uninspired

today i felt aimless, like all wednesdays.

so i went to kinokuniya after work to refresh myself. it's been a loooooonnnnggg while since i've been in a bookstore. surrounded by the myriad of interesting things. the shelves have changed faces; titles once familar have been replaced with strange sounding euphemisms of even more perculiar phenonmena. one reads "Group Theory in the Bedroom, and Other Mathematical Diversions". interesting.


over dinner with a couple of good friends, the topic of time came up again. somehow it's always about time. the times that we laughed joyously together, the times that we shed our tears of sorrow, the times we blew out the birthday candles, the times we consoled one another about our losses and banes. and then there's the conscious thought about the time that i have left. 2 weeks.

i can't bear to think about it. so i listen: to those chunky riffs, the recurring double-triplets of the kick-drum, and that lingering melancholic voice...

In the days of my youth,
I was told what it was to be a man.
Now I've reached the age
I've tried to do all those things the best I can.
No matter how I try,
I find my way to do the same old jam.

Good times, bad times,
You know I had my share.
...

+listening to: good times bad times by led zeppelin

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wtfish?

Disclaimer: Reader discretion advised: Objectionable/Graphic content. May cause permanent psychological trauma.

It's been hell for the last 24 hours...

after 3 pairs of underpants, 2 pairs of shorts, 1 stack of newspaper, 1 computer chair, countless trips to the loo and i'm still feeling a bit queezy.

the trouble started on sunday night, when i went out for dinner with a bunch of friends and we ate at the manhattan fish market outlet in plaza singapura. and i remember choosing what was labelled as "Butter Cod" on the menu as my choice of fish. and to my delight it was delicious.

but on the way home, my stomach was grumbling all the way and when i finally reached home i had a minor episode of diarrhoea. nothing too serious, so i thought it must have been the bus being really cold and all.

nothing happened again after over the next 24 hours as i felt completely fine... and that's until last night. i started having these gassy farts and good golly they smell rancid. and then the wet farts came. yes, i'd never thought i'd see the day that this happened to me. it's not exactly a wet wet fart, it's just that everytime you fart, it leaves a little oily stain on your clothes. and it's BRIGHT ORANGE.

i started to freak out. and was thinking of going to the doctors. but then just to be sure i went and did a search on the internet. boy was i pissed off. i found out that what i was experiencing was directly linked to what i ate.


"Butter Cod" aka Escolar aka Orange Roughy is the culprit. the orange oily farts are caused by wax esters. it makes up 20 percent of the fish's body weight and humans CANNOT digest this oily substance. wax esters are there in the place of the good omega-3 fatty acids. i think it's because the fish is from deeper water.

WHY SELL THE STUFF IF IT DOES WHAT IT DOES? gee, i wonder why they call it Orange Roughy.

If it wasn't for the information i found i would've gone to the ER thinking the worst. and there i was sitting on a stack of newspaper with a paper towel folded in my crack last night debating whether or not i should risk sleeping. the thought of going downstairs to get a tampon and put it against my bum cheeks did cross my mind but I wouldn't be able to look at myself straight in the mirror ever again if i'd done that.

so kudos to manhattan fish market for not telling me the dangers of that motherf*cking piece of shit of a fish. here's a F*ck You too.

and whatever you do, DO NOT eat Escolar/Butter Cod/Orange Roughy/Slimhead and whatever other names they call it. even god can't save you from this one.

no, seriously. there's no cure/medication. you'll just have to wait for it to go away.


