And then one day all the lyrics came back.

I know you need someone
And I can hear someone
Somewhere in this song
- Mercury Rev, The Dark is Rising

Angels have no thought of ever returning you
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you
- Heather Nova, Gloomy Sunday

he just finished eating dinner and
stepped outside the cave to smoke a
cigarette he'd made from rolled up
photo paper they were pictures of
things back on earth he looked out on
the greyish white expanse of un-
inhabited terrain he now called home.
he'd seen plenty mirages and
imaginary visitors up until then so
he wasn't sure what to think when he
saw swans and they were wading on
the shores of a pale white lake that was
quite beautiful and it was far away cause
everything beautiful is far away

he knew he was as good as gone but gone
was somewhere he really didn't mind
going to since the shuttle had crashed
many years had passed and the pictures of
his loved ones that he drew on the walls of
the cave had finally faded. he put out his
smoke and proceeded towards the lake
repeating to himself everything
beautiful is far away
- Grandaddy, Everything Beautiful is Far Away

Got dark circles under my eyes ever since I started work at my customer's and they still won't disappear. Urgh. Had lunch with b12 who explained his theory on how everyone is a little self-mutilating, whether physically or mentally. Like how I've gone to repierce my third earhole despite it closing up from the infection. Or how he's into experimenting with health supplements, and consuming stuff after their expiry dates. b12 also mentioned seeing an interview on Discovery channel with a biotech scientist who wanted to amputate his own arm, so he could connect his nerves to his newly invented chip to test if it work. Good grief.

Just found out that an agelast is someone who never laughs. NEVER. Can't imagine this being possible unless it's a medical condition, and even then, to have a word to describe this is inexplicable to me.

As fate decreed, of cos I would be tottering home in my highest skyscraper heels when the heavy downpour came.

Guest-starring in someone else's dream. Last night, my UK travelmate dreamt that I went to Phuket with her dive buddy and her to dive. But she contracted chicken pox and couldn't dive. And oh, I bought 2 pairs of ivory earrings in her dream too. Hmm. Incidentally I've never contracted chicken pox; can't swim or much less dive; and I don't have any ivory earrings at all. Wonder if it's time for us to dream about my US travelmate instead. lol.

What I should really do. Sleep more. Read more. Drink more water. Make an effort to eat more green veges (including the stalks) and fish (normal fish, not sushi fish). Watch my stockpile of VCDs. Stop buying more CDs (too late, just got 2 used ones today) or clothes or shoes (and I still haven't had my annual shopping pilgrimage to KL). Remember to eat vitamins (why do I forget vitamins when I haven't forgotten eating glucosamine sulphate 3 times a day?). Run with caution (but run!). Appreciate everyone and everything more. Plan another trip next year no matter what happens to the world. Rotate the shoes I wear more often rather than dash out in LIFO fashion. Ditto for bags. And clothes. Try the remaining flavours of Dairy Queen's Blizzard (already done Strawberry & Chocolate Chip, Oreos and Nestle Crunch). Learn snooker (and excel in it!). Learn and grow. Grow and learn.

But for now, I'll just sleep more.

I think I have the same Netscape 3 reader as da blind mouse too.

Chewing on a jawbreaker and trying in vain to break the candy, while absentmindedly reading Quest's post on an article about the sun exploding in 6 years' time. Found out the article was posted on September 18 so we've already lost more than a month's time. Who knows if the world would end before that? Why not 6 months? 6 weeks? 6 days? If it's 6 hours, at least I had run yesterday and I would have had time for badminton tonight.

The older I get, the more different and indifferent.

spicy payayas it might be a better day today
- sms from Yoyo

Thanks :)

Without me knowing, mum spontaneously threw away my teddy Bub cos she thought he was old and shedding. :( She also threw away the huge AC Milan devil mascot I lugged home all the way from Italy, but that didn't hurt as much. Bub is my FRIEND! We went to teddy bear picnics together! I'm inconsolable now.

