tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22124913668217128872024-03-14T00:28:09.095+08:00The Ugly Submarinethe ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.comBlogger301125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-6049222071094458162012-12-03T11:21:00.001+08:002013-01-23T01:39:08.410+08:00New Year Resolution (s)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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New Year Resolutions. I've been thinking about them a lot lately. I'm guessing as the sun travels along its remaining route to a complete circle, the inner kiasu in me is desperately seeking to find that one thing that would make my living more worth it than a passing roadkill. Perhaps its the joy of playing god herself and putting things into perspective that makes me enjoy making up resolutions more than anything. Who wouldn't pass that single opportunity of getting the perfect life every god damn living, breathing human being ever dreamt off? *sorry, that last pint of heineken is making me dramatic*</div>
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New Year Resolutions comes in many different form, thoughts and handwritings. Some hope to be a healthier being, others want to be more socially involved and the rest would range from getting that dream car to marrying that childhood sweetheart. My resolutions has always been side tracked, within the box and some what on a shallow level, to say the least. When i was living alone in jakarta a good eight years ago, my resolution was to be home more often. Then there was a year when i was working in a dead end job, i hope that the new year would bring more opportunities for me to travel aboard for work. Subsequently, i quit the following month and spent the next year shooting across eqypt, shanghai and istanbul. I was lucky. Last year my resolution was to be a better son, to be a better provider for my parents. Both of 'em aren't getting any younger, and i hate to see them worry about the family and me in particular. They should be out strolling through the ruins of guangzhou, enjoying the breeze up on the great wall and have a foot massage in downtown bangkok. All of which i managed to give them with the help from my sister. Next year, australia is up on the travel plans, and i'm praying dear god that the money exchange won't kill me. </div>
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This year i have a more self-induged, totally-me-and-only-me resolution; i hope the following year will be the year i find myself. Dramatic, much? Yes. But not many of us are blessed with that clear conscience of knowing what the hell is our mission on earth is, and getting that shit sorted. I never got on that boat. Its always been me trying to be whatever is on today's menu and blending in to the background music unnoticed and totally anonymous. But all this will hopefully change in a months time. I want to know me. And i want that me to be heard, to be broadcast and to be reckon as someone not be missed. I want to be the moët among the beers, the karim rashid amidst the ikeas and definitely the glitter in the air. Shallow? Yes. Downright nonsense? Of course. But at least i try. At least, i try to be me in your face and not just a mole on a regular arse.</div>
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I'm a sucker for a brand new start.</div>
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the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-84166891279230427612012-12-03T10:42:00.001+08:002013-01-23T01:40:10.753+08:00Word<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought there are so many people in the world, there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre and flawed in the same ways I do. I would imagine her, and imagine that she must be out there thinking of me too. Well, I hope that if you are out there and read this and know that, yes, it’s true I’m here, and I’m just as strange as you // Frida Kahlo</div>
