Wednesday, February 28, 2007

The Pop Brigade.

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Rubba dub McPhee.

Monday, February 26, 2007

The Glimmer Twins and I are best mates.

Keith Richards was in the driver's seat of this old Camaro, which was funny because he was positioned on the right; Mick was in the passenger's seat and most probably having a blunt. I was at the back, just hanging with them along the FDR in New York. New York City was being flooded, but funnily enough, only on the side of the oncoming traffic flow. We were escaping the floods by driving towards the source, and we hit an embankment and then plunged into the water that was rising between the two dual carriagewats. As we were flying, Mick told me to hold my breath and to close my eyes, and I did. The moment I opened them was the moment I awoke from the dream; it was 4 in the morning, and I was staring at my bedroom window.

Interpret that.

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Thursday, February 22, 2007

Who wants to nab Abner Jenkins?

Show me the last guileless girl alive, and I'll give you a million bucks. Show me the last semi-guileless girl alive, and I'll give you half a million. Throw a rock in the air, and it won't land on either of these classifications of the 'softer' gender...simply because they don't exist.

I don't believe that any woman ever has a man's best interests at heart. Ever. Somehow, even the best of intentions are thrown into a strange tangent, giving totally unexpected results. Everybody's selfish. Everybody's trying to look good.

Especially them. We might moan and groan about how we can't live with them/without them, but, Godwilling, it seems inevitable to believe in them simply because they will it off you.

Everyone's fake. It's just that women seem to need to be that way much more desperately than men do, whether it's to prove a point or to hammer the last nail into the coffin.

Wily vixens vividly vex. Always.

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Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Big in Oregon.

It's a strange sensation to have her scent all over my pillows; the fact that it's fragrant makes it even more unnerving, simply because it's worth preserving. Not that I could stick an airtight bottle onto her skin, hold it there for half a minute and then immediately put a lid on it --- it wouldn't be very practical. I suppose that I'd just have to settle for the pillows, then; unfortunately, pillow cases need to be washed.

What surprises me the most is that I didn't think it would've lasted this long. Giving quiet reassurances is one thing, but it means nothing if you don't believe in them. Fortunately, I've found a Tiger-Crane-Hook-Stance and found leverage against Uncertainty. For now, anyway. I might not be the most pragmatic person when it comes to what happens between two people, but I'm actually pulling for this one to work out.

If you'd sift through the various factors that would prove this whole endeavour to be a waste and totally unfeasible, you'd see the sweet, caramel center of the whole ordeal. I've done so much wrong, yet received an inappropriate amount of flak for it. After taking advantage of the situation for so long, it's now time to grow up a little and let the (probable) course of things naturally set in.

Granted, distance most certainly deprives you of the frequent snog and shag, but there comes a time when we realize we've got to be above such things...or, at least hold on for dear life (and call upon Mr. Lefty when he's truly, and terribly, needed).

How does it go?

And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.

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Friday, February 16, 2007

Jeng-jeng, Yeh-yeh, whoo!

I should don a scarf and get a mod trim after yesterday's Bazooka gig at Laundry, but in retrospect, I'm unable to see how much life there is left in the retro-revival. It was alright for the first few years, but now it's burning twice as bright, which means that it'll be snuffed out twice as quickly. Seeing how it's only reaching adolescence after a hard infancy here in myopic Malaysia, it's still good...but (possibly ruffling Lezel's feathers here) Bittersweet are not the greatest band in Malaysia...simply because Sic was ahead of its time in looking back to the future.

Though it's rather belated, I'd choose the following ten songs for a setlist for a nice, intimate Valentine's gig.
  1. Lenny Kravitz - I Belong To You
  2. Marvin Gaye - Let's Get It On
  3. Al Green - Let's Stay Together
  4. 311 - Love Song (and not the Cure original)
  5. The Police - Every Breath You Take
  6. U2 - The Sweetest Thing
  7. Sheryl Crow - D'yer Mak'er (and not the Led Zep original)
  8. Morrisey - The More You Ignore Me
  9. INXS - Never Tear Us Apart
  10. The Beatles - If I Fell
It's either considered eclectic or pure rubbish. But I think a Valentine's gig should represent all the different factions in the game of...love: the loved, the forlorn, the lonely and the stalkers.

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Thursday, February 15, 2007

High-ho to the future...away.

Poor Pig. I feel like him sometimes. I should work out, get a haircut, get a job...anything. It's hard to fulfill all the required qualifications.

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Wednesday, February 14, 2007

364.

I think that Valentine's Day should be gazetted as a true holiday, simply because it celebrates forgiveness. For the 364 days that you aren't dedicated to your lover, it's incredibly relieving to know that there's one day where the chance for redemption sets in. Never mind the non-believers who insist that it's an overly commercial, consumer-friendly non-holiday; anything that celebrates love and turns men into boys should be held in high regard, no?

As superficial as it is, Valentine's Day brings people together.

Most of the time.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

Chimpan A to Chimpan Z.

Q: What does Michael Jackson do in his spare time?
A: He blows Bubbles.

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

But I know what you're going to say: "You're not so much of a man either, Tai."

