Picture post!

'Gosh, the sky looks weird today. Like some computer graphic.'
'Yeah. God upgraded to a Mac.'

I live to say things like that. The clouds! The clouds!

More quotes!

'Actually ah, Biquan, I'm very fond of you.'
'Oh! No wonder you want to treat me to chocolate fond-ue! Hur hur hur!'

(on economical botany, pods specifically)
What happens when you grow an iPod? You get an MP-TREE!

Pei Yi: Eh. Is it true when they say that those Changkat Changi students go to Changi prison when they grow up?
Me: Yah what, convenient. Nearby only.
Pei Yi: No lah, I heard its like, Through Train to Changi Prison.
Me: Yah. Like RI- RIJC lo.

Gosh I'm evil.

Pei Yi: I mean, Cinderella is such a commonly used story lah. The princess just change to a modern businesswoman, then the seven dwarves just change to her advisors!

So yeah! There are quite a ton of pretty clouds nowadays, so here's another picture.

No, that's not rain in the foreground. That's Gulliver-piss. But why look there! The clouds! The clouds!

So up till a few days ago I decided to experiment with photo-manipulation. So I take three photos, I magically join them together using Photoshop, and voila!

Yay, it isn't that bad right. You can spot the occasional imperfection but. Look! The clouds! The clouds!

Sigh.

Last night, I awoke. Last night was the first time I was truly awake, and for once I thought.

We are ourselves, we cannot deny that, but what are we really? What do we consist of? Are we the body? Are we merely the brain? Or perhaps, are we wholly spirit? But in either case, do we truly exist?

To-night, spare your sleep, but rather marvel at yourselves. Bid your hand in front of your eyes and there it is brought. Immediate action. A perfect mechanism within each and everyone of us, every muscle and every bone. Do you see? We are no more the blood in our veins nor the cells on our fingers than we are the breeze we feel in the night, yet here it moves! We are but the mind, but the it commands the body as if it were one.

And so when we expire, where do we really go? The promise of the afterlife is a tempting one, but let us not blind ourselves further. What if, at our deathbeds, we ceased to exist, completely? What if not only our existence is erased, but our very conscience, our very consciousness, is lost? What if, at the moment of Guy Fawkes' hanging, or at Lincoln's assassination, their consciousness just vanished, and they permanently ceased to be.

Not even as a floating spirit, but the very existence of 'me', vanquished; not even a pair of eyes to see the galaxies beyond, not even the awareness of 'self', or knowledge, or language, but oneself as a 'something'; one who no longer exists.

After all, what makes one so special among the billions in one world alone, that one's consciousness should be spared from Nature's cycle of creation and destruction?

I don't know about the rest of you, but the very idea of such a reality pains my heart. The idea that I was created on the very day of my birthday, and I will cease to be on my deathbed. After the latter, no history, nor current event will matter to me any more than before the former. After this one life, there is no future, nothing to search for nor look towards over the horizon; you live your time and you're gone.

The possibility of happy endings are terribly overrated.

What we have now, its all we have left. What are we going to spend it on? Will I waste it praying in hopes of a better tomorrow? No! Will I lie to myself that future retribution may find no crack in my conscience? No! Will I then just kill off my dreams, sit on my bed and cower in fear? No!

Only today do I realize, life is as beautiful as it is too-short. When we cease to be, perhaps all that would really matter then is either that we've lived our life to its boundaries, or we have left our mark on the Earth, be it as a rainbow or a scar.

What we are is not what we can be; we become what we can be when we forget who we are.

To shed our mortal coil; to create, first we must forget.

So, my brothers, let us usher in the new age; our age of forgetfulness;

Our age of immortality.

Today, my dear friends, was the first time in years that I swore, and the first time ever against a teacher.

Seriously now. Being an educator in the faces of one's students, one either earns their favor or commands their respect. I know a Madam Tan Mui Hong who does the former, a Sir Tan Puay Hock who skilfully prefers the latter, and perhaps a Sir Law Hock Ling who is capable of both. Inevitably, there has to be the few who can do neither.

