a distant voice in my head tells me that it wasn't really a good day passed.
amidst the bellowing laughters and smoked-filled nasal cavities, i cannot obscure this sense of ill-ease and void.
even now, alone in the dark, i am haunted by a myriad of questions. never truly alone as goddard says. maybe the only constant companions are doubts and questions, subtract them from the equation then maybe your're really all alone.

as complicated as it seems, i have just recently found out that i was not the man i knew i was. pardon me if i give me the credit of calling myself i man. that's what uncertainty and a warped esteem does to someone. i am quite at the age of calling myself a man, but never having enough in my c.v to call myself a man. no driver's license, unemployed and no god damned idea on whereever ontowards i am heading to. at the same time, i am finding out that i am not a bastard. many people have called me that, both behind my back at face-frontal. but i am glad that i don't jump at exactly any and every opportunity. i am not lambasting or chiding, it is a form of lifestyle and i chose this.

so having formed up certain images and having at the same time tearing down some, my identity remains to be an enigma. so many inner demons to exorcise, so many choices to make and so many regrets to sigh about. god-willing apocalypse now. this inner battle is killing me.

i'm always full of sentiments after watching lonely planet six degrees.
i wish i were in asha's shoes.

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when every step u take is a foot upon a landmine. obliteration in painless seconds, no second thoughts, not even firsts. the flurry of events that unfold before you like a montage of sequence beyond comprehension. unknowing, not knowing, what struck you and what lays before you. a veil of dark cloud shrouds your vision and even if cleared leaves behind misty eyes. as the distance grows, the pitter patter of tears that sound like raining bombs grow in stature. the dizzying heights of dreams turn into flurry flights of fear not fancy. u breathe, yet all u inhale is gas fumes from the potent environment. the sands of time yield to no man, but the bellowing wind of circumstance. unknowing, unsuspecting and cluelessly lost amidst the reign of chaos.

the hand that fags is the hand that fights and the hand that fucks-fuck it all up.

fuck it, theres a strawberry used condom with you-know-what in it, lying at the stairwell outside my place.whoever did it you fucking son of a bitch i hope you become so fucking impotent that even megan fox will not turn you on.

I saw what it meant to be blind.The blessings of being blind includes the advantage of being oblivious to your surroundings.To be alienated from the truth around you which hurts so much, to see no evil and the colours of people, to be able to turn a blind eye towards your wrinking hands and drooping lids. Being blind is a two way thing; it shuts you out and it keeps people from seeing into your soul. What it means to be blind is to stay true towards your inner intuition and reject all external motivation.To be blind is to see the truth from within, unaided by all sorts of condiments and embeliishments.peace out.

No, H1N1 was not like any other 4 digits an ah pek in Singapore would seek for in some deserted cemetery. Those 4 queers numbers/letters were more like the harbingers of death and doom. What first started out innocuously like a common flu in Mexico circa 2009 held more in store for MANKIND than it ever knew. It was the Pandora's box for MAN, not hope though, but hopelessness.

If time reverted to pre 2009 days, the so called cyberspace or internet would have held information of such an eminent event's in the short history of Man. Yet there was no electricity provided anywherein the world anymore, much less a lighted moniter or network. Money could have bought you medicines like Tamiflu or antibiotics to fight the deadly disease. Yet there was no need for money now, for the WORLDS'S established forms of governance and counter-measures were utterly destroyed in the post H1N1 days. Nations crippled by the diseases abandoned all hope ,causes and reasons, governance and tyrannies, order and chaos. The world became a free for all dog-fest in which people slugged it out like animals in the pre homo-sapien days.

Money become useless pieces of testimonies of the former glorified days of MANKIND which had set about a standard of commerce worldwide. Free men steal and curtail now. Boundaries between countries blurred into ephemeral horizons that meet seemlessly. Much like the virus itself which spread like wildfire among countries, paying no respect to man's arbitrary boundaries. Man's houses were truly welcoming with open doors now, as there were no title deeds left or authorities to ensure their validity. One only need to come, see and enter.

