Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Stick to the road

There lied a point in my life, which I subscribed to become a Fitness First member before it even opened.
I remember getting pestered by the promoters in Melbourne Central everyday and eventually throwing my hands up.
I admit signing a contract without even knowing what I signed for since the whole document was in fine print.
The guy literally said sign here, here and give me your account number. I think that's worse than dealing with a lawyer.
So eventually the club was officially open. The moment I walked out of the 4th floor, I decided to cancel my subscription.
Something like your first time walking in a casino, you have this feeling whether you'll fit in or not. In my case, it's the latter.
I only remember this massive quote that says 'motivation gets you started; habit gets you going' or something like that.
I thought that's really true. So why the hell am I going to pay you 70 dollars a month, just to remind me of that?
Fortunately the cancelling part wasn't as bad as I assumed. They charged me for the first month I didn't attend.
I walked up, complained, got my refund and never heard from them since. Which was weird, because I always thought that getting out of a gym club was more difficult than cutting ties with a mob squad or a pimp: 'You can run, but you can't hide!'

I still bump into them from time to time. The muscle infested evangelists of Fitness First giving out free sessions vouchers.
And why the hell do they always look so shocked when you decline: Why not? I can't believe this! But it's free! Give it to your friends! They will thank you for that!
Sometimes, I think it's unfair to rate Singapore as a kiasu country. Fact is, everywhere's the same.
Or they've just hypnotised the whole world.
Anyway, the point is that, if you've ever joined one, you'd agree with the
10 things your fitness club will never tell you.
Get out of there, now.

Truck full of mandarins tripped in China. Villagers frantically pick fruits.

We have a new 'rich for nothing' neighbour.
He's built this gigantic house opposite. That I understand since that's what normal rich people do anyway.
What I can't understand, is him building a small 'pondok' for guards, guarding his house. Well, it's a big house, but it's not a mansion. It's like having a guard for an ATM.
Basically the guards don''t even have time to inform the house of any danger, since the booth is 2 metres away from the entrance.
That, and they've bought a smart car. Why the hell would you need a smart car in Malaysia, in Klang?!!
What, the kancils aren't frustrating enough to evoke pain and false hope when you're looking for parkings?
Save me some crap if you're thinking 'for the environment'. They have like 5 other diesel, 3 litre piece of pumping batmobile.

Was out drinking coffee yesterday. The mobile paper man was selling the local Chinese paper with the headline:
'Majority of female juvenile delinquents are non-virgins. 1 out of 778 interviewed bears no sexual experience.'
So, what's the problem here? Do we need to 'revirginise' the girls? Is there even a point with the headline?
Some fathers are probably going 'girl, are you still a virgin?' over the breakfast table as I type. Or worse 'dad, what's a virgin?'

On the other side of the newspaper, The Departed won best director and best picture. Ptui. Well, I'm glad Scorsese got an oscar and all. But he shouldn't have with The Departed. Not with someone else's story and concept.
Apparently the announcer said it was a remake from a 'Japanese' movie. I can imagine all the aunties in Hong Kong yelling 'Charr Siuu Paooo~!' in anger.

Friday, February 23, 2007

Farewell 313A

This shall be my last transmission from this apartment. So, bye bye. Parky squeals like a girl because he's not here helping.
My arm fucking hurts.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

It's a big word.

Because you're worth it.

I didn't learn the meaning until a few years ago. Because I hardly use 'grotesque' to describe a person. 'Fugly' is normally sufficient.
Anyway, the whole point of this book is that if your family's screwed up and you can't fit in to your school, you'll end up as a prostitute. I've always thought that, prostitution is just an occupation molded out of desperation. One would never use the body to make money if given a choice. 'If your daughter ends up being a stripper, you fucked up,' said Chris Rock.
But then this book proposes a different perspective. In fact, multiple perspectives, all justified. All quite believable.
I can relate to how important it is to get accepted in school. I can relate more to the deep hole of being an outcast.
But the leap between 'I'm not popular in school' and 'I can gain control of man by letting them screw me' is something I'm still failing to grasp. I know it exists, but I just cannot grasp it.

Also, the notion of 'being beautiful allows you to move to the top without skills or ability' is something we kinda figured it in our mind but will never openly accept it over a dinner conversation.
It's a good read. I finished it while we were moving in and out of our new place. Reminds me of muscle cramps.


I google'd up my Chinese star sign in this year of the fiery pig. Apparently during the end of July and the beginning of August, I will not be able to stop good things from happening to me.
I did not believe that.

Until I've seen the 3rd trailer for the Simpsons movie.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

I guess it's not a Halal year

I don't feel a thing.
About not being at home for Chinese New Year.
People complain about being overseas for CNY. They miss the food, the atmosphere, the gathering, the gambling.
I can never relate to the complaints. I thought I was just being a dick since I was always home and never being 'leftover'.
But today, not a single dread crossed my mind for not being home. Of course, I did the normal routine, calling my dad while they're at the restaurant, his phone being passed on so that I could speak to everyone. And of course the relatives never stop teasing: Oh, we're eating good food here. What did you have for dinner? Go get together with some friends. Better yet, go get together with a girl, your parents will be happy.
I nod and smile back like a baby on drugs, but you know, deep inside, I really thought: Nope. I just don't feel a thing.
Truth is, my family's way of celebrating new year is never interesting. Yes, we have gatherings, we eat, we talk, we do the normal tai chi of praising of each other's sons and daughters.
And then we go home.