It is fine if one occasionally delays our recess by five, ten minutes, even so if one interrupts a presentation to bring up a vital point we might not know. But everything non-pleasurable to extreme is detestable.

To constantly and shamelessly eat into our recesses and lunches by half an hour or more, and without displaying a hint of guilt or at least a silent obligation of making it up, but rather the 'okay, I've just eaten pretty much all of your Lunchbreak, you have five minutes left, good luck catching the vendors before they close!' attitude before strotting off. Not once, not twice, but thrice. Just because you're free and ate your recess and have nothing to do during lunch doesn't mean you can assume the rest are just as comfortable okay.

And to constantly interrupt and add on to presentations when clearly, the presenter already has that point in his next sentence. To interrupt abruptly is one thing, to insert a point or two is another, but to rant on and finish the explanation for the presenters (on a time limit, too) is a whole new level of 'crude'.

So yes, today was the first time I actually showed some attitude to a teacher. But when I was running around school, I felt a bit bad. Why? I've figured out. If a fool has a certain mindset, personality or not, and it gets on everyone's nerves, inevitably one will feel a sense of dread. But nonetheless, to despise for a natural flaw is excusable, but to criticize is against my sense of honour.

Yes, yes, the Evil One has a sense of honour. Surprise, surprise!

Its fine to secretly house thoughts of dissent and malice against such foolish individuals, to offer a riposte or two should they initiate a verbal joust. But to criticize, to insult, to judge. To find fault with a fool for his ignorance. To scold a scoundrel for his lack of self-understanding. That's pretty much like kicking below the belt, if I may say so myself.

If there is one thing I learnt, thoughts amount to nothing; only action is recognized.

So yes, essentially I was looking forward to having a meal in school because I didn't eat breakfast, but because of a certain educator, I missed my recess, skipped my lunch, and was forced to wait until 3:25 before I rushed to the canteen, only to find all food-on-plates was sold out, and to settle with a small burger before I rushed for CCA.

So pardon me for being in such a bad mood.

That fool.

Beauty.

This video is. Pure beauty.

There is no other term for it.

Hello Shao! I shall answer you here, shall I not.

Affection, ah! Is that not the purpose of reading? What point is there in reading a book if it has not the slightest effect on one? Does reading fiction not make you flighty? Does reading Science not make you technical?

And again, does the other side of the hill not inspire curiosity? Does a single objective viewpoint really satisfy one? Is one really content, knowing that on the other side is another untouched wealth of knowledge?

That is what it takes. Neutrality! If one is even slightly affected by either argument, one has lost it. If one tilts the coin in either direction, one is blind to what is on the other side. Neutrality, a double-edged sword, enables the learned to appreciate both sides of the world, and causes the short-sighted to see neither.

For I was always of opinion that it is our duty, as intellectuals, to see both sides of the coin, especially in this society spurred by wealth and position. It is our obligation to observe and study both sides of a coin, the knowledge of both worlds; for the too-wealthy see only the coin, and the too-poor have no coin to see.

What one must strive towards is not maturity, dear friend, but rather, understanding. If an apple matures but never grows sweet, it will not be plucked by the sensible hand, nor eaten to quench another's thirst. A child knows more about innocence than a sinner; a teen knows more about pleasure than an aged fool. What then, is maturity?

In reading such works one almost never has the intention to understand the author, but rather finds the passion in understanding oneself. To read a sentence and say to oneself, 'Ah, that is true!' or 'I have felt this!'. To find oneself in words, to discover oneself in language. To have someone explain oneself to one, to uncover things one never thought was there. The true treasure trove of one's life; that is oneself.

After all, the only books worth reading are the controversial ones. Reading something good is dreadful preaching to oneself, reading something neutral bores one to death; reading fiction deceives oneself, reading history reminds one of Time, reading Science makes one too practical. Philosophy, thinking; that is what remains relevant to the thinking, yesterday, today and tomorrow, and it is in books of controversy can one truly rediscover what one tries to hide under thick layers of skin.

