.::z. 8/8.

go on, lubricate yourself.

www.lubric8.net

“You are an experiment by the Creator of the Universe. You are the only creature in the entire Universe who has free will. You are the only one who has to figure out what to do next – and why. Everybody else is a robot, a machine.

“Some persons seem to like you, and others seem to hate you, and you must wonder why. They are simply liking machines and hating machines.

“You are pooped and demoralized… Why wouldn’t you be? Of course it is exhausting, having to reason all the time in a universe which wasn’t meant to be reasonable.”

…”You are surrounded by loving machines, hating machines, greedy machines, unselfish machines, brave machines, cowardly machines, truthful machines, lying machines, funny machines, solemn machines… Their only purpose is to stir you up in every conceivable way, so the Creator of the Universe can watch your reactions. They can no more feel or reason than grandfather clocks.

“The Creator of the Universe would now like to apologise not only for the capricious, jostling companionship he provided during the test, but for the trashy, stinking condition of the planet itself. The Creator programmed robots to abuse it for millions of years, so it would be a poisonous, festering cheese when you got here. Also, he made sure it would be desperately crowded by programming robots, regardless of their living conditions, to crave sexual intercourse and adore infants more than almost anything.

“He also programmed robots to write books and magazines and newspapers for you, and television and radio shows, and stage shows, and films. They wrote songs for you. The Creator of the Universe had them invent hundreds of religions, so you would have plenty to choose among. He had them kill each other by the millions, for this purpose only: that you be amazed. They have commited every possible atrocity and every possible kindness unfeelingly, automatically, inevitably, to get a reaction from Y-O-U.”

[Kurt Vonnegut, ‘Breakfast of Champions’]

whatever a man’s position may be, he is bound to take a view of human life in general that will make his own activity seem important and good. people usually imagine that a thief, a murderer, a spy, a prostitute, knowing their occupation to be evil, must be ashamed of it. but the very opposite is true. men who have been placed by fate and their own sins or mistakes in a certain position, however irregular that position may be, adopt a view of life as a whole which makes their position appear to them good and respectable. in order to back up their view of life they instinctively mix only with those who accept their ideas of life and their place in it. this surprises us when it is a case of thieves bragging of their skill, prostitutes flaunting their depravity or murderers boasting of their cruelty. but it surprises only because their numbers are limited and – this is the point – we live in a different atmosphere. but can we not observe the same phenomenon when the rich boast of their wealth, i.e. of robbery; when commanders of armies pride themselves on their victories, i.e. on murder; and when those in high places vaunt their power – their brute force? we do not see that their ideas of life and of good and evil are corrupt and inspired by a necessity to justify their position, only because the circle of people with such corrupt ideas is a larger one and we belong to it ourselves.

[leo tolstoy, 'resurrection']

And now the buildings change. Now the people change. Everything changing. Spirit and matter most apparent. Realised there never was anything to worry about, to doubt was insane. The limited, callow, isolated individuals living on housing estates in Chingford, large detached houses in Kew, tower blocks on the Tottenham marshes, become my gods. I see an accounts clerk from Tooting, I see Zeus. A sanitary inspector from the London Borough of Haringay, and Brahmin stands resplendent before me. For five minutes I love everybody. There is only love. All action ceases. The Mile End Road, once a blood-stained battleground of Bacchanalian excess, becomes the Garden of Gethsemane. A bitter, 72-year old ex-docker becomes the ever-compassionate Buddha. A Cypriot minicab driver becomes St Francis of Assissi. The 22-year-old Glaswegian checkout girl is the divine mother. I love everybody. My spirit is free. I am limitless in space, time and matter, simultaneously the planet Neptune, part of the structural support to Vauxhall Bridge. I am your left breast, I am Stepney, I am Peru, I am divine and so are you. I love everybody. I am nothing except a mere cluster of notes, a road sign in Skelmersdale. I ran the Roman Empire. I was a lavatory attendant in Hull. I am everybody and everybody is me. Spirit. Who put the spirit in matter? Love.