The mundane stuff you don't wanna know. Had Japanese food for lunch and dinner yesterday. Did retail therapy with the girls and bought a striped sun dress, a sleeveless kimono-like wrap top and a pair of wakeboard shorts (yes, I don't wakeboard). Tried the Oreo Blizzard at Dairy Queen. Read a bit of Mixmag. Removed my third earring and couldn't put it back in for about 15 minutes... bled lots. Slept uninterrupted for more than 9 hours.

Went to the World Press Photo exhibit with Dave yesterday. Go if you haven't gone. Saw an overhead shot of little ballerinas in floating tutus running down a staircase, which I've seen online from Dave's blog before. But seeing it in real life was nicer. Kept remembering the pic of a man who jumped out of the World Trade Center in NY. He was diving head down, arms to his sides, flaming wings of fire on the back of his white shirt. Morbidly, I wondered why he didn't flail. Not the best composed shot by far, but he reminded me of a modern day Icarus, whose wings got singed when he flew too close to the sun.

In love with Raiden's wraparound dancetrack Fallin from the November issue of Mixmag. I wanna run listening to this. I wanna RUN.

Late night, post-pool. Leaning my head on the second floor balcony of a coffee place, lazily observing passerbys on the road below. On the way over, we were listening to Oasis in the car cos there'd be no concert on Saturday night after all. Didn't matter, none of us were really fans. Just another concert to pass time while the world falls apart round us. We didn't talk about the hostages or the sniper or the bombing or work. I drank iced mocha though I'm caffeine intolerant, but thinking heck it, I'd sleep if I'm tired enough. Half-listening to an explanation on how to play snooker, trying to visualise it. Wondered why I've never tried playing it. So we agreed we would next time, and move on from pool for a while.

And it was nice just sitting there.

Panda-eyed and yawning. Just like clouds, I need sleep but am reluctant to waste my weekend.

Busy. Realise that running between customer's and my own office on alternate days only allows accumulation of work for my attention when I next visit. But knee is better, there's pool tonight, and tomorrow's the weekend. :)

Today will be fine.. as long as I finish the morning meeting, dodge that lunchtime one and make it to my doctor's before the 4pm meeting. Meetings are overrated. If I can really hold meetings my way, I'll cut to the heart of the matter and they'll be done within 10 minutes. But people do like talking don't they?

Today my left knee hurt. So badly my leg trembled barely visibly when I stood, even in the flatties I deliberately wore today. But I was at my customer's and every minute of my time is billable, so I didn't go see a doctor. I bore with it all through the long teleconference and meetings. And I've got another meeting scheduled tomorrow morning, so maybe tomorrow afternoon I'll go and let the doctor thrash me for wrecking my knee jogging.

You know those gangster flicks? I feel like those bit actors whose knees get shot.

Back in my own office finally today. Only need to visit the customer 2 days this week, woohoo! Access to internet and better food! :) So glad to be back.

What I did today. Went to the gym with my travelmates today and did my usual 6km run. My old knee problem is cropping up again though, so my US travelmate recommended me to buy a pair of ASICS Gel Keyano running shoes which she wears for running (I currently run on Nike Air). Tried Dairy Queen's Strawberry & Chocolate Chip Blizzard for the first time (heavenly 'cept for the thin rice crisps that get blended in).

Went shopping with my UK travelmate and we both bought identical dresses: a black sleeveless hipster dress with plunging neckline. Yet another black number for me and another garment the 2 of us have in common. I'm afraid one day we'll look into each other's wardrobe and imagine it to be our own. lol.

After that, we went to get my ASICS Gel Keyanos. The Indian uncle serving me was really efficient. I pointed at the displayed pair and he went: "There's only one colour. You want to try you sit down girl. Uncle can tell your size. Trust uncle". So I sat down and trusted uncle, who brought me the most comfortable pair of running shoes I've worn yet. Actually, I still haven't checked the shoe size now so I don't know what it is. But I can't wait to run again.

