::Devotion And Disorder::

mood> exhausted
music> The HissyFits - Giant Ants

Hissyfits drive me insane. They are shit but I can't them out of my mind, just like I cant get that Justin Timberlake song outta my mind once before.
I put up my ad at Velocet Records just now and surprise, surprise, the shopkeeper dude said, 'Hey, you know, Rizman from Tiramisu came to look for your zine?' I was like oh my gawd. My all time favourite performer looking for my zine. Wow. Bob the shopkeeper said people were coming into the store, trying to get my zine. Weee. Ok kids, I stocked up two copies there, so get it while it's there. I'll re-stock some more soon.
*
Disassociate. The mental and the causal. You die swathed in gold like some glam rocker. She's the porcelain girl, she's the one you're after. Reciprocate. Plastic roses and cheap liqour. Because real flowers wither. Because real love will kill her. She's the only one you're after.
*
That black Mango blouse she wore on the 2nd time I met her - I'll never forget how I nearly fell down flat on my face when I realized how gorgeous she looked in that. I almost wanted to turn around and go home because I felt so sick, I couldn't even stand properly.
She was standing there, at the entrance of the Bugis MRT station, her hair curtaining the left side of her face, her head down, pretending to look busy with her handphone.
'She hasn't seen me yet,' I said to myself. 'There is still time to leave.'
I put both hands in my pockets, took a deep breath and assumed that nonchalant/macho image I only bother to put on for fear that I might present myself as an aggressive person. I guess acting like you don't care is much much better than acting like you'd kill for her. -shrugs-
'Ok. This is it,' I sighed and walked over to her.
I will pretend that I am not interested. I will say that I have a girlfriend. I will not even think about getting involved with her.
She looked up and saw me and beamed. 'Hey!' she said.
Oh god. Please let me crumble in front of you right now. Please. 'Hey. Let's go get something to eat,' I said, cool as a a cucumber in the freezer at the North pole.
'You're late,' she whined. 'You said you'd be here before me.'
I'm sorry! My friend forced me to sit down with her and talk! I couldn't shake her off! 'Yeah, well, I had stuff to do. You know, school and all.' Way to go, Trent.
'Oh,' she said, quite upset but then she grinned madly and squealed,' Look! My new sandals! Nice, eh?' She pointed to her feet and that was the first time I saw her perfect pink toes, aligned in proper descending heights. The most perfect toes I have ever seen.
'Yeah, nice shoes,' I said, trying my best to sound as disinterested as possible. I had to peel my eyes away from her feet.

I can't take that moment out of my mind. Neither will I forget the beauty of Marina Bay at night with her sitting beside me, pouring her heart out. Or the time she tried her best to not cry in the MRT and her words started to shake and her lips started to quiver despite that smile on her face. I'll never forget how my heart broke when I heard her cry for the first time.
'Please don't leave me,' she'd said and I hadn't the heart to remain stubborn.
I cried just now in front of my friend when I realized how much I miss her and the stupid little things she does. I miss hearing her gushing about that new top at Zara or some new thong at Miss Selfridge. I miss her toes. I miss those train rides we had and the mindless conversations we shared. Virginia Slims Lights. Creep by Radiohead. Alice by Tom Waits. Those lazy long pale fingers dangling a cigarette - it drives me crazy.

She's the only one you're after.

mood> fulfilled
music> Appleseed Cast - Stars

Sorry for not updating this journal, kids. I've been wayy busy. Ok, here's news only zinesters will take note so the rest of you fans of my blog, please hold on. :P
NEW ZINES
I just received this lesbian/gay/erotic zine called 'You And Me'. It's written in English. Really good stuff. I've got another little zine called 'The Day I Quit Punk Rock'. I received 'Frock #1', a personal zine from Shasha. And I also got a copy of the Hissyfits promo album which I am giving away for free when the mood suits me because the Hissyfits aren't really to my liking. All these courtesy of Shasha Pinkit from the Puinkilla Projects distro.
Shaz, singer and musician from the band Hearing Hill has written a zine called 'Wandering Alone.' I've got #1 and #2 (her latest). Each zine costs $2 each and with a purchase of every zine, you get a miniature plastic horse for free. Her zines are a collection of wonderful pictures, prose, poetry, thoughts and sometimes her journal excerpts. This zine is recommended for those who are into the whole livejournal cliché. (Oh c'mon, you know who you are.) If the response is good, I'll start distro-ing her zines at Velocet Records.
I've already sent out packages containing zines to Lynette from There Are Not Enough Hours In The Day For All The Bitching I Have To Do zine and to Chee Wee from the band Sink.
Please take note: I'm not a distro label. I'm just helping these zinesters coz they have great things to write and share. If you think you have great things to write and share, do drop me an e-mail. I'll consider. But at the moment, I am warning you, I am very busy with school so it's gonna take time.

