mosquito boy

Tomorrow, once again, mosquitoes will be my best friend, or at least i will be their best friend. I will be food in abundance, i will be a showering of blessings, a shining light in the darkness of simpang. I would be the vengeful god, taking a few sacrifices of lives from them as i give them life and continuity.

Perhaps somewhere in their even vast-er universe (for distance as we know, is relative to size, a single metre to us may seem like a 48km marathon to an ant for all we know), they have a shrine dedicated to worshipping the deities-in-green-who-come-in-a-gust-of-grey-smoke-in-burning-hot-green-vehicles or the green-quadropods-who-takes-a-life-and-gives-a-million.

But i don't feel godly at all. Instead, i feel more like a character from Tim Burton's Melancholy death of oyster boy and other stories. Mosquito boy or something.

There was a boy, Joe,
Who was stung by a mosquito.
He didn't realise at that point,
that it'll change his life so.

His head shrank,
extra arms grew,
and his nose became
the barrel of a tank.
wings sprouted
and eyes compounded
and soon little Joe,
became a mosquito man.

At first he flew up, and
he flew down
and he landed,
on a patch of brown.
he lowered his head,
as his nose touched the ground,
and before he could hear
a single sound,


-SLAP-


Lol. just something i wrote up this lousy night in camp.

till nxt time

mozzies from galaxies.

Its been quite a few weeks since i last typed so here am i again.

Well. Its been a bad few days, or weeks, for that matter, sitting below a explosion of flames of the forest. being scorched by the sun and stung by the unerring brigades of mosquito commandos.

Was reading this book of my officer about life and its existence in worlds beyond ours and was thinking. somewhere perhaps out there, is a giant planets of mosquitoes. And on that planet they have developed some warping technology to send their minions to a million different planets, so that they could get the nourishment they so desperately need. It makes sense you know. How else could you explain the amount of times the mosquitoes sting at us, and the amount of unaccounted blood they take from us, and their unexplained dissappearance every time you whip out the insect repellent, only to reappear once you keep it away.

There you are. A perfect explaination to a otherwise senseless creature designed to torture and destroy humankind.

respect and mothers.

Well. With these words i've officially hit the 400 mark for my number of posts. But that doesn't come into the picture here. Cos its not what i want to talk about. Not that i know now of what i want to talk about.

West Ham lost 3-0 due to a referee who, to put it mildly, trusted the bigger brands of liverpool over west ham. But of course, we have to 'respect' his decision whatever it is.

Which leads me to this word- respect. Some say it have to be commanded, given, and others, say that its earned. Which reminds me of this poster my friend recently put up in the more discreet places of the med ctr, 'The r--k is what you wear, the respect is what you earn.' Which pretty much summarises what i think about respect. But yeah, have never been a fan of this particular 'caste' system. A different couple of lines and curves on my sleeves or my shoulders does not render me subservient to those of yet another pattern. Respect is earned. Not yelled and shouted for. Again i could not write without my masking my words so pardon the language. Yes, we have to have a structure for organisation. We need to sort the people out. And yes its the organisation, don't get me started at the organisation. But yes, I do not think that the way respect is commanded, for failure to do so may just cause more harm than wanted to the individual. And I've lost my point somewhere around that chunk of words. But yeah. Anyway.

Last sunday was mother's day, so let me wish happy mother's day to all mothers. Well, to me, mothers or at least mine, is pretty much like the sun. In Singapore. She'll nag and nag and nag at you like the afternoon heat of the scorching sun. Making you sweat and irritated and not at all happy. She scrutinize your every action like the ever present sun. And She'll know where you have been, with who, when, with covert skills that would put CIA to shame. And you can't block out the sun, just like you can't ever block out the messages, phone calls and shouts your mother would hurl in your way. But yeah, cliched yet truly, they really are always there when you need some rays of sunlight. And she'll provide you with breafast, lunch and dinner, the way the sun gives the sunrise and sunset everyday, if you are willing to just sit down and enjoy them. And like plants, we grow under them. but yet, unlike plants, we tend to grow away from our mothers as we grow, making as much space as we can between her and us. And that's when our mothers yield, and set, like the evening sun. But just when she dissapears into the darkness of the night, when we're all alone and darkened and sad and lonely. And when we miss her the most. You look up. And you see a yellow disc. giving a little light. A little reflection of the warmt and light a mother brings. A little hint, or perhaps hope, a promise, saying 'I'm here'. Telling us to last the darkest nights, brave the coldest storms, so that tomorrow, the sun will be there yet again.