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the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-36704726819880902852012-08-21T17:19:00.001+08:002012-08-21T17:20:16.159+08:00One August Afternoon<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Holding hands. Sweaty palms. My eyes dart furiously at all corners of the movie screen, trying my tyrant best to get a focus point right between the hero's eye, while questioning the lack of air in this theatre. Profanity escape merciless in bite size as i curse in silence my wise decision of putting on this brand new skinnies, knowing well enough that i would over eat my steak and mash at dinner. Now the thought of unbuttoning it swim across my forehead like an ailing harry potter fighting to get the image of voldermort bathing in the river of the dark forest out of his head. Holding my breath, i move a hairline away from the sunken depth of the seat, only to trigger the eject button from his hand and here on i sat, in my own seat, with my own hands to myself, sulking into the echo of the theatre. That instinctively mark the end of my otherwise perfect date, and him in that department. And many weeks after that, i replay the scenario scene by scene in the vanity of my wake, dissecting every heartbeat of the date, searching in vain the answer to my misery; The rain pour at my parade.</div>
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Troubled thoughts. Sleepless nights. I begun to question the existence of a storybook ending, and the myth behind the rumoured happily ever after. I read that every happiness in this lifetime, is a result from a scarify done in the last. Every smile, hides the hard work of a million sorrows. Every push, is a pull from the other end. And the more i dwell into the spectrum of believing that there is someone out there for every one in the room, the more i become skeptical of its principal. Perhaps its time to wake up and know that there really isn't enough hope laying around for the new thirties anymore. The inevitable has dawned on the party of the single-hood. The apocalypse predicted in the mayan's prophecy might actually echo to mankind and its relationship, and not the planet-crashing/rise-of-the-demented-black-wolf-from-hell's-mouth theory that we are force to believe in. I hit a dead end.</div>
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Cloudy days. Rainy nights. The universe i had set out to conquer no longer exist. The paradise i dreamt is merely a patch of grass by the prairie. </div>
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the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-50383530048704020802012-07-21T06:20:00.002+08:002012-07-21T06:20:26.444+08:00Consequences<br />
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There are many decisions in life that we have taken up not knowing the consequences that lies sneakingly behind it. And this consequences we must live for we will not let it ruin the sparkle in our stars, and perish the glow we had on our path. There's a thin line between going the distance, and letting it go when fear engulf us into its arm. But we must remember, it is this fear that we must keep our spirit high, and fight for what we believe in and keep going forward for its the only route that is worthy of taking. Cowardice is not an answer, and do not let fear be the fuel of it.</div>the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-84678230213044595812012-06-27T21:48:00.001+08:002012-06-27T21:48:46.075+08:00Decisions<br />
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I guess everyone is alone at some point in their lives. Its the part and parcel that comes with being born, alongside the trust fund of responsibilities that get thrown at you on your seventeenth birthday. I was never truly alone until now. I mean, ya when i was younger i had my share of parents being out of town for weeks and i'm left to fend for my own good, but i was never emotionally alone. Not then, and not a day ago. I avoid it all. I throw myself into make believe adventures, forcing every inch of me to be part of a group, to be part of the moving force of the society that distaste the idea of any emotional entanglement. And many moons i've successfully tricked myself this way. I'll jump right in the middle of a merry go round of midnight parties, and unannounced sleepovers where i would wake up on foreign couch not knowing where or why i am there. And before you throw in the whole conclusion that i'm a worthless twat with little to no hands on experience as a living and breathing citizen of adulthood, let me explain myself. I recently step into the realm of my thirties, geared with a few good mates that share the same enthusiasm for tequila shots, as i braved the blizzard of social standards and hand me down obligations. I have a good job that pays for all my weekly binge on clothing, fancy hair cuts, happy fives and top shelves liquor. You can say i'm blessed. Then one day, i decided to quit my job and voluntarily jump right back into the jaws of freelancing. I knew what i was up against. I prep enough to last me a winter of jobless despair and slow paymaster. I park enough favors to keep me going. But what i didn't foresee in my bullet proof plan for the future is the hollow feeling that i'll be embracing it all by myself. Suddenly every way i look, looks back at me. Doors wide open. Opportunities throwing it selves on me. And the endless possibilities of doing something else, something more lurking at every heartbeat. </div>
