seen a chain letter that goes. "Hey everybody! Guess what? I got a raise! That puts me higher up on the social ladder where I can gloat at you nitwits from the securities of my newly attained bourgeois status. Send this to 5 other people just so as to make them feel inferior!" Why not be the first one?

3) Appropriate use of Subject Headers

With a little practice, the use subject headers can make your Chain Letter more irresistable to people like Weapons of Mass Destruction are to George W. Bush. Headers like "FREE PORN" work ocassionally, but are so cliche (plus the fact that it seldom really is "free") that they often wind themselves up in the Trash unread. Good subject headers are thought provoking and intriguing. Examples like "McDonalds to sue Nursery Rhyme teachers for copyright breach and defamation. Ee-ai-ei-ai-oh!" are good because everybody knows McDonalds and "Ee-ai-ei-ai-oh!" is easy to pronounce.

Refrain from using reverse psychology. While they normally work on intellectuals who contemplate the purpose of every blasted thing with relation to the Greater Cosmic Balance, you must realize that there are many, many others (unless you're a blonde or the aforementioned Bush) who are much dumber than you are. For these people, they tend to take everything at face value (which is why some Chinese keep goldfish because they think its a great bargain) and hence Headers like "You Wouldn't Want To Read This" would bounce off them like squash ball.

Also, you might want to add a few "FWD:"s to make it all more authentic, almost as if it really has been passed around. A good example would perhaps start with "FWD:FWD:FWD:", but do not be too liberal when using "FWD:"s. If you're not going to open a mail whose subject header begins with "FWD:FWD:FWD:RE:RE:FWD:RE:FWD:FWD:RE:FWD:FWD:RE", then don't expect anyone else to. Not only is it annoying, but nobody's going to believe that you're that well-acquainted anyway.

More to come in Part 2...

The Chronicles of Teffaru: Episode 5

2005-07-18T15:12:00.000+08:00

The Chronicles of Teffaru: Episode 5
By Eddie G.

“Owwwwwwwm”

The Eddie G. lay thinking on hiS back while reflecting on the many things that have happened within such a short span of time. Peering intently at the canopy of hiS makeshift tent, hE wondered if hiS insomnia occurred because of the thoughts fighting for attention in hiS already cluttered mind, or because of something else.

“Owwwwwwwm”

The demi-Mortal was getting restless. So many things needed to be sorted out, and hE was losing sleep over them, if not the something else. The meeting with his arch-nemesis, Drutho, was inevitable, hE reminded himselF, but hE clearly hadn’t expected it to be that soon. It was the first time in centuries hE (voluntarily, that is) had sought for hiM.

“Owwwwwwwm”

Incidentally, hE realized two weeks just after creating what Lucifer was to God, that “Drutho” spelt backwards was “Oh, turd”. I should have known that it was prophetic hE thought bitterly to himself.

“Owwwwwwwm”

And then there was Eizenara, hiS beloved. When would hE ever see heR again? The key hE had raided from Drutho’s throne room was glowing softly as it hung around hiS neck. Now all that was needed for hiM was to get the King’s crown, and that shouldn’t pose too much of a problem. Again, hE silently cursed Drutho. How could hE do this to heR? ShE deserved none of it.

“Owwwwwwwm”

Things weren’t supposed to happen this way. Drutho was created to aid Eizenara, not fall in love with heR.

“Owwwwwwwm”

Drutho should never have been given a demi-Mortal status. The power had corrupted hiS being beyond redemption, and shE was punished for that. It wasn’t fair.

“Owwwwwwwm”

But what was over was over. Now all The Eddie G. could do was to hope that shE wouldn’t hold hiS folly against hiM.

“Owwwwwwwm”

With the more daunting issues now thoroughly thought over, The Eddie G. now ascertained that hiS source of insomnia didn’t come from them.

“Owwwwwwwm”

Swearing and cursing, hE poked hiS head out of the tent.

“PUT A SOCK IN IT, GRAEKEN!!” hE yelled at the gargoyle sitting cross-legged under a sturdy oak tree, “YOU’VE BEEN AT IT EVER SINCE WE SET UP CAMP LAST NIGHT!!”

The gargoyle stirred from his trance.

“Woah dude, what time is it now, man?”

“Four-thirty in the bloody morning!”

“Chill, dude. I’ll be done in another hour.”

“ANOTHER HOUR?” The Eddie G. roared, “Dude, just because you don’t have to sleep doesn’t mean that others don’t either.”

“Dude, you can’t blame a guy for walking down the path of the Zen, can you?”

“Then why don’t you bugger off down this path, find yourself another tree not so near to mine and do your bloody owwwming there!”

“No can do dude, Feng Shui’s good here.”

“Feng Shui my rotten rubber rump!” snapped The Eddie G., “look man, here’s fifty bucks. That should provide all the damned Feng Shui you need. What I need now, is some sleep, so take the bread and beat it!”

“Sorry dude, but your worldly currencies are nothing compared to Universal Oneness.”

“Hey don’t get uppity on me, twerp! You pick your stony ass up right now and take it somewhere else before I get –”

“Owwwwwwwm”

The Eddie G. returned to hiS tent and rummaged through hiS belongings for a nice bludgeon. A saucepan made from Sterling Stainless Steel caught hiS eye. The script could not have been any better written.

The tent flapped opened once more as The Eddie G. strode purposefully towards the meditating gargoyle.

“THWUNK!”

Having found universal oneness with the saucepan, Graeken stopped owwming.

The Eddie G. tottered back to hiS tent for some well-deserved sleep. There was plenty of dragon’s tears to get Graeken up and going when hE woke up. But as for now, hE was quite content that the strongest worldly currency was still, invariably, the Sterling Pound.

*****

The Cyclops sat lounging by the fireplace. He sipped his tea slowly, looked thoughtfully at it for a moment, and proceeded to add a few lumps of sugar.

“Drink up, girly,” he said, “nothin’ beats a hot cuppa tea in such ill weather as dis.”

The girl looked at her cup, and then at the Cyclops. It was weird enough staring at something with one eye, but when it began to offer you tea, one surely had to question its intentions. This one was now staring intently at her, subconsciously giving her the choice of either drinking up or continue to have him stare at her like that.

She chose the lesser of two evils.

“Must I really meet this Prince?” she asked as she took a cautious sip.

The Cyclops chewed his lip. He didn’t know answer her. After all, he was merely following the Eddie G.’s instructions to take care of her until the designated moment arrived. That was easy enough. What he didn’t bank on though, was the girl to ask so many questions to which he knew not the answers to.

“It’s The Eddie G.’s wish dat you do,” he said finally.

Cyclopses normally don’t belong to the land of Teffaru, mostly-two-eyed Teffaru. This one, though, was abandoned by his parents at a very young age at the border near Mad Squirrel Range, and The Eddie G. took it upon himselF to nurture and train him in combat. It was move that paid huge dividends, for the Cyclops now served hiM faithfully and unquestioningly.

“But what if I don’t like this Prince?” she asked.

The Cyclops hummed thoughtfully for a moment or two, and the merely shrugged. So inquisitive, this girl he thought to himself so much alike dear Eizenara. He wasn’t too surprised though, seeing that she was created by hiM after all.

“De Prince is a nice chap, really,” he replied, “little on the stupid side, but nice nonetheless. You’ll like him.”

The girl smiled. “Where is he by the way?”

“Waitin’ outside.”

“But it’s raining so heavily outside!” she gasped.

“Bugger that, you’re right!” the Cyclops said, sitting up suddenly, “I’d better take in de clothes!”

*****

The rain was coming down in torrents while The Eddie G. and Graeken sat patiently in a small crevice. In hiS entire existence, it had never occured to The Eddie G. that while hiS cherubic wings made hiM look imposing and fearsome, it was pretty much as useless in the rain as shelter would be for a gargoyle.

But that was an analogy which Graeken had failed to grasp.

"What in Teffaru's name are you doing here anyway, you inconsiderate turd?" The Eddie G. spat. In small crevices as such, space was low in supply, and Graeken owned most of it, leaving the demi-Mortal's wings out in the open for a generous dose of drenching.

The leader of the gargoyles looked up at hiM momentarily, said nothing, and went back to rolling his joint.

When The Eddie G. continued hiS penetrating stare, the gargoyle looked up briefly before saying, "Dude, I need to get my fix."

"AND YOU NEED YOUR FIX JUST ABOUT AS MUCH I NEED PNEUMONIA!" the demi-Mortal had screamed.

"See? So what are you complaining about, dude?"

It wasn't long before prolonged exposure to the rain started giving The Eddie G. fitful bouts of sneezing. But the prolonged exposure to the smoke made hiM realize, for the first time in hiS existence, that getting pneumonia could actually be something rather amusing.

*****

Four heads and a Scrubbie poked out from behind a pillar. Everything seemed normal. Everything, that is, save for the pillar. There it stood, in its monstrosity, giving testimony to the fact that Mother Nature too could wake up on the wrong side of bed. It was those kind of pillars that, if people would actually bother to run around just once a day, would put Richard Simmons, Dr. Atkins and a whole lot of other such simians sorely out of business. The owners of the heads (and the Scrubbie if you’d care to pay attention to triviality) swiveled around as they surveyed their current surroundings before their bodies felt safe enough to leave the comfort of the pillar.

“So what did you see?” said one

“Couldn’t tell. The Fool’s dumb hat was in the way.” grunted another

"Scrubbie is not dumb!" retorted the third, who also happened to be a Jester, "She is a sophisticated and beautiful creature."

"Eh, I never knew that Scrubbie was a she." said Kalmbie, one of the two most incompetent castle guards in Teffaru, exquisite Teffaru.

Muffled snickering emerged from the far end of the pillar.

"That's because you never bothered to ask."

"I see," Bosch, the other half of the two most incompetent guards, had snorted. "So does Scrubbie have a *cough* boyfriend?"