Oh yah, I did mention I wasn't going to blog today didn't I? Well I lied. :)

b12's take on why I cannot aspire to be a gym goddess.
- I spend a lot of time on the anti-social treadmill, which is not conducive for chatting.
- I'm plugged into my Discman all the time.
- I really run, and hence I sweat lots. Sweating women are not so attractive.

He countered this with a description of a girl at his gym who picks up light dumb-bells and walks around the gym leisurely flexing her arms, so guys can ask her how her training is going. And she leaves her long hair untied too. Think I'll pass. *roll eyes*

World Press Photo Exhibition 2002 [free admission]
Asia Civilisations Museum
9 - 30 Oct 2002 [Mon - Sat: 11am to 5.30pm; Sun: Closed]

Forgot all about this exhibition till I picked up a postcard on it just now. Guess next Saturday is the only chance I have to go visit.
Dave, you gone yet? Wanna go?

Some time back, I blogged about Stephen Wolfram's book A New Kind of Science. Well, I finally saw the hard cover version of it selling at Borders for $83.50, which is a bargain considering it's over 1000 pages. Have I bought it? Nope, it weighs a ton. Is this the only blog post you're getting from me today? Seems like it. :)

Playing games is not instinctive for me. I'm not sure if it's cos I grew up reading most of the time, rather than playing with the neighbourhood kids. Maybe this is why I prefer to run rather than do more team-oriented sports. Strangely I fell in love with pool but it is the only exception to the rule, and even then I had to practise for ages before I was competent at it. I don't feel compelled to play games on my Palm V, laptop or mobile phone either. Except this one time I was waiting for 3TapRiff, and explored my mobile phone games cos I didn't have any book or Discman on me. I started playing a game called Snakes at the lowest possible level, and scored only a miserable 25 points by the time he appeared.

Well, what I wanna say is this. Tonight, Kogepan and I went to play pool. (Kogepan is a real old friend who has the dubious honour of being the only guy who has lost more than one of my albums. One is an old Led Zeppelin album Stairway to Heaven, and the other is probably the movie soundtrack for Empire Records. Frankly it's amazing I let him off. lol. Anyway, I digress.) While waiting our turn at pool, I started reading the women's magazines at the pool joint and he borrowed my mobile phone to play games and pass time. He wasn't really concentrating on playing and gave up after a short time. Then, it was our turn to play and we had a good round of pool.

It was only way later, when we're having drinks after pool, that I suddenly remembered. I narrowed my eyes and asked Kogepan threateningly if he had wiped out my top score in Snakes on my mobile phone. You should have seen his scared-little-boy-with-hand-stuck-in-cookie-jar look, as he blurted out: "Your top score is now 180 on the highest level.. but I wasn't really concentrating".

Men. First they lose your CDs. Then they wipe out your top scores.

Recently, I was asked if I was going to fire an employee who made a mistake that cost the company $600,000. No, I replied, I just spent $600,000 training him. Why would I want somebody to hire his experience?
-Thomas Watson

I know I feel deprived cos I'm blogging before I'm reading other people's blogs or responding to emails. I'm so deadbeat I can fall asleep any moment now, and I just want to squeeze out all my energy to blog first. But I'm just too tired to channel the words, and they're still trapped in their other world.

And the scariest part is that if you ask anyone in the throes of depression how he got there, to pin down the turning point, he'll never know. There is a classic moment in The Sun Also Rises when someone asks Mike Campbell how he went bankrupt, and all he can say is, "Gradually and then suddenly". When someone asks how I lost my mind, that is all I can say too.
- Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation

My US travel mate is probably relieved that I've finally gotten round to reading her copy of this book. Sorry dear, I've abandoned your Fast Food Nation mid-read though. *paisei*

Review of Mum's album Finally We are No One. Brilliant title isn't it? I smiled when I glanced through the track listing to find whimsical song titles like Don't be afraid, you have just got your eyes closed and We have a map of the piano. Maybe I'll go back and buy the album after all.