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Like a fork on the road, i'm lost.</div>the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-78501219625850457192012-06-15T16:21:00.001+08:002012-06-15T16:21:03.008+08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-71119285447686529242012-06-15T12:13:00.002+08:002012-06-15T12:13:38.417+08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-63237046000415646132012-05-29T15:26:00.002+08:002012-05-29T15:26:29.927+08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-20025705474418323032012-05-29T15:25:00.001+08:002012-05-29T15:25:36.413+08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-3143282186513410682012-05-25T14:54:00.001+08:002012-05-25T14:54:09.236+08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-33338138671008352812012-05-25T14:50:00.001+08:002012-05-25T14:50:49.735+08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-49564357965662120202012-05-25T14:48:00.001+08:002012-05-25T14:59:58.342+08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-26664902017936672612012-05-25T14:44:00.004+08:002012-05-25T15:00:28.883+08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-36135008434133746362012-05-25T14:41:00.001+08:002012-05-25T14:41:19.627+08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-85855587339150531342012-05-24T15:24:00.002+08:002012-05-24T15:24:51.496+08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-15111959282256203472012-05-24T15:22:00.002+08:002012-05-24T15:22:18.801+08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-81131702989146770582012-05-24T14:38:00.002+08:002012-05-24T14:38:52.157+08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiJKZpXmjkcO4T2nJ64sz5joHkgASkbjB1yeCey24Iw-RJAWDFkGz3PsyhReCZs-ElNBtv3yrrVALtPGLkaXUQK2hUojTAZkvEsQ0xHHka0kWMSFT03h58Tz2_swKhtAJBdulz8mCQwSqy/s1600/fbbade8d5e7ba0c804cf8fbcb34ff4cd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiJKZpXmjkcO4T2nJ64sz5joHkgASkbjB1yeCey24Iw-RJAWDFkGz3PsyhReCZs-ElNBtv3yrrVALtPGLkaXUQK2hUojTAZkvEsQ0xHHka0kWMSFT03h58Tz2_swKhtAJBdulz8mCQwSqy/s640/fbbade8d5e7ba0c804cf8fbcb34ff4cd.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-19595761936358916572012-05-24T14:12:00.001+08:002012-05-24T14:12:15.350+08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGNJUHQGglF2_ozCMvtAkxOYFetjJXJ5tyOEeDT-IlAkWD1ToAb6HmbQicXvOT5EWCEeKykjz7jEZN5HPMsRlwWG4-cl1peY9o0GDLC2uFPL3Qb0h14OQnnDPV3ylXF3NzD86lWXwCzsWT/s1600/6363538061_fb0c0faed4_o.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGNJUHQGglF2_ozCMvtAkxOYFetjJXJ5tyOEeDT-IlAkWD1ToAb6HmbQicXvOT5EWCEeKykjz7jEZN5HPMsRlwWG4-cl1peY9o0GDLC2uFPL3Qb0h14OQnnDPV3ylXF3NzD86lWXwCzsWT/s640/6363538061_fb0c0faed4_o.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-76281574774492836532012-05-22T15:02:00.000+08:002012-05-25T15:02:18.626+08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgA3CNKX9jIVhBiAvoUygWw69HRzFJrSi6Wq0DkW1-jKKdmc3Vye46X1i5kFKjvvPJrz1_MVkHtysVEEfImCUovuVOTYxXxmOpUvitTR-15LhkRTqSIrOEyma-AHTs0EEeNJHw04M4vqBI/s1600/Wildfox-Resort-2011-051011-45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgA3CNKX9jIVhBiAvoUygWw69HRzFJrSi6Wq0DkW1-jKKdmc3Vye46X1i5kFKjvvPJrz1_MVkHtysVEEfImCUovuVOTYxXxmOpUvitTR-15LhkRTqSIrOEyma-AHTs0EEeNJHw04M4vqBI/s640/Wildfox-Resort-2011-051011-45.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-484240970188456972011-12-10T20:55:00.003+08:002012-06-27T21:45:18.596+08:0010th December 2011<div style="text-align: justify;">
A part of me die knowing that you're suffering, and there's nothing i could do that the pills can't. I now remember why i hate december so much. I lose a little bit of you every time december comes around, and i don't know how much more i will have left of your every time. They say it will be over soon and that it will only get better, but the truth is, it never does. It never goes away. Or gets better. They sedate you so much that half the time you are either not yourself or asleep, and when you do fight it and comes around, its only a night long before i have to give you back to the meds.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Its been awhile now since you came back to visit me. Please come home, and stay home. And don't ever leave me cause this little boy still wants his ma to be around.</div>the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-70875915598746682412011-10-23T16:10:00.001+08:002011-11-01T16:11:57.079+08:0023nd October 2011<div style="text-align: justify; font-family: arial;"> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Lucida Grande"; panose-1:5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} @page Section1 {size:595.0pt 842.