Observations through the whiskey glass
Monday, January 31, 2005
Dinner
I bought some fish,
some chicken,
some vegetables
and lots of rice.
Who needs the frustration
of arranging a dinner date,
When I can sit comfortably on my sofa,
sharing dinner with my lovely Cat.
I bought some fish,
some chicken,
some vegetables
and lots of rice.
Who needs the frustration
of arranging a dinner date,
When I can sit comfortably on my sofa,
sharing dinner with my lovely Cat.
Yet another online personality quiz that you do during office hours.
Dream, the third of The Endless, you are in charge
of the Dreaming, all imagination and
creativity, everyone knows your beautiful
realm, but none truly understand it. You are
dark and brooding, creative, and spend a lot of
time by yourself, just thinking. You are almost
as serious as Destiny, but not quite. Everyone
is enchanted by you, but you keep them all at a
distance, even when you shouldn't.
Which Endless are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Dream, the third of The Endless, you are in charge
of the Dreaming, all imagination and
creativity, everyone knows your beautiful
realm, but none truly understand it. You are
dark and brooding, creative, and spend a lot of
time by yourself, just thinking. You are almost
as serious as Destiny, but not quite. Everyone
is enchanted by you, but you keep them all at a
distance, even when you shouldn't.
Which Endless are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Cat
I had a sudden overwhelming sense of affection for Cat the last 2 days. Some pics below taken with my PDA.
sleeping on a pile of my clothes on the couch.
wondering why he was suddenly getting so much attention from me.
flirting with the camera.
I had a sudden overwhelming sense of affection for Cat the last 2 days. Some pics below taken with my PDA.
sleeping on a pile of my clothes on the couch.
wondering why he was suddenly getting so much attention from me.
flirting with the camera.
Saturday, January 29, 2005
Ramdom Thoughts
-No matter how much you gamble and pray to win, you will run out of chips one day.
-Everybody needs an anchor in their lives. When you choose too light an anchor, you will forever be drifting aimlessly : or drown because the anchor is too heavy for you. Choose wisely.
-Comfort not given at the crucial time will lose its effects.
-When I am down and out, He would leap gracefully onto my lap, sit down facing me, looking at me with his pensive eyes. I realise how much I love him. I know he loves me. At times like these, I would shed tears of appreciation, and realise I have not given him enough love. If the whole world were to let me down, I know he won't. Cat, my lovely housemate, is the anchor of my sanity.
- The lost little boy attempts to lead the blind little girl out of the woods.
-No matter how much you gamble and pray to win, you will run out of chips one day.
-Everybody needs an anchor in their lives. When you choose too light an anchor, you will forever be drifting aimlessly : or drown because the anchor is too heavy for you. Choose wisely.
-Comfort not given at the crucial time will lose its effects.
-When I am down and out, He would leap gracefully onto my lap, sit down facing me, looking at me with his pensive eyes. I realise how much I love him. I know he loves me. At times like these, I would shed tears of appreciation, and realise I have not given him enough love. If the whole world were to let me down, I know he won't. Cat, my lovely housemate, is the anchor of my sanity.
- The lost little boy attempts to lead the blind little girl out of the woods.
Disturbing Visions of Reality
It was dusk.
I lit a cigarette and stared out of the window at the last light, with a deep sense of apprehension. Julie London was singing Fly Me To The Moon in the background.
My thoughts were shattered by a commotion coming from the street below. Eight men in black suits were chasing a woman. The form of the small lithe body sprinting metres ahead of the men looked familiar. I could almost catch the scent of her thick lustrous hair, that I knew so well. It is Her.
I grabbed my keys and dashed out of my apartment, into the streets. It was easy finding out where they went just by seeing the direction the passerbys in the street was staring at. I trailed them through the front door of a Chinese restaurant and out the back. I sprinted out of the alley...
And found myself in front of a white chapel. It was quiet...There was no sign of them...
I walked into the chapel warily, my footsteps intruding the thick gel of silence. Everything was in pure white within the chapel, excluding the coloured glass panels adorning the windows. My attention was immediately drawn to the white marble opened coffin sitting on the altar.
I approached the altar slowly, every step threatening to overwhelming silence of the location.
It was her... Lying within the marble coffin, her head resting one a small white pillow. She was dressed in a white flowy gown, her hands resting lightly on her bosom. She looked like she was sleeping. A peaceful look on her face...So familiar... Fragments of memories of her sleeping on my lap on the sofa surfaced in the sea of my turbulent thoughts.