The snickering now betrayed traces of efforted muffling, with the occasional snort.

"Well... actually she does. But it's not me."

Like a river bursting through a rickety dam built by sick beavers, the snickering gave way unashamed guffaws from behind the far end before two giant man-eating squirrels rolled into view, stomachs clutched and faces contorted like that of a man who found his particular encounter with food poisoning to be an extremely funny one.

"Trying... to... hehe... escape eh?... hohoho," gasped Furcoat, the older of the two squirrels.

"Heh heh... I'll teach you... *snort*... to try and... *snicker*... escape from us again!" said the younger, whose name happened to be Mink.

"Don't bother, we already know how," Drego Cauldwick, the Editor of a crudely named newspaper and the fourth member of Scrubbie's party (fifth, if you count her), before taking to his heels.

"You guys coming or not?"

Like obedient mongrels, the other three followed suit sprinting down the cavernous passageways in most comical fashion. It didn't take too long for them to realize that despite Drego Cauldwick's huge bulk, he was nonetheless pretty damn fast. But that was the way it is in Teffaru, squirrely Teffaru. Atheletic prowess was a prerequisite for journalism around these parts; that and, judging from the size of the projectiles people hurl at you, an incredible sense of balance. How Drego then had managed to attain his bulk can be based on the common assumption that any journalist who'd survived so long to become Editor surely wouldn't be begrudged a few crummy doughnuts.

And he still got caught. Talk about bad news!

The squirrels were now hot on their trail, but the laughing had yet to subside and that slowed their progress significantly. The Fleeing Four, headed by the lumbering Drego Cauldwick, had hit a fair turn of speed by the time they rounded the corner.

"You think we should split up?" said Bosch, "we'd be much harder to catch then."

"No," huffed Drego without looking back, "unity is one of the two key points of survival. Take it from a journalist!"

"But won't we all get caught together?" said Kalmbie worriedly.

"Not while there's two of them and four of us. And that brings me to the second key point."

"And what is that?"

"You only have to run faster than the slowest party member."

*****

Many by now would have had forgotten the bookkeeper who used to make a killing around Castle Blackrock, solely because he used to make a killing around Castle Blackrock. And that was because the geese that laid his golden eggs were currently on sabbitcal, trying to outrun each other somewhere in the cavernous passages beneath the Mad Squirrel Range. It had affected his business gravely, and only one little detail kept him from folding.

As he sat moping over his misfortunes, the bookkeeper was reminded of a story in ancient folklore of an old man who had built a ship large enough to house pairs of all the different animals in. Needles to say, he was brutally ridiculed, but only up to the point when it started raining non-stop for forty days. Because of his foresight, that blessed old man managed to keep his assets afloat while Teffaru was in liquidation. Everything thereafter went swimmingly, regardless of your perspective.

Except for the turtles, who were used by the apes for a good few rounds of shuffleboard.

The bookkeeper stirred from his melancholy to see the familiar figure of Greatly Gullible Gordon headed his way.

"Morning Gordon," he said wearily.

"Oh good morning!" greeted Gordon, "What shall we bet on today?"

A malicious grin spread across the face of the bookkeeper. As long as Greatly Gullible Gordon was around, his ricebowl was still intact, though just barely. Every day without fail, the bookkeeper would mercilessly exploit Gordon for his daily bread by convincing him that if he'd bet on something improbable enough, the law of averages would one day bring him a really sweet payoff. The Sky Falling On Our Heads was a particular favourite of Gordon's. And the bookkeeper made sure that it stayed that way.

"Oh, why not stick with the usual," said he, "the payoff is still one is to one million."

"Oh goody," said Greatly Gullible Gordon, "I'll put five dollars to that."

"Excellent!" the bookkeeper smiled. "You might already be a winner!"

"I hope so," Gordon grinned, and went his way.

"Oh and more thing!" the bookkeeper called out, "make sure you don't tell anyone, else they'll want in on it too!"

*****

The Eddie G. sneezed. Getting hiS wings out of the rain was challenging enough, but getting the rain out of hiS wings was a whole new different ball game. The fire crackled softly as hE stood with his back facing it. And from the look of things, they would probably take an hour or so to dry.

"Don't stare at me like that, dude," whistled Graeken innocently, "I didn't do jack."

"You're not going to do a whole lot more once I'm through with you!" The Eddie G. growled.

"Hey, look on the bright side man."

"And that would be?"

"You didn't get pneumonia." Graeken grinned.

"Oh, *sneeze* off!"

*****

They halted at a criss-cross of interconnecting passages.

"Where now?" panted Kalmbie.

"This way!" Drego said and took a right turn. The others followed without question.

"You know, if I get out of this alive, no one's going to believe what we've gone through," muttered Bosch.

"Yes but if you don't get out of this alive, they will!" snapped the Editor, "now keep moving!"

"S'funny," Kalmbie said after a while, "the Fool has been awfully quiet this whole time."

"Yea Sunny-Jeebs, Kalmbie's got a point there," hummed Bosch thoughtfully, "why don't you sing us something to cheer us up. Sunny? Sunny?"

For the first time in a long while, the party took the gamble of looking back, but the Jester was nowhere to be found.

*****

Much sneezing, swearing and cursing later, The Eddie G. sighed.

"I wonder what I'm gonna tell Eizenara when we're finally reunited," said hE.

"Geez dude, just tell heR what you've been wanting to tell heR, s'all."

"Would that be enough? I mean, it's because of me that shE's in this state, you know. I'd be lucky if shE doesn't hate me for this."

"Dude, you're jumping the gun here man. Just take things one step at the time. When the time comes, you'll probably find the rights words to say," said Graeken the Wise Owwwming Gargoyle.

"Yea, but what kind of right words?"

"I know!" there was a deliberate pause, and then, "your wings are on fire."

"Why the hell would I want to say that?"

"No, no. Your wings are on fire!"

In the blink of an eye:

The Chronicles of Teffaru: Episode 1

The Chronicles of Teffaru: Episode 2

The Chronicles of Teffaru: Episode 3

The Chronicles of Teffaru: Episode 3;Part II

The Chronicles of Teffaru: Episode 4

Tagged like a grocery item

2005-06-13T16:10:00.000+08:00

So Yokie comes over to my little chatterbox and tells me that I've been tagged. Bugger that. So Fikri and I held a little "conference" (that lasted nothing more than 12.6 seconds) and decided that blog-tagging does NOT constitute as part of blogger ethics. After all, I use my blog as my online portfolio of my creative works. Despite all this, in my magnanimous nature, I have taken it upon myself to respond, not out of obligation, but out of friendship.

In lieu of this, I would like to take this opportunity to remind everybody that I do this ALL the time on Friendster (for those of you that don't know), and that my blog is strictly for, well "blogging". So if anyone else should tag me after this, I am under no pressure or obligation whatsoever to respond.

Now that I've said my piece, on to the "whatever" I'm supposed to do.

And it goes like this:

THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1. Edwin Aegnor I
2. Eddie G.
3. Sorhai!

THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
1. Eddie G. says, "On this Planet, you will die. I have seen it"
2. His Grace Lord Edwin Aegnor, Highchancellor of Redundance and the close-lying Realms of Hogwash and Snot
3. All Beautiful Things Go "Splat"

THREE THINGS THAT YOU DON'T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. Wasting my time and my effort on an illusion
2. An always-almost-empty wallet
3. An inexplicable, yet unentirely unwelcomed arrogance

THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
1. My "pointed" ears, obviously of Elvish descent
2. My aloof nature, inherited also from the Elven community
3. A tendency to get bored easily, apparently inherited from my mother

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
1. Fear itself
2. The notion that I've to share this World with mortals
3. Coming to an end of myself

THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
1. My wits
2. My sanity (on the verge of being taken from me)
3. *Her* smile

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
1. Shirt
2. Shorts
3. Shoes (dammit what else am I supposed to say? My th- nevermind)

THREE OF YOUR FAVOURITE BANDS OR MUSICAL ARTISTS:
1. Abdul's Discount Camels (naturally *hehz*)
2. "Weird Al" Yankovic
3. Smash Mouth

THREE OF YOUR FAVOURITE SONGS:
1. "Weird Al" Yankovic - Everything You Know Is Wrong
2. Smash Mouth - Always Gets Her Way
3. "Moronic Tendencies" written by Eddie G.

THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
1. Someone whom I can provide for and love unconditionally
2. Knowing that no matter what, we'll always be there for each other
3. The ability to turn the simplest of things into something really, really special

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
1. As I've said before, the smile
2. Engaging and enchanting eyes
3. Possessing grace and elegance (subtle or otherwise) in all that she does

THREE OF YOUR FAVOURITE HOBBIES:
1. Computer gaming! (This is what I live for, baby!)
2. Writing and composing
3. Archery (I figured that Cupid is probably sleeping on MY job and it's probably going to be a matter of time before I decide to take matters into my own hands)

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
1. GO BACK TO SINGAPORE!!! And jam my worries away
2. Meeting up with my peeps in the Fine City to catch up with old times
3. Sing in a choir once more (I missed those times dreadfully)

THREE PEOPLE WHO FOLLOW IN MY WAKE: (ADHERING TO MY OWN PRINCIPLES, I SHALL LEAVE IT UP TO YOU)
1. Lee Weng Fong (just so to prove that the wanker NEVER visits my blog! pfah!)
2. Leanne Crystal Lim (no running away for you, dearest)
3. Yong Sze Mun (swear and curse at me all you want, why else do you think I put your name here? Muahahahahaaaaaaa!)

p.s. And since you've come this far, why not take the time to read the preceding post "The Curse of Being Eddie G. II" as well. I promise you will not be disappointed. :)

The Curse of Being Eddie G. II

2005-06-10T17:45:00.000+08:00

By Eddie G.