mood> Contented
music> Manic Street Preachers - Motown Junk

Let go.
I cooked pasta today. And I don't know why but I feel, happy. Contented. Like I can finally breathe easily. School was great, a very rare occurrence. The whole lot of us had lunch with our lecturer whom we think is a closet-gay. I bought this kick-ass Australian zine, Pee #24 that comes with an equally awesome punkrock compilation CD and I got paid for my first batch of zines at La Vanita. Found out that my zines were SOLD OUT at La Vanita and Velocet Records. 'Your zines were quickly snapped up,' Bob the shopkeeper said. Snapped up, he said. And I've got requests by both stores to re-stock my zines.
Some dude from the IRC came up to me and said that it's really cool, what I'm doing with my zines and said I should stick to writing.
I feel, for once, appreciated, recognized.
And because I am too tired to write another pretentious prose/obnoxious rant, I'll stop here.

mood> Empty
music> Placebo - The Bitter End

See you at the bitter end.
I am bleeding between my legs at the moment and feeling rather lousy and poisonous. I don't feel like I want to pretend to be the stronger half of any given relationship, whether platonic or not, anymore. I'd like to throw my hands up and wait for my Richey James in glittery rock and roll clothes to come and drive me away, just like the princess in every fairy tale I used to read when I was a wee little girl bored out of my mind.
A little girl. How funny that sounds.
I want to be a kid again. So much for wanting to grow up and see the world. The only things I've seen so far is heartbreak, disease, war and suffering.
Being an adult is painful. The more intelligent you are, the more older you get, the more attuned you become to the negativity around you. I don't know. I believe everyone was equal when they were kids. Because kids don't judge each other. I know I didn't. I was prolly the most good kid I've ever known.

mood> Empty
music> Pop Unknown - Half Of Ninety

'You bloody delinquent,' said Nina.
I love the sound of that.
Today was alright I guess. I intended to get smashed with Bruce and a bottle of some evil Russian concoction but decided against it. I've placed my zines at Velocet Records and Bruce and I went to the Salvation Army thrift store to check out the scene. We nearly got lost trying to find Wake Me Up Music Studio at Clementi but with the help of an incoherent singlish-queen who owns a shop opposite WMUMS, we finally found it. But it was not open. Apparently it closes on Mondays. Bummer. Dude, that place is like so ghetto, man. It's like we were in the middle of nowhere. By 4pm, I was starting to feel lousy and pissy so we went home via a very crowded bus filled with loud, stinking, snotty, sticky little school children who, for whatever reasons, can't seem to stop shouting and screaming.
Horrible.
And just so you know, I've met a cool new friend by the name of Melly and that's her blog link up there right at the end of my Friends list. I said she's cool because she could actually stand the torrential downpour that is my rantings and gushings brought about by horrible PMS.

mood> Contented
music> Appleseed Cast - On Sidewalks

Here's a book review for everyone in need of a good review and a good book.
*
I'm happy today. I've just completed reading All Families Are Psychotic by Douglas Coupland and I couldn't help feeling that I've just finished watching a great movie because my Winamp was playing my mp3's all the way through and when I finished reading the last word, completely certain that this is as satisfied as I'd feel about a damn good book such as this, right on cue, like a perfect motion picture soundtrack, The Ramones came on. It's so fucking brilliant, the music suited the end of the story and in my mind, I imagined myself sighing in pleasure and congratulating myself on money well spent as the credits rolled. This is by far, the most downright trashy and satisfyingly engaging read ever. Complete with special effects and lots of action and explosions and sex and bewildering love-triangles/pentagons more complex than a Danielle Steele novel and a bewildering Bollywood epic put together - you'd be left wondering, with much amusement, 'Can it get trashier than this?' And it can. Right till the end. Yet, it's so... human. The characters portrayed in this book are so devastatingly real I could almost reach out to them. That's the thing that kept the otherwise B-grade RA-rated corny and cheesy and cliché stunts lovable and relevant, essential even, to the whole point of the book: that no matter how dysfunctional your family is, it's still your family in the end.
By the time you finish reading this, you'd almost allow yourself to forgive your mother for hitting you in public, your sister for vomitting onto your lap in the bus ride to school, your brother for peeing in public, your father for... well, everything. - 010503
*
Bite me.