I smiled and kneeled to plant a light kiss on her right cheek, like I used to do...
-----
A shot rang, shattering the peaceful silence of the chapel. Blood splattered on the marble coffin. It cracked asunder and she screamed.
I looked down at my chest, still in the half kneeling position, to discover a bloodied hole in my chest.
She was still screaming...The coloured panes shattered, revealing a full moon in the pitch black sky.
Cat appeared, in that little bowtie of his. Yet the colour of his fur was no longer ginger. He had turned black with white patches. There was no escaping that pensive look on his face that I was so familiar with. He leaped gracefully up the coffin and landed lightly on her chest and meowed a small question at her. She stopped screaming. Her eyes twitching behind closed lids. Beads of sweat formed on her anguished face.
I fell on the floor, a pool of blood expanding slowly around me. I was amused that I could have so much blood in my scrawny body.
As my vision began to blur, I noticed the full moon was blood red... And Julie London was singing Fly Me To The Moon in my head...
It was dusk.
I lit a cigarette and stared out of the window at the last light, with a deep sense of apprehension. Julie London was singing Fly Me To The Moon in the background.
My thoughts were shattered by a commotion coming from the street below. Eight men in black suits were chasing a woman. The form of the small lithe body sprinting metres ahead of the men looked familiar. I could almost catch the scent of her thick lustrous hair, that I knew so well. It is Her.
I grabbed my keys and dashed out of my apartment, into the streets. It was easy finding out where they went just by seeing the direction the passerbys in the street was staring at. I trailed them through the front door of a Chinese restaurant and out the back. I sprinted out of the alley...
And found myself in front of a white chapel. It was quiet...There was no sign of them...
I walked into the chapel warily, my footsteps intruding the thick gel of silence. Everything was in pure white within the chapel, excluding the coloured glass panels adorning the windows. My attention was immediately drawn to the white marble opened coffin sitting on the altar.
I approached the altar slowly, every step threatening to overwhelming silence of the location.
It was her... Lying within the marble coffin, her head resting one a small white pillow. She was dressed in a white flowy gown, her hands resting lightly on her bosom. She looked like she was sleeping. A peaceful look on her face...So familiar... Fragments of memories of her sleeping on my lap on the sofa surfaced in the sea of my turbulent thoughts.
I smiled and kneeled to plant a light kiss on her right cheek, like I used to do...
-----
A shot rang, shattering the peaceful silence of the chapel. Blood splattered on the marble coffin. It cracked asunder and she screamed.
I looked down at my chest, still in the half kneeling position, to discover a bloodied hole in my chest.
She was still screaming...The coloured panes shattered, revealing a full moon in the pitch black sky.
Cat appeared, in that little bowtie of his. Yet the colour of his fur was no longer ginger. He had turned black with white patches. There was no escaping that pensive look on his face that I was so familiar with. He leaped gracefully up the coffin and landed lightly on her chest and meowed a small question at her. She stopped screaming. Her eyes twitching behind closed lids. Beads of sweat formed on her anguished face.
I fell on the floor, a pool of blood expanding slowly around me. I was amused that I could have so much blood in my scrawny body.
As my vision began to blur, I noticed the full moon was blood red... And Julie London was singing Fly Me To The Moon in my head...
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Turning Thirty
I was reading the above book by Mike Gayle for the second time round. When was the first time I read it? When I was turning thirty, two years back. -_-'
"Thirty means only going to the pub if there's somewhere to sit down. Thirty means owning at least one classical CD, even if it's Now That's What I Call Classical Vol 6. Thirty means calling off the search for the perfect partner because now, after all these years in the wilderness, you've finally found what you've been looking for."
"Thirty means only going to the pub if there's somewhere to sit down..."
Well, for me, I only go to low profile pubs where there is less of a crowd. ermm...In fact I only go to one regular joint, and I have my regular seat at that bar. Why the bar and not a table? Bar means I get the drinks fast. In fact my usual seat is directly in front of the tap. At most joints, the bar is usually where the regulars hang out. It is no different at this joint. They know me well enough to know I wanna be left alone when I am engrossed in my book or scribbling notes with a frown on my face. I have definitely stopped going to joints where I have to queue or where there is no seats. Gone were the days when I would Q for hours to get into a 'happening' joint to see and be seen. Age does this to you...