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: arial;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: arial;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify; font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">23rd October 2011. I had the weirdest dream last night. I dreamt that <a style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" href="http://mr-wanna.blogspot.com/2011/04/im-not-going-to-be-bitter.html">mr pornstar</a> himself called and ask if i would like to sleep over at his place. He had this really husky, overly masculine (think a really manly lady gaga, if that's even possible) voice that totally threw me off guard, and left me panting in my dream. And if i were to be remotely honest here, i was slightly turned on by it. Something about that demanding tone in his voice managed to stirred up fire within me. It wasn't enough to make me break-dance (which i normally do if i'm overly strung up), but it did shake me awake, sweating and dizzy. Gawd, what is it with him that always makes me go all stupid and retarded? Well, according to sister bliss, its definitely not his dance moves. He dances like a robot on steroid; repetitive and beatless. I must agree though, she has a point. The boy can't dance for peanuts. There was once when we were in a club and we bump into him on the dance floor, he was in this dance/trance moment that totally scared the devil out of us. Nevertheless, i did when home with him that night and had sex. And i must admit, out of the many guys that i have been with (two to be exact), he was probably the best i've ever had. The other two were over achievers that just went for it as if their life depends on it. He just couldn't give a rat ass about achieving anything besides the pure pleasure of sex itself. Ohkay, now this is really turning my post into something mills and boons would write. Gawd, do you guys remember mills and boons with their always-topless italian man and scantly dressed sluts on the cover? I used to steal my mum's copy and hide behind the door reading it. It was like playboy on words. And for a thirteen-year-old boy leaving in a rural beachfront town, it was a big deal. Even bigger than when the local band comes to town to shoot their music video where thousand of his friends ditch school and try to catch a glimpse of the band, he was tuck nicely at the back of the library with a bigger than life chemistry textbook reading away. Not the textbook but his mum's copy of mills and boons placed on top of it, hidden from everyone else but he and his daydream.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify; font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify; font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Wow. The clouds outside the window are like china. Vast, and endless into the horizon. Ohh. I'm on a plane again, this time back to my concrete city. My work in the mainland is done and i'm well on my way back to enjoy whatever sunday i have left. Hmm. This trip has been rather therapeutic. I get to spend a day by myself, wandering in the city, finishing up errands and having meals alone. It does sound sad as i type, but the truth was it was kinda liberating to say the least. I was once able to be me in a foreign environment without the constant need to make sure everyone and everything is well taken care of. I didn't have this feeling when i was traveling alone in busan or goldcoast. I guess i had grown up a little over the course of this year, and i'm finally comfortable to be in my own company. I no longer am constantly on the edge. I have learned to chill, like how macro always asks me to. Ahh, marco again. He did leave a big scar in me that will take another greater person to erase it away. How do i even explain marco? I dunno know. I'll think about it the next time i blog a post. Now, please excuse me while i stare out of the window into the fluffy baby blue clouds, as i bath in the warm of a summer sun daydreaming (again) about absolutely nothing at all. Ahhh..</span></p>the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-31237110490286639672011-10-22T16:05:00.002+08:002011-11-01T16:06:57.642+08:0022nd October 2011<div style="text-align: justify; font-family: arial;"> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Lucida Grande"; panose-1:5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} @page Section1 {size:595.0pt 842.