| Ideas for Short Stories, Vol.6 |
[16 Feb 2009|11:04pm] |
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music |
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antony and the johnsons - one dove |
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The smell was overpowering.
He scooped up the shit in the yellow Ikea plastic bowl and fed himself slowly, chewing deliberately and swallowing. It was all very dignified, his face not betraying any emotion. I was so upset, I picked up my tears on the floor and shoved them back into my eyes.
I never saw him again after that afternoon. I always wonder how he is now.
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One Tuesday morning, Sheila woke up to find that her hair has turned into daisies. She was terribly confused and didn't know to be frightened at this abnormal occurence or to be excited at the impending fame. She decided to be excited at the impending fame.
She called her colleague to tell her she's ill and cannot come to work, and then spent the rest of the morning fantasizing about the ensuing media coverage. She quivered at the thought of how the media will react to her phonecall, but she forced herself to wait until she is better prepared. She opened up a Word document, typed out questions she anticipated the press will ask her, and rehearsed the answers. She giggled at the puns she can come up with to announce her predicament on facebook. She picked out dresses to match her daisy-hair, undecided between the flirty Marc Jacobs shirtdress she got at the Club 21 sale or the expensive-looking jacket from G2000 - what DO you wear to meet the world when you have daisies as hair???
Sheila was livid when she saw the sudden newsflash at 11.35am on Channel News Asia. A woman, far prettier than her, had wakened up that same morning to find her hair had turned into roses. She had always preferred roses to daisies. In a fit of rage, she threw her furniture around (those small enough for her to pick up and throw), plucked out all her daisy-hair in clumps and sat on the floor, crying to herself.
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No one knew that Edward had died. That's because Edward's corpse continued to move, to eat, to talk, to laugh, to defacate, to sleep, to wake up, to swim, to watch the National Day Parade and feel proud, to change his underwear daily, to pay for his credit card bills, to have sex, to run after the bus when he's late, to queue up at the ATM machine, to pay for ridiculously overpriced cocktails with fancy names at trendy nightspots, to pour out his woes to strangers over msn, to debate about the national identity with his colleagues after watching a local play during the Arts Fest.
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| korea! |
[15 Jul 2008|02:24am] |
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mood |
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death! by! kimchi! |
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music |
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does it offend you yeah - being bad feels pretty good |
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this is so fascinating, i burst out laughing reading it.
"Most streets in Seoul have no name, or if they do, there is no street name sign and hardly anyone knows its name. Using street names and consecutive numbers is a Western idea that has not been adopted, so the traditional system is still used. Thus Seoul is divided into 25 large districts (gu) and 522 smaller neighbourhoods (dong). Every building has an official number, but they are assigned as they are built, so building no. 27 could be next to building no. 324. You can wander around a neighbourhood for hours in search of a building with no hope of finding it, even with the help of a Korean friend."
- Lonely Planet: Seoul, by Martin Robinson
i'm going to be so completely lost, i'd probably end up wandering into pyongyang without realising it.
check out the website of my hotel in seoul. it features a map with tiny little buses driving on the roads to show the traffic directions. at some point the bus will stop, tiny little black dots will alight, cross the underpass and enter the hotel by its main entrance. wuahahahahaha
http://www.sejong.co.kr/en/about/map.asp
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| REFRIGERATORS!: The Musical. |
[09 Apr 2008|12:02am] |
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music |
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Goldfrapp - Cologne Cerrone Houdini |
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little roboboy is very drained and tired. he stops walking, lets go of the bags of groceries in his hands, sits on the ground, and closes his eyes.
with his metallic eyelids shut, his vision is reduced to complete darkness which is strangely soothing. he thirsts for a nice glass of gooey engine oil with a thin film of kalaidescopic colours on top, swirling seductively in pretty patterns.
*thunk!*
a passerby accidentally kicked his hip, interrupting his oily fantasy. he is, after all, seated in the middle of a busy street and thus being an object of hindrance to the path of traffic.
*thunk! thunk!"
"thunk! thunk thunk! thunk!"
little roboboy feels like vomitting from the exhaustion, but he forgot how to.
*** *** ***
i hate it when i dream of myself busy in the office, engrossed in work.
BECAUSE WHEN I WAKE UP, I FUCKING FEEL LIKE I HADN'T SLEPT AT ALL
*** *** ***
i was carded for a R21 show last week. i suppose this calls for confetti and champagne.
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| mindfarts 021207 - adventures of the iron pussy |
[02 Dec 2007|11:16pm] |
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mood |
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douglascouplannd - thegumthief |
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once upon a time, there lived this filmaholic. his life is in a mess because of his filmaholicism - he can barely function anymore. he decided to join filmaholics anonymous. but the 12-step recovery programme didnt work and going cold turkey was too depressing. he continued to watch films. this only worsened his condition and he eventually died of film cancer.
if i ever make a film, i think it will be the most self indulgent film ever.
i was surfing on my cranky computer which cant decide whether it wants to die. i came across the blog of an acquaintance whom i often talk to, but only on serious stuff. it is rather revelatory to read the emo musings of a person i'm always curious about yet barely know.
at that moment, the TV playing in the background showed another acquaintance as a programme presenter. i was surprised to see her because considering her previous designation, it is somewhat quite a demotion. the kaypoh in me failed to find any dirt dished on google.
i think i am a voyeur.
recently i have been happily watching reruns of 1980s channel8 drama series. i especially love the ones set in contemporary times. On top of the obiang hair and clothes, it was unendingly fascinating for me to see in mi li ye, bian yuan shao nian and ka fei wu a pre-remade lido cinema, a pre-mrt station clementi central, red and white sbs buses, sans aircon, etc. and people queueing up to use public phones! it's almost like time travelling.
there was also a sense of dramatic irony: it was poignant to look at the bunch of SBC artistes in their salad days, unaware of what awaits them in the future - lin meijiao and huang yiliang will marry and then divorce, so will li nanxing and yang libing, and wang yuqing and chen bifeng. what will you tell yourself if you went back in time?
kodak moment: ray, hp and i walking down keong siak road, hp whining about how her heels are hurting her, while we tried to locate a hotel81 in some hidden alleyway.
to celebrate her royal highness' homecoming, we had quite a few drinks and wanted to spend the night at a hotel to rot and talk cock till dawn. the nearest (and cheapest) is the chinatown hotel81 and i recalled a friend once telling me that the rates at the keong siak branch would be cheaper.
so we searched. we found. we went in, amused and awkward. and we chatted. till dawn.
i hope we never run out of crazy impulsive things to do.
i just woke up from a dream where i'm in a long, hot, stuffy busride, hungry, holding on to a large box of yummy food, looking for an appropriate stop to alight to eat them. Yet none of the stops look fitting - no chairs, dusty, etc. then i saw a dingy kopi thiam that looks alright to me, but the bus won't stop! what do u think that says abt my psyche?
lou: hmm that you're not able to control things in your life and it worries you greatly
jo: u feel that u cant do what u wanna do
zac: too choosy n when u finally decide, it;s too late to settle down to eat
mrs yee: too choosy? aiming for something better in life?
hp: you were hungry before you went to bed
i shall name my 3-month old ipod IRON PUSSY - irony for short. or pupu. or ah pu.
music of the moment
sally shapiro - disco romance
pj harvey - white chalk
siouxsie sioux - mantaray
roisin murphy - overpowered
st vincent - marry me
barbara streisand - the way we were
nouvelle vague and julie delpy - lalala
yeah, women rock.
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