"...Thirty means owning at least one classical CD, even if it's Now That's What I Call Classical Vol 6...."
I own quite some classical CDs, all compilations. Can't tell the names of all the tracks. I just play them to set the mood, to get some peace at home. Popular TOP40 hits are no longer on my usual playlists...Most of the music spinning at my pad are usually moods; from Celtic to classical to kitaro to down-tempo. Most of the albums I own don't even have vocals. I guess this is what age does to you...
"...Thirty means calling off the search for the perfect partner because now, after all these years in the wilderness, you've finally found what you've been looking for."
This is the funny part. When I was turning thirty, I told myself I was bullshitting me by planning to propose to my then girlfriend of ten years. I couldn't imagine spending the rest of my life with her. I didn't wanna waste her time anymore. We broke up a couple months before I turned thirty. I went back in the wilderness again, played the field for awhile and realised that I was too tired for it all. I guess that is what age does to you..
Bah! Why am I talking about turning thirty, when I will be turning thirty three end of this year... I should be worrying about when I am gonna die.
PS: the quiz says that I am gonna die at the age of 76.1 from heart attack. Apparently I have more vitality then the average male (avg life span is 72). I don't want to live to that age. I wanna die happy, by 50.
I was reading the above book by Mike Gayle for the second time round. When was the first time I read it? When I was turning thirty, two years back. -_-'
"Thirty means only going to the pub if there's somewhere to sit down. Thirty means owning at least one classical CD, even if it's Now That's What I Call Classical Vol 6. Thirty means calling off the search for the perfect partner because now, after all these years in the wilderness, you've finally found what you've been looking for."
"Thirty means only going to the pub if there's somewhere to sit down..."
Well, for me, I only go to low profile pubs where there is less of a crowd. ermm...In fact I only go to one regular joint, and I have my regular seat at that bar. Why the bar and not a table? Bar means I get the drinks fast. In fact my usual seat is directly in front of the tap. At most joints, the bar is usually where the regulars hang out. It is no different at this joint. They know me well enough to know I wanna be left alone when I am engrossed in my book or scribbling notes with a frown on my face. I have definitely stopped going to joints where I have to queue or where there is no seats. Gone were the days when I would Q for hours to get into a 'happening' joint to see and be seen. Age does this to you...
"...Thirty means owning at least one classical CD, even if it's Now That's What I Call Classical Vol 6...."
I own quite some classical CDs, all compilations. Can't tell the names of all the tracks. I just play them to set the mood, to get some peace at home. Popular TOP40 hits are no longer on my usual playlists...Most of the music spinning at my pad are usually moods; from Celtic to classical to kitaro to down-tempo. Most of the albums I own don't even have vocals. I guess this is what age does to you...
"...Thirty means calling off the search for the perfect partner because now, after all these years in the wilderness, you've finally found what you've been looking for."
This is the funny part. When I was turning thirty, I told myself I was bullshitting me by planning to propose to my then girlfriend of ten years. I couldn't imagine spending the rest of my life with her. I didn't wanna waste her time anymore. We broke up a couple months before I turned thirty. I went back in the wilderness again, played the field for awhile and realised that I was too tired for it all. I guess that is what age does to you..
Bah! Why am I talking about turning thirty, when I will be turning thirty three end of this year... I should be worrying about when I am gonna die.
PS: the quiz says that I am gonna die at the age of 76.1 from heart attack. Apparently I have more vitality then the average male (avg life span is 72). I don't want to live to that age. I wanna die happy, by 50.
Monday, January 24, 2005
Another quiz...
Another one of those meaningless online personality quizes you do in the office when you have tonnes of work yet dont feel like doing:
Another one of those meaningless online personality quizes you do in the office when you have tonnes of work yet dont feel like doing:
|
Your Dominant Intelligence is Linguistic Intelligence |
 You are excellent with words and language. You explain yourself well. An elegant speaker, you can converse well with anyone on the fly. You are also good at remembering information and convicing someone of your point of view. A master of creative phrasing and unique words, you enjoy expanding your vocabulary. You would make a fantastic poet, journalist, writer, teacher, lawyer, politician, or translator. |
Rice
I was frying a couple of fishes I bought from the supermarket a few days back, when the warm fragrance of the freshly cooked rice wafted across my senses and brought me down memory lane.