What I learnt yesterday. My customer's network consultant could take control of my computer remotely without any warning messages. So it happened that while I was starting to type an email, my cursor ran around the screen like it was possessed, and a string of words started composing themselves: "Please lend me terminal for 5 minutes to install, thanks". Well ok, but I've already jumped up and squealed my head off. Sigh.

To me, music, especially dance music, is like, well, juggling balls. You start juggling with one ball, and then gradually build up by introducing more and more balls like the layering of instruments and voices, while keeping track of where each ball is and making sure none drops. Then when the song is ending, balls are removed one by one during juggling, till you're back with the original one.

Wraparound songs (or what I call songs where the beginning and end blend seamlessly together) will be like juggling the maximum number of balls at any one time: you play sleigh-of-hand by adding a ball with your left hand, while simultaneously losing a ball with your right.

Mixing 2 songs will be like juggling only blue balls, and doing a delayed introduction of red balls alternately into the juggling act where each blue ball is followed by a red. After this, the blue balls are slowly dropped out from the cycle till only the red balls remain and the new song emerges totally.

I know this sounds odd, but when I listen to music, my heart juggles balls.

Our project room has turned into a mobile DJ console with the travelling baker and I swapping mp3 files via infrared transfer on our laptops. We're quite ok with each other's music tastes, cept my attempts to introduce him to Chinese pop (Faye Wong) failed miserably and Jose Feliciano doesn't thrill him. 36 hours of music or not, I've heard every song on his laptop already (and lots more than once).

I hope you find what you're looking for. And more importantly, I hope it makes you happy.
- from a stranger's email

The best way to be happy is not to want what you haven't got. But not to want means there's nothing to look for. So I am. Already happy, as much as I can be. I hope you are too.

Hooverphonic and an encounter with another friendly music store personnel. I asked if I could sample the latest Hooverphonic album introducing Jackie Cane (who?! must remember to google this later) and the store personnel's eyes lit up. He said he owns all 4 Hooverphonic albums and the latest one is great. I told him I own only the first and third ones, and to be frank, was a bit disappointed with the latter. I sampled the latest album anyway (which deviated from their original sound big time), and decided against buying it. He understood I was looking for their old sound, and was so helpful he searched out the last copy of the 2nd Hooverphonic album so I could sample it. And it was lovely and I bought it (even if it's daftly named Blue Wonder Powder Milk). Afterwards, we wondered idly why more people aren't into Hooverphonic, and how the first 3 albums have blue album covers.

I started listening to Hooverphonic cos someone I liked briefly years ago liked it, but now the music has a longer shelf life than my memory of him.

Hotmail's only willing to let me block up to 250 email addresses and apparently I've just hit the limit. So today I've got 7 junk emails promoting porn and get-rich schemes, and well, someone who's been reading my backlog. Thanks, I did wonder about that. :)

What I did this weekend. Watched 6 movies and realized I've already seen more than 100 this year. Learnt that hemp is the solution to providing more pulp and saving earth. Didn't buy anything or play pool, but that's probably cos I was watching movies most of the time. Didn't have time to read or sleep much, not to mention blog. And then boom! Weekend is over as soon as it has started.

I'm not looking for an easy ride
True happiness cannot be tried
so easily
- Depeche Mode, Goodnight Lovers

3am and waiting for my hair to dry after another clubbing stint. Didn't like the house set, too much repetition and not enough progression, no surprises. Tired. All I'm looking forward to is sleeping and wearing my boots again. Pathetic.

Hamell on Trial's song about John Lennon can be found on the November CD sampler with Uncut magazine. Brilliantly brash, the guitar is strummed so furiously I keep wondering if the strings will snap.

What I learnt today: the Mathematics of the Chinese calendar. Yes, I have strange friends.