mood> Purposeful
music> Pop Unknown - Fallen Star

Let the bitching begin.
Ok, you got me started on this one, Ariqah. I don't wanna be mean to you because you're the kid sister of some cool zinester dudette whom I unfortunately respect. BUT since you've asked for it, you got it. If you think I'm just gonna be another one of those Wurtzel-esque depressives, sitting there, passive and wallowing in self-pity and taking shit from people, WELL, YOU'RE SO WRONG, HONEY. I don't wanna say this, but you are a BRATTY LITTLE BITCH. One with not so perfect English at that. Your grammar is all over the place, little one, so please do not act like 'I'm-so-much-more-smarter/cleverer/cool/eccentric/ unique-than-all-the-other-of-my-unamericanized-new-zealand-friends-who-can't-
appreciate-Starbucks-and-music-from-Matador-Records. Yeah, maybe The Exploited is not as beautiful or artistic or whatever as Cat Power but at least they tell you the real deal about street life. Which, I am undoubtedly sure, you've had no prior experience of.
You think you're smart. You think you're oh-so witty and rebellious and fucking contemporary and practical and post-modern and 'all that jazz...' EAT MY SHORTS. Is it such a big-fucking-deal you listen to obscure music and now have the privilege to diss me all across the ocean, you little twerp? Like, 'Oh, wow. I'm so bohemian. I'm so bourgeois.' KISS MY FUCKING SINGAPOREAN ASS. Sorry dear, I won't see you in med school coz I never intended to go there anyway. However, we might meet in court so that I could sue your sorry little ass off for every New-Fucking-Zealand penny that it is worth. Enjoy your middle-class bliss while it lasts, kiddo.

mood> Purposeful
music> Sunny Day Real Estate - Every Shining Time You Arrive

It's a Labour Day today and mom still has to go to work. I feel sorry for her. Genuinely. Yesterday I dropped by at her workplace mainly because I was broke as hell and damn hungry and I wanted her to buy me lunch and also because I missed her, somewhat. Which she did and she also bought be a copy of Douglas Coupland's 'All Families Are Psychotic'. A book about a trashy dysfunctional family of the 21st century. (Which is kinda ironic if you think about it, considering how dysfunctional my own family is) And then we went shopping for groceries and although the errand seems mundane in words, you cannot understand the bond I have with her. The experience was very mother-daughter, very Gilmore Girls, very mutual and calm...
'Do you need deodorant????' she yelled to me from the other side of the supermarket as she rushed from one aisle to the other searching for stuff.
I pretended I didn't know her.
*
I did a quiz in Seventeen magazine on my relationship with my mother (yeah I read Seventeen... so? They've got this special feature on all things retro and something about thrift store shopping) and found out that my mother and I 'are living on 2 separate planets and should learn to accept each other and communicate better'. But then I realized that came from Seventeen, and thought nothing of it. Seventeen is talking shit because I know I love her, I really do but sometimes, I feel like she's trying to kill me. Trying to tear me apart. Just like you.
I'm comparing you to my mother and my life to TV shows. And I am suddenly obsessed with the idea of going to flea markets and thrift stores and virtually unknown bands and anything retro. The more obscure, the more vintage, the more weird, the better. Therapeutic distractions.
*
'Just what are you wearing?' My mother asked me yesterday when I dropped by at her shop. She saw me in my grunge get-up: faded t-shirt, unwashed jeans, and fucking beat up red converse sneakers. My hair is already long enough to be styled into those kinda pseudo-mod style. I was wearing those stupid emo plastic glasses.
I said, 'Mom, this is grunge. This is a combination of grunge and emo. This is the new cool.'
'Emo your head. You look like trash.'
'That's the whole idea, mom.'
'I buy you nice clothes and you still insist on wearing junk.'
'Junk is in,' I replied and laughed.
'Promise me you wont wear things like this anymore when you meet me.'
'Oh alright,' I said. 'Buy me lunch.'
'What do you want to eat?'