[Jah Wobble, 'I Love Everbody']

april 2009.

‘It won’t do any good,’ says Ruby morosely. ‘Nothing does any good. You fall in love with someone and they leave you and you feel like dying. You meet their friends in the street and you tell them how unhappy you are and you hope this news will get back to your ex-lover and they’ll take pity on you. Or else you meet their friends in the street and you tell them you’re having a great time and you hope this news will get back to your ex-lover and make them jealous. You think about things you could have done and what you would do differently if you had the chance, you wait for the phone or the doorbell to ring, you hang around the fringe of conversations hoping to hear some snippet of information about how they are.

‘You can write poems and send them or not send them, you can turn up drunk at their home and plead with them to come back or turn up drunk and pretend you don’t give a damn, you can send flowers or love notes or a few intellectual books, you can discuss it endlessly with your friends till they’re sick of the sight of you, you can think about it all day and all night, imagining that somehow your mental power will win them back, you can sit on your own and cry or go out and make yourself frantically busy. You can think about killing yourself and warmly imagine how sorry they’ll be after you do it, you can think about going on a trip round the world and probably when you get back you’d still hope to run into them on the street. You can do anything at all and none of it is any good. It is completely pointless. Lovers never come back. You can’t influence them to do it and you would realise this if you weren’t so dementedly unhappy all the time.’

[Martin Millar, ‘Ruby and the Stone Age Diet’]

its been a while since i wrote. a long while.

so long, i dont even know where to begin now. so many things happened of cos, and we're already entering february of 2009. so i'm gonna write about random things. and if this gets too long, its cos i lack the time to make it short.

sarah turned 3 on sunday. a simple celebration at mr teh tarik tampines. blackforest cake, butter cereal prawn, milo dinosaur. and then after that, we sent her back to her mom. see u again next weekend, princess.

i've been travelling quite a bit. malacca, KL, kota kinabalu, batam, and numerous JB trips. the flight to cambodia in late apr has already been confirmed. mt bromo looks promising in july. pics up on facebook :)

i was in another motorbike accident last mth. was on MC for 3 weeks. it has become somewhat an annual ritual since 2004. i've gone public while the bike is still in the traffic police compound. i hate waiting for the buses and trains. called up the bike workshop today but no one picked up the phone. still closed for CNY i guess.

looking forward to Mr A-Z in march. i so know which cap to wear for the concert.

there u go. my first token entry for 2009. i might just self-impose a minimum 1-entry-per-week rule. a lot happened in 2008 that were not recorded down in bits and bytes. they will remain in my head until my memory fails me.

cheers!

i havent been writing.

everytime i wanted to write something, i would tell myself "wait till xxx gets settled, and then i'll write the whole story and it'll end with good news, a happy ever after story".

like for example, the story of my princess sarah. its been a month since i saw her. she has disappeared from our lives and it was so sudden, the whole family is still in a daze and trying our best to have her in our arms again. hari raya came and went without her, and now we're told we would have to wait 2 more weeks before there is a chance of getting her back.

another story, i went for another interview (my 3rd one?) and i was told to wait for 2 weeks for the outcome. 2 weeks passed and there were no news, so i called and was told they need a few more days till the end of that week. till date, 3 weeks has passed and still no news. i emailed today and i got an auto-reply saying she is out of the office till 1 Nov.

and then there's the endless story of finding the one, only to have obstacles along the way, sometimes unavoidable, sometimes plain stupid, but most times, the fault lies within me. chronic dissatisfaction? naah, thats an easy excuse.

so until i find a good enough reason, a wonderful closure to the stories, something that would make a good ending with wonderful photos of shiny happy people, i am not going to write about it.

but then again, life is a journey, a wonderful cliche. i have other nonsense to write about. till then, you take care princess. busu miss you lots. with love, i hope you're safe, warm and laughing.

my sleeping pattern is back to chaotic, the same one i had exactly a year ago.

the kind where i fall asleep at 1am, and wake up again an hour later, and depending on what's on my mind then and what i dreamt of, i will either fall asleep again till morning or repeat the same cycle througout the night.