I awoke to find myself in the Cathedral of Shattered Emotions, not knowing how I had initially ended up there. Typical. I never had full grasp on where I was heading anyway, which made it all the more amusing whenever I would try to remember which tavern I was at the night before. The sunlight filtered through the stained glass of the Cathedral window, casting my face as the backdrop of a prismatic spray. I closed my eyes as I allowed the technicolour sunshine to warm my face. I knew full well I had a reputation for sleeping in church, but this must surely take the cake.

All around me I heard hushed whispers and distressed weeping. Not uncommon in church, if you ask me. No confession would be complete without a good amount of self-effacing. Still I kept my eyes closed; let them think that they're closed in reverential reflecting; let them realize that I'm holier than they are because I've got nothing to mourn about.

Nothing, save for myself.

I awoke to find myself in the Cathedral of Shattered Emotions, not knowing how I had initially ended up there. Typical. I figured to myself that it was probably noon. No longer was the sun glaring at my pathetic existence through the stained glassed; the masonry of the Cathedral ceiling saved me that discomfort. The whispering and weeping had ceased, not that it really mattered. I allowed my gaze to wander across the elaborate strip tiles of the ceiling, occasionally coming to rest on the odd gargoyle statues that glared nonchalently back at me.

"You awaken, child," one of them had said. "You were not supposed to."

"You should talk," I shot back.

"True, true," it had said. "Go back to sleep then, and so shall I."

I awoke to find myself in the Cathedral of Shattered Emotions, not knowing how I had initially ended up there. Typical. The sun was already about to set, and it filled my heart with trepidation. Perhaps it wasn't the dark that I feared, but rather the cold, irrefutable truth that lurked within. I raised myself up on my elbows. Pathetic. After so many hours of sleep and still so weak. The silk interior of my casket lured me return to where I was.

No. Not this time.

As I got out of the casket, I took slow deliberate steps across the Cathedral and stalked out of the great double doors. A crowd of mourners looked up at me, and screamed.

"Hark! The Necromancer has raised himself!" cried one of them. Chaos and pandemonium pervaded the very last fibre of each and every of their being.

I grabbed the one who had cried out by the collar and pulled him closer.

"Hypocrite!" I hissed, "didn't your Lord raise Himself after the Third Day?"

"Do not blaspheme my Lord, Necromancer! Only He has the power over life and death!"

"Fool!" I cried, tossing him aside like a sack of potatoes, "we all have the power over our own lives... and our own deaths. Now I choose to live, just like how I had chosen... to die."

The one who had cried out rose to his feet to catch up with the rest of the panicking crowd. Good riddance to them. I never liked the roses anyway. One by one, they disappeared into the horizon.

But she remained.

"Why do you do this to yourself, Edwin?"

I swept past her, my burial clothes trailing in my wake, a makeshift of the iridescent black cloaks that we Necromancers would wear.

"Answer me!" she cried, "Why do you do this to yourself?"

I turned briefly to face her.

"Because I want to."

I returned into the Cathedral of Shattered Emotions, walked up to the casket in which I once had lain, and closed it.

After a moment's worth of deliberation, I opened it again. I might need it again one day. Through it all, her voice rang clear and strong.

"Why do you do this to yourself?"

There was one thing left for me to do. I shuffled painfully to the confession box.

"Why do you do this to yourself?"

Closing the door behind me, hearing her voice being drowned out by the overwhelming silence, I knelt.

"Father, forgive me, for I have sinned."

"Repentance is the key to redemption, my son. How is it that you have sinned?"

I awoke to find myself in my own casket of a bed, in my own Cathedral of a room. And this time, gazing out of the stained glass of my tears, I knew how I ended up here.

"I still love her..."

William's Wicked Weasels

2005-06-02T11:52:00.000+08:00

Once upon a time, there was a man called William the Wicked. Now William was nothing short of a sniveling, conniving little bastard who'd love nothing more than to see the people of the World suffer. But of course, ever since the dawn of time, there have been people like that.

Unlike the norm, William the Wicked devised an almost foolproof plan to take over the World. Of course, that was what every mad scientist would claim - that they're plan was foolproof, and that no matter how much their doofus lackeys would witlessly screw up, the plan would inevitably succeed. Their misplaced confidence oft led to their own downfalls, with the works. Scrambler Beams would well, scramble everything up, inadvertently disemboweling the scientist; Death Rays would live up to their name, usually as far as their creators were concerned; Red Buttons would always fail to be pushed at the opportune moment, resulting in comical albeit messy aftermaths; oh, and of course there was the case of meddling superheroes who always always ALWAYS spoil the bloody show just as they're about to succeed.

However, William the Wicked really did invent something that would result in the destruction of the World. He called it "William's Wicked Weasels", or WWW for short.

"First, we shall release the Weasels into selected households," explained William the Wicked to Gucci-Goo, his teddy bear, who didn't really show much inclination to pay attention (for obvious reasons), "and then, people will start talking about how cute and useful the Weasels are. And then in a matter of years, everyone will want a Weasel too."

On cue, William the Wicked broke into a fit of maniacal laughter. It was hard to break away from genre.

"Soon, every household will have themselves a Weasel. And they will tell the Weasels everything, from their credit card number to how they like steak done. They will form an inseparable bond with the Weasels. They will live with them, sleep with them, talk about them, hold forums about them, debate about the ethics on keeping them. And before you know it, they will be totally dependent on them."

More maniacal laughter. He was really getting good at this.

"And finally, when they least expect it, the Weasels will latch on to them, sucking their blood dry. But they will be too attached for them to let go. I will know their deepest, darkest secrets, because the Weasels will tell me. And I will exploit them, and they will be powerless to respond in kind! Muahah- Gucci-Goo, are you listening to me?!?!"

That was a long time ago. Today, William the Wicked sits on his little throne, the metaphoric testicles of the World held snugly in his Right Hand, and Gucci-Goo in his left. Yes. After so, so long, William the Wicked succeeded in destroying the World. You don't believe me? Well the Weasels are all around us now. You can find them on Google at www...

The Curse of Being Eddie G.

2005-05-10T20:14:00.000+08:00

I don't want to hate her. For if I do, I'll only end up hating myself...

What if Eddie G. were God

2005-05-04T22:00:00.000+08:00

If Eddie G. were God
By Eddie G.

Disclaimer: The world is full of Fundies out there. If you're one of them, here's a little something for you to ensure that the post you're about to read does not bowl you off your chair. First and foremost, if you read the title carefully - an activity of which I'm sure isn't entirely below your intellectual capcity (though I shouldn't take these things for granted) - you'd naturally realize two things. One, I am NOT God; hence the words "what if". Second, God is not me, so His responses would probably be slightly different from mine. If this all still seems pretty offensive to you, I'd suggest you'd bugger off now and go do something more productive with your time (like say, developing an actual sense of humour for instance).

Still here? Wicked! I knew you would appreciate a good laugh. After all, God does have a sense of humour (look in the mirror if you don't believe me). Aaaaaanyway, I'm sure the title is pretty self-explanatory right? So without a care in the World, here I go!

Worshipper: Dear God, how do find true happiness?
Eddie G.: You might wanna start paying your bloody tithes to begin with!

Worshipper: Dear God, will I be rich and famous?
Eddie G.: Dude, what am I? A fucking Magic 8-Ball?

Worshipper: Dear God, why did you let Bush win the elections?
Eddie G.: To give the Devil some fucking hope.

Worshipper: Dear God, I don't agree with some of the things you've allowed on Earth.
Eddie G.: To whom it may concern, I'll have enough time to regret your creation after I'm done with Satan. Bugger off.

Worshipper: Dear God, why do you still let Satan live?
Eddie G.: Are you kidding, so long as he's not bugging Me he's been a great source of amusement.

Worshipper: Dear God, why did you write the Bible?
Eddie G.: Like every successful CEO, I could use a little side income.

Worshipper: Dear God, can you bring back the dodo? They're cute
Eddie G.: After what you humans do to turkeys when you're commemorating the birth of MY ONLY BEGOTTEN SON? Bite Me!

Worshipper: Dear God, I think singing hymns is a horrible chore!
Eddie G.: And I suppose you think listening to you sing them is a walk in the park, eh?

Worshipper: Dear God, what is the meaning of life?
Eddie G.: Oi! If I had a freaking dollar for every mofo who's asked Me that!

Worshipper: Dear God, what is the hardest decision you've ever made?
Eddie G.: Deciding on your species.

Worshipper: Dear God, did we really evolve from apes?
Eddie G.: Don't flatter yourself, please.

Worshipper: Dear God, you are truly great. A million years to you are like a mere second, and a million dollars a mere penny. Can I have one of your pennies by the way?
Eddie G.: Give Me a second.

Worshipper: Dear God, I come from Singapore. Please bless my country. Amen.
Eddie G.: To whom it may concern, you must understand where I am coming from here. Every other day I'm creating new galaxies, birthing new worlds and engineering new races. And you're expecting Me to find YOUR bloody country in this mess?

Worshipper: Dear God, what exactly did you do to the Sodomites?
Eddie G.: It can't possibly be worse than what they were doing to each other, believe Me.

Worshipper: Dear God, how do you plan to deal with atheists?
Eddie G.: I don't. They don't bother Me so I don't bother them.

Worshipper: Dear God, are your streets really lined with gold?
Eddie G.: If you were the Creator of the Universe, would you line your streets with Malaysian Ringgit?

Worshipper: Dear God, please forgive me for I have sinned.
Eddie G.: Tell that to the Priests, dammit! My M.D.s are responsible for dealing with employees who fuck up, not Me!

Worshipper: Dear God, why have you allowed so much suffering on Earth?
Eddie G.: Get real dude, you can't expect Me to please everybody, you know!

Worshipper: Dear God, why do nice guys finish last?
Eddie G.: Because good sports are seldom good at sports.

The Dream

2005-04-30T21:55:00.000+08:00

The Dream
By Eddie G.

