Dearest Cecilia,
I'm back from Hong Kong and back in school. I know I haven't blogged much about my holidays but let me tell all of you that it's because of you that this holiday was so fufilling and so much awesome fun! I will post about Hong Kong soon..Once I do a little retouching of the photos I took there. I don't have anything new written that I could post, as much as I want to write, I'm dry...Sigh...Multiple fullstops is a sign that I'm running out of steam here. Once more, thank you guys(especially all you CAPPERS) for making this a great holiday!

Labels: school

Hello Cecilia and loves!
Hmmm. Holidays are ending soon and there's been a lot going on that I haven't covered but I think I'll leave that for a post next Sunday. Here to say "goodbye my lovers, goodbye my friends, you have been the one, you have been the one for me". If some of you lovely poppies(it's such a cute term) are blur or uninformed, I'm leaving for Hong Kong/Macau with my family tomorrow and will only be coming on Sunday. I'm so sorry to be missing loads of stuff such as Wenhui's birthday party and Bowling with the DB8ers but I know I'm going to have a kickass time there! Sigh.. I think I sound so dry in what I've written above. I must be a personality-less blogger. Oh well. Oh and because Gregory Alva Eoin Ng browbeat me into sticking to my writing commitments for the day, I wrote my first love poem. It sounds different from the way I usually write(cuz of you and Greg, JOY!)my poems, but I love it to bits. I think I shall give it to you people as a little token gift for bothering to read this.

The Morning After

I.

The messy sheets I’m sprawled under
Are the colour of your absence,
They feel like black cherries
Staining our fingers, faces,
Facts. An escape from summer
Heat.

The heat that isn’t
On your side of the bed.

Unmade sheets are stories
But your chapter is uncreased
and neat. Unwritten.
Or maybe, the blank page
writes enough.

The blank page you filled.

II.

The messy sheets I wish you were
under, would feel like
a secret whispered before dinner.
The air’d smell of childish conspiracy
and elated silence.
We know what happened and no
one else does.

It’s our little secret,
What happened last night
‘tween the messy sheets
I wish you were under

III.

The messy sheets we were under
felt like the hangover.
The regret for the night before
overpowers the stench of alcohol

There’s something to be said.
If the words would only condense
into my grasp. But they’re
quite content remaining just
out of my grasp.

The words will come later,
an aftermath to the tidal
shock you left in your wake

And they’ll keep me company
Under your messy sheets,
That ring too loudly of you.

Hmm..That's it for today and possibly the rest of the week. Gosh, I really do sound personality-less. Best get off as soon as possible and start searching for that personality. I'm sure I uploaded it to my phone....

Seeya guys(and Cecilia!)

Labels: goodbyes, writings

Drop a tag and:

1. I'll respond with something random about you
2. I'll challenge you to try something
3. I'll pick a colour that I associate with you
4. I'll tell you something I like about you
5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of
7. I'll ask you something I've always wanted to ask you
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your blog

I got this adorable list thing from Joy. I'll answer it for anyone who drops a tag. Joy answered mine.

1. Twiggy boy.
2. Flirt outrageously with Crawshaw the next time you see him. :D OR wear a Sari for the next CAP outing.
3. Yellow. Like the ACS tie yellow.
4. Dude, you are hilarious.
5. The infamous moment when you stood up and confessed to stalking Greg's blog.
6. A MANDRAKE. Which isn't really an animal but looks like one.
7. Eh got develop any crush over the course of CAP or not? ;D

So drop a tag, my pretties!

Cheryl

1. Mummy!
2. Talk ghetto with Greg
3. Tan
4. Your the greatest MUMMY ever! No, seriously, your super patient regardless of how annoying I am(in child persona or out of child persona)
5. The first day of workshops, we were sitting together for tea
6. A cute lion that roars like it doesn't mean it.
7. Hmmm. Is there some freudian logic behind why you like being a mummy?