I'm gonna try and make holes in my jeans to enhance the grunge-ness.
*
I DESPERATELY NEED MONEY FOR POSTAGE AND PRINTING.

mood> Relaxed
music> Pop Unknown - Writing It Down For you

I declare Pop Unknown and Sunny Day Real Estate to be my favourite bands. The weather today is charming and I've got iced-tea beside me and Pop Unknown in my ears - what is more blissful than this?
*
Redapple Morning. The Subverts. Sidewalk Sally. Jason And The Furies. Cherry Blossom April. Beat Is The Shit. Tomorrow Changes Everything.
Just some band names I've come up with. I like Redapple Morning though so you can't have that one.
*
Today looks promising. Today seems to be the perfect time to begin. Put on your new clothes and your new shoes and let's dance because now is the perfect time to begin. She'll kiss your eyes shut and you breathe in her smile because you know now is the right time to begin.
I do not associate happiness with the shining sun anymore. This is your last day of work scene. Hold your lover's hand in the middle of war. Today is the perfect time for you to begin.
Your loneliness displaced by desire. The new morning shines on your love and you wake up and you know you want to begin.

mood> Tired
music> Veruca Salt - Bodies (Sex Pistols Cover)

Re-designed Shasha's site again. Am in the process of finding a suitable web host. Bought Red Letter Day zine yesterday at Velocet Records. Exorcist 2 in on Channel 5 tonight at 10pm.
*
Humpty Dumpty died at a rockstar age, Carrie. It's always better to burn out than fade-away. I reckon he committed suicide. It's very hard to not get bored if you keep playing the same egg-on-spoon-spoon-in-mouth game again and again. I guess HD realized that so before the king and his court got bored, he made a scramble for it. (Get it? Scramble? Lol.) What an egg-citing egg-xample. (Lol.) Or maybe get this: HD realized that he isn't really a he, coz he felt that there's a chick in him that wants to come out. (Muahaha.) So one day he cracked (Hahahaha.) and killed himself. There you go.
*
I am so lifeless, I can't even blog properly.

mood> Tired
music> The (International) Noise Conspiracy - United By Haircuts

I cannot explain this exhaustion. I am feeling so unbelievably heavy, like I'm sinking, like something is dragging me down - I feel like drowning. Today I came home at 4pm and slept until 8pm. There was a moment, when I was drifting in and out of sleep, where I stopped breathing for awhile because I was just so fucking tired - I was too tired to breathe. Have you ever heard of that. Today was shit because I felt so listless and lifeless and empty and sullen and miserable and sad and nauseous and slow and blank and awful. I felt so fucked-up. Going to school to use the internet was a bad idea. In my absent-mindedness and the bad state that I was in, I forgot to bring home my floppy diskette - the floppy diskette where I've saved all the images and zine write-ups Shasha sent me. The school disposes off of any suspicious looking floppies left behind by students by the end of each day so there is absolutely no way I could get it back.
Nina called me yesterday and we talked and it's nice to have contact again after a long silence.
*
I know I asked for it, but I cannot seem to move on no matter how hard I try to just forget about it, forget about her. I'm so sorry, I know this is extremely, as she would have said, 'loserfied' but I miss her and I am feeling so terribly lonely. I feel so fucking alone.
*
So you think you've found that perfect person and you feel like you could swallow those pretty pretty stars and feel wonderful and dance in glitter and you feel like you've found that 'deep laughter' and you dream of the future - 10 days , ten weeks, ten months, ten years down that road you're willing to walk so long as you walk with that perfect person.
You've just learned how to drive - put on your seatbelt. I didn't see the headlights coming and you knocked me down and sped away. Down that road.
*
She was heartache from the moment that you met her - Jeff Buckley
Where do you seek perfection? I see it in her pale fingers, her pink toes, in her smile, in the complete disregard of her conscience when she starts rambling... (Go on, win her with your words again, woo her with linguistics and smile and pretend that it is all unintentional - sorrow makes a good muse) I shut my eyes and her face comes swimming right in front of me, all the blood red and the blue black, every paper-white and dark purple and the bleeding and pale, always pale, with her hair down and her cinnamon eyes blank and dead of desire.