After all, does the child in each of us not find pleasure in what society forbids us to do? Do we not still extract happiness in danger, in 'truly living'? Do we not walk on tightropes, cycle without helmets, abandon paperwork for pleasure every once in a while, simply because society forces us to do otherwise?

I hope you understand what I've been writing so far, I seem to understand that writing in Philosophy is quite out of reach of some readers. Why, as is the difference between the students of Literature and the students of Math or Science, so is the difference between Philosophy and Fiction; one realm or the other. To step into Philosophy, one must first stop believing in happy endings.

But here; here is my basis that evil is instinct in man. Even as a child, the very semblance of innocence, before society hardens or melts the mask of social inhibition. What girl can claim that what she has been denied, she would grow envious? and what boy can claim that he would try to snatch it away? Would a sister not grow jealous of the love of a newborn, or grow greedy of earthly possession? When does a brother not scream of wrath, and stink of sloth? Is the child most innocent because he is honest, or because the adult has more than the added stench of lust and pride?

And what then, is conscience? Is it half of the mind, or a separate entity? Is the mind a precisely divided battleground of good and evil, or are the angels and demons merely external voices in objection, from which we have our whole mind to decide for ourselves? Is conscience our master, or are we?

Ah, I grow tired of inquiries. The only people worth conversing with are they who know nothing, or everything.

And I am quite proud to express my neutrality; I know neither.

Once again on borrowed time.

(to the people who misread my previous post, the 'he' was me. Its called playing with pronouns. Ugh.)

First of all I'd like to apologize to a hell lot of people for certain inadequacies and mistreatment in recent days, largely due to the influence of certain books which shall be explained later. Basically these few days I've been shouting a lot at people, being extremely insane at times and doing a whole ton of wicked things. So I seek all my friends' understandings that its just a phase I'm going through. Maybe its a brush on a water surface, or a fade into black; whatever it is. its just a stage, so yeah.

Before I begin on the book, I'd like to explain that my fascination with controversial books does not reflect any 'obsession with/worship of the devil' or 'aspiration to be the AntiChrist', and I'm not taking an anti-religious stand, definitely not anti-Christian. It is merely a fascination for controversy; it is the passion in a writer's fervent contradiction that sparks off something in me, that strikes a chord with my very soul. It is not an obsession in darkness, but a curiosity in otherwise ideals, and the vehement passion usually associated with it.

Also, I'd like to note that if you start bombarding me with sermons and whatnot, or even threats. I will definitely retort. I will be obliged to take the opposing stand just to balance out the argument, otherwise an equation. Neutrality has always been my best course of action, and preferred pose, but even a cornered mouse will bite the cat; not to mention that I'm territorial. It works as something like, 'You cursed devil-worshipper!' then I'm internally inclined to shout 'SO WHAT IF I AM.' In fact, even though I'm not an anti-religionist, I can take the stand if I wanted to. After all, to quote,

'The value of an idea has nothing whatsoever to do with the sincerity of the man who expresses it. Indeed, the probabilities are that the more insincere the man is, the more purely intellectual will the idea be, as in that case it will not be coloured by his wants, his desires or his prejudices.'

-Henry Wotton, TPoDG, Chapter 1.

So yes, I'm currently reading in detail, the online text of Der Antichrist by Nietzsche (thanks Bryan Cheong for recommending it to me), and I must say, it is no book for the narrow-minded, or the pure of heart. It takes on such an objective stand that it reminds me of Joel in a heated argument defending his beliefs and/or 'moral' stands, multiplied hundredfold and inverted to negative. And with much more colorful language.

Seriously, I mean, he DID refer to Kant as 'an idiot'.

I'm lazy to reiterate, so I'll just randomly quote Wikpedia.

'What is good? — All that heightens the feeling of power, the will to power, power itself in man. What is bad? — All that proceeds from weakness. What is happiness? — The feeling that power increases — that a resistance is overcome'.

'The weak and ill–constituted shall perish: first principle of our philanthropy. And one shall help them to do so. What is more harmful than any vice? — Active sympathy for the ill–constituted and weak — Christianity ...'