Annabeth
1. Bubbles!
2. I dunno..really.
3. NUS HIGH SCHOOL uniform green
4. Your really comfortable with who you are
5. The time we were playing round robin games and you told me you like girls
6. A bushbaby
7. Aargh! Every question I ask you, you'll be open about, so it's no fun! Oh well, how far have you gone with anyone?

Cassie

1.(argh.. in this case there are a lots of words that come to mind)
FIERCE! HOOGA-SHAKA-CAVEMAN! FASHIONISTA!
2.Do a runway show in front of everyone at Fort Canning!
(not so hard, cuz everyone will be goofing off there)
3. Purple. Standard purple
4. Your great fun to be around with
5. The OG games, judging by your -_-" face, I thought you would be the unfriendly/bitchy kind. BUT I WAS WRONG -hugs-
6. A caveman! with a long fringe!
7. What do you want to be?

Labels: lists, quizzes

Most Fruitful Yuki is by far the most amazing Pregnant-Superhero-In-Japanese-Schoolgirl -Uniform-For-Fetishists archetype nonexistent manga character ever. She has inspired me to come up with similar cool manga characters.

1. Gasumi of the Ghetto!
"Yo wassup homie-san!"
2. Tatsuki the Tranny Fashionista!
I sense a new fetish!
3. Liru the Lisping Femme Fatale
"Hewwo Hassome"

Sigh. can't think of anymore

Labels: random

CONGRATULATIONS CASSANDRA SIM FOR LEARNING THE BOTTLE GAME!
MAY YOU ATTAIN THE GRACE AND !FIERCENESS OF A EXPERT BOTTLE GAMER IN THE NEAR FUTURE!
Yours sincerely,
Your appreciative fangirling-reciever
Rohan

A convo on Sunday or Saturday, between me and Xin Yi. I must confess, I forgot about it..

A TREE AS AN ALLEGORY FOR CAP

Xin Yi says:
eh i cant help it, what litle intelligence i have was sucked up by CAP

Hope is the Denial of Reality says:
where got? ure intelligence is supposed to blossom into a beautiful flower after CAP!

Xin Yi says:
eh it just wilted into a pile of rotting petals leh

Hope is the Denial of Reality says:
have no fear! together we will nourish it into a beautiful rafflesia of inspiration

Xin Yi says:
and water it everyday with the nourishing juice of creativity

Hope is the Denial of Reality says:
and plant it in the manure of healing silence

Xin Yi says:
fertilize it with the awe inspiring brillance of crawshaw's cateering

Xin Yi says:
*catering

Hope is the Denial of Reality says:
and spray it with the pesticide of chu ting and mamidi's night checks

Xin Yi says:
prune it with nadia's (non) funny jokes

Hope is the Denial of Reality says:
and then...deforest it with the last day of CAP08..

Xin Yi says:
sob

Cry Xin Yi. Cry all you want. NO ONE'S GOING TO HEAR YOU! HAHA OWNDZORZ! :p

Labels: CAP, chats

Hello Cee, CAPpers and all!
I need to blog. But nothing signinficant is happening. Debate camp is on, but nothing blogworthy. So I shall stick in a random short story I wrote for my CAP portfolio. Criticism is always appreciated.

-------~~~~----~~~~

The bartender placed the champagne flute onto its stand and twirled the cloth around index finger. It was twenty minutes before his shift would end and the bar was empty. He could cut corners a little. As he walked from behind the counter, a man stumbled in, legs unbalanced and arms limp. Drunk, depressed or both, the bartender decided, quickly figuring out the suited man.

“A scotch on the rocks” the man slurred a little at the end, though still coherent. The bartender looked at the clock, then sighed. He didn’t have much to look forward to, except a hard couch. He and Sarah hadn’t slept in the same room for a month now. He handed the man a glass of orange juice and informed him, rather unnecessarily, “You’re drunk.” The man smiled into his orange juice, staring at his skewed reflection.

“What’s your name?” the man asked, looking up to face the bartender.