The world of 2012 has turned out to be utterly different from the technological utopia that man foresaw before. Little did man know that 2009 was the zenith for the HUMAN RACE. The pinnacle of the smartest and most destructive species the world was ever to see.
Now, clusters and pockets of surviving humans scour the wretched earth in such of food and water. Mere scavengers like the packs of dogs in the wild.

I write to keep my sanity. But the last pencil i hold now in my hands have been expended to its very last length of lead. I must now search for another pencil, to record all i have on pen and paper, black and white. I besiege future generations of man, if you do come out tops from such an unthinkable apocalyptic events,please do truly learn and treasure.

Wilson Xie
27-01-2012.

does anyone out there feel the way i do regarding the incessant changing of passwords?
when you are living happily with your account, be it your email, bank, or any other account to some random pornsite sponsered involuntarily by your unsespecting dad's credit card.
some good for nothing administrator or superfluous system would then prompt you out of the blue to change the password which you have grown so chummy with, like one's bolster.

and so as the story goes, ntu prompted me to change my email and school's account password.
only for it to fuck up on my return, when i check my account today.
imagine the prodigal son refused upon entry by god and his not so prodigal father.

i hereby make a guest entry in my very own blog, for this is the skin or template that i mould myself into during school terms. Beyond the suffocating boundaries of the school term, i take a hiatus from the very mental excercise/torture of displaying my/our superfluous weilding of the universal language of communication, or miscommunication at times.

i just wanna thank my friends who still acknowledge my fleeting existence. For remembering to not forget me, a hermit of a human. To beckon me out of my pinpoint spark of consciousness that revolves within the clinical pallid four walls of my cement confines.

7 pounds-

thanks but no thanks for the end of exams.
so much time but so little to do.

today eat fish and co-nea officer almost fine us 200-took the funniest taxi ride with the quirkiest taxi driver-biggest draft that i've ever experienced in my life-thank u so much for kind attention.

last night in the hss lounge. stella bore the brunt of a vengeful sleep depth which sent her packing straight back home. caine and i are mightly bored with the world's best and most renowned playright of all time.

who knows what tomorrow holds when the cutains of the exams hall are drawn. will we step out to see day or night, flight or fight. a whisper or two in a wistful voice of "hi" and "bye" echoed by a silent speech of "alright, cya in 4 months."

1 year in ntu has brought bales of laughter and, well no bucketful of tears, but somewhat negative emotions.negative being awful in all its nuances such as, hate,anger,pity,disturbed, perturbed, irritated,turmoil, so on and so forth.

yet to live life is not to do so as to die, but to live in its experiences. to be always associated to, remember, reminiscing and constantly experiencing. these experiences that encapsulate's one's memoir of life is the metaphorical diary we all never never purchased but came free at birth. it is our birthright and obligation to maintain these experiences, good or bad, fair or foul for foul is fair.

these experiences in time would be no more than mere fleeting images of grey in the mind which distinguishes, not the fair and the foul, good or the bad, tasteful or distasting. these experiences will carry our identity and we will not shun any single one of them, even at either polarities of "rawks" and "sucks".

so long, exams and plans, for here i come, freedom and blanks checks of unrestrictions.
caine says to me "pay tribute to me in the last paragraph". therein lies his tribute.

edit/
stella wants tribute too.
i say "NAH, ho liao.."

Experience experiences i say.

we walked down the well-trodden path against the cold wind bellowing in our faces.
the familiar route from hss lounge to caine's hall is by now a well recognized precursor for our favourite time of the night, bathing.
for bathing makes you clean and it removes the grime away from one's body. It helps in the invigorating of our tired selves and the preparation of our next most desirable act, sleeping.