'Pity thwarts the whole law of evolution, which is the law for natural selection. It preserves what is ripe for destruction; it fights on the side of the disinherited and condemned by life; by maintaining life in so many of the botched of all kinds, it gives life itself a gloomy and dubious aspect.'

Then so on and so forth, going on to 'debunk' the entire Bible and whatnot, spewing insults here and there. Once again, no insult to the fervent Christians. The book exists, to read it is just being a Literature student; to recount is just being a Blogger.

Essentially I've been pretty affected by these penned words. Its as if my very nature has been shifted one notch down. My perceptions are darker, my moods are terrible, my intolerance for anything other than what suits me at that time has dramatically heightened. (Cheong this is all your fault.)(But you redeemed yourself by lending me A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis; it cheered me up a bit. I must remember to analyze it.) I think I'm turning evil.

When there is nothing to redeem one, no motivation in righteousness and morality, there is no purpose in salvation, because one cannot salvage oneself.

People to, people fro.

He saw a figure sitting there, alone.
He didn't know what he was thinking, but before he knew it he was already there.

'You free tomorrow?'

And there was a short silence.

'Hm, maybe.'

And then he felt warmth on his hand.
Then warmth on his lips.
He leaned closer, and shared that passionate kiss.

And the people whizzed by,
and Time flew by,
and everything seemed to fade away,
and nothing seemed to matter,
we didn't seem to care about the hour nor the day.

We parted.

He started
to breathe.

He looked up at the shining face,
at the smile.
And he realized.

Tears in his eyes, his lips still moist, he asked.

'This is a dream isn't it.'

And they ripped him apart,
and grief pierced through his heart;

Left crying, the warmth was all gone.

He wonders now as he wondered then,
do you dream about me almost as much as I dream about you?

Before I begin, a certain picture I found lying around. Three guesses who wrote it!

Monday; another school day. Today was more terrible than normal, though. Geog/Hist, froze my fingers off. Lit in the comp lab wasn't too great either. Chinese was bad, got our marks back and, to quote Yu Pei Yi.

'Aiyah, at least I completed one goal this year, my Maths score higher than my Chinese!'

'Nuff said, wasn't very well done either.

Quote a certain someone to a certain Ling Kai Tsi.

'I'm gonna wank your d*ck hair until it comes out!'

MUA HA HA.

MATHS. Madam Tan left us, and at the worst time possible. When we are starting on Worksheet 2 of Differenciation. Not saying the relief teacher's bad. Actually. At the end of the lesson we have most of the class not knowing what the hell differenciation is. Yes Bryan Cheong, I can sense your smug smile from here.

Bio, as always, was more or less draggy. Today was one of the lessons where Madam Foo actually covered something, but I don't think most of the class was listening anyway. Not excluding dear Benn-jamin and his rather failed attempt at sneakily reading Harry Potter under the table.

English! It was largely okay lah, but if it weren't for the fact that we were already bummed out by the previous lessons, the Compre might have proven to be a little bit fun! No shit Sherlock.

Anyway I went into one of those crazy sprees today. When you suddenly start talking in random high-pitched voices and start laughing for no apparent reason. Must be the sugar. Oh the joy! I wonder if I made it into the category of 'Most Hyper' people.

Note to self: Go to World Farm near Khatib MRT to check for carnivorous plants. And go to bookstore to pick up certain books.

Sigh.

I really don't know what kind of idiot would be in love, be torn from it and still not be over it after at least a full year.

Such. A bloody idiot.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

This song rocks. Love it. Will post the Billy Talent videos in other posts. Can't find the original full video though. The vid's actually really meaningful. The quality's just spoiled.

I really, really don't feel well right now. My left eye is stinging for no apparent reason, I'm sneezing repeatedly and I'm quite sure I have a ton of things to do tomorrow. No thanks to my healthy breakfast featured here.

Self-made eggie-in-a-basket, yes, the one in V for Vendetta. And a glass of fresh milk with whipped cream. And of course, tea.

