It's always about the people.

People. Never fail to intrigue me.

If God was the one who made us, I am amazed how he is able to churn out so many different ones of us everytime. Our physical attributes, our personalities, our characters, our habits, our growth and learning abilities etc. How many moulds do he need and has, to create every distinctive one of us? If, according to the bible, he only made 2, which in turn replicate the rest...he must be a freaking genius! Everyone of us is a product from the first moulds, which we will become a mould and recreate another product to mould another! Simply ingenious. If only I know how to use his blueprint commercially, create 2 to create more, which will self-mulitply without any expansion. I will be rich!

But I suspect GOD is not ISO 9000 certified and did not foresee the way we evolved.

Look at those unfortunate ones borned with physical defects. Look at some of the morally-ill ones who came to contaminate or exterminate others. Look at how we waged wars to remove our own kinds, instilled unrest and stirred troubles. Look at the division of social/economic/racial/commercial quotients. Look at the depletion of Mother Nature's treasures through our selfish needs. Look at how our evolution has distanced us from the earliest notion of Life.

Look at us.

Benefit of doubt, I think God made us outta love. And hopefully we make more love thereafter (which we all DEF agree...) Other than indirectly contributing to the thriving trade of flesh (Adam muz have gotten bored juz screwing Eve) and 'liberated' us into more precise loving, like loving money, loving blings, loving condos, loving cars, loving ONLY ourselves. It's amazing how we always try to outdo ourselves. Wooo, He should be crying silent tears of pride. Look! Even his most faithful followers are buying stakes in Suntec, living the high-life in Hollywood, and amassing church funds in the millions all in the name of Love!

People. How warped, distorted, misled and selfish some can be.

Everything started out of a good clause. People tarnished it. FUcked-up workplace? It's the people. FUcked-up system? It's the people implementing it. FUcked-up Life? It's on us.

Stop hiding and stop blaming everything else. Everyone should start doing their part.

You ain't heavy, you are my sister.

My dear XXXXX,

I hardly make a personal reference to an individual on my blog. Unless really worthed it or really pissed.

It's early in the morning (2:20am), juz about the best time to indulge in some physical solace when I decided to read those very few blogs which I faithfully follow (including yours, of coz!), while streaming videos from my fav domain. The point is...reading your latest posting jolted me out of watever elicited mood I was in, and I decided to put my hand to better use instead :)

*I hope u are cool so far and even smiling faintly cos the above-mentioned are all truth. *crossed my heart.

I have been thinking silently about your renewed vigour in blogging recently and definitely enjoying every careful words u chosen and the updates from your life. I am happy to know that Life will be more inducing with the relocation and however much reservations I have towards this arrangement, if you are cool with it, I stand by you. Before you even start questioning about the motive behind this post, I have to clarify that nothing ill was ever spoken, nor purposely enacted to be detrimental to your personality, character or decisions. If any act of unintentional comtempt was channelled through, I offer my most sincere apologies.

Sorry.

For the first time I met you, I like you immersely and subsequent gatherings reaffirmed that view. You are definitely one of the few grounded souls I came across, and your humbled choices of living do inspire! Though very much reserved and soft-spoken, I am glad to have accquired another mate. With your one act of sweetness on my b'day, I was touched. I am quietly counting down to your b'day, so that I can return the wonderful gesture.

I do not know if I was part of your cyber quetch, though I do feel alit associated. And to say I am affected, is an understatement. Somewhere somehow something muz have led to this explosion of expressions. We shall not divulge the contents written and I fully respect and understand the implications if...(I think you know what I mean. I even went thru my writing a few times juz to make sure it's innocuous to whoever involved). The fact that I am still part of your virtual realm do not lessen the possibility of culpability but heightened the curiosity about your intended figures. Your ending passage hinted at the trajectory target but I wonder if our bridge had been burned without my realisation. I will definitely love to mend it...first by clarification, then explanation, ending with comprehension. Hence this dedicated post to you, but only if we share similar frequencies.