2 nights ago, during that brief 1hr sleep, i dreamt of moving house again. its one of many recurring dreams that i have. in most of these 'house' dreams, i'd be moving in to a huge house, either alone, with family, or with friends. there were various houses; one where i ran through the long corridors and eventually ending up by the beach; one made up of all wood, and when i look down the staircase from a high floor, the wooden steps form an intricate pattern of crisscrossing solid beams. there were also normal hdb flats, high rise condos, and old kampung huts.

the latest house that i dreamt of was odd, especially my room (or the one that i chose to be my room after looking at all the others). it was lonngg-ish. oblong. almost like a long enclosed corridor actually. at the ends of the room, were cabinets, and inside them were stacks and stacks of old china. plates, pots, pans, saucers etc. i thought, ok these had to go, i must clear them when i take over the house. and then in one corner, there was a door that led to a smaller room, but this one is regular shaped, squarish. aaah in this space, i'll put in my bed. and then i realise there was another door, and this one opens up outside. excellent, i can get in and out of my bedroom without going through the main door. and then i woke up.

maybe the reason i'm having these dreams is cos i've turned 35. its the singaporean age where singles can buy their own hdb flat off the market. i was kinda looking forward to it, but now i'm having second thoughts. living alone is scary. i've never been an independant person. during NS i did stay all by myself in a room at the specialists block for 2yrs, but i had the cookhouse to depend on my meals, and the coin-operated washing machines and dryers downstairs to settle my laundry. when i got bored, i'll just take a walk down to the enlistees block and get someone to chat with me. during ntu days, i stayed with my cousin at jurong west for about 2yrs also. i would have my meals in school and bring back laundry every weekend for my poor mom to wash.

honestly, i dont know how to cook rice, have never washed my own clothes at home or hang them out to dry or iron them. i have never swept, mopped or cleaned up the house. maybe its about time.

anyway, back to my dreams.

last nite i dreamt of you. i've had dreams of you the past year, but they were short dreams that does not make sense or have a proper sequence. this time it was a complete, long dream. i went over to your new place, and your younger bro, sis and mom were there too. we chatted, they asked how i am, i played with the little monkey. and then i went to your bedroom. 3 beds side by side, just like in a hospital. i noticed that there was no wardrobe, there was no space for one. the room did have a small balcony, and i saw ashtrays by the window. aah.. for you to have ur smokes. you then tried to get me into the bathroom for some hanky panky, but the lil monkey was in the way and i told you that i am not comfortable until you get yourself checked. i went out to the living room and talked to your mom some more, and when i got in to the bedroom again, you were gone. i looked all around the house and you were gone.

when i woke up, i thought, well, go figure.

Happy Birthday Dino De Laurentiis, Dustin Hoffman, Connie Stevens, Keith Carradine, The Edge, Faye Wong, JC Chasez, Drew Lachey, Louis Saha, Vanessa Amorosi, Roger Federer and Princess Beatrice of York.

Happy Birthday, all

Happy Birthday, me

I miss you, honestly

fuckin bad day, fuckin bad week.

this is like the 3rd or 4th deal that didnt get through after running around here and there for many nights. i must be doing something wrong. karma? i would like to think so, its a convenient excuse.

i went for a financial talk last nite. it was basically a sales pitch to promote dvds/books, but i left the auditorium with this quote from warren buffet in my mind. it was flashed repeatedly throughout the talk. "until u can manage your emotions, dont ever expect to manage your money." wow. TRUENESS.

i hate drivers who wound down their car windows and dangle one arm out, with a cigarette in between their fingers, smoking away. sometimes the ashes really fly in my face, clothes, everywhere. keep it in your car, u bloody idiot.

the senior people at work keep giving talks on how to interact effectively. communication rules at the workplace. they stand in front of everybody smiling jovially giving us the impression that they are all nice friendly people to talk to. and then i see them at the corridors and pantry and smile at them, eye contact and all just like what they taught us, but then they look away. they actually look away, with *that* attitude. its not just on one occasion. its all the time. hypocrites. fine. be that way.

