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| we all need somebody to love; can i get somebody to love |
| 06.28.05 (12:44 am) [edit] |
hello, i'm yong hui. & i think i'm oh so cool, & pretty, & witty, & donovan, & cheeky. hehe, cheeky! (: ok ok, no more cheeks talk cause i'm yong hui & i'm dead sexay baybee.
hello g.
hello j.
i'm yong hui. hoho, that rhymes. (:
i like poems, poems are fun and nice to write even if people don't remmeber the words to them. but i know that its appreciated, [i]regardless[/i]
here's my one-liner for the day, i'm yong hui, & i'm much much loved =)
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| i’ve had my run; baby im done; i gotta go home |
| 06.22.05 (11:53 pm) [edit] |
[i]it'll all be allright, i'll be home tonight, im coming back home.[/i]
you sing a sad song just to turn it around. yeah, it works i guess. its just a bad day.
i know why it seems so dissatisfying sometimes even when youre having so much fun. that discontent reeks of guilt, i find. i eat lunch with my brother, at home, we laugh over our food, prodding each other, him chewing spitting rice around the table top. & then just fer a split moment, or longer than that, i miss being small again. i miss being younger. & knowledge that that is futile pining makes it all the more wistful. i want, no, i need, a blue sky holiday.
tonight i will attempt to stay up. to battle with the dead of the world. then i will lug myself, without batting an eyelid, off to mcr to train in the searing heat. my life is so routined that it becomes unpredictable, or more likely, unbelievable. maybe its like, you always eat at pizza hut, & then one morning when the shop is closed fer renovation you are at a total loss. when i dont have training the reminder to move it move it go to the damn books has to ring out several times before it registers. i should just resign from school. i dont even like the journey there. its, disturbing. i mean, i like buses, but i actually like walking to school. oh no i sound v disgruntled. okay wrong impression created. im not, ive got dark chocolate in a mini tray beside my comp & peach juice on my left. robbie williams belting out sexed up & im pretty much chilled, yes this would be enough fer now. since tonight i'll be dealing with dead people why not get a life as i still can. oh no robbie williams just said screw you. vulgar boy, at least go, beep.
recently alot of people have been feeling scared. season is approaching & the waters are pushing their luck, folding currents tide by tide, ride unto ride. fight girls, anything less wont do. come july we strike, come july we realise. come, july.
you see, when you undress the fear, & you can address the belief, you know it was never gone.
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| in this world there is real & make believe |
| 06.21.05 (2:39 am) [edit] |
in a fit i posted an unpleasant glob of angry words. in another ive deleted the entire entry. not taking them back, but simply withholding the need, retracting the necessity to exhibit such unhealthy disrelish.
like the kid who got censured for believing in santa claus, i had a certain trust negated so suddenly & sharply; & it sure isnt a friendly bite. honestly its still being sieved in slowly. there must be some kind of therapeutic sensation, a vulnerary feel for taking away something that means the most to that person. a sense of great power, perhaps, of unchallenged prerogative. thankfully i dont do such things, im not up to it, & i dont want or need to be. i still want to believe in santa claus, & i do, nevertheless. some things dont change.
others do, i guess. but stepping stones are important. that, i agree.
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| you kick up the leaves & the magic is lost |
| 06.18.05 (8:06 pm) [edit] |
[u]fishing[/u]
grab a line,
its going to be
fine.
the strongest security could backfire,
like the sturdiest shield can fail
the best fighter in a match floored dire
and the brightest remedy might ail.
so sometimes, having the finest,
isn't the kindest
life can be to one.
for what use can a diamond ring be
if the fingers are dug, snug,
wrenched
clenched
as a fist.
and how funny can a good joke taste
during a time of waste.
haste can slowly turn
a somersault landing
into a discreet fall.
or else
if nothing at all,
one can always live on the prescription
that
fishes may stare
but they do not flare.
gone fishing.
my neighbours dog has been barking since forever. the vociferous thing. yesterday glen & i went to eat after training, okay actually we went to eat with yash jia & mich first, then second coursed off to ps. hunger is irrepressible dont look so horrified. then we ate at basement, she chicken me fish. & four scoops of bravissimo. then the stomach sort of put it away really quick so we went up to foodcourt. where the mobs where whizzing past like, the tazmanian devil. so anyway we decided to share a table with an old couple. we looked like family ! during our meal & dessert we were assimilated into about three different families. but neither we liked, so we moved on alone, together. full & tired & lazy we got onto the bus a while later. & this is really interesting. an old man beside me started to sleeptalk ! wait thats not quite amusing, but he did so, in tamil ! seriously it was really, an eye-opener, fer us lah, not him. then he'd mutter a string of vanakams (thats the only tamil word i know lah okay fine) & plop back to sleep. the old lady beside him, his wife i trust, just sat a little slouching, staring indifferently & sluggishly into, space. these must be the idiosyncracies that grow onto people after theyve grown so used to being with each other. or maybe, she sleeptalks too, just that she wasnt sleepy then.
[i]bound[/i]; being a form that cannot stand independent.
xavier's dad used to be an all-rounder, like, a, fishball. now he's just, rounder.
