Take my hand, we're off to NeverNever Land.

27.2.06

General handyman I was. And
dollies never seemed so hard to come by. Till
Today.
Hooked on Electric Company, and
vampires, but only
One. Disappointment, a tinge of.
Which is scary, and
Weird. Weird's
The word. Lady,
Hear me tonight.
And I could almost hear
You say, "Maybe tomorrow night."
I say, "1 hour train rides plus
repeats of World, and Postcard."

fresh from recluse 10:52 [+]

Song to Say Goodbye.

fresh from recluse 03:58 [+]

I'm still pretty much stuck in my Thailand rut so I figured it'd take some time before I publish any photos from there, if any at all. I have, however, drawing inspiration from the twochineseboys, set up an account with YouTube. No worries I haven't resorted to lip-synching BSB songs as yet, if we can even call those songs per se. I've put up some of the vids of the Bangkok100 concert there. Search for "psychedup" under Users. Or you can simply click on THIS. Most of them aren't clear as hell and all, but have a ball of a time anyways.

fresh from recluse 09:09 [+]

And we Broke our Back(s) on Valentine's. Well spent.

fresh from recluse 10:11 [+]

A night of decisions, of deliberations,
Of Beyond, and Placebo.
And of double shot hot tea, Reds from across the Straits,
the eventuality that my night will be made.
These bonds are shackle-free.

fresh from recluse 12:11 [+]

So. I was just lazing on Lennard's couch earlier watching the re-run of the Grammys on television when I suddenly felt damn, bloody L. Yeah it's that word and it's come back to haunt me. There are quite a number of things I'd love to be doing and I know full well what they are. Pink Floyd was playing on the stereo in Darren's car and he sounded better than ever. We haven't been to Wala's in a bit, think it's about time we paid Shirleen a visit.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow's gonna be a long day for me I reckon. But hey I ain't complaining, going back to Khatib Camp to return my damned bedsheets and pillow cases only means I'm probably not gonna be needing that stuff anymore. And I like the thought of that.

Anyway, somehow I feel that I no longer have as much freedom of speech on this blog as I used to have in the past. I guess I only have myself to blame that the exclusiveness and anonymity of this blog has been gradually eroded. The day I start yakking about "Wow today I met blah blah blah and did this this this and ate at that that that", or "Today I just bought the most expensive -insert expensive brand label here- bag or whatever", and so on and so forth, then I know I've completely lost it. Not just "freedom of speech" per se, but I'd say even bigger things. Individuality, even. The beauty of statistics never did get to me, even though Stats was my saving grace for A level Math. But no, it'd be sad to become a statistic. And a dumb one at that.

This is a long post, because I've got random thoughts flying all over the place bumping into one another as they struggle to echo out to my ears. Things sure have changed starkly since New Zealand, but I thank God everyday we came home safe, not just myself and my guys but the entire battalion as well. Everynight I'd be hiding in my long johns huddled in my sleeping bag sleeping in the v.comd seat in the damned 7-ton. I'd wind down the window (just a little) for what I'd like to call my good-night fag before I hit the sack. And I'd pray for awhile before I sleep, either before or after I spoke to Phil Morris. But I'd definitely do that. In case anyone who doesnt know me well is reading this, I'm not exactly a very staunch or pious or religious person, but I am a God-fearing man. My Mum taught me that. And I'm thankful. But anyhow, the crux of this is, we made it back safe. And that's the whole damned point. That means more to me than anything else, even ORD-ing. And if anybody thinks that is no big deal, well I can't dictate yr opinion but all I can say is you got no idea what has happened there before. Oh well, I am getting a tad too long-winded on this.

