Wiseacre

The popinsay croons a sere tune (ab ovo)
coruscated
and steeped in (pseudo-) pukka
diamonds over.

and
redounded with peals of
suddenly laughter
harbouring sardony.

And the ode (to himself) was fugacious.

cuRRent...jer  ¶ 12:19 pm

  Mucus

Mufa: Why do you need tissue paper?
Me: Uhm. Because I have disgusting mucus in my nose now, you wanna see?

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So flu has subjugated me and my nose ain't obeying very much either. I feel as if someone had clobbered me from behind. Well..apart from granting me some amnesty from school (and the wretched retrival of lacklusture grades), I thought the lack of consciousness was good. I feel rested.

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Update, update folks. I got sent home on Friday for long hair, or rather, in a very PW fashion, for "exceeding expectations". I must agree it was absolutely inane to make us stand in the torrid morning sun for a routine check in the name of inculcating good YJC values; the councillors aka the minions for the school adminstration went staking through the crowd for people who have ostensibly contravened some very highly-favoured guidelines for hair. So with a withered smile from the cur of one, I got singled out most unfortunately because I had more hair than him apparently. I mean, at any rate, I could have more hair than him. He just had a few miserable projections of hair, like you know, recently pubescent pubic hair? Bah, don't know why I came up with that analogy either.

So we were all properly chastised and yada yada yada and so we had to go for a haircut, all 60 of us naughty boys (don't you just drool at this delectable phrase, naughty boys? heh btw, i'm waiting for something of the same tittle to finish its download..almost there..*rubs hands in glee*) in the face of Ganesh's gratified expressions albeit a lil' bit too intense on the darker shades. And we couldn't impugn on the directives. We do live in a facist society afterall, don't we?

Till now, I still really don't understand why they said my hair was long. If I would measure my hair against a ruler, it should have barely occupied a quarter of the tool. Well...if I decide to measure my hair with Ganesh's chunk of meat protruding (I mean, if it still could protrude) uhm..between his legs, ...hmm.

Such are the vagaries of life.

cuRRent...jer

  ¶ 2:11 pm

  Pontificate

"...fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge. The villany you teach me, I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction."

- Shylock, Merchant of Venice, Act III Scene 1

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If you treat us as dogs, are we not entittled to yelp and whine?

cuRRent...jer  ¶ 7:21 pm

  Innards

You tickle my innards,
tickle tickle tickle.

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4 March 2004

There
(Dedicated to my recently departed friend and neighbour whom I have known for merely 5 short years)

There it was,
glittering as a body in a cradle,
howling like a boiling kettle,
blooming blindless bottomless bits,
...cracking and there it was.

So there came,
two little magpies scouring the defodils,
appalled by a single cadaver on the field,
singing softly shocking songs,
...nauseating, there came.

Petrified,
Putrefying,
Pustulent.
There he gasped,
giddy with a broken head,
"it did finally hit,
oh dear fate!"

Nobody could have known,nobody could have known,
the fire within,
has flown.
Away...

cuRRent...jer  ¶ 11:08 pm

  Red
rubber track

incarnadine,
like blood splashed
onto a rubber road.
white lines crawling,
hissing in tortuous returns;
a yawn, the jaw jerking backwards-
back. in a wide rictus that froze
in that retarded
momentum. wailing,
piercing into the air;
the mother cries
sees her child
blinded by gaulets
of rubies,
pushing through her cunt
unto that spiraling track.
to lick that blood-ied carpet,
demanding milk and hearts
that beat. pump that red essence,
into the winding tract.
the child all braced to straggle
through the circles that brave
the wild frenzied wilderness red,
to engage in the humdrum of photos,
only to rust in time
and umber- like tea,
like memories faded
turned sour by the
dripping clamouring air.
see that horizon burnt behind
this red rubber track
bloodied by the people
who were stabbed and
their warcries silenced
by the tedium that follows.
twsited out of shape
the bloody road
will swallow her-
the child as she runs
around the four-hun-d-red metres
as the white lines will cross
into the corpse that lay behind;
like vines that push their way into,
the back of the cadaver
and exit through the other;
she will bleed
onto the red rubber track
with her pleas masked by white lies
never to emerge.



cuRRent...jer
ETC is in reruns for the remaining of July.