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| the very last bus home in the rain |
| 06.16.05 (2:00 am) [edit] |
165 leads to many surprises. many, many surprises. many, many, pleasant surprises. okay i sound half deranged. how else to explain the many brain things in my head. the form my dream took was immensely gratifying, & its ridiculous how i can recall infinitesimal details, so clear i might just be dreaming that im dreaming. like, grinning after a home cooked meal, a course of tuna mushroom pasta, leafy salad with deliberate decorative intents, & decadent dessert after. decadence is death by chocolate. but chocolate alone has less guilt than that which is dark, melting, & smothered with cornflakes & raisins. maybe shapes make a difference, sometimes. no, not the belgian kind which is moulded as a shell. have you ever felt like eating patrick the starfish. if it wouldn’t be too offensive i remember he tasted rich & lovely, leg after leg, no signs of, salty descent, really.
but eating must be followed by respite, & even that wasn’t denied. there was this, room. i ensconced myself in bed, full & eased, trying to believe that life is fair, but someone, an angel i trust, shook my fancy & reinforced knowledge that life isn't. nevertheless there was comfort in that reassured insecurity. its like, no life isn't, that’s just what people would think, seeing you with me. precisely, have you ever thought how things wouldn’t be fair ( to others) by being in your favour. then as all dreams have, their abrupt turns, there was a knock on the door & though i never saw who interposed, the angel retreated. i heard the gates lock, & the angel must have left. but he came back in, he had bade that someone goodbye. maybe that was a bonus, for brushing my teeth the night before. a bonus, yes that must be it.
yesterday i stole something from my attic. under an inflated bag containing a wingless fly. as all things are in the dark, it was licensed to thrill. my younger brother of eight years believes im in love with a fat kid called joel. he’s quite sharp don’t you think. he even knows the fat kid’s surname.
the winner gets the sandwich.
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| that i claim back the affection that you stole from me |
| 06.11.05 (8:10 pm) [edit] |
[i]no more sad songs, im letting you know.[/i]
how long how long, it has been. havent been bold enough to blog about matters, maybe ive been too busy, & too, caught up. but the dreadful week has ended & come next it shall look much better, because, because.
g: hello ! (she is beside me now HAHAH)
j: hey there stranger. ditto; with emphasis & more (:
tiger tiger burning bright.
in the forests of the night.
what immortal hand or eye,
could frame thy fearful symmetry ?
at least if you're a pack of fries, or out there, its fun having playdo in the house, sometimes, all you want to do is squat around the pond in a particular cycle, and feed ducks; but then some people want to make you stand up and wave at the swans with the particular reflection & deers dont like to think about fishes, everyone else thinks the swans that get to dance in the water are really pretty but bread slap patties & all, you think they're not exactly really pretty but tigers eat deers because everyone's like OOH SO CUTE if you're in the can, and so sometimes, you smile and nod even though you don't really think so.
all you really want to do,
is feed the damn ducks.
but it always depends
you can't.
too bad, no use being patty.
i hope i will always have cereal with ants, & blood-curdling phone calls i cant live without.
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| playing a lion being led to a cage |
| 06.06.05 (7:27 am) [edit] |
prick love that pricks you, not once twice but over & more. another ache has found its floor.
nitrosurgeon shot my foot. or did i.
this entry is terribly haphazard. i hope the mouse ultimately does not click publish this post. or else i shall confirm the suspicions of many that i am not okay.
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| & no one's gonna bend or break me |
| 06.04.05 (9:48 pm) [edit] |
how long have i been absent, let me count thy days.
moving house is one huge wreck, its left me rather fazed.
& now i speak in rhyming couplets, this is insanely invigorating. im no longer at gigantic smelly flower ive moved ive moved, to upper thomson, estate of banglas. in the vicinity of casuarina prata & upper pierce monkeys. new place, pretty neat bounds & furnishing but rather inaccessible, okay relatively, as compared to before. i bus to training, to school, to everywhere ! dont like this, vehicular dependence. whatever happened to clarks ! keep on walking. life is like planter peanut butter, the crap just keeps spreading out.
anyhoo, hello hello vertigo infinito. i havent spoken virtually in a while so excuse the slightly delirious overtones. did i mention that my sim card exploded the other day at sunny side up. i was holding the phone in the middle of the bball court, inviting kids to play river cross when suddenly i heard a sound like this "tzsheuoo". then i looked at phone & it was blank. then i turned it back on & voila, sim card rejected. suddenly i felt like drowning all the kids in the river. but but all's cool now cos ive got it restored, albeit with missing parts, a coupla msges, pics, & quite alot of numbers. so everyone pls fill me with yer seven digits. my number is the same old brand new one. aye.
mopping isnt my kinda thing. i just did all three levels of house not v exciting at all. gosh, i feel like a, vegetable. that day i was feeling like a vegetable too, & j was feeling like meat, so together we were cai fan. but anyway i still hate mopping, this is no life.
getting up at seven to make breakfast in clingwrap in foil.
[i]that[/i] is life.
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