That’s the thing about dreams. They are the gateway to the subconscious; a portal to the unresolved issues we face. And that disturbs me, seeing as to how I dream of green goats, bouncing midgets and giant radioactive hamsters half the bloody time. After studying the Media for some time now, I’ve begun to wonder whether it is the signifier or the signified that should be considered more perturbing.

But last night’s dream was awkwardly different. There were no goats, no midgets, and certainly no glow-in-the-dark hamsters. Yet, it was disturbing in its own way.

Taverns literally come alive after a certain hour. And that was how the Blue Dragoon was before the Bard had walked in. His reputation had gone on ahead before him, and a hushed silence had filled the building as he took deliberate steps towards an unoccupied table in the corner, sat down, propped his feet up against the table and began to tune his lute. He could hear hushed whispers coming from behind him, and smiled secretly at the attention.

The bartender brought a tankard of finely brewed mead to the table where the Bard was sitting at. Wordlessly, he placed the tankard on the table, collected a piece of silver for his efforts and returned to the bar. The Bard had finished tuning his instrument.

Striking a bold opening on his silver lute, the Bard broke into song.

I knoweth of a lady fair,
With beautiful eyes and soft flowing hair.
And she would chase the shadows away,
She's my hope for yet another day.

The tavern broke into unanimous applause, but the Bard had yet to finish his rendition, and he punished the crowd for their ignorance by making them feel, well, ignorant.

And when she sang her melody sweet.
Made my life so full and complete.
And the wind on her hair it would play,
My hope for yet another day.

While he sang, a young Sorceress had entered the tavern, evidently looking for someone. She didn’t take long to find him, and made her way to the table where the singing Bard was, and sat down. Their gazes locked.

So sing to me of my lady fair,
With beautiful eyes and soft flowing hair.
And let my soul, with true love doth say.
I love my hope for yet another day.

The Bard finished his song with a flourish, all this while not taking his eyes of the young woman. Feeling a pressing need to compensate for the embarrassing false start, the crowded cheered.

“You are late, my love,” said he, after the applauding had died down and the tavern had went back, as if nothing had happened, to its normal bustle.

“I know,” the Sorceress tossed her hair playfully to one side. It drove his hormones wild and she knew it. Her perfume made him dizzy.

“Yet, better late than never.” He reached forward across the table to hold her hand, but the moment they made contact a sharp jolt of electricity coursed painfully through his entire being. Like the forked tongue of a snake, he withdrew his hand.

“What have you done, woman!” cried he.

The Sorceress smiled, her voice now belonged to someone whom I know. “I have put a spell, a curse if you like, on you. You will now learn how to let go.”

“No! NEVER!” the Bard cried. “You can’t do this to me.”

“But I already have,” it was her voice again; I turned in my sleep, frustrated.

The Bard reached forward to grab the woman’s hand again, and was met with the same painful consequence. Reeling backwards, the Bard nearly toppled over in his chair.

“Why have you done this?”

“It’s for the best,” said she, crying and smiling at the same time. “You will learn. You will learn.”

“Will I now?” the Bard bit his lip resolutely and made a grab at her again. Pain flared through his consciousness once more. Each second became more and more unbearable but he held on to her tighter still, his eyes tearing profusely. Finally he released his grip.

“What do you want from me now?” he panted, there was malice in his eyes. Malice oh so strong, oh so passionate.

“The question really is ‘What do you want from me now’,” the Sorceress replied, her sad eyes glued to his.

“What happens if I were to carry on?” he asked.

“You will die. Your life won’t cease, but you will die nonetheless.”

“Then it shall be!” he declared. Leaning across the table, he grabbed her by the hand. Ignoring the pain, he pulled her close, and kissed her, long and hard. A searing flame shot through his head, threatening to melt the very last of his sanity, but he kept his lips firmly locked to hers. The threshold of his complete existence threatened to give way, returning to the cosmos from whence he came. Dust thou art, and dust thou shalt return! He played the last verse of the song in his head once more.

So sing to me of my lady fair,
With beautiful eyes and soft flowing hair.
And let my soul, with true love doth say.
I love my hope for yet another day.

Amidst the melody, the Bard noticed something foreign ringing within his close proximity. In fact, it sounded just like the ringing of a… Nokia 3310?

I turned to face the source of the high-pitched monophonic blare. Leaning forward, I wearily answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Hello, can you hear me clearly?” It was my Dad, testing out the limitations of his new internet phone. At this hour?

“Yea, pretty much,” I mumbled hastily, eager to get back to resolve the Bard’s predicament once and for all. I wanted to feel her lips on mine once more.

“Am I too loud then?”

“Nope. You’re just fine,” Come on, sweet Jesus of Nazareth!!!

“Okay. That’s good. So how have you been? How’s school work then?”

NOT NOW, DAMMIT. I’ll write you a 20,000-word essay on how life in Monash has been fucking me up so long as you let me return to my dream. Puh-leeeeez!!!

“Okay, I guess. So far I’ve been coping with the subjects just fine. Nothing too stressful.”

“Do you have money for next month then?”

Oh bugger! Now it’s the whole love or money thing?

“I have enough to last me until the end of this month. Just enough.”

“Okay. I’ll send you the money soon,” he said. “Goodnight.”

“Yea. Goodnight, Dad.” I hung up. I’ll feel guilty about being so curt with Dad in the morning. Now back to that dream!

The green goat bounced merrily across the purple meadows, a fat midget sitting happily on his back.

FUCK!!!

Agent Jonny Constant: Part II

2005-04-27T14:46:00.000+08:00

Agent Jonny Constant
Part II: To Listen To Me Whine
By Eddie G.

The young Mutant girl navigated through the dismal alleyways flawlessly, deliberately making several wrong turns in the process to confuse anyone who might have been following. From the way she moved, one could see how easily fragile life was in these parts. One wrong turn, one tiny slip of footing would possibly mean a slow, painful and sometimes comically embarrassing death. And that was if you were lucky.

A brick wall loomed ominously ahead as she neared the end of her perilous run, threatening to impede her progress. But she merely responded by quickening her pace. It was only until she almost looked as if she had planned to charge down the wall when she leapt effortless and rebounded off the side to clear the menacing obstacle. A Kayelian Chomp-Chomp Hibiscus made a grab at her ankles with its tentacles as she landed, but the Mutant was much too agile for it.

Upon reaching a derelict building, she paused to catch her breath, leaning forward against her own knees. Under her arms, the package nestled, completely oblivious of the journey that nearly claimed its bearer’s life. The unassuming paper bag had made stealing it look as though it was an end that could never possibly justify its precarious means. Drawing herself to full height once more, she proceeded to knock on a rickety door.

“Do you have the time?” came a voice from inside.

“To listen to me whine?” the girl replied, quoting the lyrics of an ancient folk song (i.e. the kind of songs that people play and sing when they’ve nothing really better to do) to complete the code. The door squeaked open momentarily for her to pass through before it was closed and bolted securely.

As she walked in, se was greeted by a sea of Mutant faces, most of which belonged to people much older than she was. Many of them had already reached Terminal, some of whom were living testimonies of a doctrine that theorized that Evolution did indeed have a sense of humour. Hurriedly, she brushed aside the possibility that the she could very well end up looking like some of them one day, or worse.

The interior of the room was far less inviting that it was on the outside. It said quite a lot about the general living mannerism of Mutants. “Nonchalance” wouldn’t exactly be the word to describe it, mostly because it was reserved primarily for the Miscellanea. Unlike the latter, many Mutants believed that their lives were in dire need of shaping up, and had made solemn resolutions to do something about it. It had now boiled down to a matter of which “tomorrow” they would choose to get the ball rolling.

The crowd parted obediently as she made her way to the middle of the room, where a primitive looking lamp dangled above a rectangular table. All eyes were glued intently to the package as their faces beheld a common sentiment, albeit in different variations of the concept of “face”. And the sentiment was: we were summoned here whilst in the middle of something important; this had bloody better be worth it!

Naturally, the extent of their disconcertion was directly proportionate to the level of “importance” of their individual “middles of something”

A Mutant sitting at the head of the table rose to his feet.

“Echo!” he said, “thank Heavens you’re safe.”

On the surface, that had sounded genuine enough, but his words had carried more subtle and certainly less amicable undertones, which ran along the lines of “it’s about time, bitch”. And Echo knew this.

“Me or the package,” she responded scornfully. Unlike the other Mutant, she believed very much in the concept of in-your-faceness, – especially when it came to her fist – and wanted nothing more at this given point than to prove it.

“Why, both of course,” the Mutant said smoothly while the undertones went something like, “give me the package already, you damn whore!”

“Fine Tarsis,” she said, throwing it down on the table, “I’m only doing this for the betterment of the Mutant race.”

The Mutant had chuckled.

“So you’re calling me by name now, eh?” said Tarsis with a knowing smile. “Deciding to be more, how shall we say, intimate perhaps?”

He reached forward and stroked Echo’s face, and she reciprocated, only much harder and faster. It was perhaps the first time in her mutation that the two extra fingers had been put to good use.

Tarsis hollered, clutching his cheek where a seven-finger handprint had pervaded. The façade of pomp and formality was dropped like a burning ember.

“You fucking whore!”

“That’s what they do, don’t they?” she shot back, indicating that he wasn’t the only who knew how to play mind games.

“Hey Tarsis,” shouted someone from the crowd, “if you brought us all the way here to watch your little soap opera, at least make it more interesting than the one you dragged us away from!”

The rest murmured in unanimous consent.

[Ed's Note:]
After feedback I received from Part I, I realized that many people have felt that the stories have been a tad too long for one-sitting reading. Hence, I've decided to break my stories down into smaller, bite-sized readings. So we'll be seeing many short episodes instead of sporadic and overwhelmingly lengthy ones. Enjoy! :)

In the blink of an eye:

Agent Jonny Constant: Part I

The Messiah Complex

2005-04-24T18:00:00.000+08:00

Food for thought from Eddie G.