It just occured to me that I've only met a few genuinely funny girls before. I've seen more than my share of comediennes/talk shows hosts on the telly, but as for someone with a genuine sparkle in her eye with an uninhibited nature, I'd have to go out on a limb and say that there're not a lot of those out there. Everybody's so serious around here that it borders on being a parody...either that, or they've got a heavy case of wanting to be bimbo bland or simply just too stereotypically introspective and sensitive.

I know that not everybody can be Sarah Silverman, but it's not the point.

On a different wavelength, I like ditzy girls...because they're totalling unaware of their ditzyness most of the times, and it makes them more endearing. Being ditzy is not the equivalent of being a bimbo. I'm fighting hard for a line to be drawn between the two.

Seeing someone hamming up the femininity can be such a drag.

It's just as pretentious as name-dropping Sarah Silverman.

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Monday, February 05, 2007

No pears, please.

Sometimes I wonder if I'd rather have a jock or a geek for a son. Looking at how things are going, I'd settle on my son being a slacker. And my daughter would be a spoilt princess, but not to Sweet Sixteen extremes.

I'd spoil my children senseless...within my resources, of course. And I suppose that I'd only spoil them if there was any leftover money from spoiling myself. I'd most probably leave it to the missus to do the disciplining...because discipline is boring. It's tiring, it's tedious, and sooner or later, your children are bound to rebel and just become more obnoxious. Why fight the inevitable?

From my own experiences, my parents didn't use me enough for the little things. Luckily, I'm not so selfless. My kids will scratch my back constantly. They'll fetch the papers for me at such a frequent rate that their heads will spin. They will do the dishes. They will obey me. In return for their submission (or whatever we can get out of it), there'll be Barbies and Hot Wheels aplenty...in fact, I suspect that there'll be an instance whereby Mattel will send Thank You letters to my household.

The future beckons. It's shiny, bright and saccharine.

All bets are on that somehow, in my uncanny, unrelenting way, I ruin it.

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Saturday, February 03, 2007

Red packets o' lies.

I can safely say that I've been positioned as the black sheep of the family; the ne'er do well, the dark horse, the Fonzie in a family full of Richie Cunninghams. I've been asked about the status of my graduation for years on end, so this Chinese New Year, I'm going to try my best to paint a romanticized picture of a boy who sees life as something more than the standard Chinese masculine-tinted affectation it is. I'm tempted to blatantly lie about the last year.

Why haven't I graduated yet?
  1. I've taken time off and travelled cross country thru Malaysia this past year, learning more about the culture and climate that makes us us. I've helped farmers in their padi crops, and have riden the wild ox in the hopes of making a better harvest through technically improved ploughing.
  2. I've helped the Red Cross attend to the flood victims in Johor, because I believe that volunteering for such things brings upon approving karma later in life, when I'm truly in need and in affliction under grave circumstances.
  3. I've taught schoolchildren in the jungles of Eastern Malaysia, because like Whitney, I believe the children are our future; teach them well, and let them know the way.
  4. I've decided to dedicate a significant amount of time into initiating a plan that would bring all races together to overthrow the government and to create a new political party called Benetton, with Flavio Briatore as a consultant, with an objective to create an urban utopia. (Okay, that was lame, even by my standards).
  5. I believe that I have all the time in the world after my graduation to earn money and to work, and I'd like to experience life to its fullest. The fires of my passion will only wilt, and as done by Prometheus, the fire will be stolen from my very being and given away to those who need it.
  6. I've taken the time to learn to be a better cook, as evidenced from my Maggi Tuna Caserole.
  7. I've decided to find my perfect soulmate in order to ensure the survival of my lineage, as well as to determine my future plans in emigration.
  8. I fell in love and added a lovechild whom I decided to let the wolves raise until he was old enough to be claimed back for society.
  9. I met Michael Eisner and he appointed me the Malaysian representative of his new Eisner Corporation. (I've tried this on one person and it's actually worked).
  10. I've been helping my father move furniture around the house in order to prepare for the arrival of my stepmother. This might rather well be true.
  11. I've flown back to New York to take part in conventions organized by the Democrats, and have pledged to vote for that crazy Clinton woman because she's the bomb.
  12. I've been living with my mother.
  13. In my quest to attain fame and finances, I've rededicated myself into producing quality, pop-friendly music that has a strong creative credibility backbone, and my solo debut drops the same time as Britney's comeback.
You see where it's going. I can probably weave a dozen more yarns, but that's the gist of it. Instead of the standard CNY small talk, dynamicism should be the crux of your conversation angle. There's nothing wrong with it, and it tends to be a lot more interesting than the standard CNY family fare.

One thing I fear the most is a Bible-thumping aunt. She opens a can of worms that my direct family has to retaliate by shooting down...well, the Bible. Which in turn goes down badly with one of my uncles, who's a Muslim convert. Mayhaps this festive season, I can pre-emptively quell any misgivings by simply reminding them about the festive spirit of the Chink. And how we should all come together and embrace dynamicism the way it should be.

Dynamikzm. Dinamikceesm. Dynamiqceezm. Mmmm.

I think I can really save Chinese New Year this time.

Lie with me.