mood> Tired
music> The Manic Street Preachers - The Everlasting

Tagboard is up and running.
Ok, I've just completed your index page, Sha. I just need to upload pictures of your new zines. I need to know where I can publish the html code. Like, should I do it on rocks.it or sinfree or something else? And even so, I STILL don't have your password and your hotmail account and password either. And I'm still waiting for your write-up on the zines on Notepad coz you cant expect me to write them for you too!
The Tiramisu gig yesterday was awesome. Like, I planned an elaborate and ingenious way to sneak out of the house with mom's permission. They played all my favourite songs. I was absolutely elated.
So far, I've got too many things on my to-do list to think about anything else. My school projects, this mc thing, and then I gotta start designing flyers, shasha's site, my zine, my site. I've got outstanding mail to post, I'm waiting to receive mail, I need to stock up on more zines... Blah blah blah.
*
Without you I'm nothing
I keep thinking about her. I don't want to admit it but even though I specifically said that she can't call me anymore, sometimes I still secretly wait for her to call - which is kinda stupid really, if you think about it. SOMEBODY SLAP MY FACE NOW.
It's in your eyes.
And I just found out that I am never gonna be a newscaster or anything that requires me to face the camera because we did this class activity in school and I was suppose to be a newscaster and my lecturer pretended to be the cameraman.
'Look right at me,' he said. 'Look right into my eyes and imagine that you're looking right at the camera,' he told us. But the moment I took my place, in front of a classroom of about 30 people, I froze. My hands were shaking. I couldn't look at my lecturer. I just can't. I don't know what happened. I am always the vocal one, I am always the loudmouth, I was my secondary school's best 3rd speaker in the debating team... eargh.
There's Gilmore Girls today at 6pm on Channel 5. If you all don't watch it, then you guys are not my friends. (Lol.)
By the way movies to watch: X-Men 2, The Matrix Reloaded, Prozac Nation.
And there she goes again about her mother...
Well, I can't help it. Coz as much as I dislike her at times, she is after all, my mother and as much as I hate to admit it, most of the time she is always right.
Mother's Quote Of The Day: "I noticed that the older you get, the faster you get temperamental and you somehow also cool down faster."
This is fabulous. I should do a Mother's Quote perhaps once every week.
Oh and I am giving out 4 free defective copies (defective because the printing is not up to my standard of quality) of my zines at Velocet Records. So if you want them, go get them there - Level 3 Peninsular shopping Centre. It'll be there by Monday after 12pm.

mood> Tired
music> The Vines - Get Free

Ok, the Tagboard fucked up. Sorry. I'll fix it soon. Ok right now, I'm like designing a website for Shasha Puink and I'm getting way way tired. Also I just found a cool place you guys absolutely have to find out about.
Velocet Records is this new store that opened about 2 and a half weeks ago at Peninsular Shopping Centre. They've got Cds, and tapes and vinyls that caters to us punks and emo and hardcore and grindcore kids! They've got shit from Broken Noise, Jade Tree, Alternative Tentacles, Punkcore and AF Recs just to name a few. (I found Tribe 8's Role Models For Amerika in there, man!) Also zines! Most of em from The Red Letter Day Distro from New Zealand. Also the Dharma Punks series of comics, t-shirts, and used cd's as well. This store also do orders like Roxy Music and you can sell your zines here! Cool!

mood> Tired
music> AnBerlin - Ready Fuels

I must be the only idiot I know who doesn't know how to personalize and position my tagboard. Anyways, yeah. The tagboard is up (well, it should be. Scroll down to see it, duh) so now all you people can have a place to finally bitch or rave or rant on my blog! Cool eh?
The Press Play Collective, this gig organizing committee supported by Lee Kwong Seng Music Studio and Musiczone has made me the emcee and PR manager! How do I feel about it? I feel great coz now, I am actually really playing a part of the underground scene instead of just reporting from the sidelines. I'd get to meet great people and bands and at the same time get the latest scoop on the latest events/bands and give ya'll more up-to-date bits.
*
And Ariqah, thank you so much for finally realizing that I suck. Your compassion is deeply appreciated. Just what I needed at a fucked-up period as this.
I apologize to every-fucking-body for not being the 'charming' person that ya'll thought I was. This is not the time to be nice. I am hurting and I'm not the sorta person who'd still keep cool when I'm upset. So ok, another flaw to add to your list. Bite my booty. You don't like to read my blog, fuck off. I didn't force you to read it anyway.
I don't know why is it so hard to ask for certainty and affection.
'You need somebody to love you,' my mother said.