In case you were mistaken by the identity of the 'fucker' stated in my previous post, I have to comfirm that you are indeed, mistaken. The fucker is a guy. Man. Real fucker. In the event that I am over-reacting or not the guilty party/parties quoted, I want u to know I am waiting for your response the moment u read this!!

And Oh. U are definitely worth it.

Last words : Pissing is a natural phenomenon applicable to both genders for despatching toxins. Men do it from various heights/directions/positions, while women basically stick to 2 stances. But some chose to DO it a lit higher from their mouths instead. Dun worry, someday it's going to choke. Heh.

Bud.

I went to a bbq's gathering the other day, to bid farewell to a dude who is leaving for work overseas soon. Not that it's much of my concern (I met this dude like once?), but becos my *bud, who is the host (who is this dude's best fren), invited me and REALLY wanted me to come.

*I put an asterisk on the 'bud' word cos A is not really a 'bud' yet but I like him enough to want him to be a bud someday.

So what constitute someone to be a bud?

In my extreme opinion, a bud is someone who can lay his life on the line for you, literally. Okay I DID mentioned 'extreme', I dun expect any of my buds to die for me yet...but more or less along that line of context. I am proud to say I am a loyal, faithful mate to those I treat like buddies. They are like my blood brothers and I seriously will fight and bleed for them. But only if they are able to stand on similar grounds as me. Buddies have GENUINE mutual respect/care/concern for each other, even if we are not always agreeable, we must be cohesive and stand with/by each other in good and bad times.

I always initiate, share, offer my everything FIRST when I meet you. If you appreciate and recipocrate, I will let you into my world. With chemistry and effort, I hope this budding relationship will be nurtured to last. But dun take me for a fool, dun take me for a ride, shortchange me, and abuse my trust in you. For when I retailate and cut you completely off, you will never, ever have a chance to step in again. Hell not only has fury like a woman scorned, try incurring the warth of an Aries. Be forewarned.

I have had one disappointing fucker whom I used to call buddy. I hope I never have to add more names onto this list. When I try to receive you into my private world of 'buds-hood', I will be there for you. If you like to keep me as a buddy, be there for me too.

For better or worse, I assured you I am not in for the short haul. Unless you want to get out.

When it's so distanced, I forgot we were there before.

How many faces can we know in a lifetime?
I have seen thousands, known a few hundreds, felt for some, loved a few.

I remembered the things we did, the places we go to. Your smile, the warmth of your hand, the fragrance of your hair, the lingering scent when our bodies touched. I remembered missing you, longing to see your beautiful face and kissed your lips ever so tenderly. I remembered we ran, crossing kilometres, building camaraderie. I remembered your kindness, your gesture of help in my times of despair. I remembered our laughters, the dizzy steps, when our brows were laced with perspiration. I remember you sitting beside, on a bright full moon, when my heart was broken. I remembered your choice, of forsaking me, to be with another. I remembered the car rides, with a broken radio, with rock ballads aplenty. I remembered you waiting patiently on our date and how you broke into a smile on seeing me. I remembered our times of careless youth, when the nights are always young. I remembered you, who came and left and come back again, though some are gone for good.

I wish I can remember more, but it's been so long and I can't remember anymore.

You. Everyone of you.

Sometimes I forget we were ever there, until I remember again.

New place, more shit, lesser toilets.

I was already dead tired while typing this, as my eyes strained to keep themselves open. Still I insisted that I did one post to show that I am still alive and dragging.

The new store will finally open this sat 12th. It's adiós to a month of merry-making and back to face the 'daily life of a working-class'. Mbs (Marina Bay Sands) is really one shitty place, for all their futuristic architectural marvels, proclaimed state-of-art facilities and casino gaming entertainments. It's like a little island on it's own, with the next nearest building a good 20 mins walk away. Accesibilty is bad, parking fees are exorbitant and lots are scarce, and food...goodness! Pathetic choices at eye-popping prices! Imagine 3 siew mais costing $3.30. I rather eat my own balls packet meals.