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: arial;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: arial;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">22nd October 2011. I had the most horrible time falling asleep last night, knowing that i would need to drag myself up again at 6am to catch my flight to Guangzhou. Yup, i'm heading back to the mainland again. But this time it’s just for a day, and then i'll be back to my concrete city again. Now, warmly tuck underneath a blanket in a corner on the plane, i'm still wide-awake. My eyes are tired from the 27hrs shoot that i had on Thursday, but yet I’m staring silently into the clouds without a blink of dozing off. The sky looks at ease from up here. Well, it always does. And that's one of the reasons why i always choose to have the window seat. That, and also because i really don't want to be caught seating in between two noisy aunties thru out the flight as they loudly discussed their glory younger days and how man is never the same since the invention of television. Well, ladies, they change because look at you; you let it all go after the marriage. You let all that was important to him go as you slave away behind the stove trying to master the art of making crème burlee while all he need was to come home to a wife that pamper him with lipstick kisses and teary glares. Fuck the crème burlee for all that cares, coz' you can easily get it off a street side bakery these days, and it still taste as if it was homemade. The man need to know he married a trophy wife, and not a prune who complains how the grocer never have fresh tomatoes, or how she never seem to find the fish she wants from the recipes she read in the cook book every time she try to be adventurous and be julia child. Don't get me wrong, i am not here to lecture you about the art of being a wife as i would be the least perfect person to do so seeing that i am gay and i think of sex every 10 minutes, but the fact is, i am here to let you know that one should never let that sparkle in him or her go and compromised with what life has to offer. We make our own decisions. We make our own destiny. We make our own dreams. Life is what we make it to be. It’s us who knows what we want and need. Don't let the great unknown tear you down and cornered you into believing that faith was biasedly given to just the lucky few. Its not. We are responsible for how we mold our life into, we are the one who determine what we allowed into our life and how we want it to be. We are the shaper of who are we. We are the gods within us.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify; font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Ohh.. hello mr bubble butt steward who keep staring at me from behind the trolley. Nice of you to ask me how much my ipad was, and to enlighten me on how the ones in australia are selling way more expensive than those in kuala lumpur while all i know what you really want was to have a raunchy good time with me in the laboratory. Haha. Talk about self-confident. Gawd, when have i become this narcissist cow who thinks every man want to have sex with him. Must be the wine i keep asking from the stewardess every time she walks along my aisle. There should actually be a limit on how much wine is allow for a passenger without him making a fool of himself unknowingly in a plane full of cabbage smelling mainland chinese people. Cabbage smelling mainland chinese people? What? Ohkay that was shallow. Maybe i should just shut up and catch up on some much-needed sleep, as how marco likes to remind me of. Ahh, marco. We'll talk about you more next time. Right now, i need to sleep. Good night.</span></p>the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-36412699934880042662011-08-09T12:30:00.003+08:002011-08-16T12:58:44.993+08:00I Slept Like A Log Instead..<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Day #28 in Kai Ping, Guangzhou. The supper from last night sits comfortably in my stomach like a brick as i lug myself out of bed. If i close my eyes i can still feel the warmth of yesterday's night with its glittering hawkers stalls and loud laughters. Today we are traveling back to Guangzhou. Another three hours on the road, and the castles of Majianglong would become just a memory.
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<br />I secretly wish i dreamt last night. I thought being wrapped up in this historic backdrop with its rough texture of life would be inspiring, but no, i slept like a log instead.
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<br />Here are some of my favourite shots of Guangzhou :D