And I am going to actually quote a t.A.t.U song. Hah.

'All the things she said, all the things she said,
running through my head, running through my head
This is not enough.'

Hello, yes, I'm losing it. Tralala.

mood> Tired
music> Pavement - Here

I saw a Technicolor man on the TV singing the blues.
I expected a quiet day all by myself at home today coz it's Tuesday and I don't have school on Tuesdays and mom and dad are working and my siblings are all in school when suddenly, my sister came back home from school just because she has a stomachache. And then everything became shitty from then on. Hannah said she'd call but she didn't and I know something's up but she didn't wanna tell me and my mom is being fucking annoying before she went to work and then when she finally left I thought, Ok, that's the end of my problems... But no, she had to CALL me from work and bitch to me about what some auntie said about me AGAIN and FRUSTRATE ME WHEN I WAS JUST ABOUT TO TAKE PLEASURE RESTING AT HOME BECAUSE I'VE BEEN GOING TO SCHOOL FOR THE WHOLE FUCKING WEEK AND I WAS REALLY LOOKING FORWARD TO REST TODAY AND SHE JUST HAD TO RUIN IT. And then everything just went downhill from there - I thought about Lux, I thought about Mom, I thought about the band, I thought about my life in general, slow-dripping its way to nothingness and then I just broke-down and I felt so miserable and fucked-up then I couldn't even bring myself to do anything except drag myself to my bed and force myself to sleep because I literally can't do anything else. And I remembered what mom said, she said she wanted me to find some boyfriend or other before she dies, somebody to love me because she can't bear to see me being lonely and wayward and I hadn't the heart to tell her that I'm still gay that I had a girlfriend and then I began to feel insecure and came straight to the conclusion that being a lesbian is really fucking lonely and the way my mother said all those things... it made me feel, well, depressed. I had to beg my sister to leave the room so that I could cry in peace, by myself and I thought about getting the fuck out of this house again and pondered on the whole romantic idea of submitting to decadence, to trashiness but then I thought about killing myself again...I wondered if this was PMS but it's not... I feel like the girl who cried wolf one time too many. People are not gonna care anymore even though I'm really in fucking pain. It makes me feel sick.
And I just don't know what to do. And I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I feel like a cheap has-been, like a forgotten tourist trinket at the back of somebody's cluttered shelf - this sentence being the only thing that seemed remotely intelligent that I could come up with for the past few days. And in the midst of this melancholia I have this unexplainable hunger to read the complete works of Anne Sexton (again) and it was raining and dark outside and I couldn't help feeling how appropriate all this is. And just when I was about to surrender, to revel, to accept and be happy that I'm finally sad, to welcome that familiar feeling of dread, to embrace this depression, right on cue, my social worker called me and said she'd got 2 free movie tickets and would I come by and take 'em soon. 'And the best part is, you don't have to do a review on it. It's purely for entertainment purposes. You can choose whatever you want to watch,' she said, with such honest joy that I couldn't bring myself to let out a loud sigh on the receiver. I thought, 'I'm gonna give Bruce one ticket.'
*
Oh, and thank-you for that cute e-mail, Carrie. It's nice to know that someone actually gives a shit about some bitch like me.

mood> Tired
music> The Juliana Theory - The Closest Thing

All I wanna do is to rock and roll, baby.
I just got back from town. Everything sucked except the jamming session I had with my cousin's band. We play Joy Division stuff! I played drums and my hands were bleeding by the end of it all and I don't know why and now they hurt like fuck. I love playing drums. I wanna be like Melissa Yorke. Lol. I especially loved playing Heart And Soul - I thought it sounded very mysterious and cool.
And... I've got 4 copies of zines that I'm giving away for free. Ya'll just need to write to me something nice and include a dollar (for postage) (well hidden cash only) and I'll send it out. The reason I'm giving them out for free is coz those 4 particular copies are not up to my standard of quality. So I don't wanna waste them. Yeah, that's all.
*
I don't want to hope for something that's non-existent.
We are over. Actually, everything's over between us a long time ago but I didn't wanna believe it but now I do and I think I just wanna be free. Free from all the confusion and trouble.
I think I want to leave you for good.
Remember when I said I don't even want to be your friend anymore? Yeah.
I may smile and laugh and act all nothing but only God knows how I feel inside everytime I see you. And I think don't want to feel that way anymore.
I think I've had enough. I'd just like to have my stuff back.
I love you, I really do but you've hurt me and if you really think I'm blind to not see whatever's going on between you and that other person, to not sense the widening distance between us, to not sense that everything's just not right anymore - you're wrong.
Please leave a message with my little orange cat about the date and time and place I can see you to get my stuff back.