Incredible isn't it, the way how "friends", like weeds, sprout out of completely nowhere. Oh I'm not referring to the sudden influx of traffic in my blog by the way (Thanks pple, and keep 'em coming!). What I am referring to though are people whom I already know. People who know me. People who see me almost every other day. And yet, are people who don't give a shit about my existence until I can save their pathetic ones in any possible manner.

Allow me to explain.

Back in Junior College days, before assignment due dates, despite knowing bloody well that I NEVER hand in assignments on time, I'd get phone calls from people. These people never call me, not even to ask about the weather. But when they do, one of the two following things might happen. a) They might be liable at some point of the teleconversation to go, "Hey, do you know who Eddie G. is? I need his number. Need to ask him something regarding our assignment." and/or b) They (miraculously) know that it is me they're calling and would go, "Hey Eddie! Done your assignment already?"

Goody gumdrops, wow! Someone remembers me! Eddie G. the fucking Oracle! At this juncture, picture two ethereal beings, each about a foot high, materializing on either shoulder. One has a pair of wings and carries a clipboard. The other wears red rubber underwear, has a pointed tail and carries a pitchfork of sorts.

"Well, it does say here that patience is a virtue," says the former, reading off his clipboard.

"Cuss the motherfucker!" says the one with the pitchfork.

Hastily shoving both of them under the covers of my bed, I resume my phone call.

"Um, not really," I would answer. (Assuming that situation b is taking place)

"What question are you doing?" the caller would ask.

"Um, Question Three?"

"Can you do Question Two instead?"

"Why?" I asked.

"Because that's what I'm doing! Do lah, then later I copy you can?" came the reply.

The one with the clipboard gave a yelp and shot out of the room in a sort of way that anyone would have if something sharp (oh say, a pitchfork) had nestled up his ass.

"Fuck off!" I said, and hung up.

That problem still exists. And somehow, Itchy and Scratchy here are still vying for shoulder room. No biggie! I've gotten used to them already, just like how my alter ego also has. Only for her, both of them wear red rubber underwear and carry pitchforks. Kinky ;)

So yes. It's Assignment Deadline Season again. And one can only imagine how frustrating it is, really. Only a week ago, when these mofos went clubbing, for movies or yum cha sessions, I was probably the last person on Planet Earth they'd call. And today, they suddenly remember, "Hey, why don't I call that chap... oh what's his name again... starts with E... you know that one who used to come to college in his Hawaiian shirts... Oh yes! Eddie!".

"It's better to give than to receive," reminded the one with the clipboard, who seemed to have some problem with sitting of late.

"Yea. I'd like you to give them a knuckle sandwich," hinted other one, spinning his pitchfork precariously above his head.

In my younger days, I would have. But over the years, I've learnt that there really is no point in being petty and calculative. It really isn't worth the trouble at all. If we can make a difference in someone's life, no matter how small, who cares if we get remembered for it? Who cares if these mofos do or do not acknowledge you at the end of the day? That didn't stop Mother Theresa, nor did it stop Gandhi.

Yes, Gandhi I am not, and God certainly forbid that I become a nun like Mother Theresa. But at the end of it all, no matter how many anal probes the one with the clipboard has had, he is still right. And nothing can ever change that. Does it not say in the Good Book "love thy neighbour as you would love thyself"? My alter ego and I call this "The Messiah Complex". Not that anyone would be building me a shrine anytime soon.

So despite it all, I am still your friend. I am still here for you no matter what. Remind your conscience that before you walk all over me.

How long will I stay this messianistic? Until I get nailed to a cross I guess.

The Unfinished Letter

2005-04-23T21:00:00.000+08:00

The Unfinished Letter
By Eddie G.

When I'm with you, and I see your smile
It hurts me to know that it's not for me
It's become something that I don't wanna see
But still I can't forget

And I wonder if it's worth the while
To try and be someone I don't wanna be
It's been riddled with heartache and irony
Since the day we met

[Chorus]
Do you remember the times we spent and
All the things we've said?
Oh I remember clearly, and I wrote them in my head
And I would give anything to
Turn back the hands of time
I'll do it all again for you, and things will be just fine

It's not easy, but I've got to try
Letting go before I get too deep
I've been losing my sanity and losing my sleep;
My heart still holds that scar

Every morning when I wake up I
Remind myself not to look in your eyes
A million ballads cannot emphasize
How beautiful they are

[Chorus]
Do you remember the times we spent and
All the things we've said?
Oh I remember clearly, and I wrote them in my head
And I would give anything to
Turn back the hands of time
I'll do it all again for you, and things will be just fine

I'll do it all again for you
And things will be just fine.

When Eddie G. is bored...

2005-04-19T12:35:00.000+08:00

Lame Limericks
By Eddie G.

There was an advisor called Wright
Who made fun of his good king one night
They meant him no harm
When they chopped his left arm
So I gather that he'd be all right

There was an old man named Wong
Who enjoyed playing golf in his thong
But he made a wrong swing
And he hit the wrong thing
So he won't stay a man for too long

The Difference Between Malaysians and Singaporeans

2005-04-18T15:54:00.000+08:00

The Difference Between Malaysians and Singaporeans
By Eddie G.

It's not as if you hadn't noticed, but Malaysians and Singaporeans do have quite a bit in common. However, if you do pay attention, you might notice some distinguishing traits that might spell the difference between a true blue Malaysian and a die-hard Singaporean. These are guidelines. No one has to follow them, but generally they do.

AT A BUFFET
Malaysian: Eats until he throws up

Singaporean: Eats until he throws up, and then eats some more

LAW & ORDER
Malaysian: Knows his laws, disobeys them and that's fine

Singaporean: Knows his laws, disobeys them and gets fined

ECONOMY
Malaysian: Trade Union owned by rich, pretentious bastards who don't know shit about the struggles of the working class

Singaporean: Trade Union owned by the government

MANNERS
Malaysian: Cuts a queue, feels guilty, trys to pretend nothing happened

Singaporean: Cuts a queue, feels guilty, trys to justify his motive ("Actually hor, you know ah, I've been here already for very long, one!")

CUSTOMS
Malaysian: Attempts to smuggle drugs and tobacco into Singapore

Singaporean: Attempts to smuggle chewing gum into Singapore

LEADERSHIP
Malaysian: Former Prime Minister retires and goes off to enjoy life while calling the shots from behind the scene

Singaporean: Former Prime Minister retires... oh wait, no he doesn't.

INFRASTRUCTURE
Malaysian: Builds Twin Towers to symbolize what Malaysia is all about

Singaporean: Builds Twin Metal-Spiked Balls for the same purpose

CORRUPTION
Singaporean: Culprit begs policeman for leniency

Malaysian: Policeman begs culprit for bribes

POLITICS
Malaysian: Believes in a one-phantom-one-vote policy

Singaporean: Lee Kuan Yew votes on behalf of the country

CENSORSHIP
Singaporean: Allows adult films to be screened so long as patrons are of age and film possesses a certain aesthetic value

Malaysian: Buy the VCD lah!

PATRIOTISM
Malaysian: Sings Malaysian National Anthem in Bahasa Malaysia

Singaporean: Sings Singaporean National Anthem in Bahasa Malaysia

Jeanette Winterson, eat your heart out!

2005-04-13T16:18:00.000+08:00

A Really Lame Fairy Tale
By Eddie G.

Once upon a time, there was a Prince. A Prince who was so self-conscious that he would brood enviously over anyone more talented than he was with such seething vengence that even the vegetation in his garden would burn stark dry. While on the outside he seemed amiable, friendly and obliging, deep down inside he was arrogant, brash and condescending. The court advisors, fulfilling the stereotypical syntagm of all court advisors in fairy tales, were not able to find a way to change the Prince's heart.

Now in the land, there existed three goddesses, who also happened to be sisters, ageless and beautiful. Their names were "Fate", "Chance" and "Destiny". They were so beautiful that many men had wasted their youths furtively trying to catch a mere glimpse of their splendour. But alas, the only ones who succeeded (and there weren't many, mind you) were the ones whom the Sisters had chosen to reveal themselves to.

Tales of Three Sisters had reached the Prince, who then foolishly made a solemn vow that he too would go on a quest to find the Sisters. He hadn't the faintest of ideas on what he was exactly trying to prove, nor did he know what he would do in the event that he did find them. But since it was all the rave, surely the Prince had to be in it too right?

It came as no surprise that many court advisors had tried to dissuade the Prince from his foolhardy resolution, but each and every who did all ended up one kidney poorer. But since it was either that or genric unemployment, they chose the lesser of two evils.

On the night before the Prince's perilous journey, the King had decided to hold a marvelous feast in his honour. Banners of "Farewelle, our Goode and Kinde Prince" were put up all across the Grand Hall, which was in itself a marvel of architectural competence. It was an oval-like room surrounded by tiers of intricate gargoyles carved out of marble. In its midst, a beautiful fountain sat, spraying dazzling jets of waters at regulated intervals. Built into one corner was the orchestral pit, where minstrels strummed on their lutes tirelessly ("Use it or lose it," the Prince had warned them, his eyes fixed intently on their fingers).

Guests from both far and near had attended to wish the Prince all the very best. At the dinner table, the advisors sat, their meals untouched (the cooks had served kidney), muttering in low voices how the Prince would probably never return.

More to come... When I feel like it! (Mental note to self: NEVER blog after lunch!!!)

Agent Jonny Constant: Part I

2005-04-07T10:19:00.000+08:00

Agent Jonny Constant
Part I: In The Beginning
By Eddie G.

Our story takes us to the depths of a bustling metropolis in the distant future, known as Kayel City. It was named after the Capitol of a country long forgotten. There were no longer any countries after the Fallout anyway, but rather individual cities that arose with the preference of being self-governed, for the people by the people, auspicium melioris aevi, blah blah blah, yada yada yada, so on and so forth.

