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.


Sunday, December 16, 2007

One of the useful things about studying film is that you know how to plot the narrative flow of movies. how this is useful in my day-to-day life escapes me. but not today. today, i know for sure that my day looks like a horror film.

no, my last 20 hours was not composed of vengeful ghosts, psycho killers, zombies or vampires or stupid good-looking girls who investigate haunted houses in their underwear. and much to my appreciation as well. genre theorists call these things the semantics of a film – the vocabulary of it, so to speak. no, my day was not like a horror film in this sense.

it was like a horror film structurally. genre theorists call this the syntax of a film – it’s grammar. ah yes. my day – what a day. just like a very, very bad tale of terror.

here’s what a typical horror film looks like.

1. idyllic peace or forthcoming goodtimes pervades
2. aforementioned peace or goodtimes interrupted by the onset of horror
3. horror escalates in stages
4. horror quietness slighty
5. only to explode into mega ultra outpouring of evil
6. horror subsides after cataclysmic encounter, suggesting impending resolution
7. but is interrupted by very brief resurgence of horror. end.

here is a graph of how my day went.

here is a graph of how my day went, plot against how a typical horror film looks like.

well, at least the weekend’s over. and now i got a week ahead of me; a week that can still pan out in a variety of ways. of course, if i had it my way, the coming week would look like this:

monday: romantic comedy
tuesday: road movie
wednesday: feelgood indie flick
thursdsay: musical
friday: nature documentary
saturday: costume drama
sunday: slapstick comedy

i don’t need sweeping sagas, i don’t want estrogeneous chickflicks and i certainly don’t want war films. just show me seven days of good syntax and i’ll show you a merry christmas.



Genusfrog [ 11:55 pm ]


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