fear for freya's day

life has been rather odd lately, in a good way. Apart from the fact that im losing so many things, and by the end of the week il prob be parted with half my material posessions at the rate im going. i dont have to deal with guilt at home every day cos my parents are not around, and every day after camp has been LT LT LT. Not that its a bad thing, i love it. June has prob been one of the best and most horrible months i can remember in a long time. so much has happenened, and i started june one person,turned into something horrible in the middle and am ending it someone else. Spending so much time with LT i realise how much each one of em is like a self-contained universe, even dead legs. listening back on the record , i remember all those nights melting into mornings. the chain smoke, trying to be bright on the outside, but feeling death violence and darkness inside.
staying up with cedric after everyone else had surrendered to sleep, and wandering around the ethereal sober corridors of camp on perpetual screen saver the next day. the fevers, lung infections,stomach acid, sedatives, psychiatric wards and the heaviest emptiness. it was the band and the music that got me through in the end. Work is piling in at camp, but everyday i cant wait to book out and get on with my real life. right now im supposed to be arranging an interview with rui en and taufiq but the words are jumping at my face in plastic defiance. even if the gigs dont really go that well, i wont really be disappointed, cos it was meeting up and preparing for em that really did it for me. I just cant help but feel really afraid that its all winding to an end soon, but i want to hold on to it and not let it slip between my fingers like everything else. ill-worded, inarticulate and not really what i had in mind. what i really wanted to say was that im sorry for being a morose snappy bastard the better part of this time, im sorry for almost fucking everything up a number of times and ina, sid and tjinn, i love you guys and u mean a lot more to me than ever i let out, thanks fer everything.

prozac nation

day three of day prison.

confined in that small space, i enjoy the one hour or so i have in the morning with my mind alert. i escape to the toilet and do morning exercise, but not for too long. they like to burst in when im taking a shower and ask why im taking so long. meals are bland and meager, and served with a spoon only lest someone decides to fork away his mortal coil. kinda ridiculous considering the amount of potential death tools i counted inside the wards, shower hooks, sringes blah blah.

then the medicine comes, the temporary lobotomy, making me sedate and mentally incapacitated. today i was so dazed on the couch , that a cleaner stole my handphone. i feel really upset about it. its not the fucking handphone or the cost, though i prob cant afford another for awhile. my handphone was my loneliness off-setter. the ward gets so scorchingly lonely, just a silly message from someone i love would cheer me up alot. i dont leave that loneliness in the ward when i book out either, now i feel like that umbilicals been severed.

They forced my to attend alcoholics anonymous just cos i booked in on monday slightly hung over and late. ( its sounds hilarious, i dont know wether to laugh, scream or drink somemore ). Today was to be my first session. didnt go. memorised the description of the place, and the usual happenings from another patient who attends A A . tmrw i shall thank my doctors for the valuable experience.

the doctors usually see me for a grand total of five minutes everyday, i barely have a chance to drive in to them that im fine and i want to go back to my old camp and that i really really do not need this. if anything is making me feel horrible it is that place. the head doctor's ( a major ) mind has probably been so eroded years by of deference from his subordinates, that he thinks and talks in a unquestionable monologue.

i didnt think monday evening would hurt, but it did, and quite a bit and it still does. okay enough whining.

i feel ashamed about all thats happened lately, all the mess ive gotten myself into. im angry that all this has to happen when im better and okay. on the outside i probably seem like a problematic muck-up and i understand why im so hard to like. my parents are leaving tonight for weeks, soon the house will be empty again, it always is anyway.

if there is a god, he in non-interventional and the devil is just a metaphor made up because men need absolutes and conceptual and constructual shorthand to mentally deal with chaos and her thousand shades of grey.

whos left then . just me and you and i need you.

33 hillside crescent

mood- melancholy and infinitely sad
music- a new beginning, SIGUR _ ROS


Last Saturday, never ended until it turned into Sunday. i blew the party, and went to meet morgan, kavin and soph in Bukit Panjang. me and morgan left, at the witching hour and walked to hillview, past the big empty roads, kicking up the dust devils with the forest on either end. houses and people were far away and we could make the rest up. we walked behind the bank to the train tracks in the forested area. we sat on the line, and made sparks in the dark. pebbles on cold metal rail. the tracks stretched out into pitch darkness. we plugged in some music , and it seemed to disappear into that dark place. we talked , i had the frankest conversation ive had in ages. we left just in the time , the morning K line express came rushing out of the darkness like a phantom. carriage after carriage of cargo and baggage that the first carriage was trying to outrace.

Nights like that dont come often, nights like that i wish would last just that little bit longer. Staring out at the river, as sir stamford switched off the lights. watching the first light creep across the sky as we set on the steps leading out to the murky blood of a country i love and hate in equal measure.

The greeks were right, music is a spirit that flies past the gatekeepers of reason and comes to you in the deepest and most secret of places.

my elaborate plans for a spectacular pre-birthday departure are kinda messed up now. carolyn is getting married. as selfish as i am , i cant be that selfish. i cant screw that up for her.
i realised today , that i dont wanna leave yet. i was trying to get everything done this month, tried to avoid sleep so i would have twice as long. but im not making much progress. racing to never grow old like peter pan. There are still places i want to see and people i wanna be with.

i wish i was walking along St Andrews now, looking out at the North Sea with an ice scream dribbling down my hand even though i dont really fancy ice scream. A cold but sunny day. kick of my shoes and walk ankle deep in the shallows. hear the gulls and look out across the surf at that big emptiness. walk to that sea wall, and taste the salt spray and get chilled by the wind.

i love my memories. The world is so crushingly beautiful sometimes that no force of will allow you to look away.

fuck love, wretched bloodsport

dont talk of love
ive heard that word before
its sleeping in my memory

i wont disturb the slumber
of feelings that have died
if i never loved i never would have cried

" And Jack left that day for good. He knew he couldnt stay in a town where his heart was forced to break or turn to lead ".