On the up side, individual cities meant that they would be easier to both manage and control. It also meant unwavering loyalty on the citizens' part, most because leaving the City for another had recently knocked off "detonating a bomb with your teeth" from top spot in Riddly's Top 10 List of Messy Suicides.

On the down side, the leaders of various cities happen to take a very feudalistic view when considering their neighbours (if they should consider them at all). This probably meant that throwing up on the wrong side of the City border could very well spark off another inter-City holocaust.

Most of Kayel City's trouble came from a fine, island City about 300 kilometres south called "Sg". Petty disputes that were perennially "settled" between both Cities resulted in nuclear warheads becoming so commonplace that the microwave oven shot up to first place in Riddly's Top 10 List of Redundant Home Appliances overnight and had stayed there ever since.

The City of Sg was nothing more than a mere, insignificant speck on the World Map, meaning that it wouldn't take more than half a warhead to sink it to the bottom of the ocean. But ironically the good thing about being small and insignificant was that Sg was exceedingly hard to target, and even harder to hit. It therefore came as no surprise that whatever ballistic missiles Kayel launched at Sg either landed in the sea or in the Cities further south, making the haze and the smell of clove cigarette smoke passably bearable.

It wasn't as if the Sgians were spot-on either, but whenever Sgian warheads missed and landed in one of Kayel's many disgruntled neighbours, they would in turn retaliate by bombarding Kayel with warheads of their own, and the message "I believe this belonged to you" would follow shortly after.

Consequently, the two cities had settled for a truce (which is a probably a nice way of saying "let's not fight until I restock on WMDs and find other 'good' reason to use them on you"), nevertheless the residual gamma radiation did unspeakable things to the populace. Those who were more susceptible to its ravages had begun to take on weird mutations, while a selected few had resisted, attaining superhuman powers in the process. And then there was the majority of Kayel City who were so bloody apathetic and whose genetic structures were so inert that even the fiercest of gamma persecutions could not alter them.

As a result, a Caste system was formed, prejudicially placing the "Superiors" on top and leaving the "Mutants" at the bottom. The apathetic ones naturally wanted nothing to do with it and were invariably filed under "Miscellaneous". And since the Miscellanea wouldn't even lift a finger to save themselves from their own existential quandaries, nothing was being done about the Mutant predicament of being forced into slavery.

Jonathan Constantire gave a sigh from behind the newspaper he had been reading. Keeping abreast with the news (or at least what the newspaper decided was "news") was tiresome at best. He paused for effect, and when he was pretty sure that nobody was paying attention, he gave another sigh. This time more emphatically.

"Yes, what is it Constant?" a voice from the coffee table had said.

"The Mayor wants to see me again today," replied Constantire without looking up from his paper.

"As yourself or as Agent Jonny Constant?"

"Myself of course. Apart from you, nobody else knows that Agent Jonny Constant and Jonathan Constantire are one and the same." The newspaper turned a page.

"So why are you telling me all this?"

"I want you to come with me."

"Hmmph!" the voice from the coffee table had sniffed, "As if I have a bloody say in this whole thing, seeing as to how you carry me around wherever and whenever you should fancy. I swear, if I had a pair of legs, I wouldn't even be on this table. Bloody uncomfortable if you ask me."

"I thought I'd just be nice and let you know," reasoned Constantire, "at least you have one less excuse for asking 'are we there yet?' every five minutes. It annoys the hell out of me."

"Umm... do you mind?"

"Huh, what? Oh yes. Sorry about that." Constantire reached forward and picked up a katana (samurai sword) from the table and shifted it gently to the sofa.

"Ahh. That's more like it," said the voice, this time from the sofa.

"Enjoy it while you can, Rausvorne, because after I come out of the shower it's back into your scabbard for you," smirked Constantire as he headed for the bathroom.

"Hey! Didn't you say you were going to polish me today?" the voice suddenly recalled.

Constantire looked thoughtful for moment. "Maybe not today," he said eventually, "you'll probably get dirty again."

*****

In the heart of Kayel City stood a foreboding tower called the Left Half. It was short for the "Left Half of The Kayel City Centre [something] Towers" (names, like buildings, eroded with each turn of the Centuric Hourglass). Unlike its surrounding buildings, the Left Half only sported less than a hundred storeys, and possibly had the least glamourous of futures. Yet, of all the buildings in entire Kayel, it had the most glamourous past. Millennia ago, in a relatively happier Era and when there were still such things as "Countries", there were two such towers standing side by side, connected by a skybridge. It was truly the envy of the World, especially after a certain Country in the West had theirs blown up when a couple of planes crashed misguidedly into them; and all because their pilots had decided to leave their consoles unattended just so that they could go for a nice, long piss.

And then, about, oh say a few decades back, in a situation best described by the children's song "Ten Green Bottles", one "green bottle" had "accidentally" fallen because a Mayor of the past had idiotically decided to build a missile silo directly underneath it. Initially there was no cause for concern, not until the Sgians - after one too many bottles of refined sewage - had claimed that Kayel should show them a little more Respeckt!

"Respeckt! eh? I'll show them Respeckt!" declared the Mayor then, and pushed the red button on his console. As the silo doors began to open and the foundations of the Right Half gave way, the entire tower began to lurch sideways slowly, unsteadily, before picking up speed as it toppled headlong towards the ground, taking along with it the Mayor's office, the Mayor, the console with the red button and the skybridge along with a thousand screaming citizens who had woken up early that morning just so that they could be there.

The City of Jha-Kharte, which was in relative proximity to Sg had laughed at Kayel's predicament. But seeing as to how abysmally aimed the warheads were, they had not laughed for very long.

*****

"What are you doing, fool?"

"Trying to find out how to get to my car," muttered Constantire as he stared frustratedly at a massive oaken bookshelf, his sword hanging casually in its scabbard from his shoulder.

If Rausvorne had any teeth, it would have clicked them in disapproval. Four years ago, a Mutant blacksmith had forged a katana under immense gamma exposure, causing some of the DNA from the smith's hands that was initially on the sword blank to meld into the platinum alloy. Adorned with intricate runes and magnificent engravings, Rausvorne, as it was later named, became the result of months of dedicated, meticulous smithing. Metal atoms and humonoid DNA had rearranged themselves in the intense heat and radiation to give it, literally, a mind of its own. No one could explain how Rausvorne's thoughts were able to vocalize, despite it having no mouth. And no one, especially just after owning it, was composed enough to entertain the idea of finding out.

"You know, my last owner said I was sharp and edgy."

"Oh really now?" mumbled Constantire dismissively as he futilely shuffled the books around with increasing agitation.

"Have you tried 'How To Get Rich Quick by Robin Banks'?"

Although the katana had no eyes, it possessed limited prescient capabilities, enabling it to foresee the immediate future that is the now, effectively becoming its "sight". Constantire found this exceedingly useful, since it could see about three seconds into future - which was approximately the time it takes a television set, when thrown out the window by an inconsiderate Miscellaneous, to hit him. On the other hand, prescience had its annoying moments too, especially during that week when Rausvorne had undergone an identity crisis and began thinking it was a Magic 8-Ball.

"Yes I have," Constantire sighed.

"What about 'Psychiatric Woes by R. Yukrayzi'?"

Constantire hummed thoughtfully as his fingers reached for the leather bound tome. No sooner had he given it a gentle tug when the entire bookshelf began to whirr as it slowly started to revolve.

"Am I smart or am I smart?" burbled the katana happily as the half-circle revolution concluded with a click.

"Yea whatever," Constantire was heard to have said.

"Dude, did you bring your keys?"

"Oh bugger!" there was a long, uncomfortable silence, followed by the sound of more volumes being shifted, and then "which book to go back again?"

*****

A young Mutant tore across the street, having just exited from the Left Half. She was a teenage girl in her early stages of mutation. Already she had grown two extra fingers on either hand, but her final form - or Terminal as it was called - had yet to be determined. In her hands she clutched a yellowish-brown paper bag close to her budding chest while she constantly stole glances behind her as she ran.

The doors of the Left Half exploded in a massive fireball as two Superiors ran out, with shouts of "THAT'S COMING OUT OF YOUR SALARY, HOMER!" trailing in their wake, in hot pursuit of the girl.

"No one steals from The Gahmen!" declared one of the Superiors as he hurled another fireball in her general direction.

"Homer, you idiot! You might damage the package!" hissed the other Superior, on whose jacket a badge that said "Kye" was pinned. "Let me handle this one."

In a blink of the eye, Kye, who was standing beside Homer a mere split-second ago, now stood before the girl, blocking her progress.

"Going somewhere?" Kye asked as she made a lunge for the Mutant who had nimbly side-stepped to avoid her. Swivelling around, the young girl lashed out a well-aimed kick at the Superior's shin. And just when contact seemed imminent, she had suddenly found, in the twinkling of an eye, that Kye was holding her foot in a vice-like grip.

"Let go of me!" she cried.

"You see, Mutant, resistance is -" but she did not get a chance to finish her sentence because a television set had bounced squarely off her head. The girl looked up to the window above where four Mutants had poked their heads out.

"Wasn't me," announced a Mutant with two noses, his hands raised, and gave a knowing wink. The other Mutants had begun their whistling and cat-calls on how The Gahmen should go take a hike to Sg.

Homer was seething now, and was about to lob a fireball into the window when suddenly a car that looked more like a lunchbox on wheels turned in from the bend, slid, skidded, screeched, flipped over three times and landed in a halt, roof-first, on the sidewalk.

The tall figure of man, dressed in a black trenchcoat, sporting a black leather hat and a pair of outrageous shades crawled out of the window of the upturned lunchbox of a car.

"Gotta work on your parking, mofo!" the tall figure seemed to complain to himself.

Homer peered quizzically at the crawling figure with mild apprehension. Where had he seen that character before? Let's see now: lunchbox-like car, black trenchcoat, black hat, act-cool shades and occasional bouts of schizophrenia. Fear gripped him as realization slammed home in the hardest way possible.

"Jonny Constant!"