+listening to: come away with me by norah jones

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is there an option C?

as i opened google reader this morning, several identical news flashes were at the top of the pile of the latest updates. and the title reads: CBS Poll: Race, Age Are Issues For Voters.

i secretly chuckled to myself. has america ever been presented with a more atypical electoral dilemma like this before? even in the lead up to the official announcements of candidacy by both parties, the bizarre and eclectic mix of a blac... pardon me, african-american, a woman, an old hack/former POW, a mormon among other interesting characters in the primaries were enough to make many people's head spin in circles.


thus it is no surprise that the final duo of the strongest nominees both present major points of contention. one guy "has got a funny name, and did i mention he is black?" while the other seems to think that the correct answer to the question "what should america be looking for in our next president?" is "certainly, someone who is very, very, very old."

the only thing that's certain is that i'm not amused by the humour of either.

so the question on many people's mind remains: the black dude or the 71-year-old? it's really a tough call. the cbs poll shows that 30 percent of voters admit to having racial prejudices and find john mccain's age to be problematic.

research have also shown that white voters are less likely to reveal their racial prejudices in polls before the actual election. this may seem advantageous to mccain riding on a less-than-stellar performance in the primaries and lagging behind hugely in campaign funding donations to obama. on the other hand, is america ready for the oldest first term president in its history? and then there are the fundatmental questions of the merits of electing either. will obama pay more attention to the neglected poor and the african-american community because of his background? will mccain show more concern for the ailing health care system taking into account his age? there's only questions and no real answers.

in fact, some have resorted to discussing about the prospect of alternative theories: what if the nominees hadn't been these two? what then? the answer is pretty straight forward actually and could be presented in the form of another question: would you have preferred a woman and a mormon? those choices aren't exactly no-brainers either.

i think it's high time that the american people stop living in a bubble. the reality is that the whole world is evolving. and with changing times, the civil prejudices that have dogged them in the past like race, gender, religion, etc. cannot continue to be the sole impetus or the deciding factor of the outcomes of major choices that concern their own fate. but having said all that, do i think that race and age will be the defining crossroad of this election? MOST DEF.

come november i'll be eagerly waiting for the result in obama's home state of illinois. seeing all the events unfold is much like watching a circus - you never know what's going to come next.


+listening to: hideaway by freddie king

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lambs to the slaughter

these past few days i've been doing some pretty strange things while sorting the mess out in my room to facilitate the much dreaded packing process come time for me to get the luggage out. and from a bunch of magazines under my bed (literally), i fished out a book that looked interestingly familiar.

it was roald dahl's collection of short stories. and being the bored soul that i was and still am, i decided that what the heck, i might as well read it again since i can't really remember any of it (if i ever even read it that is).


and as fortune (or fate) would have it, it was only short stories. i just couldn't imagine myself going through a full length book at this juncture. it's been a while since i last touched anything that even remotely resembled material worthy of actual reading.

and i finished the book cover to cover twice before realizing that i couldn't stop reading it. roald dahl had never interested me like he did other kids. i'd always been more of a tom clancy/dale brown kind of guy. but somehow i got hooked this time round. maybe it's his dark, sinister writing style, maybe it's the cynical, black-comedy sort of narrative.

and the story that stood out for me was lambs to the slaughter. somehow when you're a kid you never think too much reading these type of stories. you merely treat them as fictitious work with no apparent motive other than to entertain. but i guess as you grow older you can see the writer's intentions much more clearly and you start to hypothesize about certain hidden agendas, much like how roald dahl was trying to reflect the depravity, violence and cruelty in our societies. that's how i saw it anyway.

other than being an interesting read, the title has again inflicted memories of the good old school days. as we all know too well, this time of year is the often apprehended block tests (aka blocks) season.

the signs are ominous and those eleventh-hour buddha feet unsurprisingly in hot demand among the resident school population. besides the disappointing fact that the holidays have come to an end, most people are probably crapping their pants over the prospect of a catastrophic failure.

like lambs to the slaughter, how very appropriete.