it has been a year since i last saw and spoke to you. 12 months. the longest ever. i keep thinking of that night, the words that were thrown around, the tears, the slamming of the door. a year of ignoring you, your calls, sms, emails. a year of meeting up with random people, of trying out with one or two, of filling up nights with friends and family, only to have you in my mind still. a year of rebuilding myself again, emotionally, physically, financially. a year of going places we've been to and facing the memories head on, of going places we've never been to, only to think, this would be perfect if you are here beside me. a year of happy moments and wanting you to share it with me then and there, a year of sad occasions and wishing i could share it with you at the end of the day.

isnt one year enough already? 365 days!

you said once that you will never forget me and what i've done for you, and that you will always love me, no matter what. ugh.

lets see if the reboot works. you can still recover data from a reformatted hard disk. to lose it all, you must overwrite every single sector in the hard disk with random bytes. you need to perform a disk wipe to overwrite the master boot record and partition tables. the US government standard specifies three iterations to completely overwrite a hard drive six times. each iteration makes two write-passes over the entire drive; the first pass inscribes ones (1) over the drive surface and the second inscribes zeros (0) onto the surface. after the third iteration, a government designated code of 246 is written across the drive, then it is verified by a final pass that uses a read-verify process.

if its that difficult to completely erase data from a hard disk, what more of a brain?

i fucked up a lot of stuff lately.

at work, i am king procrastinator. i got so much work still left undone. no mood. no drive. nothing. its worrying me.

at home, i do nothing but sit in front of the laptop, thinking. until i fall asleep, seating. its worrying me.

i went for an interview yesterday. i fucked it up. i cant even string a coherent sentence. midway, i hear myself babbling and i thought.. what the fuck am i saying? the interviewer said "i'm confused". i wanted to tell her, so am i, babe. so am i. today the rejection email came. "we regret to inform you that ... ". its worrying me cos i so want to leave this current job.

ok maybe its just my attitude. there is nothing really horrible abt this place. but i've never been this sad at work before in my entire life. what gives?

maybe cos i give up easily nowadays. i have no confidence things will work out. why should they? i've fucked it up many times already. the nearer i get to 35, the more unstable i become. it should be the other way dammit. it should be so much more than this.

woke up screaming on monday nite. no, shouting actually, at the top of my voice. so forceful, when i woke up, my heart was beating furiously. my dad came in my room, turned on the lights, made sure i'm alright, and left. 30mins later, i woke up shouting, again. i was so exhausted, i gave up sleeping.

i think its the guilt. or the frustration. there's still anger alright.

before i fuck things up even more, i'd better stick to my comfort zone and let go.

i'm sorry. 08/08/08. reboot.

i've waited 10mths for this.

it was a quick first meeting. at midnight. at your void deck. in 10mins, i formed a good first impression of you.

and then i waited a week before i saw you again.

we went out on saturday. we had soup. we walked around town. we shared a slice of green tea cake and exchanged short stories. and then we enjoyed sex (and the city).

the very next sunday morning, we ran at east coast with 9000 other people. the passion run. i ran smiling. the timing was ok. 15km in 1:24:33. a simple breakfast, and then, on my bike, i felt you behind me for the first time. blush.

wanna have dinner later? sure.

starbucks. slippers. feet up on the chair. getting more comfy. i wanted to ask for a kiss goodnite. wanted to, but did not.

monday, we took a break.

tuesday, punggol. i havent been back there for almost a year. one of those places i avoid. its a minefield.

wait. minefield? what minefield?

it rained heavily. everybody took shelter at the bus stop. i cursed under my breath. *wonderful*. the bus came and then suddenly, it was just the 2 of us. a quick glance around, a quick glance at you, and then i knew this was the moment.

kiss? *smile*. lips. tongue.

kissed. and kissed. and kissed. the rain stopped. a quick cup of warm coffee at jalan kayu, and a quick kiss goodnite under your block.

lets meet again tomorrow.. alright!