No, your eyes do not fool you. That, my dear friends, is a possibility opened to me ever since I bought that canister of sweetened whipped cream and trust me, its a good one.

Yes, the Necronomicon is still underway, and no, its not going too well. In fact, my desperate half-fledged attempts at creating papier mâché pulp are, as the adjective suggests, half-fledged. ITS NOT DRYING.

Now, what's the first thing you see in this picture?

You disgusting perverts. (dismisses judgemental glares)

Oh well.


i want to live.
i want to breathe.
but i've forgotten what its like to have a beating heart.

my heart races around you;

Pikcha post!

Let's start it off with a few from April Fools.


Yes they are, perhaps much to the model's chagrin. Moving on!


Playing 'Pepsi Cola' on the corridor does make passing seniors and juniors alike rather confused.


(For those who can't see, the top two notices.) FAIL.

So! What have I been doing these past few days? Well, for one, I've recently been exposed to the wonders of SHRINKING PLASTIC. Its like, clay, only its plastic.

Okay, that was the most helpful statement ever. So why not let the works speak for themselves!

Basically it started out as a plastic sheet, put it in the oven for a little while and it convulses violently, but after three minutes or so it kinda flattens out, 20% its original size, thicker than before and ready to be a pretty keychain. Its rather awesome. Only constraint is that its kinda 2D, meaning you can't make mountains with the sole exception of drawing.

So basically I've watched the movie Thir13en Ghosts, (its quite a nice show; terribly scary at certain moments but overall a good watch) and did some research on the Black Zodiac. If each ghosts is corresponding to one's birthmonth, that'd make me the Jackal, perhaps a description would help here:

"The Jackal is the ghost of Ryan Kuhn, who was born in 1887 to a prostitute. Ryan had an insatiable lust for women, rape, and murdering prostitutes. Wanting to be cured, he committed himself to Borehamwood Asylum, but after attacking a nurse, he was put in a straitjacket and thrown in a padded room. After years of this imprisonment he went completely insane, scratching at the walls so violently that his fingernails were torn completely off. The doctors kept him permanently bound in his straitjacket, tying it tighter when he acted out, causing his limbs to contort horribly. Still fighting to free himself, Ryan gnawed through the jacket until the doctors finally locked his head in a metal cage and sealed him away in the dark basement cell. There, he grew to hate any kind of human contact, screaming madly and cowering whenever approached. When a fire broke out in the asylum, everyone but Ryan escaped. He chose to stay behind and face the fire. As a ghost, his arms are free from his jacket, and the bars of his cage are ripped outwards, showing that he may have escaped his bindings again sometime before the fire started and that his cage may have heated up enough to where he could have ripped it open before the fire consumed him."



I'm quite far from crazy, but the most defined trait of a person isn't necessarily the most obvious. 'Sides, my brother's correspondence to the Great Child would explain his over-reliance on family.

And so, following the flow of thought and research, I landed upon the Necronomicon (the Book of the Dead, mind you) and the real Black Zodiac, which can be found here:

http://www.horoscopezodiacsigns.org/black-zodiac-signs.html

Apparently I'm supposed to hate 'The Slain Demon', aka Taurus. Hmm.

Either way, I'm trying to make a book cover resembling the Necronomicon and no one can stop me. No, not even you Bryan Cheong. In fact, here's a picture to spite you.

Made out of shrinking plastic, colored by pencil. Yes, the color condenses too, to give a jet black background. But because the lines are so thin, they aren't visible when you put them on the table. But if you hold it up to the sunlight, you get a magnificent effect, seen but not captured by the picture above. It GLOWS.

So when I go to school on Monday I'm going to purchase a notebook to perform a makeover on.

Hmm.

here goes.

Well, as at least some of you might have expected,

APRIL FOOLS.

Its still April and you're still fools.

Just kiddin'. Either way, my blog's staying because 1. I've gotten used to it, 2. I can't be bothered to re-do all the add-ons and tagboards and whatever. Same reason why I find it a dilemma to yank out my desktop and convert to a much-more-portable laptop.