I feel like a runaway kid every time my colleagues phone me at my customer's site. They sound like anxious parents asking me when I'm going to return.

1 min till I run for work and I'm still reading blogs. There will be no time for writing today then.

Reasons to be happy. Met my uk travelmate and ran 6km in the gym. Am at home now instead of in the office. Managed to read while commuting. Copied songs off my co-worker. Had free oreo cookies in the office. Tried Mac's spaghetti for the first time (ok, will not ever order it again, but now I know right?). Got sent some Palm applications by my bro. And going to sleep now.

To the question whether I am a pessimist or an optimist, I answer that my knowledge is pessimistic, but my willing and hoping are optimistic.
- Albert Schweitzer

I believe there's no excuse for not having time to read. You just have to carry a book with you wherever you go. Sooner or later, no matter how lethargic, you'll start reading it, if only to finish it and leave it behind.

14 months ago, I bought a copy of Dave Eggers' A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. I got waylaid about 80 pages into the book but now I've picked it up again, and surprisingly, I still remember enough so I needn't re-read from the start. Now there's about 200 pages left and I hope I can complete it before I get distracted. Lots of books have suffered the same fate with me. Though it doesn't make sense, I carry an entire database of unfinished storylines and characters in my memory, all waiting their turns.

What am I giving you? I am giving you nothing. I am giving you things that God knows, everyone knows... It seems like you know something, but you still know nothing. I tell you and it evaporates. I don't care - how could I care? I tell you how many people I have slept with (thirty-two), or how my parents left this world, and what have I really given you? Nothing. I can tell you the names of my friends, their phone numbers, but what do you have? You have nothing. They all granted permission. Why is that? Because you have nothing, you have some phone numbers. It seems precious for one, two seconds. You have what I can afford to give. You are a panhandler, begging for anything, and I am the man walking briskly by, tossing a quarter or so into your paper cup. I can afford to give you this. This does not break me. I give you virtually everything I have. I give you all of the best things I have, and while these things are things that I like, memories that I treasure, good or bad, like the pictures of my family on my walls I can show them to you without diminishing them. I can afford to give you everything. We gasp at the wretches on afternoon shows who reveal their hideous secrets in front of millions of similarly wretched viewers, and yet... what have we taken from them, what have they given us? Nothing. We know that Janine had sex with her daughter's boyfriend, but... then what? We will die and we will have protected... what? Protected from all the world that, what, we do this or that, that our arms have made these movements and our mouths these sounds? Please.
- Dave Eggers, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

Bought a pair of black high cut heeled boots from Hush Puppies today cos I couldn't resist them, and they were on sale. Had difficulty choosing between a pair which had chunkier heels and a dressier pair. An American couple there shopping for shoes for their young sons leaned forward to offer advice. The hubby said to go for the dressier pair ("They're sexy!") as compared to the more comfortable chunkier heels ("Well, sorta sexy"). The wife went for comfort. One of their sons (aged about 4) smiled shyly and pointed at the chunky pair. The cute sales assistant voted chunky. What can I say against such overwhelming verdict? I know more serious things are happening round the world than shoes, but right there and then, a bunch of strangers had a bit of nonsensical fun polling for shoes. If only life is this simple.

Slept nearly 12 hours last night and dreamt, but the details were hazy. Dreamt I was dining with a guy and girl (couldn't tell who they were), and next to us was a wedding dinner party for an angmoh actress (couldn't remember her either). Somehow the wedding party got out of hand, people started chasing one another, tables and chairs were displaced and I lost my bag or something. Odd.

If I should learn, in some quite casual way,
That you were gone, not to return again—
Read from the back-page of a paper, say,
Held by a neighbor in a subway train,
How at the corner of this avenue
And such a street (so are the papers filled)
A hurrying man—who happened to be you—
At noon to-day had happened to be killed,
I should not cry aloud—I could not cry
Aloud, or wring my hands in such a place
I should but watch the station lights rush by
With a more careful interest on my face,
Or raise my eyes and read with greater care
Where to store furs and how to treat the hair.
- Edna St. Vincent Millay, Sonnet V

I didn't expect to step into Borders today and speed read a book in 2.5 hours. In that duration, I didn't see anyone I know though everyone seems to lurk there on the weekends. And now I'm home and my best friend sms'd that it's his turn to be at Borders. Come to think of it, I can't remember life before Borders.

