it's my first go at illustration cs so i really had to keep it simple and stupid. but hell yeah, i spent the entire night trying to fix the computers in the house, getting acclimatized with the os and cs 4.

here's the deal



my voracity in reading has left me neither here nor there.
Before i am done with Michael Ondaatje's English Patient, i went on to Orhan Pamuk's Black book , of which , i shuttled back and forth with Jeffrey Eugenides 's Middlesex.
Today,I am neither done for any.

But thank the lord, i took it upon myself to re read The Black Book this holiday and i am half way through, despite me poring over Salman Rushdie's The Satanic Verses now.

Lately,i also took a liking to the name 'Alfie' and thus christened my new mac.to be honest,i have been totally stumped by the os for the past 2 days , and i can only get started with my cs4 and illustration when i am done with upgrading of the ram.

My grades are out too. A /A/ B+/ B-/C.

my thoughts are too random for now, and it's no fun stringing them here.
goodbye!




p.s. merry christmas to gun,yy,elvin,yaozhongandwife and everyone else that matters enough.

us at Mount Titlis, engelberg,switzerland.

i havent had quite a weekend as such for a long time. for me, good weekends take on a more definitive role on the resting of my wellbeing. for one , i had early nights morning swims , dinners with friends and family.

But what differentiates this from other weekends is me returning to my good days of watching films, good ,thought-provacative films and not the hollywood trash in our cinemas.

i feel good when i feel good about myself.

on a side note , in less than 20 mins , i will have to get ready to go to the airport. we will be covering so many cities in germany,switzerland,uk,france, i lost count.

and to you.

know that , there's no one else i had rather be with at eiffel tower ,strolling along the banks of river seine in the cold winter nights.
<3.

//before sunrise.//

-Delusion Angel

"Daydream delusion, limousine eyelash
Oh baby with your pretty face,
Drop a tear in my wineglass.

Look at those big eyes,
See what you mean to me.
Sweet-cakes and milkshakes-
I'm a delusion angel;
I'm a fantasy parade .
I want you to know what I think,
Don't want you to guess anymore.

You have no idea where I came from;
We have no idea where we're going.
Lodged in life,
Like branches in a river;
Flowing downstream;
Caught in the current;
I carry you, You'll carry me.
That's how it could be

Don't you know me?
Don't you know me by now?"


-david jewell
before sunrise. (95)

it's almost quaintly beautiful,seeing how i will be jetting off with bee to those familiar scenes in tonight.

-erudite ignorance.-

i have a weakness for notebooks, sketch books, papers or any pages that i see myself penning words/pictures that no one else reads.

it's quite a perverse obsession , since upon buying them, i never will bring myself to put a writer's thoughts and pen to it for the fear of prying eyes. of course, needless to say, the shame of staining the white pages of a otherwise pristine state of an alterego we are after.

i cant help but to think of this affliction , as signs of a violatile ,restless spirit that wavers so frequently between contrasting worlds and words , that soon tires one out into the night.

in every story, in every sentence , the writer attempts to celebrate his/her cloying parade of honeyed reminisces that are , really just , empty words. we want to make things that happened as if they never did, and things that didnt happen look as if they did - and it's there , we run endlessly in our circles , trying to make sense of who we were, what we are and what holds in the future.

as much as i hate to admit, this love for reading, writing feels like a poison ,feeding the realisations of an empty self in the empty world.

//sanity mispronounced.//

the thing is, for once , after such a long time that we both find ourselves abled enough to put aside our work, we were left screaming at each other outside cineleisure. amidst the harsh, accusatory words that dotted along orchard road, with curious passerby's eyes, i was really quite stuck in only those words that you said. " no choice ", "a dead road " and the last " I love you."

Though i must say , you are probably the only lover that i had that will scream " i love you." with such anger , that it left me speechless,wounded and lost in this rebuttal.

i was drowned for awhile , in scenes of ex lovers and tragic finishes, and i almost wished for a revolver to shoot myself, for finding myself, yet again, a flawed lover that i distastefully placed on my pedestal. the train ride home felt like eternity , especially when we find ourselves entrapped with strangers dying to end their day by partaking in our silence ,enjoying our occasional exchanges of even angrier words.

i caught myself asking the questions i didnt ask before.
if i was ready to give this all up ? ( i was always ready to flee and turn my back on lovers that failed to deliver the promise of a future that we could be happy in. )
if i can , once again , give you the benefit of doubt , to attribute your misplaced words as you never being able to find the right words to express your love.
if you were the one for me , after all?

i am not quite sure where i am , where i will be in this road with you.
but i find myself giving you the benefit of doubt,yet again.

love, sure has its means of innocuously of pulling a veil over your eyes so you can believe your loved ones more than you should in yourself.


perhaps, the one time that you believed in yourself then, is when you decide to entrust your heart and soul to the one you love.

But despite all, what's crazier is having us spent $390 on our bomber jackets for our european minimoon ( zara men and topshop.)

it's like a faulty cassette player, replaying what should have been erased , in an empty room and a barren heart.

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