mood> Tired
music> The Butchies - So, Goodbye

I re-designed and updated my zine's official website yet again because I can't stand frames and I thought it looked mundane the last time. Spent the whole day doing that. And then I got myself new spectacles. It makes me look like some sorta emo geek. Please don't laugh when you guys see me. I feel awful already as it is.
*
I have since fallen in love with Guitar Workshop and I've made it my favourite place to hang out.
Vanilla Coke is the shit. It's the best thing that happened to me so far.
Bruce is my little orange cat. I love him to bits coz he gets totally crazy sometimes. Coz when everything else falls apart, he's the only one still standing there, intact.
*
To you: I'm not having PMS so I'm being as honest as I possibly can. I think I'd like to be alone. And I'd like my stuff back, please. And please do not call me anymore. I don't think I want to see you again. Maybe I do, but I just don't want to see you anymore right now. Or ever. I don't know.
It gets exhausting and depressing as the days go by - all I ever wanted was to be happy and smiling and look at your perfect pink toes but things change, people change, you changed. And I'm tired of being the one hurt so I think it's better if you'd just please get out of my life. I don't want to think about you anymore. I don't want to have anything to do with you anymore because you're killing me even though you think you did nothing. I'm an idiot for you and everyone around me can see that - everyone except myself. I'm starting to see myself now and I am feeling like complete a fool.
You're perfect. But I'm not.
You and your Mr D and Mr I and Mr The-guy-who-keeps-on-calling-you-to-meet-up and every other Misters that I haven't heard about or found out about can all go blow.
But thank-you anyway.
*
I feel like shit now and I hope the jamming session'll be great tomorrow. A whole day out with friends, a whole day devoted to the people you like and music and fags and nice seedy decadent places in which you could drown your sorrows in. I want tomorrow to be great coz today isn't.

mood> Tired
music> The Frumpies - We Don't Wanna Go Home

An explanation:
1. I was having PMS
2. I was stressed out with school work
3. I listened to too much emo

There you go. So the next time I start to rant and rave about how shitty the world is, you know that time of the month is just round the corner. Ok, so I bought Shasha's zine for $4 at La Vanita coz I couldn't wait for it to come to me via mail and IT ROCKS. I am so ashamed of my zine. Uh, just a clarification: I do not wear red laces anymore nor do I sport a green mohawk. Lol. (Yo Sha, you look like a gangsta in that pic at your introduction, lol. joking.) Everything's dandy except for Bruce, whose love life is not exactly great at the moment. -sigh- Placebo's new album is ok I guess. Yeah, and do come to Tiramisu's performance, yeah? I'll put up an ad here sometime soon.

mood> Blank
music> Thursday - Collapse On Impact

I am disgusted by how I can laugh and smile and function normally around my friends despite the turbulence going on in my head.
I want to know what it feels like to disappear for awhile. I want to know what it really is like to be alone - to be forced to depend on your own self for company, to be forced to bear with yourself, to be forced to face your own insecurities and come into terms with them.
The other day I had an anxiety attack in the train that almost killed me. I’ve never felt so suffocated and claustrophobic in my life. Space - I need breathing space, I am drowning in this reality that I’ve created, I need certainty, I need coherence, I need comfort, I need somebody to re-assure me that everything is going to be fine.
I just don’t feel right. I don’t want to go there again. I don’t want to be that person again.