------
Those were the days when I was in primary school. I was staying with my grandaunt's family then. It was a rather big family of 9, excluding me. Every late afternoon, she would go through the routine of rinsing the grains of rice, setting it to cook in the pot, then progress to cook the different dishes. I would tiptoe and attempt to stare through the vapour condensed cover to attempt to understand the transformation of those hard little grains to the bloated rice we eat.
Everyone in the family comes back from work at different times so dinner was seldom done together. Grandaunt would separate the different dishes into small portions in tiny plates and cover them with those old school netty looking food covers. So whoever comes back early would scoop a bowl of rice and take his/her own tiny plates of dishes and eat at the dining table alone. This way, everyone washes his/her own plates after dinner, so there would be no fights about who's turn was it to do the washing.
------
I was tucking into my bowl of fragrant rice alone when I realised why these memories came back. Through those years, I have somehow unconsciously associated the warm gentle fragrance of cooked rice with the comfort and security of family.
Those were rare moments in my life when I basked in the warmth of a family. It was not because I felt a sense of belonging. It was more likely due to the fact that I was young and naive, I haven't found out how complicated 'family' was...
I was frying a couple of fishes I bought from the supermarket a few days back, when the warm fragrance of the freshly cooked rice wafted across my senses and brought me down memory lane.
------
Those were the days when I was in primary school. I was staying with my grandaunt's family then. It was a rather big family of 9, excluding me. Every late afternoon, she would go through the routine of rinsing the grains of rice, setting it to cook in the pot, then progress to cook the different dishes. I would tiptoe and attempt to stare through the vapour condensed cover to attempt to understand the transformation of those hard little grains to the bloated rice we eat.
Everyone in the family comes back from work at different times so dinner was seldom done together. Grandaunt would separate the different dishes into small portions in tiny plates and cover them with those old school netty looking food covers. So whoever comes back early would scoop a bowl of rice and take his/her own tiny plates of dishes and eat at the dining table alone. This way, everyone washes his/her own plates after dinner, so there would be no fights about who's turn was it to do the washing.
------
I was tucking into my bowl of fragrant rice alone when I realised why these memories came back. Through those years, I have somehow unconsciously associated the warm gentle fragrance of cooked rice with the comfort and security of family.
Those were rare moments in my life when I basked in the warmth of a family. It was not because I felt a sense of belonging. It was more likely due to the fact that I was young and naive, I haven't found out how complicated 'family' was...
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Crane
We were sitting at the bar.
She was rampaging through her wallet for something. A small little piece of origami dropped out onto the counter. On closer look, it was a black crane about 1.5 cm small in all three dimensions.
She glanced over. I feigned extreme interest in the band.
Assured that I did not see it, she picked it up hastily, gently smoothened the crease and hid it back in her wallet.
It was a paper crane I made, months back, when we were at the same bar, same seats. I had totally forgotten about it. That wee little action of hers, spoke loudly from her heart, against the denial from her lips.
We were sitting at the bar.
She was rampaging through her wallet for something. A small little piece of origami dropped out onto the counter. On closer look, it was a black crane about 1.5 cm small in all three dimensions.
She glanced over. I feigned extreme interest in the band.
Assured that I did not see it, she picked it up hastily, gently smoothened the crease and hid it back in her wallet.
It was a paper crane I made, months back, when we were at the same bar, same seats. I had totally forgotten about it. That wee little action of hers, spoke loudly from her heart, against the denial from her lips.
Friday, January 14, 2005
Angel
"Such as?" I asked.
"Intensity... I do things I have never done for another person. But for him I do... " Tasha was talking about her new guy Samuel "Sadly, sometimes it makes me darn pissed off with myself," she continued.
When I saw the above on Tetanus's blog, my feelings went topsy turvy again. On one end I was glad there are folks out there that felt the same way. It gave me the illusion that I am not going through this alone. Yet the thought of the intensity of the love I have for her, that made me do crazy things that I have never done before, brings a tinge of pain to my heart.
During a conversation one night at my usual pub, she mentioned a craving for chillied ikan bilis with nuts. I spent the next few weeks searching for it in vain. I finally made a trip to the supermarket and took a few hours of trial and error to fry a tuperware full of it for her. The look on her face was priceless when I passed it to her.