“Gabriel”

“Like the angel? That’s a good Catholic name. Honest, like a man who’d keep to his promises. You’re that kind of man, aren’t you, Gabriel? I can see it in your eyes.” Gabriel flinched slightly. It wasn’t like he believed the man. It was the way he said it, suddenly sober and earnest. Unsure of what to say, he mumbled something about not being anything like an angel. The man chuckled, and downed half of the juice.

“Tell me, Gabriel, have you ever been in a confession box? I’ve sinned tonight, and I need a priest.” He paused. “Will you be my priest tonight, Gabriel?”

Gabriel hadn’t been to church since he was eight. His parents had never bothered to pretend that they believed in God and so he never felt the need either. But besides that, this man confused, even scared him. Whatever this man had done, he’d rather not know.

“Father, forgive me for I have sinned tonight,” the man started, pausing expectantly.

“Tell me of your sins.”

The man cupped his hands around the glass with his eyes closed, almost as in prayer.

“I killed a woman tonight, Lord. I was sleeping with her although we were both married. She was so beautiful when she slept, her bare legs tangled in mine. Her skin would be flushed with the glow of our sex and the moonlight would be dancing off her plump lips.”

The man paused to take off his hat and Gabriel caught a glimpse of the thinning ring of hair on the man’s head. This man sounded so truthful, but drunkards played stupid pranks sometimes. He would know.

“I gave her everything I could, told her I’d leave my family for her but she didn’t want me to. So I stopped giving. I didn’t stop loving, just stopped giving. She called me last night and told me she’d give my wife pictures of us together, unless I kept my gifts coming. I loved that bitch! But instead, she was married to that bastard, and was blackmailing me!” the man growled. clutching the glass as the orange juice shook violently, and Gabriel drew back. He could still get home to Sarah before she fell asleep and this would never have happened. No, he had made a promise to this man.

“So I went tonight, with the key she’d given me. I saw her as she slept, naked and bathed in the moonlight and the summer heat, just waiting for me. I took the pillow upon which I had lain so many times, and I smothered her beautiful face in my memory. I imagined her gasping for air, those moonlight-kissed lips spluttering and her eyes popping out. Her husband would have reached home. He will find his wife dead, and that makes me so happy.

For these hateful thoughts and sinful actions, I ask for your forgiveness, Lord.”

The man sat silently for a while. Gulping down the rest of his orange juice, he placed the glass down slowly. As the man picked up his hat and calmly adjusted it, Gabriel wondered why he wasn’t reaching for the phone. Instead he stood still, palms sweaty, eyes still wide open, watching the man walk past the tables to the stairs. What did he feel? Sympathy, fear, revulsion? What should he feel? Everything? Nothing, he decided as he curled into an emotional foetus, protected from the bombardment of emotions. But one question remained.

“Why me?” he called to the silhouette of the man in the suit as it reached for the door.

“I told you. I could see it in your eyes”

Gabriel stared at the door, as though the man remained there. Forcing himself to look away, he averted his attention to the glass the man had left. He rinsed it under the tap, distracting himself with the swirling movements of orange pulp in water. But the man came back, complete in hat and suit, with the words ringing like sirens. He was like a baboon, clinging to his back, unwilling to be shaken off. If only he could forget. Forget! He fiercely told himself. Still there. Forget, forget, FORGET!

He snatched the keys off the counter, chanting his mantra to himself, blocking out the haunting imprint the man had left on him. Flicking the lights off, he charged up the stairs, to find an officer pulling open the door.

“Mr. Abbot?” the policeman offered, tentatively, as though he hoped he was the wrong person.

“Yes?”

The officer cleared his throat. “Your wife Sarah was found dead in your bedroom an hour ago. Neighbours said they saw an unfamiliar man enter your residence. Preliminary reports suggest that it was death by asphyxiation. This may be hard, but do you have anyone you would suspect?”

“I don’t know.” He forgot.
------~~~~~~

Labels: writings