wednesday. east coast. secluded breakwater. i think we're alone now.

look at the stars. look at the moon. look at us, holding hands, sharing our thoughts, and sharing our warmth.

thursday. "i cant believe we did so much last nite". we both couldnt wake up on time. i reached office late, u took MC.

wanna have lunch? sure. u wanna come down my office? of course.

i showed you around where i work, where i eat, where i spend 8.5hrs of my time mondays to fridays.

and then off you go again, for another week.

day 4 without you. its like a hunger pang.

i ran the mt faber run 10km in 57mins yesterday. the climb uphill was excruciating. but the view in my head was fantastic.

something tells me i'm into something good.

such a disappointment.

when i completed my first marathon last yr with a timing of 5:09, i thought to myself, if i ran juuust a lil bit faster, i could have gone below 5 hours. 4:xx would be nice.

so then came the sundown marathon and i was happy; it was the perfect chance for me to achieve that 4hrs+ finish time. its at night for one thing, no sun, no heat, no problem! i had 6mths to train. i had new shoes (at that time). perfect. 9 mins off would be easy peasy.

and so i trained, starting off in december with 3x10km runs every week. then sometime in march, q and i started our east coast park weekly runs. initially it was from BK to NSRCC and back, then from the old big splash to NSRCC and back, and in early may we ran from the carpark just before fort road to NSRCC and back. thats' a good 20km+ run. it even became twice weekly. i go for spin classes and swim regularly, all in the effort to strengthen my cardio.

and so i thought i was ready. boy, was i wrong.

it started out fine, i took just over 2hours to cover the first 20km. thats from changi village, past changi coast rd, NSRCC and big splash, uturn back to BK, and over the bridge across the ECP towards VJC and the siglap park connector. and thats when it first hit me.

the cramps, they were terrible. worse than the ones i got during stanchart marathon. it went all the way up to my groin area. could it be the shoes, i thought. cos ever since i bought them waaay back in nov 07, i've been using them constantly on each and every run, clockin up very high mileage since its the only pair i have. friends had given me advice to rotate between 2 pairs of shoes so as not to wear them out fast. but i kept putting off buying another pair.

siglap. kembangan. another bridge across PIE. bedok north. bedok reservoir. finally, a powergel station. and a banana.

each step was pure torture. my leg muscles tightened up so much, i felt like crying whenever i looked at my watch. i knew my target of below 5 hours was unachievable when i limped past bedok reservoir and it was already 4am.

tampines ave 9. tampines park. another bridge across TPE to pasir ris park. aaah.. how familiar. i managed a slow jog past my old block just opp downtown east. i looked up at my old bedroom window, and i looked at my watch. its past 5am. fuck fuck fuck. i'm performing soo much worse than the stanchart run.

all i can do now is to complete it. i tried to run again, i could see the 34km mark, but i couldnt feel my sole anymore. my eyes got teary, i yawned and closed my eyes a little, and for a brief moment, i fell asleep. wtf. i guess my body wants to sleep now. ok.. 8 more km, and u can sleep all u want.

i walked all the way along changi, the timing didnt matter to me anymore. past the commando camp and into the road leading to the old govt bungalows. it couldnt be that far away now. i picked up speed and imagined the finish line in my head. at that moment, a light drizzle started. i heard a fellow runner saying "wah just nice just nice.. ". nice indeed. i've always loved playing in the rain. the last km. and so i made the final dash. at the changi point ferry terminal, i saw a sign that says "400m more", and a familiar face. the rain was getting in my eyes so i couldnt make out who it was until i hear him shouting my name. Leon! :) it gave me the boost needed to cross that finish line running, and not limping.

and that's it. i didnt hit my target. no excuses, no reasons. the only thing i can do now, is to prepare for the stanchart run in december.

congrats to drey for completing her first marathon! :)

meanwhile, somewhere up north...

a young man comes home after a week in camp. the moment he steps into his bedroom, he takes off his no4 shirt, turns on his PC, and places his handphone beside the keyboard. he clicks on the folder named after his beloved, and many more subfolders appear. he scans through to see which subfolder category best describes the smses that he has been getting the past week from his partner.