See what I mean. I used to type freely and frivolously on this dashboard. But right now I find myself having to explain some of my actions or my words. Which isn't what I set out to do. I owe nobody no explanation. Whatsoever. This has to stop here.

fresh from recluse 09:49 [+]

They tried to kill me tonight. I swear. Especially Jem and Darren. We had a gathering with our close friends Chivas, Heineken, Martell and the lovely Flaming. Nothing intense, just the usual get-together. Was a bit irritated by some crocodile tricks, though I expected this sorta behaviour from those involved. The one involved. It has since become commonplace. I would call it less of a habit as it has become a lifestyle. Not mine thankfully. And it gets on my nerves, a hell lot. Miss FHM-Top-100 was there again tonight, and I jacked her quite a bit. Few of the Charmed ones were there too, to my delight of course. Just as I was talking to C the other day, how long can this lifestyle last? When will we grow tired of it, or rather, grow out of it. Remains very much a big question-mark. Oh well.

By the way, the highlight of the night was the hot-dog. All fucking 3 bucks of it.

fresh from recluse 13:23 [+]

All Sundays should be like this. 2pm breakfast, and I headed for the flea at around 4 to meet the guys. Way off the initially planned 3pm meeting time but what the heck, who cares. We function on rubber time. I function on rubber time. I walked around mostly on my own because it's just a habit of mine to shop alone. Just checking out cheap bargains, the occasional t-shirt that catches my eye, the one (pair) in a million (pairs) Presto that was going for 10 bucks, and simply just soaking in the atmosphere. A therapeutic experience I would say. A sense of rejuvenation I might add. Idle chat over latte and morris huddled in a cosy spot where we would usually be consuming alcohol instead of caffeine. Nothing felt tensed. All was progressing at normalcy I'd say. Lazy beings on a lazy afternoon. I would call that a luxury. A moment of luxury, perhaps. Or maybe I am one who doesn't expect much. Well, all Sundays should be like this, even for those who don't expect much.

fresh from recluse 09:21 [+]

As I've always said, any experience, in retrospect, will always seem more positive than when one is experiencing it itself. And this is what I will say about my trip to New Zealand, and possibly my army life. I shall not venture further into details (unhappy ones) lest some sort of Big Brother is monitoring my site. So yeah, overall, it was a positive experience, in RETROSPECT, of course. =) I'm sure you get the drift.

fresh from recluse 09:19 [+]

Matt Groening stole these clouds for his show.

fresh from recluse 09:17 [+]

And they went running and a running.

fresh from recluse 09:17 [+]

Clockwise from left: myself, the wing man, the youngest man, the ammo hercules, the relac jack, the best worker, the recce wiz, the ground man, and lastly, our trusty 155mm HE that never failed us.

fresh from recluse 09:16 [+]

Peeking out.

fresh from recluse 09:16 [+]

Phil Morris paid me a visit.

fresh from recluse 09:08 [+]

23 SA Bravo Gun One. Thanks for the times.

fresh from recluse 09:08 [+]

We had time to play some Jenga.

fresh from recluse 09:07 [+]

This, is real shit.

fresh from recluse 09:06 [+]

Ruapehu. We went hobbit hunting.

fresh from recluse 09:05 [+]

Big bang.

fresh from recluse 09:04 [+]

Tan, Lau, Toh, myself.

fresh from recluse 09:03 [+]

#1 and #2.

fresh from recluse 09:00 [+]

Standard Operating Procedure.

fresh from recluse 09:00 [+]

The crew who's done it all. Battalion ranging gun, 153 rounds shot out. Enough said.

fresh from recluse 08:59 [+]

green peace photo of the year.

fresh from recluse 08:59 [+]

Our only form of solace in the field.

fresh from recluse 08:58 [+]

Admit it. The battalion cannot function without us. It would be only fair to say they owe us big time. This I'm certain of. But what the heck, ORD loh.

fresh from recluse 08:56 [+]

starbucks.

fresh from recluse 08:54 [+]

I logged on wanting to blog abt sth in particular, fag in hand (the right), Coke in a Tiger Beer mug before me. Usher's Burn just ended its run, California Love's blasting on the stereo now. Fag just ran out. And somehow I'm just too lazy to blog. So yeah. This is a post of nothing.

fresh from recluse 01:49 [+]