Luckily the new boutique is still beautiful. Though not exactly finished in the way I imagined, it does tug at my heartstrings a lit, being with the boutique since it's first incorporation. With 2 new ladies on board, we are now on a 6 men team. There were as much hesitations as expectations when relocating to this current site, but given the pain-stakingly slow figures generated during Raffles Hotel's reign, this is Breguet's last straw. Next time this year, either I am happily settled in this new home or have since move on to greener pastures. Such are the stakes involve and armed with a new responsiblitiy, I am slowing feeling the heat too. Maybe mbs' infamous air-conditioning is trying to prove their critics right again, dammit. And the bloody toilets...most have only 1 or 2 cubicles for poo-poo. Either I break down my defecation to a series of short stincts per day or I bring my own portable mini-loo, cos I really dun like the idea of shitting while a steady queue forms outside.

It's still early days to see results, though Fabien has already subtly stresses the importance of that. But seriously, I am not having good vibes and I refrain from being overly optimisstic. More crowd doesn't necessarily means more sales, and with the kinda stuffs we are selling, the money could have given me 5 yrs supply of ciggies, with a heart bypass throw in. With fingers cross, I can only hope for the best...when some lunatic still on a high of hitting the jackpot walks in. That probability works out roughly to be like me having an affair with my 'much-loved' manageress.

Still, one of the cons the ONLY con of working there means I am further away from the nearest drinking hole possible. My laziness outweighs the thirst and lure of a cold beer anytime, and on the secondary, can only means well for my pockets. I thought I lose weight from all the recent inactivty until I realised my wallet were significantly lighter. So I am officially broke again, once more.

Words like 'break', breakup', 'broke' and 'broken' are incessantly becoming such regular fixtures of my life, I wonder if I am really such a loser chap of a guy or juz fucking plain cursed. Nevertheless, initiating the first step to resolving a problem is always a healthy start and I hope I can sustain the effort.

I hope the new place bears well for me. And I hope there are more lunatics than not, to burn a few hundred thousands. Nothing is impossible.


Including the affair. puke.

Sometimes I dun understand.

At 32 yrs of age, I dun understand why I am none the wiser.

I see mates from secondary school days during Terry's wedding. I dun know what had happened before, but it felt good seeing everyone again. It was awkward to an extent, but I was received rather warmly, as if I never really left. And then there was S, someone I have known since 7. Is it me and me only, that something weird, disquieting but yet intimate seems to hang in the air everytime I see you?

One more single man of the list, one lesser comrade, one more reason to wonder. Everyone would have bet their last dollar on me being one of the first few to get hitched years back. Fast forward to today, I am still one of the last men left hanging. Looking at peeps and peers settling down and having babies, I do sometimes, envy their progession of responsbilites. I dun purposefully swing, nor do I have an unrealistic criterials for a prospective partner...but somehow Cupid eludes me. If he is running out of arrows, I hope he make some soon enough, before the heart gets stale and cold from prolonged isolation.

6 years left unfulfiled can be detrimental to one's emotional and physical well-being. I have mates who have had it longer, perhaps not victimized by decisions but rather, the culprit of choices. I dunno if I plotted my own demise in a wonderful relationship...maybe Fate decided that we had expired each other's duration together and snipped the line of affection. I wonder what could have been. And I think I can only wonder from then on.

I heard my dad left for China months back, with his new love. Now we are even further apart than what we already are. Much as the relationship was tarnished, he is still my father. And one day, if I am a father myself, I dun hope my son to distance himself from me too. How many more years does he have, before this son addresses him as one again? Do we always need Death to remind us how precious it is, everyone that we should be cherishing?

If work is love and we all loves what we are doing, seriously, this world will be in a financial and economical turmoil. Not everyone has that good fortune to be doing their desired occupations. I was not there by choice, but I was not never shortchanged in the way the journey had penned out till date. We look outside and complain how the rest had have it better. Maybe true for some, but not everybody. EVERYone envy Somebody else's life. I dream of writing, producing music every god damn day, but whether I actually do it or not, well..let's see. A hungry stomach can't really fulfil dreams, isn't it?