  ¶ 11:18 pm

  Birthday

What I resented about my 17th Birthday -

1. When Bradford decided to steal my Oreo Cheesecake from the drinks uncle, the panic he caused was inevitable.

2. I could still swim around in my pile of homework.

3. No birthday sex yet.

4. I don't see any HMV vouchers yet.

5. Lots of Hugs and handshakes (Read: No HMV vouchers yet)

What I appreciated about my 17th Birthday -

1. Lots of Hugs and handshakes. Add that to a deluge of text messages, e-mail and insurance comapny birthday cards.

2. Audition for SYC ensemble singers was a success.

3. Dinner with family. Haven't had that for a very long time.

_________________________________
By the way, Happy Birthday Jeremy.

cuRRent...jer  ¶ 9:58 pm

  Kids
are evil

I think children are evil. They bounce around MRT rides as if they are the very rightful owners of the train, "I own the fucking train!" Or so, they think. Everyone paid for their rides on the locomotion, buggers; so everyone deserves a nice comfortable ride - - not with children screwing with the poles or dancing Saturdy Night Fever beside you.

You might think they are adorable. But I still hold, they are evil. One should always carry a sledgehammer whenever travelling by public transport. If the commotion gets beyond unbearable, you could always produce the tool for purpose of intimidation. However, if the devil in them or their age fails to warn them of the imminent danger...

SPLAT!
see their bodies hurl towards the window, and hear them shriek

SPLAT!
hear window crack slightly, a more agonised sound

SPLAT!
hear the pulverising of bones, that would shut them up

SPLAT!
just to make sure they are dead

SPLAT!
you know, just for the heck of it

SPLAT!
for extra measure (in case they come alive again)

Of course, aim for the head, the eyes. Albeit vaguely inspired from the toothie cartoonie characters from Happy Tree Friends, but it should grant some peace.

*By the way, Bernie suggested before in TRC, using a chainsaw to amputate those annoying kiddy legs to shut them up.
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Bah, I know I was once a kid afterall, but my mom always said I was "a monster".
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Apparently, suicide's one of the keywords to my blog. Recent keyword analyses -

1. Holding Breath Suicide ( Kingshaw the loser)
2. Inspiration for Suicide (hmmm?)
3. Suicide on trains (apparently still a popular way to die by)
4. Suicide RJC (whoa, what I wrote vis-a-vis RJC didn't go beyond cute boys making out in clandestine cubicles)
5. ostracise
6. ostracise suicide
7. YJC Suicide (who wouldn't think of suicide at YJC?)

ETC sounds like a blog that habitually features ritual disembowlment or of that sort similar to that of hari-kiri/Seppuku. So morbid hor?



cuRRent...jer  ¶ 12:25 am

  Hapless

In the face of the previous post...

Disclaimer- While I deserve to be severly flagellated for blatantly demeaning the irrevocably sad state of (most) science stream people in Singapore, it is of an exigency that we really seek to recognise the hapless standard they choose to act/speak in, therefore, we should choose to salvage the situation or, exact the deserving penal recipocration by persisting in our (the arts faculty sort of) arrogance.
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Of course, everone's no more immaculately science or arts next year, so I hope the additional influence of hummanities would demand better grammar from the soi disant science-inclined people. Snorts.

To extenuate all this clamour, you should just try speaking to my GP tutor.

cuRRent...jer  ¶ 11:44 pm

  Science

Don't you just enjoy talking to Bright?

Evil is a label you all put on those who threaten you. says:
I seem to be cursed with cheena people wherever I go.

Chicken Soup For The Ego says:
uh hur. You are in science, dear. That is probably where most of the cheebye cheenas convene.

Chicken Soup For The Ego says:
Ah! Alliteration. Am I over doing it?

Evil is a label you all put on those who threaten you. says:
HAHAHAHAHA

Evil is a label you all put on those who threaten you. says:
Shutup man, and I'm in arts, not science.

Chicken Soup For The Ego says:
eh?

Evil is a label you all put on those who threaten you. says:
Weird eh? U'd think all the jolly old chaps with flippity dictions are, but in PJ, it turns out to be where all the flippity dicks are.

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5 More Days To 17. Hope presents come in soon.

cuRRent...jer  ¶ 12:07 am