"That's Agent Jonny Constant to you!" said the man as he got to his feet, katana drawn and at the ready.

"Incoming!" yelled Rausvorne, giving Jonny ample time to roll away just before a jet of flame, courtesy of Homer, roared past the spot where he once had stood.

"How did you..."

Agent Constant leapt forward, aiming a slash to decapitate his opponent. He would have succeeded if Homer had not ducked. The Superior countered with a roundhouse to the stomach, and sent Constant doubling in fire and pain.

"Let's end this now!" cackled Homer as his fists began to glow an unnatural red.

Constant had to recover quickly if he didn't want to be the official mascot of the Kayelian Inept Fire-eater's Association. And he did, narrowly escaping the second blast by a mere few inches. He skidded dramatically to a halt as he changed his bearings from dodge to advance. Adrenaline went into sheer overdrive as Constant closed in on Homer, feinted right, switched sword hands and impaled the stunned Superior's bladder in a vicious lunge.

On the 66th Floor of the Left Half, the Mayor of Kayel watched in disconcertion as Homer crumpled lifelessly to the pavement. The Mutant girl had already disappeared behind an alley, but he filed it mentally until "KIV" until further notice. For now, there were more pressing matters at hand. His gaze fell upon one triumphant Agent Jonny Constant as his mouth twisted into a silent snarl. And then he looked at his watch, and his snarl contorted into a product of unthinkable annoyance. What the hell was taking that idiot Jonathan Constantire so damn long?

In the blink of an eye:

Agent Jonny Constant: Part II

Gory, Gory Man United

2005-04-03T01:24:00.000+08:00

Gory, Gory Man United
By Eddie G.

I don’t usually take much fancy at swearing at cursing at my television set. But for the past two hours, that was how I spent the dwindling of a Saturday night. Of course many questions undoubtedly come to mind, for instance, shouldn’t someone as upwardly mobile as Eddie G. be at some kinda pub in Bangsar getting drunk on a Saturday night? The answer? Yes, he should, but getting drunk needs money. (Well so does swearing and cursing in front of a television set, but at least he’s not paying for it)

On to the next question then. Why was Eddie G. cursing and swearing at his (or rather his Aunt’s) television set when the only sinful thing it ever did in its 3-year-warrantied life was to air forgivably stupid shows which include, but are not limited to, Gilligans’s Island and Akademi Fantasia? (Okay, maybe the latter isn’t that forgivable).

The answer will need you to use your imagination for a bit. Firstly, picture a beautiful, lush green field, totally untouched by the ravages of Man (and/or Woman if you ladies would like exercise your equal rights to bring yourselves down to our level) except for the fact an entire stadium had been built around it. Now picture a white rectangle being painted along the perimeter of the field, followed by the setting up of two large nets on either side. Now picture a white spherical implement called “the ball” placed in the middle of the field. Now picture 22 grown men desperately needing rest chasing the white spherical implement. Now picture 67000 over grown men desperately needing exercise watching the 22 grown men. In other planets, their inhabitants would call this “unethical, shameless torture employed by one of our twisted, sadistic deities for their amusement”. On Earth, we call it “sport” and we revere it. Still think we’re the most intelligent race in the Universe?

Before I digress any further, here’s what’s been eating at me. I spent the past two hours watching a football match. Not just any football match, mind you. I was watching my favourite team – the Red Dickheads, I mean, Devils – in action. Many have questioned my choice of football team in the past (then again, many have questioned my sanity, making the former issue a mere triviality), but one reason why I’m such an ardent supporter of Manchester United is basically because of the plain and simple fact that they play good football. The fact that I’ve been supporting Man U since they won the Treble in 1999 and don’t want to look like a bloody turncoat by supporting another team had never crossed my mind. Honestly!

So came the preview of the match. Manchester United could do less but win in order to keep their slim Championship hopes alive, thought that wasn’t really much of a concern. The experts sat down and talked about how the match could, should and perhaps even would turn out, and they all said “Manchester United will win this one, no doubt about it”. Perhaps I should have taken the term “experts” with a pinch of salt seeing as to how the real experts were on the pitch warming up instead of making their asses comfortable in some TV studio. Regardless, the winds held Man U in their favour.

But the winds turned out to be nothing more than hot air when both groups of "experts" failed to make their opponents, Blackburn Rovers, bite the dust. Before the match began, Man U looked solid and fearsome and Blackburn looked vaguely shaky. At the end of the match the Devils had let slip of two precious points towards their already ethereal Premiership title chase before a resolute Blackburn defence.

In other news, a Thierry Henry hat-trick gave Arse Wanker and his pimps at Highbury a commanding 4-1 win over Norwich City (they’re sponsored by Proton, what did you all expect? A Champions’ League spot?), moving them up to 2nd place and on level points with United. Bugger them.

As far as I’m concerned, to say that today’s performance by United was a lacklustre one would probably have the same effect as saying that the Niagara Falls can be found somewhere on Earth. I always thought myself naïve to believe that United actually still had a whiff of winning England’s Holy Grail of football, but tonight the realization came full and hard – like a good, heady kick to the genitals.

So what excuse does Sir Alex Ferguson have this time? No longer can he put the blame on injuries. Although winger Ryan Giggs was taken short earlier in the match, all the other United players, with exception to perhaps Ruud van Nistelrooy, were in tip top condition. Yet, despite fielding a star-studded cast in tonight’s game, United were constantly frustrated by a Blackburn side that cost (monetarily that is) only a mere fraction of theirs to put together.

Credit where credit’s due, the Rovers did exceptionally well and were kept from going behind by a combination of good saves from custodian Brad Friedel, the woodwork and a timely off-the-line clearance from Pederson in the first half. The second half wasn’t to be any better. United kept losing possession in midfield and their chances were half-hearted at best.

Having said all that, I have come to the conclusion that Manchester United really deserve NOT to win this season. Despite having lost only twice so far this season so far, they have drawn too many games for my liking. It really is something that’s painful for me to say, especially as a United fan. But the truth does hurt. Better luck next year, Fergie!

And my advice to Chelski, you “deserve” the title that you extravagantly and effectively paid for. Enjoy it while you can, because number one, everyone gets sick of playing Football Manager 04/05 sooner or later and Roman Abromovich will be no exception, and number two, next year the Premiership Title is going back (and in bubble-wrap I might add) to Old Trafford.

Eddie's Nocturne

2005-03-31T14:22:00.000+08:00

Eddie's Nocturne
By Eddie G.

When the sun has set, and the day is gone
Will you think of me?
Come take a look inside my heart forlorn
Tell me what do you see?

Oh I remember the day you went away
Oh what can I say?

[Chorus]
Why can't you see that you really mean so much
What's wrong with me? Am I really losing my touch
My heart is broken beyond repair
But it's not as if you care
About me

I turn off the lights, and close my eyes
Still I think of you.
It's only then that I realize
That there's nothing I can do.

Why are you haunting my memories?
Don't you know it's driving me mad?

[Chorus]
Why can't you see that you really mean so much
What's wrong with me? Am I really losing my touch
My heart is broken beyond repair
But it's not as if you care
About me

So when the sun has set, and the day is gone
I still feel the pain
But the darkest hour is just before dawn
And I will love again

And though you tell me that there's no point in waiting
I am still waiting for you...

[Chorus]
Why can't you see that you really mean so much
What's wrong with me? Am I really losing my touch
My heart is broken beyond repair
But it's not as if you care

Why can't you see that you really mean so much
What's wrong with me? Am I really losing my touch
My heart is broken beyond repair
But it's not as if you care
About me

Everything you need to know about Eddiegness

2005-02-24T22:19:00.000+08:00

By Eddie G.

The word "Eddiegness" is usually said with the same tone of voice as one would say the word "Duuuuuude". In a nutshell, Eddiegness is high-profile lycanthropy. But what exactly is it and what spheres of mannerisms does it encompass? This post, which will touch on the 10 major "symptoms" (as well as the cure) of Eddiegness, will perhaps open your mortal eyes.

The 10 Major Symptoms of Eddiegness

1) Extreme talent

Not to put too fine a point on it, but if you find yourself capable of doing things others cannot and/or doing things better than what others normally can, why kid yourself by saying that you're normal? The hawk that chooses to fly with the sparrows will inevitably feel underachieved... not to mention hungry.

2) Unquestionable yet unconvincing intelligence

For many, it is easy to tell whether he/she has got the smarts or is a complete idiot. But for Eddie G., you can't always be 100% sure. More often than not, hE can be found doing and saying the dumbest of things at inappropriate times. The stark contrast is that just as you're about to pass it off as ordinary brainlessness, your 6th sense tells you that there seems to be a method in hiS madness, though hiS motives may remain unclear altogether.

3) Intolerance towards the incompetent

It's cold and lonely at the top, but that is something that Eddie G. cannot fathom. Imagine trying to explain that "one plus one equals two" to someone who just won't get it no matter how hard you try. That's what Eddiegness is about, only on an incomprehensibly larger scale. It can sometimes be extremely frustrating to see the ones you care about struggle with their problems while the solution is right in front of their noses making monkey-faces at them. Ironically, nobody - including Eddie G. himselF - is infallible, which probably explains why hE's so damn pissed with himselF most of the time.

4) Hatred for the self-righteous

Being self-righteous is believing that one does not need any damn help from anyone – a mentality which brings about needless condescension. The reason why this pisses The Eddie G. off so much because it goes against hiS belief that egoism, if legitimate, should be quiet but firm.

5) Constantly living in paradox

Take points 3) and 4) as perfect examples of being a living, breathing paradox. Striving to maintain a decent balance between the aforementioned points alone is already capable enough of causing a headache no amount of aspirin can possibly cure. While many believe that this sort of injury is self-inflicted, The Eddie G. can safely assure you that at hiS level, it is not.