I enjoyed the weekends lounging on the sofa, with her head on my lap, watching anime. Once in while, I would gaze into her eyes with a silly grin on my face. When I noticed she hadn't been tidying her eyebrows, I would get a pair tweezers and spend the next 30 min cleaning it up for her while she watches TV. Then I would follow up by trimming and filing her nails.
When I was doing all the above, the only thought on my mind was how precious she was to me. I would be happy when she looks good. I would feel a sense of warmth when she flashed me a shy smile. I didn't think of how girlish those actions were. I was just happy to see her happy.
On hindsight, I realised these were things I have never done before for anyone in my life. These were things that would guarantee me the N01 Wuss spot amongst the boys. I would probably be ridiculed for months if they find out.
I remember a night when I had a bad bout of gastric pains caused me to puke through most of the night. I sent her a message in the middle of the night complaining about the pain.
The first thing I saw when I woke up in the morning was her beautiful face, crowned by her long lustrous hair. She was in a white fitting top and long flowing skirt. She was stroking my face softly and muttering some soothing words. She saw the SMS in the morning and rushed over to check on me.
Maybe it was a deception caused caused by the morning rays, maybe it was just my mind trying to shake off remnants of the dreams I had... at that split second when I opened my eyes, I was sure I saw... a pair of virgin white, soft, feathery wings folding on her back slowing and fading away...
"Such as?" I asked.
"Intensity... I do things I have never done for another person. But for him I do... " Tasha was talking about her new guy Samuel "Sadly, sometimes it makes me darn pissed off with myself," she continued.
When I saw the above on Tetanus's blog, my feelings went topsy turvy again. On one end I was glad there are folks out there that felt the same way. It gave me the illusion that I am not going through this alone. Yet the thought of the intensity of the love I have for her, that made me do crazy things that I have never done before, brings a tinge of pain to my heart.
During a conversation one night at my usual pub, she mentioned a craving for chillied ikan bilis with nuts. I spent the next few weeks searching for it in vain. I finally made a trip to the supermarket and took a few hours of trial and error to fry a tuperware full of it for her. The look on her face was priceless when I passed it to her.
I enjoyed the weekends lounging on the sofa, with her head on my lap, watching anime. Once in while, I would gaze into her eyes with a silly grin on my face. When I noticed she hadn't been tidying her eyebrows, I would get a pair tweezers and spend the next 30 min cleaning it up for her while she watches TV. Then I would follow up by trimming and filing her nails.
When I was doing all the above, the only thought on my mind was how precious she was to me. I would be happy when she looks good. I would feel a sense of warmth when she flashed me a shy smile. I didn't think of how girlish those actions were. I was just happy to see her happy.
On hindsight, I realised these were things I have never done before for anyone in my life. These were things that would guarantee me the N01 Wuss spot amongst the boys. I would probably be ridiculed for months if they find out.
I remember a night when I had a bad bout of gastric pains caused me to puke through most of the night. I sent her a message in the middle of the night complaining about the pain.
The first thing I saw when I woke up in the morning was her beautiful face, crowned by her long lustrous hair. She was in a white fitting top and long flowing skirt. She was stroking my face softly and muttering some soothing words. She saw the SMS in the morning and rushed over to check on me.
Maybe it was a deception caused caused by the morning rays, maybe it was just my mind trying to shake off remnants of the dreams I had... at that split second when I opened my eyes, I was sure I saw... a pair of virgin white, soft, feathery wings folding on her back slowing and fading away...
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
Suffer the consequences
He has been going through a series of tests to determine the severeness of his medical condition. He did not tell anyone about it. The closer they are to him, the more he did not want them to know, with the exception of the one living under the same roof as him.
He knows that his housemate would keep his secret well, would give him unconditional love and support. Yet he fear for his housemate. Who would take care of his housemate, be there for his housemate, if he would to fall due to the affliction?
"Why didn't he want to let the rest know?" I asked him.
He didn't want them to worry. He loved them too much to burden them with the news.
"Wouldn't it be tough going through this alone?" I asked.
"Yes, it is god damned tough.." he replied. At times he shook with fear when the gravity of the situation hit him. At times he yearned for support, a shoulder to cry on. His housemate's presence barely manage to anchor him to sanity.
"Why put yourself through this alone?" I implored.
"Isn't it selfish of me to burden my loved ones with my issues, just because I needed support? I made the decision. I suffer the consequences alone." He gritted.