Just a little short something for mothers all around. But yeah. I wouldn't like my mum to read it. haha. Just let it be er.. an unknown tribute to her and what she've done for me.

So. there.

Goodnight and.

Till next time.

Poker.

Well. Its another stay-up-late night, for reasons best not explained. Nothing too bad though.

Just waiting.
For a game.
For a flop, a river, a turn.
calling and folding,
and raising when i should,
or when i shouldn't have.

You know, the more i play poker, the more i find that our lives moves in significant parallels to the game, and more likely than not, I am not the first to make such a comparison. We get cards, 2 of them, some of us gets the Aces, some the dueces, and even worst off, some of us get the 2-7 off-suit. I would like to put myself somewhere along the lines of k-jaks. An average hand. But that probably do not come into the picture here. But yeah. Its one thing to get a good hand, its another to play it well. Some of us give it the huge bet at the start, only for what? to pick up the blinds, to gain small profits and small gains into the unlimited pot of the world. And some of us choose to play them slow, but ultimately, score a huge win over the rest. And some of us get poor hands. That's when we fold, and bide our time, and wait for a better hand. But for some like mine? We call the bets. However hard life's bets may be. call them and we'll take a look at the flop. And if its favourable. We do the All-in.

My mind, as you guys well know, is not functioning to the best of its capabilities for what must be a millon days now. So yeah. Even i don't really understand the blabber i just wrote.

So yeah.

Thks for reading anyway.

Till nxt time.

Its Poker time.

How Deadpool got killed and the death of Oyster boy.

Okay. Contradicting to speculation, I am still very much alive in the biological sense of the word. Intellectually, not very much so. You see, constant usage of facebook to do quizzes and games that are, in a word, stupid, have left me very much braindead. This coupled with a lack of oxygen to the brains due to the need to don N95 masks due to the current doscon level, have left me short on stories and inspiration.

Movies that are overhyped but underperformed did not help either. bloody Wolverine murdered deadpool. Not in the show. but in the plot. I mean Deadpool has gotta be one of the coolest comic characters ever man, and they had to make him into a villian and sew up his mouth. And he didn't speak to the audience at all for the whole show!

And everyone should check Tim Burton's The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy by clicking on the link, the poems/stories are awesome and the artwork is magnificent. haha. If only i can draw and write like that. I love dark humor.

Anyway. This is all i can write about until i find further stories in my head. Its kinda in a mess now after all the work.

Till nxt time

Mostly on football.

Well. I do not have any special inclination to blog. Just sorta doing it cos i'm bored now, and I'm bored of looking at dear old forzadiego.blogspot.com showing a post god knows how long ago. West ham lost over the wkend, to a team consisting of evil traitor, 'Fat' Frank Lump-of-lard. Who's definitely not even one of the best in the world, not to say the best. But anyway. Stoke's up next so hopefully we can reclaim the 7th spot.

Just played a little football. Strength and stamina no longer what they used to be, not that they were high in the first place. Feel slightly like Tristan.

This is getting boring. as it has been for days, weeks maybe.

I need excitement. like robbing a bank or falling in love. Something of that sort to kickstart the countdown towards freedom.

and apparently, the universe tastes like raspberries.

playlist x.

Just spent the better part of the whole night uploading and preparing songs for the playlist that could now be found on my sidebar. Well, its goodbye to nights in the medical centre without a good consolidated songlist that i could listen to as i go about reading soccernet and writing stuff here on this blog.

First Fatep training is over. It was better than those long past. but oh wells, its only the first of many. And tired i am...

tomorrow's battery retreat.

Shall write more when i have the inspiration. But for now, you guys can stay around to enjoy the awesome songs on the sidebar.

Goodnight.

Taken

Just watched Grand Theft Auto: The movie, or as the title on the poster says, Taken. which is a pretty awesome movie, filled with elements that made GTA such an awesome game, violence, babes, cars and adrenaline. Not in the bad way of course.*

Am currently in camp after a bout of confusion which suprisingly did not leave me as unhappy as i expected myself to be. Perhaps its the fact that i would have spent my night in front of the computer in a different place anyway, doing not too different things, reading not too different websites.

Anyway. To build on the memory thing a few posts ago..

Where did i grow up? you ask.