We never gamble. We never hit on our cousins. We don't play fire crackers. We have our dinner, and we go home and sleep.
I'm proud of not being sad. But I'm not sure why I'm proud of being an insensitive bastard. But Happy CNY to you anyway.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Dead man's chest

From Vogue, I think.

Ok, so if I'm attracted to her face, and realised she has a less attractive chest than I do, does that mean I'm attracted to pretty boys? Should I avoid Thailand at all cost?
But yea, there's something about this picture that makes me go 'awww' and 'ewwww' at the same time.
But you've got to be impressed with Keira, she didn't give in to breast surgery. She insisted her flat chest with dignity.
I guess, if she does go through surgery, it'll be obvious and there's no other way round to explain it.
She can't do the Britney Spears and say 'it's just hormones'. She can't do the Christina Aguilera because she's not a singer.
But yea, she is the typical dilemma of men. One that makes your girlfriend ask you: so would you prefer a hot face or a hot body?
Which under all cases you should always answer: you.

Godiva chocolates

"Hello Harvard!"
"Happy Valentine's Day!"
Very funny.
"Are you alone?"
I'm trying to cook.
"Oh, so you ARE alone? Do I hear a girl in the background, or is it just the TV? What are you cooking?"
It's the TV. I'm cooking curry.
"Oh well, my wife and I are going out for dinner."
That's great.
"Talked to your brother just now. Apparently his wife was cooking oysters and vermicelli to celebrate."
Wow. Yeah.
"Your sister's in Sydney right? Isn't she attached as well? Do you know how they're celebrating tonight?'
No idea.
"Oh well. I'm sure being single has its advantage. You can always keep the curry for lunch tomorrow."
Uh huh.
"Alright. Just felt like talking to you. We gotta run now. Reservation's at 8pm. You take care ok? Talk to you soon."
Alright. Bye dad.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Home 2.0

After finding out that I may not be homeless after all, I did a bit of jiggle in front of Parky. It was a good day.
Burnt my hands while cooking yesterday. A piece of chicken fell in between my thumb and 2nd finger.
Now I'm going through days of left handed chopsticks. Or simply right handed chopsticks in pain when it's too frustrating.
And if photos have feelings like human beings, I've just pimped a whole lot of them on the Phlog. Let the orgy begin!
If some of the them remind you of the 40's, it's because I used a different sort of film with a different sort of processing.
And did I mention google map Australia is cool? I can spy on you. Your mama. and your real mama.

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Sir, there's this giant pole at the doorstep...

"The Breast Cancer Society of Canada has rejected the offer of thousands of dollars from a fund raising group of exotic dancers in Vancouver. " -- CBC news.

That would've pissed me off so much. In fact, I am pissed off. So now there's even a status requirement just to do good deed.
Fine, 'exotic dancers' literally translates into 'strippers'. But isn't it the mission of the cancer society to raise awareness of the cancer?
Maybe it's just the way the money was donated. This girl walked in with thousands of one dollar bill in her knickers.
But still, they'd rather go and beg for checks from politicians. Man, a politician is so not > exotic dancers.

Friday, February 09, 2007

JAL to Tokyo.

I was bored. Parky was shouting: Horny bastard. In Mandarin. Heavy eye lids. Tea. Sour stomach. Lots of tea. Sliced pictures. Memories. Memories. Translation. Memories. Memories.

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Actual size


Saturday, February 03, 2007

I'm no Nobel man

First anchor ever invented.

I was expecting the old man to die, really.
Considering Hemingway received a Nobel for this, and in his later years shot himself, I was expecting the book to be a tragedy.
But yea, The Old Man and the Sea was just about how you should not be fishing when you have a weak arm.
I could understand how people raved about it, then completely criticised it a few years down the road.
At first glance, it was simple, it was straight to the point, it was probably the most legible Nobel literature ever.
And then after all that, you realise that, the whole point was just an old man fighting for a fish, at the sea.
A very weird feeling, indeed.

Friday, February 02, 2007

Whiskey tastes sweet when you're in despair

I wanted to cry as much as I laughed.

Because the movie was depressing as much as it was entertaining.
Depressing because the fear of my life ending up like an IRS agent. No friends, no family, no enemies, no life.
The ironic part was seeing this guy fighting for survival, even though from our point of view, he has no reason to live.
The next inevitable step would be of course, him searching the life he always wanted. Love, music and liberation.
(Just humour me and not think of 'what if he searched but still ended up with no friends, no family, no enemies and no life?' because that would be REALLY depressing.)

I guess what I've learned from Hollywood movies, let them be tragedies or comedies, is that, the art of being happy lies in the power of extracting happiness from common things.
Alright, some guy called Henry Ward Beecher said that, not me.
Everyone only seems to realise what they really want to do after facing death. Some might want to be a vet, some might want love, some, maybe just want to play the guitar.
What we do not know, is that we are in a way living another person's dream. Let it be catching the Shinkansen to Kyoto, or being able to draw a self portrait, or simply playing with bubbles in the playground. It's just a matter of feeling content.
I want to know that I'm happy before I actually die.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Go rub it in


Sarah just told me that we had a graduation photo posted on the RMIT website. As far as I could remember the photographer took like thousands of photos that day. And how did Sarah, Chingy and I appear to be one of the 12 really beats the shit out of me.
Nevertheless, I'm sure no one visits anyway.
Also, Sarah's brother thinks I look like Hiro from 'Heroes'.
Great, I look like a man who could teleport himself into the women's washroom just because I'm fat and wear glasses.