+listening to: yer blues by jeff healey

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poms to the slaughter

the scoreline tells its own story. 44 - 12 to the all blacks as england looked on in misery. for their 2nd and final test in the series, nothing they did could stop the men in black.

the star of the show was undoubtedly daniel carter. his return to top form has been nothing short of dazzling. no matter what the english did in defence, he could seemingly carve them apart with absolute ease and grace. commanding playmaking, a flawless display of kicking and silky smooth skills with the ball in hand, he is a true class act.


the only word to describe the men in black then is "clinical". they took the chances whenever one popped up unlike the english who perhaps dilly-dallied on the ball a wee bit too much for their own good. and maybe, just maybe they lack those crucial players that could bring out the spark in their plays. just look at new zealand, the depth of pure talent in their squad is astounding.

if i were a three-year-old watching the game, i might even think that the all blacks had cheated - obviously they were BIGGER, FASTER and BETTER.


+listening to: friday on my mind by gary moore

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cake!

today was fabulous. i slept at 6am in the morning after watching the match between germany and portugal, which also happened to be the first complete match that i've seen so far for euro '08.

and at noon i headed over to weiqin's house to bake a cake. this is my first time baking a cake, and i'm really excited. needless to say, i got so excited that i actually did very little baking and mostly provided moral support for the people doing the actual work.

and also the cake was for che, whose birthday was some time back, but nontheless, better late than never.

here's me enthusiastically supporting the baking efforts

finished product!

here's a close-up

and here's the birthday boy

+listening to: east wes by eric johnson

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fresh material

finally got it together and finished the draft! it's still pretty raw though, with certain creases that need to be ironed out. but other than that it feels awesome.

anyway this song is called Disappear, and dedicated to the WM3. as usual, the chord progressions are outlined in the first verse in red.

DISAPPEAR (dedicated to the WM3)

C7M _ C __
Just seventeen.
Cadd9 _ C
Drifting,
C7M _ C
all alone.
Cadd9 _ C _ C 7M _ C
Thinking of home.
Am7 ___
Innocence.
C7M _ C _ Cadd9 _ C
Bloody murders,
C7M _ C _
who saw?
_ Cadd9 _ C _
The convictions,
C7M _ C _
who said?
G _____
Faded.


Only sixteen.
Guilty,
as charged.
Cause... I wore black?
Endless.
The confession,
forced!
Admission,
coaxed!
Torment.


Oh make it,
go away.
The pain,
the pain.
Oh make it,
disappear.
The fear,
the fear.


Mere eighteen.
To death,
be condemned.
Satan? or witch hunt?
Paradise.
Irrefutable proof?
fallacy.
And justice for all?
I wish.
Lost.


Oh make it,
go away.
Oh make it,
go away.
Oh make it,
disappear.
Just disappear.

+listening to: own thoughts

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one for the road

bacon and eggs and cereal for breakfast, wonderful. i'm really starting to enjoy this home alone thing. but... i've been getting stomach cramps all day.


i guess it's the weather. it's the first time that the weather has turned depressing in a long time. i can't even remember the last time the sky looked this dull. i guess i'll have to get used to it, since the winter in illinois will be void of decent sunshine for most days and it will snow like there's no tomorrow.

wednesday is officially the daftest day of the week for me, and somehow all the bad things seem to happen on wednesdays. i shall not start ranting about my job at this juncture, in fear of sounding rather mellowdramatic but seriously, it really gets on my nerves. plus the endless train rides and going up and down the northeast line from one end to the other, it can get real depressing.

midweek always seems the most ambiguous day of all the seven days. on one hand most people are counting down to the coming weekend after having just settled into the mundane rhythm of their meaningless lives, and on the other hand they are constantly reminded of the fact that it's only been a couple of days since the last one.

anyways i've already started chatting online with some buddies and planning some extensive road trips for next spring break! or even possibly as early as this christmas. and to think school hasn't even started yet and i'm not even in uncle sam territory, i'm kinda proud of myself.

why can't every day be one of those really happy and sunny ones? but then again i guess we all need some of those gloomy, rainy days to remind us of just how sweet the good ones are.

i wanna be a free bird.


+listening to: free bird by lynard skynard

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