Well. It was just off Christchurch, beneath the stars and amongst the sheep and grass. And i used to run thousand of miles across unobstructed plains, chasing sheep and smelling flowers. It was great. But wait. No. It was not christchurch. It was in the hustle and bustle of New York, right amongst the jungle of buildings, amongst man walking so fast that they appear in a blur of grey and white and black and brown. Yes. That must be it. Hang on. It was the bushes of Zimbabwe, amongst the herds of the day and the beasts of the night. Among the trample of zebras, wildebeeast, elephants and giraffes, there with the roar of the lions and the laugh of the hyenas, the gaze of the vultures and the hiss of the snakes. There as the new member of my proud tribe. That must be it. Dang. No. I was a born a girl in greece, near the pantheon of old gods, christened in the churches of new. No. A proud only son of a chinese farmer. No. The unwanted child of a street walker. No. An average kid in an average neighbourhood in London. No...

What's my name?

Well. It writes Paul on my I.D., but i'm sure i was once John, once Theia, once Quinton, twice Alexander, and trice in languages i do not know now. But what does it matter. I'm 01-EN-03944, That's my time zone, my vocation and my personal number. Its unique. So why do i need something like a name. After all, there must be a thousand Pauls, and even more Johns in my timezone. The number is better. Oh-Three-Nine-Double-Four.

-Paul, 01-EN-03944.

Updated.

Just edited the previous post slightly to add in a few details I have left out and you could check it out by just scrolling down. (shouldn't be too long, don't expect this post to be a long one)

Well. most of my sentiments now have been reshaped and redirected into the story so yeah. guess if you can. no prizes for saying its something to do with the organisation.

whole day at home today. doing nothing. bored.

memories.

They said they found a way to extract the memory. Extract it, then can it, replicate it, mass-manufacture it, then sell it to a million different person.

Words of authors, unwritten, will no longer be lost. Paintings, by artists, will cease to be undrawn. Man could now feast upon the infinite knowledge of the luminaries of science, to build upon one another without any confusion. Man could now sell or simply discard those unwanted memories, bad breakups and terrible deaths, nightmares at midnight and bad bosses by midday. As long they are so much imprinted as lightly touched on in your minds, they could extract them.

Celebrities are now unforgettable, not when you own a piece of their memory, a fragment of their daily lives. TV and youtube are obsolete now, who needs dramas when you can watch them unfold, 'seconds after they happen', who needs sports shows when you could get them now 'live in your head', feeling the rush of blood through the athlete's brains as they leap run and swim at breakneck pace. Facebook and twitter could now be customised to reflect your real time thoughts. Animals need not be conserved, not 'so that our children could see their majesty', not when i could simply pass on the film in my camera to them. In fact, they could see every species they ever wanted to see, and perhaps slightly more. No longer do we need to fear of losing our culture and tradition. Who can, now that the gods are injected into our veins. And god could never die when they are remembered.

Security is now much better. We could wipe clean any dirty slate and write it anew. Terrorist today, pure hearted humanist the other. And its more humane, we don't need jails or the death sentence now, why punish, when you can rehabilitate to perfection. What of the victims you ask?
Why? They don't even remember it (with some help of course). No longer will there be political discourse, or fear of evil dictators, or 'unrepenting hordes of capitalists' advances, Everyone would inject and subscribe to the manifesto. No one says no. Not when big brother is right there in your head. Who needs big brother anyway? or neo-pavlovnian conditioning? All it takes is a jab. You won't feel the pain at all.

Of course there are those who try to rebel. 'Individualists' they call themselves, for they believe in the individual, the rights for each to have their own memory, their own thoughts. But haven't science proved again and again that centralisation and scale allows for faster thought and quicker answers? Why would we need the right to think as 'I' instead of 'We'? Why would we want something that may potentially destroy the very fabric of social cohesion?

But the public have been mostly cooperative, after much work of course. This new technology have allowed us to specialise the memories of the individuals to suit their statuses. Of course we still allow for people to grow to what they are, we aren't a discriminating group, we don't do the caste thing. What we do is to sharpen the minds and focus them, so that they could realise their full potential. The workers will get the memories of a goldfish. 7 seconds. All they need is to know how to screw on a screw, nothing else, and never be bored of it. Gone will their wants of cars and houses, or their secret hope of winning the lottery. One could not wish for such things when one could not recall any of them. The scientists will share a common databank, A million heads is better than one. And again, their material wants are wiped out, when there's no 'I', there isn't any thing that's 'mine'.

And the world is a peaceful place now. No more conflict and wars as all the reasons for them are removed. Everyone now have the exact same memory of past events and have the exact same political sentiments. Religion, on which so many wars are fought on, is now united under a common memory of a common savior, and all sing praises in his name, no more splits like those ancient times.

This is progress.

-written for a friend who probably didn't expect this to come out. i don't think its too complete, but i'm too sleepy to continue.