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<br /></span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNXg1nM8oSNsib0g__qY3WrfX2kVBW_9oofYP8UFg6gn9hmSOoeGKV9EpaOTSxDwFmprLMOWOwIkQSQedd791My_1lkl9EcX79K-7ks5ZOw5y4sexoDmeCHcW3oQAng3CJ6QNzvIXOkpK/s1600/Guangzhou01.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNXg1nM8oSNsib0g__qY3WrfX2kVBW_9oofYP8UFg6gn9hmSOoeGKV9EpaOTSxDwFmprLMOWOwIkQSQedd791My_1lkl9EcX79K-7ks5ZOw5y4sexoDmeCHcW3oQAng3CJ6QNzvIXOkpK/s540/Guangzhou01.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641308722728326770" border="0" /></a>
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3049VAcJ6Eff9GrJQXgjkg0lZhiUf-8clWWbDBMgVzEEN0nensRb-rWiaBQm-_37BmvklR8VQWoe4QmQsfpP7D2UcpwtIP9CPnBmenYax952MAN6BKqbrt51OppZL6GsB8R2QKsoUYsHy/s1600/Guangzhou27.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3049VAcJ6Eff9GrJQXgjkg0lZhiUf-8clWWbDBMgVzEEN0nensRb-rWiaBQm-_37BmvklR8VQWoe4QmQsfpP7D2UcpwtIP9CPnBmenYax952MAN6BKqbrt51OppZL6GsB8R2QKsoUYsHy/s540/Guangzhou27.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641306859057083074" border="0" /></a>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi73seDPo7i8h6ghIK0yWvOEdizx6SQMQLGIoqiZroQ_Ctx2WXMaVFMpkoDgOJ7413OmKgyRKA_pD2x5oYTLSoUCkr290lC7K1vSmeNB6ZSzWVdCF62oj9tVfOEwGMyP7YJ1TxwhkzvZAlL/s1600/Guangzhou28.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi73seDPo7i8h6ghIK0yWvOEdizx6SQMQLGIoqiZroQ_Ctx2WXMaVFMpkoDgOJ7413OmKgyRKA_pD2x5oYTLSoUCkr290lC7K1vSmeNB6ZSzWVdCF62oj9tVfOEwGMyP7YJ1TxwhkzvZAlL/s540/Guangzhou28.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641306773003270786" border="0" /></a>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF8Lth2U_MnrM0cN40TD6zaO4V_3zz8XNLfuqogcJp9H-u7kOeQKF7rDKv4uHTeKwfxNSrXrvX6TPMmUPxtosiCbCmuhTWGvaNkyscLXyYM-l1rbrdwT0wdHxQl6JGAqRQ-YXQoX4t5NHy/s1600/Guangzhou29.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF8Lth2U_MnrM0cN40TD6zaO4V_3zz8XNLfuqogcJp9H-u7kOeQKF7rDKv4uHTeKwfxNSrXrvX6TPMmUPxtosiCbCmuhTWGvaNkyscLXyYM-l1rbrdwT0wdHxQl6JGAqRQ-YXQoX4t5NHy/s540/Guangzhou29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641306698417604754" border="0" /></a>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZi5BhyrxdDkwd75S72itvWq0k7cxIit_9cNh4jYmynGO6BrYbKZosMjlJrGfTYbm_X8UQnKAXc6Wg6T0-kVIuUBLJz_m2ds1fre3FCQeLa6SKK0Px7S9leOVlw7xNZqqRqVT2HItMkZWR/s1600/Guangzhou30.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZi5BhyrxdDkwd75S72itvWq0k7cxIit_9cNh4jYmynGO6BrYbKZosMjlJrGfTYbm_X8UQnKAXc6Wg6T0-kVIuUBLJz_m2ds1fre3FCQeLa6SKK0Px7S9leOVlw7xNZqqRqVT2HItMkZWR/s540/Guangzhou30.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641306585309646354" border="0" /></a>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU7nzFrBMR_0Nvw8OI14kX2cbF-Vps7DcnDJ_3H_iHzICaHElaCxYLh6TartXKJKiJ1fz6pPJCjw5Y-g-hsNVv-qIfbSMCp8PeijvyXZ8Sf7xGQ6EImai4az5QaPZU4zbX8U79Ox5JuLJK/s1600/Guangzhou31.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU7nzFrBMR_0Nvw8OI14kX2cbF-Vps7DcnDJ_3H_iHzICaHElaCxYLh6TartXKJKiJ1fz6pPJCjw5Y-g-hsNVv-qIfbSMCp8PeijvyXZ8Sf7xGQ6EImai4az5QaPZU4zbX8U79Ox5JuLJK/s540/Guangzhou31.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641306516400246002" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm not very blog-worthy lately. Words don't flow that smooth anymore. Dunno why.</span>
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<br />the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-27651488225470332442011-08-08T12:13:00.009+08:002011-08-16T12:30:02.291+08:00I Crave You<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Day #27 in Guangzhou, chickity China. Today i'm on my way to Kai Ping; a forgotten town southeast of Guangzhou. I heard wong kar wai was just there finishing his three years film project, on yet another ipman memoir. I wonder how much more story can they squeeze out of the poor man before the world gets bored and moved on to another kungfu superhero. Better still, i wonder when will hollywood do an ipman version of their own, and screw it up with zac efron or that harold guy from harold&kumar as the lead. I wonder when..</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;font-family:arial;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">The endless drive across the gloomy morning sky was rather a depressing trip this morning. Spread across a vast landscape of paddy fields and fruit trees were tiny villages of not more than ten brick houses, each a little fairy tale of its own. I see chimneys burning a sky of clouds as mothers prepare breakfast for her child before the little ones cycle off to school. I see fathers sitting outside the house, enjoying his last puff of cigarette before work starts for the day.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;font-family:arial;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">I do sometimes crave for life simplicities like this.
