hypodensities

Summer Camp - Ghost Train (viral) from Paddy Power on Vimeo.

Best Coast - When I'm With You from awesomesnake.blogspot on Vimeo.

Peter Marshall: Paul, why do Hell's Angels wear leather?
Paul Lynde: Because chiffon wrinkles too easily.

Give Yong Vui Kong a Second Chance to Help Singapore’s Anti-Drug Trafficking Policy Petition

I'm a little jaded with medical euphemisms. <- understatement

constantly risking absurdity

Adages, axioms, apothegms abound. (Alliteration adapting and anchoring abstractions!)
Anyway,

Thanks for that :) Here's a happy lil' picture:

to become immortal, and then die

Wow - I've just woken up from a really epic dream that was very film noir. Too much conversation going on in my head. Dramatic lighting. Enigmatic characters. Images: video of child screaming. Friend complaining about nothing to a stranger. Primary school kids attending lectures. Bizarre origins of screen names. No, I'm not going insane. (Though I have a pounding headache now.)

CSQ tomorrow and the scheduling annoys me. I hate doing papers on flimsy LT fold-out tables. It's like writing an essay on a picnic mat. Practising writing in short fragmented sentences this evening. Econs markers not particularly strong with language. Can get away with monosyllables. And weird dehumanizing language. For the labour market. Hope I remember to bring calculator. Ciao.

the skies are always blue over san juan capistrano

My posting frequency this year is abysmal, it's like I put my blog on hiatus. It's not.

I've just come back from the Night Festival, and I cannot help but feel slightly underwhelmed. Maybe it's the fact that I didn't stay to watch the highlight of the festival outside the National Museum, or that the fumes from the "Community Graffiti" wall (community graffiti is, conceptually, bullshit) that seeped into The Substation and possessed me with horrible nauseas, or that I couldn't get past the crowds into the Abusement Park within the art museum. Having said that, it was a good respite from being cooped up at home writing essays — I nearly died when a fluorescent lamp exploded next to me, had a nice walk from SAM to Dhoby Gaut, saw an interesting performance where transvestite performance artists offered spectators condoms to blow up and write their dreams on, and found some cool vintage cameras at fleatique (unfortunately, weird and unsettling smells emanated from that stall).

Also, I'm still in mourning for the kitten.

On The Road

this is no grey elegy
in measured lament, downcast
eyes, draped lace. No child beside
to record your memories,
too young: pale light - a daisy
you brush against to let the
sun through - that warm furry heart
in the sky - the hands that hold
you up to concrete mountains.

street lights burn for no one. (night:
You bloom dark on the tarmac,
rubies spilt on the floor.)




This is for Ginger Kitten, light of my Thursday morning. You died young but you taught us things.

this is the wind in a field of corn

1. I fail econs forever
Dear Economics Department,
I know you only want the best for me, and that you have sacrificed much sleep, sanity and joy to spend time teaching me the joys of Keynesian fiscal policies and that feeling of "Yes I am econs god!" after recommending appropriate policies and then cleverly evaluating them AND contextualizing them to Singapore's economy or maybe someplace exotic e.g. Swaziland, Namibia or maybe an Eastern European micronation. However, as I fumble with my exam scripts with the shock of Haitian earthquake victims, I am led to spitefully (and yes I admit, immaturely) decry Economics as a measly social science that will never measure up to the reliability of the natural sciences! C'MON, GIVE UP THE GAME, ECONS: YOU'RE JUST A SOCIAL SCIENCE. TAKE THAT, SLOMAN! NOTHING CAN SAVE YOU! NOT EVEN BEHAVIORAL ECONOMICS! (This geeky moment ends here.)

2. Please let it not be Hodgkin's lymphoma
I have a lump on the back of my neck and it's stirring up the googling hypochondriac in me. Maybe it's just an inflamed lymph node, but either way, it's the most inconvenient thing to have right now during IS season. Financially, I hope my insurer doesn't turn its back on me. Spiritually, I don't mind having something to remind me of the fragility of one's existence. Artistically, this will bode well if the assumption that creative energy stems from periods of strife holds true. Superficially, the weight loss is going to render my clothes unwearable (and after the stocking up in NYC too!), but the waif look will always be somewhat in. Either way, we're all going to die, so whatever.

3. This is IS hell
What? I remember being really excited and totally nerdin' it up for independent study year. Perhaps I've been a victim of interpellation: the general concern for pre-college paper mill workers has always been a given and I have bought into the idea. Well at least I have a support group of similarly panicked individuals to fall back on. Anyway, for those who are interested, (oh, please be! I just want you to read my ideas! Weep at the brilliant portions and nod appreciatively at the more pedestrian bits! Ask me for PDFs, bound copies, fairtrade pulp editions, whatever!) I'm researching the Beat Generation for Literature, and Singaporean cinema and identity for KI. This is actually fun.

WELCOME TO CAPS LOCK LAND

YOU KNOW I'M SO FREAKING PISSED NOW THAT SMALL THINGS REALLY REALLY REALLY TICK ME OFF. LIKE PEOPLE WHO TALK TOO LOUDLY. OR CATCHING ACCIDENTAL GLIMPSES OF PEOPLE CAMWHORING WITH INANIMATE OBJECTS. OR THE WORD "CAMWHORING". OR SPEAKING SINGLISH. OR FINDING A FORMATTING MISTAKE IN THE BOOK I'M READING. OR LONG WORDS THAT DON'T FREAKING MAKE SENSE IN THE CONTEXT THEY ARE HAPHAZARDLY PLACED IN. OR THE SELF-RIGHTEOUS IMPOSITION OF YOUR OWN PRINCIPLES ON OTHERS. OR WORRYING WHEN THERE IS NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT. OR LIVING OFF MY ICE CREAM. OR WALKING OVER MY BAG. OR HEARING MORE THINGS ABOUT THE WORLD CUP. OR K-POP. OR READING THE STRAITS TIMES. AH YES THIS FEELS BETTER. CATHARSIS ACHIEVED. BRAVO. CONTENTMENT. NOT.

The Complete Animated Series

1. The Exams Will Never End
Although the JCTs are now over, the papers have left me reeling with the trauma of squeezing 4 five-page essays in the span of 3 hours, which sounds like an uncomfortable eternity in a crowded polyclinic, but is really the equivalent of a 42km dash. I'll need performance enhancing drugs for Prelims now.

2. I Am A Scene Kid
Broken Social Scene and Belle & Sebastian are a'coming to Singapore! And, somehow, I've managed to snag tickets to watch them perform. Cue shock, disbelief.

3. The Intellectual Death Of My Grandparents
One either dies young and glamorous, or old and toothy. Some people have opted for the latter, and now lead a quiet but happy existence under the patience of their loving family. Only that this patience is wearing thin.

4. The Mind-Forged Manacles I Hear
Let's examine "mind-forged" - it is constructed in the interior. It is of the mind. There is no independent reality to it. Ontologically, you only call this to existence through the act of naming. "I Hear" - McLuhan argues, in The Medium Is The Massage, that we are subject to receiving information through sound without having the ability to shut the flow of aural information. The Hearer can make no choice. Likewise, "manacles" - the connotation of shackles, fetters and bonds.

5. All The Ducks Are Swimming In The Water
It's raining so heavily! I'm glad I live high-rise. Apartment life absolutely rocks. (On the other hand, having a shoebox for a bedroom does not.) Also, I'll probably have to kayak to Orchard tomorrow.

6. NEW SHELVES!
This makes me very happy.