But the drastically increased number of tags, more, if I may add, than perhaps a month before the statement, brings to mind a certain thing featured in the movie Se7en. Go wiki it, its basically about a serial killer whose victims and modus operandi is largely based on the seven deadly sins, drawing inspiration from one of the books and instances more familiar to my twisted mind (such books and instances include, among those I could catch, the writings of Marquis de Sade and Dante Alighieri, as well as an example of Sodom and Gomorrah), yet with an abrupt twist in the end. A great show for the open-minded.

But as the movie said. The age when you can get people to listen just by tapping them twice on the shoulder, is gone. You have to use a sledgehammer and smash them in the head before you can get their attention. Its the Watchmen kind of film that portrays the world as a rotting, stinking sh*thole with inhabitants that really aren't any better.

Yet is it otherwise?

One should have the courtesy to answer thus question, but I'm afraid I, and you reading this here; we don't have the privilege (or lack thereof) to experience as the dregs of society do. But no matter. Awareness is not the prerequisite of change, neither is it the most direct cause; Desperation and Profit fit the bill far better.

Hm.

Oh well, who worries about such things.

The world awaits tomorrow; its on a silver platter but you'll have to 'get past the stench' first.

(during morning assembly)
Me: Eh Pei Yi, you have toothpaste here. *points to right side of mouth*
*Pei Yi rubs right side of mouth*
Me: No, here. *rubs left side*
*Pei Yi follows suit*
Me: No lah, here! *rubs slightly in the middle*
Pei Yi: Huh? *rub rub rub*
Me: I just made you look like an idiot. APRIL FOOLS.

(is Li Yu's birthday today)
Me: HAPPY BIRTHDAY LI YU. We have a surprise party for you. Just kidding. APRIL FOOLS.

Me: I dare you to go up to Eddie and say 'nice hair. APRIL FOOLS'.

Snao: Uh Tiong your button. *points*
Me: Ur hur, nice try. APRIL FOOLS.
Snao: No, sersly.
Me: Yeah right! APRIL FOOLS.
*Snao points*
*I realize one shirt button is unbuttoned.*
*buttons*
Me: FINE.

Mrs Tan: During the brief briefing, the parents apparently (..) (I was too busy laughing to continue listening)

I love today. If I had brought my bag of pranks and my Scream mask, I trust there'll be a lot of uncomfortable squirming and screaming. You children better be thankful.

Okay, my Internet has been down these couple of days, so I'm currently using my brother's computer to blog. So yes, if blogging is my life, I'm literally living on borrowed time. Ur hur hur.

So what have I been doing these past few days? Nothing really. Planted a red bean in a pot of soil, took my dog for walks, watched a movie or two (House of Wax is unusually and terribly macabre), advanced a level or two in Kingdom Hearts, and for once in my entire life so far. I went out for a short jog. I don't know what made me do it, I don't know why, but yes.

I went for a jog.

Oh my god.

Either way we all know there's no chance I'm going to pass NAPHA this year because of the stupid 2.4. I can't do stamina for nuts. as can be seen from a lot of other areas in my life. But no matter.

Hm, I don't know what's wrong with me. It seems the more I treasure the person as a friend the less I talk to them. Kinda like a 'don't wanna screw things up' kinda thing. Doesn't really matter, I don't place much emphasis on my social life anyway. Doubt anyone would care if I just died or something.

As a result, I've kinda decided. This is gonna be my last post.

Yes its true.

The moment I get my Internet on my computer running again, I'm going to copy the archives and remove this blog. Seriously. Too many disappointments. Too many broken heartstrings. Can't bear to read my past posts, so what's the point of keeping them. The only point of keeping a picture is to look at it and feel happy. I can't look at my mistakes and not feel some horrible feeling shoot up my throat. They were so stupid. Too stupid. I will inform you all if a new blog is in order. If.

So farewell my friends.

Bon voyage.

Azazyl

Stench of humanity,
The rot of those fair.
Despair!
Of lost sanity and
Dreams never there.