He has been going through a series of tests to determine the severeness of his medical condition. He did not tell anyone about it. The closer they are to him, the more he did not want them to know, with the exception of the one living under the same roof as him.
He knows that his housemate would keep his secret well, would give him unconditional love and support. Yet he fear for his housemate. Who would take care of his housemate, be there for his housemate, if he would to fall due to the affliction?
"Why didn't he want to let the rest know?" I asked him.
He didn't want them to worry. He loved them too much to burden them with the news.
"Wouldn't it be tough going through this alone?" I asked.
"Yes, it is god damned tough.." he replied. At times he shook with fear when the gravity of the situation hit him. At times he yearned for support, a shoulder to cry on. His housemate's presence barely manage to anchor him to sanity.
"Why put yourself through this alone?" I implored.
"Isn't it selfish of me to burden my loved ones with my issues, just because I needed support? I made the decision. I suffer the consequences alone." He gritted.
My Soul
Based on the assumption that I have a soul, this is what kinda soul I am supposed to have:
Based on the assumption that I have a soul, this is what kinda soul I am supposed to have:
|
You Are a Visionary Soul |
You are a curious person, always in a state of awareness. Connected to all things spiritual, you are very connect to your soul. You are wise and bright: able to reason and be reasonable. Occasionally, you get quite depressed and have dark feelings. You have great vision and can be very insightful. In fact, you are often profound in a way that surprises yourself. Visionary souls like you can be the best type of friend. You are intuitive, understanding, sympathetic, and a good healer. Souls you are most compatible with: Old Soul and Peacemaker Soul |
The Voice in my head
The Voice in my head,
told me to club 'em with the mallet.
The Voice in my head,
instructed me carve 'em up with a chopper.
The Voice in my head,
bidded me to impale 'em with skewers.
The Voice in my head,
charged me to sprinkle salt on 'em.
The Voice in my head,
commanded me to roast 'em over a slow fire.
Who needs a cookbook,
when the Voice in my head,
is there to teach me how to cook.
The Voice in my head,
told me to club 'em with the mallet.
The Voice in my head,
instructed me carve 'em up with a chopper.
The Voice in my head,
bidded me to impale 'em with skewers.
The Voice in my head,
charged me to sprinkle salt on 'em.
The Voice in my head,
commanded me to roast 'em over a slow fire.
Who needs a cookbook,
when the Voice in my head,
is there to teach me how to cook.
Friday, January 07, 2005
Riddles, Mysteries and the rest of us.
I came across this part of the book 'Love & Other Recreational Sports' by John Dearie, that reminded me of what I always knew but have forgotten time and again in my dealings with the fairer(at times I do beg to defer) sex:
"....Life is full of riddles and mysteries, he said. It's important to know the difference.
"Which is?"
"Riddles have answers," he said. "They're meant to be figured out. Mysteries aren't. They don't have answers. Not for us anyway."
"So you are saying women falls into the mystery category and I'm just torturing myself trying to figure them out."
"I am saying you don't want to figure them out.""
The above conversation between father and son sums up Man's futile attempts to understand women. At the end of the day, it is easier for the man to just give in or go away. Trying to understand the logic behind a woman's decisions/thoughts will only drive you insane... Women and logic does not always go hand-in-hand. OK wait...I said something wrong there. Women and logic usually doesn't go hand-in-hand.
Willie Nelson wrote a song dedicated to 'All the girls I've loved before', not 'All the girls I've understood before'. He is a wise man.
No sane man would write about how much he understood a woman. If he did, he was probably under the influence of some happy hallucination drugs or that particular woman threatened to refuse him sex if he wrote otherwise.
I came across this part of the book 'Love & Other Recreational Sports' by John Dearie, that reminded me of what I always knew but have forgotten time and again in my dealings with the fairer(at times I do beg to defer) sex:
"....Life is full of riddles and mysteries, he said. It's important to know the difference.
"Which is?"
"Riddles have answers," he said. "They're meant to be figured out. Mysteries aren't. They don't have answers. Not for us anyway."
"So you are saying women falls into the mystery category and I'm just torturing myself trying to figure them out."
"I am saying you don't want to figure them out.""