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<br /></span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDCv7Lmyv7imi0DC3wn_hqal11veKCfaRkdvzWE7X6MHLRKqmU0JObD8j1BNUWFcF57FDPT5abRqOWsjmXahLOVJXZBEtRvtnMvc3bX5VYvlMBfnQPrEFusSPd3D6MxG0QLIU8kvx2sJuX/s1600/WKW01.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDCv7Lmyv7imi0DC3wn_hqal11veKCfaRkdvzWE7X6MHLRKqmU0JObD8j1BNUWFcF57FDPT5abRqOWsjmXahLOVJXZBEtRvtnMvc3bX5VYvlMBfnQPrEFusSPd3D6MxG0QLIU8kvx2sJuX/s540/WKW01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641303170810271842" border="0" /></a>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqTchG-SSzfw4QK36FHbhp4r1L_e6ma4LnKgoVTnEbSJG3iyYw1WtlwfSxRT9PzI2eM7a6K2EL47dgGmw2FIijXsBk84rDAe626-3z8-PPy4YrYxQjO3WRObZOdwSBhXgjyNqnFBZJhp4K/s1600/WKW02.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqTchG-SSzfw4QK36FHbhp4r1L_e6ma4LnKgoVTnEbSJG3iyYw1WtlwfSxRT9PzI2eM7a6K2EL47dgGmw2FIijXsBk84rDAe626-3z8-PPy4YrYxQjO3WRObZOdwSBhXgjyNqnFBZJhp4K/s540/WKW02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641303085815312578" border="0" /></a>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOPjqRwl1zK_d806fTvw4f9Bp3NyjBbG58gt2uvvyO79HWVUsk_E0O_ABwnj3ImY9jo5rBpb9-oKjj5RP7gcMFZ7I0dzj-IpOSe2NJCpgSxDpgVPMRFEMPKnt27jbsEPpmyql8FRts7O-d/s1600/WKW03.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOPjqRwl1zK_d806fTvw4f9Bp3NyjBbG58gt2uvvyO79HWVUsk_E0O_ABwnj3ImY9jo5rBpb9-oKjj5RP7gcMFZ7I0dzj-IpOSe2NJCpgSxDpgVPMRFEMPKnt27jbsEPpmyql8FRts7O-d/s540/WKW03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641303013214008482" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Wong Kar Wai's Filming Set :D</span>
<br /></span></div><div> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Lucida Grande"; panose-1:5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} @page Section1 {size:595.0pt 842.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> </div><div style="text-align: right;"> </div><div style="text-align: right;"> </div>
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<br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; text-align: justify;"></p>the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212491366821712887.post-81116677246789714592011-06-23T02:04:00.002+08:002011-06-23T02:06:48.055+08:00Today I Shall Curse<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwsEaPpbXlR77n4yGZA6IuFaJB9AQ8U-Lpxt6vst5o7Gl-zRWliN0crQi2dJiqgUf_kg-zusHonbhbsDT0NWovRKWi8HHM5Lvh_LJc_ur0tCYceWiOmWgiA_P1ix3r1Wnt0U1_AjPXLqyU/s1600/erik-johansson-retouching-4-700x460.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwsEaPpbXlR77n4yGZA6IuFaJB9AQ8U-Lpxt6vst5o7Gl-zRWliN0crQi2dJiqgUf_kg-zusHonbhbsDT0NWovRKWi8HHM5Lvh_LJc_ur0tCYceWiOmWgiA_P1ix3r1Wnt0U1_AjPXLqyU/s540/erik-johansson-retouching-4-700x460.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621106677476416002" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;">Thanks. I really need that, you @#&*/!!!</span><br /></div>the ugly submarinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15212259771180208837noreply@blogger.com0