Youngest kid of six with an inferiority and black sheep complex, but determined that God saves not just his soul to heaven but the remainder of his manic-depressive life, so others won't say he became a Christian and remained a jerk.


On identity
i won't be transparent before i'm opaque. and you'll get to know me starting from the small things: who my favourite bands are. what kind of movies i like. who are my heroes.

On Christianity
I’m convinced that when confronted with sincere, real love, the Jesus factor will become obvious. But let’s not plant the cross before we carry it. I’m not trying to con you.

On dreams
Some dreams are meant to be achieved. I know that. But maybe other dreams are meant to drive us, privately. Never known to anyone but ourselves.


On melancholy
It is a sadness that, when choosing between crying and sighing, will choose sighing. I'd almost say that melancholy is being sad about sadness itself.

On memory and nostalgia
It saddens me when life moves forward and people decide that certain things are worth forgetting.

On language
I've learnt that the word irregardless is filed as a non-standard word in the English language. That's a lexicographer's way of saying it's not a real word.

On politics
Crowds are fickle things. So when we stand in the thousands and cry against the present government, do we know who we're actually crying for?

On society
People always want the best for themselves. But I want to sometimes take second or third or fourth best, just so that the loser down the road doesn't always have to come in last. It must feel like shit to always come in last.

On growing old
Leasehold property make me feel sad. It doesn't matter how old the family photos are that you put on your wall. It's your family but it's not really your wall.

On philosophy
I ask you, if God loves everyone, and if God is also incapable of loving evil, how can there be such a thing as an evil man?

On a daily basis
One line quips, like this.


Monday, June 19, 2006
It's textbook knowledge that God brings things into your life so that they in turn can bring out the worst in you. It's like stirring that calm chrysenthemum tea so that all those gross leaves and petals all come back up to the top. today, the Almighty orchestrated an encounter between me and v drive.

Where i work, v drive is the death-knell of shared drives, bearing all the hallmarks of the major evils of this world such as murderers, rapists and paedophiles. in the top ten list of crimes to humanity, the v drive would sit somewhere between 8 and 10. Bearing the speed of an 87 year old pakcik uncle man in a 1979 datsun in a taman going over speed bumps and the crashability of a 13 year old in a BMW z4 his father just acquired and whose mother hasn't yet driven, v drive was in fine form today, purple patch and all.

Which of course, led to a half-an-hour long curse session that featured what came close to every curse under the sun. At one point, i wished that the maintainer of v drive suffer death by slow-motion gnawing of rodents, and among other mortalities, trucks and fearsome beasts. I also cursed that saliva be remitted onto the necessary graves by loved-ones, and that ill-wishes be hurled onto the carcass of the deceased.

I'm feeling much better now, of course, and i have since rescinded all my curses, asked for forgiveness, and instead, blessed the maintainer of the system with "fulfilment in his life", wishing his work on the v drive to produce fruit that multiplies. I also blessed him to die a ripe old age, peaceful and painless in bed, surrounded by cute squirrels who chant his name long into eternity.

There is a deep recess of wrath in me, which i have never considered to be among my chief sins (gluttony, however ... oh let's not talk about it). But i did! I felt a hatred in me that was tastable, so much hate you could touch it, you could click on it and drag it around. So it's been a blue monday, bluer than the bluest monday was blue, still, it's like that. Every enzyme in my body hates the v drive. it is an abomination, to be utterly wiped off the face of the world when our escathological ramblings come true. it will go where the antichrist goes, into a burning pit of shame, to be consumed forever by wrath. the guy who maintains it, however, god bless him. he has the worst job in the world.

So to mr v drive maintainer, i'm sorry i cursed you to die a combination of gruesome deaths. i hope you reach home safely today.


Genusfrog [ 4:16 pm ]


  • I know how you feel ... my sympathy goes out to all of you at WK. Kekeke :P

    By Anonymous Silly Wabbit, at 8:49 am  

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