he decides on "on the verge of breakup" and opens up the subfolder. there were already numerous text files containing many more smses that were diligently transferred from his hp over the 5yrs they've been together. this was done manually, weekly mostly, sometimes adhoc, but care was taken that every word of every sms was archived neatly in those folders.

it has been a rough week. nasty words were exchanged, heated emotions conveyed through angry emoticons and vulgarities. the cause of it is irrelavant now, his fingers are hard at work pounding the keyboard, the speed getting faster as the words he is transferring gets more vicious.

"what i do is normal, dont u think? ppl keep letters, photos to remind them of the good and bad times, i keep smses. my mobile phone cant store everything, i dont want to delete them away, they're precious to me. yeah the categories do look a bit weird, but that's me, i'm a neat freak"

there were at least 20 categories, ranging from "happy times" to "getting back together" to "angry moments". its amazing how words from those that matters most to us could affect us so much, so deep, permanently. we hang on to them, analyse them to death until we think we've come to a conclusion. we put them away neatly but after a while it comes haunting back, begging to be dissected again for new meanings and perhaps a new hope.

"we're practically married u know. been through everything" he says confidently.

i scan through my own smses. they are still there. i feel the urge to read them again, but instead i put my hp back into my pocket.

calm down, deep breaths and get yourself dressed
instead of runnin around
and pullin on your threads
and breaking yourself up
if it's a broken part, replace it
if it's a broken arm, then brace it
if it's a broken heart, then face it

- mr a-z

the tan line on my wrist bears testimony to the many hours i've spent under the hot scorching sun riding back and forth on my bike, swimming laps, running along beaches, climbing walls and rowing the rivers of kallang.

i was updating my resume (yes, yet again) and was looking through the list of programming languages in my skillset when i decided to search the almighty wikipedia for more languages to include. lo and behold, i found brainfuck in the list.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brainfuck

but wait, there's more fuck than you can ever imagine. i've also discovered a whole array of brainfuck programming languages.

there's doublefuck, dumbfuck, jumpfuck, quantum brainfuck, reversible brainfuck, self-modifying brainfuck, and my most favourite... smallfuck.

what the fuck right?

perhaps i should learn the entire brainfuck derivatives and then list them in my resume.

i so want this bike. swoon.

I was riding my bike to work a couple of days ago and I casually glanced at the speedometer. The digital display says, at that very moment, "80,000km". And then within a minute, it added in another km. 80.001.

During the rest of the journey, numbers kept swirling thru my head. 80,000km. Over a period of 4.5years. The same no of years I was in a relationship with you. I thought about the time I first saw you, I was sitting on this bike, and you ran across the street and said hi to me. How you were my very first pillion rider, and subsequently, my constant companion, going everywhere with you, night and day, rain or shine, day in, day out.

My constant companion. I'm so used to having you by my side, I still find it hard to shake off the idea of having someone else. I still look for you wherever I go, I still see your face in the crowd. Its funny, during a recent trip to KL with my buddy, as he was walking towards the wrong direction, when I wanted to call out for him, I shouted out your name instead, loudly, firmly, and when I realised it, I stood there dumbfounded, amazed about how you still linger around me no matter where I go.

The distance from Singapore to KL is 325 km. Total road length in SG is 3144km. Circumference of the earth: 40,076km.

That means I've ridden my bike around the globe twice over. And perhaps, even if I continue to go around the world trying to forget you, you'll still be in my mind. Its a scary thought but its something real and its something I have to deal with.

A dear friend recently commented about how I am so much cockier these days. More uncouth, crass, boorish. Maybe because I've become more confident, maybe I'm discovering more things now and have only started to realise the potential that was never there previously. Or maybe its because of the simple fact that, I am just trying to harden my heart and not be the wimpy weak Zul anymore so that if you ever do come back to my life, I'd be ready. In the meantime, I'll just keep on searching and letting life lead and teach me.

Or maybe its time to restart from 0km.