The above conversation between father and son sums up Man's futile attempts to understand women. At the end of the day, it is easier for the man to just give in or go away. Trying to understand the logic behind a woman's decisions/thoughts will only drive you insane... Women and logic does not always go hand-in-hand. OK wait...I said something wrong there. Women and logic usually doesn't go hand-in-hand.
Willie Nelson wrote a song dedicated to 'All the girls I've loved before', not 'All the girls I've understood before'. He is a wise man.
No sane man would write about how much he understood a woman. If he did, he was probably under the influence of some happy hallucination drugs or that particular woman threatened to refuse him sex if he wrote otherwise.
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Games
The manipulator accuses the manipulated of manipulating.
The liar claims the victim of her lies is lying.
The runner becomes a groveller,
The one grovelled to runs off to grovel to another.
And he who was a groveller is a runner now.
What a crazy world this is.
What crazy games we all play.
The manipulator accuses the manipulated of manipulating.
The liar claims the victim of her lies is lying.
The runner becomes a groveller,
The one grovelled to runs off to grovel to another.
And he who was a groveller is a runner now.
What a crazy world this is.
What crazy games we all play.
His' N Her's
time: 0900hrs
Location: shower room
Cat : MEEOOW!!!(indignation)
(He stuck his head out of the shower)
Him: Ya, I know.. I told her about your sprain. She didn't seem to care. She even said I was trying to make her feel bad.
Cat: Meoow???
Him: How the fuck I know? At least you were not the one bearing the brunt of the shit from her.
Cat: meow...
Him: Sigh...don't be sad boy. I know it hurts. It hurt me too. You better cut down on all the jumping and sprinting around ya? At least till you recover.
Cat: meeoooooow (in desolation..)
Him: ya...I know you miss her. So do I. We just have to let it go and move on boy.
(He rubbed Cat's ear lightly.)
Cat: purrr.....
Him: I love you too...
time: 0900hrs
Location: shower room
Cat : MEEOOW!!!(indignation)
(He stuck his head out of the shower)
Him: Ya, I know.. I told her about your sprain. She didn't seem to care. She even said I was trying to make her feel bad.
Cat: Meoow???
Him: How the fuck I know? At least you were not the one bearing the brunt of the shit from her.
Cat: meow...
Him: Sigh...don't be sad boy. I know it hurts. It hurt me too. You better cut down on all the jumping and sprinting around ya? At least till you recover.
Cat: meeoooooow (in desolation..)
Him: ya...I know you miss her. So do I. We just have to let it go and move on boy.
(He rubbed Cat's ear lightly.)
Cat: purrr.....
Him: I love you too...
Monday, January 03, 2005
We can't help everyone, but everyone can help someone ~ Dr. Loretta Scott
For the past week or so, we have been bombarded by the media with images of titanic waves and crying folks who have lost loved ones in the crisis.
Instead of :
- cutting down on the partying for the festive season in respect of the victims of the disaster(well, that's what the governments of this region are preaching. I wonder how this helps the bereaved folks.)
- shedding a tear of sympathy and discussing it over coffee(this definitely DOES NOT help them.)
- observing a moment of silence b4 you start your boozing session(well, I am not gonna say that again.)
Do something!
If you are a Singaporean,
You can find a list of organisations that need help at Browntown,
or you can call Singapore Red Cross at (65) 6336 0269.
If you aint from around here,
well, I suppose you can contact your local Red Cross to see what you can do to help.
"When it is darkest, man see the stars." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
Every tiny effort helps.
For the past week or so, we have been bombarded by the media with images of titanic waves and crying folks who have lost loved ones in the crisis.
Instead of :
- cutting down on the partying for the festive season in respect of the victims of the disaster(well, that's what the governments of this region are preaching. I wonder how this helps the bereaved folks.)
- shedding a tear of sympathy and discussing it over coffee(this definitely DOES NOT help them.)
- observing a moment of silence b4 you start your boozing session(well, I am not gonna say that again.)
Do something!
If you are a Singaporean,
You can find a list of organisations that need help at Browntown,
or you can call Singapore Red Cross at (65) 6336 0269.
If you aint from around here,
well, I suppose you can contact your local Red Cross to see what you can do to help.
"When it is darkest, man see the stars." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
Every tiny effort helps.
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previous posts
- shifted
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- It's a dog's year.
- ME!!! ME!!!
- At times like these
- 1963
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- Blue Christmas
- 42
misc
sites i visit
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- alexandra
- laughingcow
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