Maybe the writings are in the stars, maybe everything is predestined, maybe the best is yet to come. I dun know, I dun understand. And I believe I will be none the wiser too, when I grasp my last breath.

Dream.

And my world is asleep, I presumed. Half a bottle of red and an inspirational movie later, I am in the mood for writing again.

I have been composing again, with 2..er..1 and a half song to boot for the past week. Recorded one, shown it to a few buds and feeling happy. Music is my dream, I would give one arm and leg juz to do it everyday. But maybe I am like any other normal guy on the street..realistic..and needing to put food on the table. Maybe I am feeling old too, and the dreaming starts becoming a lit more distance. But dreaming shouldn't have restrictions nor limitations. Dreaming is a part of Life. I never feel more alive living out my dream, abeit small-scaled, in my cosy room, on my beloved piano.

Tomorrow is another day, and everyday is a new day. Much as I am afraid and contradicting what I am going to preach in the sentences below, I dare everyone else to go out and dream! Maybe there's still a lit dreaming left within me, maybe the spirit didn't disappear totally. Well, I am making music again, however temporal that might be. And I am loving it!

Tonight..opps (it's morning!!) ...TODAY, I am a dreamer. And I hope you will be one too. GO Go! :D

p/s: I did a video of an old composition for a buddy as a b'day gift somewhere in Dec. AND HE JUZ POSTED IT ON FACEBOOK!!!

Yea. Dream. What a bad dream.

Will you strike me if I show you my middle finger?

If there is really a GOD, I hope everytime I look up to heaven, he can tell me what the fuck is going on. But no. I seriously dun think there is a GOD up there looking out for every one of us. Seriously, how much bullshit prayers can he listen to everyday and watch everyone's back? Good and evil, yes. Retribution and karma, yes. GOd? Heh.

Watch this brilliant standup act by George Carlin, shared with me by M, who I believe have also flashed his middle finger at the 'higher power' more than a few times. (We can't beat HIM everytime, bro! Not when He is not even there in the first place.)

We dun need anyone to tell us to do good and I think basic human rationale should govern us well enough. Unless you are warped, perverted or juz plain outright evil, then no fundamental common senses could have any bearings on you. I dun pray to GOD and ask for things, cos I dun blame him when I dun get them. I work for it. My mum kicks my ass when I screw up or the local legal jurisdiction takes care of me when I run afoul of laws, not GOD. He dun pay my bills, he dun give me food and he dun provide me with medical services, a home or holidays. In fact, he wants our donations so that he can keep on decorating his beautiful home called HEAVEN. Hmm. You think he accepts credit cards too?

I have nothing against peeps with faith and choose to indulge their beliefs in any GODs. It's your choice and you live with it. If your God is watching your back, well good for you! If not, change to another! There's so many to choose from, you always have time to find the right one! (I've heard different heavens have got different themes to cater to different folks! It's not easy finding believers nowadays!)

Show me a GOD in all his almighty gloriousness and I will show you ET. I believe I get punch by any ramdom stranger for flashing my middle finger faster than any GOD can inflicit his lightning bolt on me. I juz flashed 3 times towards the sky. Try it.                       

How do u kill yourself?

I got knocked out for 16 hours.

There were no recollection of previous night's activity, no memory of the things I have done or said, no idea how I managed to drag myself home. I woke up very dehydrated, with a bad hangover and still impaired judgement. Brusied right knuckles, sore right thumb, cut fourth finger, and a swollen left knee. I remembered vaguely trashing up some tables, chairs and signboard. I was pissed at something or someone. A stranger stared at my madness and I am too wasted to even drew out his face. I swayed and stumbled. I breathed hard and mumbled. I vomitted.

I opened my eyes to see 8:35 pm on the table clock. I saw numerous missed calls and msgs on the mobile. I felt like I was dying. I could have died.

Enough, Sam. Enough.