6) Blatant disregard for authority

If you want to tell Eddie G. what or what not to do, you better be doing (or not doing) it as well. On top of that, you better do it well. If not, shut the fuck up and you might just realize that a self-governed Eddie G. might not be such a bad thing after all. In retrospect, hE only started using hiS middle finger after the teachers told hiM that hE wasn’t supposed to do so (they got the first one, of course). This principle does not apply to God because He is perfect in every way and also invented the cheeseburger. And since hiS parents took great pains to bring hiM, they too are excluded from everyone else. Within reason of course…

7) Singlehood

Quite self-explanatory; and ego-bruising. Moving right along…

8) Exclusive taste in music

If you think that by going up on stage in a group of five, sporting faggotish choreography and lip-synching to lyrics – that you neither wrote nor played – about your “white bourgeois lives” (as quoted by Weng my man) is music, you have no idea of the expletives the Eddie G. is waiting to hurl you with. In addition, some publicity stunts that artistes pull off (i.e. getting “two” nose jobs, bleaching your skin and sharing your bed with children) are relatively acceptable. Others (i.e. marrying some brainless turd for two days only to divorce him so that you can re-marry someone else) are inexplicably retarded. Eddie G. also listens to Chopin (pronounced “sho-pahn”). It’s well about time you bloody did so too.

9) Indifference to the opinion of others

What and how The World thinks about Eddie G. is totally impertinent. After all, the jealous and inferior you will always have with you. Hence, there really is no point in severing ties with every single dork who thinks you’re an ass because there won’t be anyone left to lick your boots when they finally come to terms with their pitiful ignorance.

10) Procrastination

Why put off something till tomorrow when it could be put off indefinitely? The only matters The Eddie G. will contemplate completing on time are the ones that are most profitable to hiM (i.e. total word count does not exceed that of 250). If truth be known, the piece of paper they call “The Degree” is more bought than earned in University. So since The Eddie G. has “paid” for it, why not sit back and enjoy the ride at the expense of your lecturers’ sanity?

The Cure for Eddiegness

Why would you want to find a cure for Eddiegness, you stupid wanker?

Sawto Voase

2005-02-14T00:40:00.000+08:00

Sawto Voase
By Eddie G.

The window was wide open when I entered the bedroom. Of course, I hadn’t gone in through there. After all, only idiots who can’t even fathom the principle that underwear should be worn inside the tights come in from windows despite the fact that doors make that job so much easier. My apprentice plodded quietly behind me. The fact that the night air was still and humid probably explained why our client slept with his windows open. Perhaps it was also out of fear. Fear of… the unexpected.

“Bloody dark in here,” muttered my apprentice as he stumbled in.

“Shh!” I whispered softly but intensely, “remember what Rule 4(C) of the Handbook says.”

“Oh that’s right!” he replied, his volume dropping sharply, “‘Always speak in sawto voase’”

“Sotto voce”

“That’s what I said.”

“Whatever.”

I made a quick scan about the room which, lighted by the pale moon, had a gothic and dreary feel to it. My eyes squinted in the darkness, trying to single out some salient and noteworthy items. A family portrait hung precariously above the king size bed where our client lay snoring.

“Ah, brings back memories, doesn’t it?” I chuckled grimly as my gaze leveled on a stern-looking old man sitting squarely in the centre, “Lord Jonathan Winters, my former client. A very unpopular character indeed if memory serves. And here, lies his offspring and our current client.”

“All I see is Darkness,” intoned my apprentice solemnly.

“That’s because you’re hood's down, you fool! And whatever the hell are you wearing that for anyway?”

“I thought it was part of the uniform?”

Sure I’ve had my share of greenhorns in the past, but I was quite confident I could wash my hands behind the ears of this one.

“Take off that silly hood and listen up; it’s time for a pop quiz,” I ordered. “Rule 12(6) of the Handbook says ‘Take a quick check at the objects strewn about the clients’ room, so that you shall gain insight on his/her interests’. Why is this necessary?”

“‘So that the journey won’t be riddled with bouts of uncomfortable silence.’”

“Well done. At least you’ve been doing your homework,” I nodded in approval. Pointing to the gramophone by the side wall, I asked, “What does that tell you about our client?”

“Uh… he likes music?”

“Look closer, fool!”

“Oh… it’s only for display,” my apprentice realized after seeing the broken needle, “he must be a collector of sorts.”

“Close. He wants his peers to think him cultured and refined. As a result, most of his clutter of relics here are nothing more that white elephants. Take that grandfather’s clock for example,” I said while directing his attention to the corner where a huge towering clock sat, gathering dust and cobwebs.

My apprentice however was eyeing a bagful of sticks.

“What are these for?”

“Oh these,” I coughed, “he uses those to hit the ground and scream expletives while attempting to knock around little white balls. They call it ‘golf’, and every time he plays it, he gets a tad older and a lot grumpier.”

“Then why does he play it?”

“For leisure. Don’t stare at me like that. It’s not as if you’ve known humans for the first time.”

We spent the next few minutes probing around for more telltale odds and ends, each find having its own story to tell. Take for instance a cigar case with the word “Winters” engraved on it resting on a bedside table, a probable family heirloom handed down from one chronic smoker to another. And then there was a priceless Ming vase which our client was witlessly using as a spittoon. And then there was the thong. No comment.

“Alright. Time has expired,” I finally announced, “Do you want to give it a try this time or do you want me to show you how it’s done again?”

“Uh… once more if you don’t mind,” my apprentice pleaded.

“Very well,” I sighed, "But this time shall be the last!" Without warning, I raised my scythe and in one fluid slash, drew the soul of our client out of his body.

The soul of the sleeping man stared at us, and then at his body. In stunned silence, his mouth was wide agape, but did nothing more.

“I’m sure this won’t be easy on you Mr. Winters, but my apprentice here will fill you in on the nitty-gritty while we head for the nearest purgatory. This way please.”

As my apprentice ushered our client out of his former room, I took one last look around. The body of the last of the Winters lay motionless in its bed. Fate had long decided this family line to end in most abrupt fashion. That of course, was none of my business. As I turned to leave, the bag of golf clubs caught my eye once more.

I suppose I could use some work on my swing.

This Game

2005-01-30T23:00:00.000+08:00

This Game
by Eddie G.

Letting go of you is something
That I can do until the phone rings
And you're telling me that we could
Work things out once more

Well I don't blame you for your trying
But my eyes are done with crying
And I can't take it when I see you
Walking out the door

[Chorus]
And I don't want to hear
Your stupid apologies again
'Cos I know I'll get all soft and weak
And this game will never end
And part of me believes
That one day our dreams
Will all come true,
But it has to be a day without you.

What's a man to do when he's all
Broken from that fated phone call
And life begins to spiral out of
Perspective and of view

And finally when I wake up sober
I'll lie in bed and think it over
Was it really worth the while to
Fall in love with you

[Chorus]
And I don't want to hear
Your stupid apologies again
'Cos I know I'll get all soft and weak
And this game will never end
And part of me believes
That one day our dreams
Will all come true,
But it has to be a day without you.

And finally when I wake up sober
I'll lie in bed and think it over
Was it really worth the while to
Fall in love with you...

[Chorus]
And I don't want to hear
Your stupid apologies again
'Cos I know I'll get all soft and weak
And this game will never end
And part of me believes
That one day our dreams
Will all come true,
But it has to be a day
Yes, there's gotta be a way

And I don't want to hear
Your stupid apologies again
'Cos I know I'll get all soft and weak
And this game will never end
And part of me believes
That one day our dreams
Will all come true,
But it has to be a day
Without you.

Moronic Tendencies

2005-01-21T20:41:00.001+08:00

Moronic Tendencies

by Eddie G.

Moronic tendencies
Come and go as they please
That's how I got my cast
And dental cavities

If ignorance is bliss,
What do I gain from this?
You're speaking way too fast
I need to take a piss.

[Chorus]
Da da dee da da,
I'm never going drinking again
Da da dee da da,
But who I am kidding, my friend

It's not so bad you know,
When I get in the flow
I feel just like a squid
With nowhere left to go.

I've got it bad this time,
I can't complete this rhyme
And even if I did,
It would confuse my mind..
(what the hell is wrong with me?)

[Chorus]
Da da dee da da,
I'm never going drinking again
Da da dee da da,
But who I am kidding, my friend

Da da dee da da,
One is never more than enough
Da da dee da da,
Excuse me while I go take a barf.

That's how the story goes
In poetry or prose
Oh baby can't you see
I'm bleeding from the nose

Where do I go from here?
I think I'll have a beer
Will you buy one for me?
I hope the toilet's near

[Chorus]
Da da dee da da,
I'm never going drinking again
Da da dee da da,
But who I am kidding, my friend

Da da dee da da,
Do come and visit me in jail
Da da dee da da,
Bring along some money for the bail

Da da dee da da,
I'm never going drinking again
I'm never going drinking again
I'm never going drinking again...
(repeat until tired)

Kite

2004-12-10T13:10:00.000+08:00

Wrote this song on 16th Nov 2004. Mostly because I had nothing better to do. Enjoy.

Kite
By Eddie G.

This song makes no sense at all
And that makes sense to me
I hear that pride goes before a fall
And I'm proud to be stuck up this tree

So kick bick and enjoy the ride
'Cos it's a long way down
I'm sick of you being a thorn in my side
I'm tired of being kicked around

[Chorus]
Stand up, stand out, stand tall and shout
Or sit down, shut up and let them figure it out
Be nice. Don't fight, don't kick, don't bite
And everything will be alright.

My life is like a paradox
'Cos I say my thoughts before I think
Your lies are like your pair of socks
They're full of holes and then they stink

So don't be silly, don't take your life
It's not a wise thing to do
Now be good and hand me that knife
I'll be glad to do the job for you

[Chorus]
Stand up, stand out, stand tall and shout
Or sit down, shut up and let them figure it out
Be nice. Don't fight, don't kick, don't bite
And everything will be alright
Yea everything will be alright
And you can do nothing right
So go fly your kite