Home from Talvin Singh's gig at Phuture. In fact, it was the most crowded gig I've been to there, so packed that there was hardly space to even wriggle at one point. I had to tilt my face up so I can breathe easier, despite being sandwiched from all sides. It felt surreal seeing the rotating disco lights make slow blue arcs over everyone's upturned faces, like they were controlled by aliens probing human minds. I didn't feel like I belonged. In a few hours' time, I'm going to visit a friend's firstborn baby in the hospital. I don't really know what to say to the lucky parents, and I don't recall the last time I've held any baby in my arms. But I don't belong there either.

I'm just stuck in limbo in a waiting room somewhere, stocked with books, movies and CDs to keep me occupied till someone calls my number. And even then, I'm not sure I want to get up and answer. Life is so easy and safe in a waiting room.

I laugh without inhibitions and unfortunately most unfemininely, when I'm amused. Like the horse-braying laugh Julia Roberts has. The kind which informs my friends of my presence before they can see me, and which prompted a friend to turn to me in the cinema once to tell me incredulously that I'm laughing the loudest in there.

"You don't look like you can laugh like that!".
Gee, you don't say.

Sometimes I think we're alone in the universe, and sometimes I think we're not. In either case, the idea is quite staggering.
- Arthur C Clarke

A teacher friend told me she doesn't go to Zouk for fear of bumping into her students, nor to Velvet Underground next door, for fear of bumping into their parents. lol.

When I was in school, I never thought that I'll still have the same kind of childish banter with co-workers that I had with classmates. The sort that goes:
- You're going to do that, aren't you?
- Ok ok. Ass.
- What did you say?
- S. The letter before T.
- Aww, you shithead.

At least we're still having fun.

No man is useless who has a friend, and if we are loved we are indispensable.
- Robert Louis Stevenson

What amuses me. The title of a kid606 album is The action packed mentallist brings you the fucking jams. On it, there's a song called sometimes i thank god i can't sing because than no one can blame me for anything. I read it and chuckled, but my nitpicking self kicked in and I thought "shouldn't it be because then instead of because than"?

Got to go back to my own office after work tomorrow and the day after for meetings. I desperately need a break.

Too busy to blog. Recently I've met a girl who goes to the gym everyday and still has more work and social commitments than I do. How does she manage? Maybe cos she doesn't need much sleep, and doesn't blog and read blogs. I need to find other ways to save time.

What happened yesterday. A good day of work followed by an impulsive trip to the gym to rendezvous with the treadmill. Came home and started listing all the unwatched movie VCDs (at least 17), and wondered when I could finish them. I guess since there's so much I like to do, I have to do things in moderation. Read a little, watch movies a little, play pool a little, run a little. Pupi once told me it's fortunate that I'm so clear on the activities that make me happy. I wonder about those activities out there I've not discovered yet though.

Anyway, I perked up and starting packing my bag collection so I could do an inventory list. omg. What a nightmare. After chucking out some real old bags, I was still left with 63 items. 63! From the tiny embroidered drawstring pouch to the quirky cookie monster fur bag to the Paddington bear kiddie bag to the one-shouldered grey holstered bag to the shimmery beady bag to the vintage flea-market evening bag to the clubbing sling bag to the haversack to the messenger bag to the furry cow print bag. I think I have a bag for all occasions, cept I only rotate among my standard few since I don't remember I own the rest. I think I don't need to buy any more bags for this lifetime (well ok, this year).

Enough raving. Breakfast and work calls. Have fun today you. :) Every moment counts.