If it weren't for bathing, our clammy and sticky skin would be parasitically gelled to our black couches while asleep. This produces the undesirable effect of a certain screeching sound when one tosses and turns about on this makeshift bed. Caine and I serve to maximise both of our sleeping time by allowing the other, rest in peace, when our smooth skin glides over the leather of the couch without resistance. No sound=No disturbance=Good Sleep.

As sleep beckons, our minds transpire into a psychidelic playground for the stores of information that we have assimilated so far, phrases, quotes, irony, puns titles names,characters sleep,drink water, 1pm tomorrow, all that we have learnt, sleepless nights, form, technique,hamelet, 103,professor, exams, study....till we shut out the lights in a brightly litted room by shutting our heavy laden lids.

the canned drinks come and the cigarettes light up.
it is a compulsive disorder universally experienced by smokers all across the globe, save for the ones in Spore, where smoking is banned except within your own home, in which 95% happens to also be non-smoking areas as decreed by parents.

the second thing is, for some perplexing reason or another, *** has removed all ash trays from the top of our favourite and friendly yellow/green caricature of a huge can drink. yes i know, having done this, they hope in discouraging smokers. Yet the one trait common to smokers is their rebelious streak. so many a times this semester we are faced with morally challenging dillema.

-----having light our cigarettes, we in Scenario One, proceed to finish our sticks and then, butt out our cigarettes on the dustbins green forehead(vandalism), choose either to dispense them on the floor(littering) or into the bin themselves(arson).

Scenario Two, having lit our cigarettes, we will proceed to try smoking. Yet the very vigilant security-guards whom avoid catching all other forms of law-breaking, eg (vandalism-those who smudge their mucus or gold nuggets on the wall), (littering-sweet wrappers or spit), arson-( when some tiongs make out in the heat of passion in school), seem to have the uncanny knack of turning around the corner of the pillar to confront us, the shell shock smokers.

in which we then revert back to the second half of Scenario One---proceed to finish our sticks and then, butt out our cigarettes on the dustbins green forehead(vandalism), choose either to dispense them on the floor(littering) or into the bin themselves(arson).

there is definitely a conspiracy to catch smokers committing one of these crimes so as to send them behind bars conveniently.

what a bummer aint it. i suggest we all switch to CNG cars to save the world. even my dad car smokes a cigar every time we hit the road.

caine sleeps far off to my left on our multi-versatile sofa/table/chair.
stella left with the promise of lunch tomorrow.
all that's left is the silence of the night and the itsy-bitsy thoughts gnawing away at my head. these thoughts really magnify when you are sleeping on the same sofa, instead of a bed, for 3 days in a row.
makes you feel that establishments and stereotypes can and are meant to be broken. A postmodern poet experimenting with forms and style, no?

Exams stress is universal i'm sure, yet it surely takes its toil differently.
wilson-sleeps alot at times in fear of denial, yet at 4.44am he still can't sleep.
caine-drinks a can a beer at night, regardless of available brands.stella artois? included.
stella-burning holes in her pocket by cabbing to and fro.

ok i'm rambling on and i'm sorry this post is really boring. i have lotsa things in my mind.i have no where and idea to begin on how it is affecting me and why it should affect me, when all these doubt appear as question marks in my head i know not too.


i question the need for answers.

only for the answers to post more questions.

Goodnight World.Whoooosh

       Zheng He sails the sea,
                     She searches for his selfhood. 
                                    Therein lies his,he.



-海哭 for the eunuch admiral-

They deplorably mistook originality for plagiarism. Im sorry you've been wronged.
I'v read your essays, they have too.Maybe their obstinance disallows the notion that youth could outwit experience,or maybe senility. Well maybe just frigid academic credibility.
They forgot that, being once students themseleves,their proud pieces of opus magnums were just at once at the the mercies of their professors.

Perhaps one they when you rise to the rank of a principal,you will too face such a predicament. Your experience shall lend a guiding hand to your descretion, when you choose to deliver the judging hand upon the student, who so reminds you of yourself this day.

i like exams and i cannot lie.here we go!