mood> Desperate
music> Thursday

I was overcome with such a great desperation just now that I was tempted to let go of my sanity right there and then in public. I was 10 minutes late to see her so when I reached the station and did not see her there, I became frantic and angry and depressed all at the same time. I searched the whole area for her and I didn't see her. Dejected, I walked back down again and wandered aimlessly and then I saw her, with this guy - this guy that she's always with, this guy who sends her messages at 3am in the morning as if it's the most normal thing to do, this guy whom she'd take half-day leave for just to see him, this guy who'd even follow her to Mango, this guy who never gets upset, this guy who's excellent at pool, who plays in a punkrock band, who gives her free t-shirts and buttons...
She saw me and she said, 'You're late.'
Oh god, I just don't know. I really just don't know. It was raining just now and I had this unbearable urge to cry, right there and then even though she was with me. But I was not gonna let her see that. And then when we reached her station, she simply said a curt goodbye and left.
I took the train home with such a heavy heart and then I couldn't take it any longer. I cried in the train - alone, it's raining, I'm cold and confused, everything is pointless, I know I'm just gonna go back home and sit on my bed and start crying again, and stare at the ceiling again, I don't know where I'm at, I don't know where I am, I don't know anything. Because I feel like I've lost all significance, all coherence, all everything, everything everything... just like that Gordon Gano poem/lyric, 'Kiss Off':

I take one one one because you left me and
two two two for my family and
3 3 3 for my heartache and
4 4 4 for my headaches and
5 5 5 for my lonely and
6 6 6 for my sorrow and
7 7 for no tomorrow and
8 8 I forgot what 8 was for and
9 9 9 for a lost god and
10 10 10 for everything
everything everything everything

And I'd rather not feel anything like those few days back instead of this awful awful desperation. This all too familiar feeling - I am going down there again, I am descending down there again, I am losing all hope again and I just can't stop myself. And I just can't help myself. I know this may have nothing to do with her or anyone or anything but -
I am depressed again.

I want to scream, with certainty, with fervour, with such innocence and honest desire: 'I WANT TO LIVE.' But I can't. I really just can't and all I can manage right now is a sad, hopeless sigh.

mood> Blank
music> The Donnas - Get Rid Of That Girl

Yes, it's confirmed, my band is called 'riot on the 19.' and you can check out the profile here. I'm meeting Lux tomorrow, finally, after 6 days of not seeing her. And I wrote this on Friday:
'Lux
I cannot figure her out. And at present, what is more frightening is that I cannot figure out my feelings for her either. That whole 'clingy and dependant' thing is over, I'm afraid. I do not even miss her anymore. Yeah I do think of her often but only as a person, no longer as anyone in particular - she is just another somebody in my life who'll eventually fade away like everybody else... (I am unsure if this is my insecurity setting in at the moment.)
If she doesn't want me, I need to know. Instead of telling her that I love her, I should ask her if she feels the same or otherwise. It is pointless for me, it is a waste of time and money and energy if in the end I am nothing to her.
And it all boils down to that doesn't it? It all boils down to the economical aspect of your life, time-management and energy-saving strategies... As if love is some form of investment, just another selfish, personal, materialistic concept of ourselves. And we have the nerve to share this...
I want to be the one doing the hurting. I want to be the one causing the pain. For once I want to take charge and take control - I want to be in control...
The first time I met her, she gave me the impression that I had 30 seconds to impress her and I better impress her if I want her. Now she's giving me the impression that I'm just some article of clothing that she's unsatisfied with and would like to dispose off quickly.
The customer is always right, that's the first thing I've learnt in my course on the fundamentals of marketing. It's like I belong in a statement with words like purchase, refund, receipt. It's like I'm just something. A thing. And no matter how hard I try, I can't help but feel used.
I never doubt her. It's just that she is so confusing that even something I thought I know for sure about her turns into a frustrating uncertainty.
(The thing is, I'm not feeling upset at all. I'm just as blank and dull and numb as ever. And I've been feeling like this for days. Nothing interests me. She doesn't interest me anymore. I don't interest her anymore. We're both uninteresting.)
Or maybe I'm just being insecure at the moment.
It's like, 'I love you' and 'Fuck you' hold the same meaning: they both don't mean anything anymore.'-Trent2003

mood> Blank
music> The Butchies - Huh Huh Hear

As I've said earlier, if I don't update this blog, I'll be updating at this other blog instead.
*
So yesterday was mad and frightening. I went out to City Hall with Bruce and then Raihan and Gloria made frantic calls to us to tell us to stay away from there because the skinheads are out for blood - in retaliation for some isolated incident. So like, now every skinhead are finding punks to beat up. Like what the fuck right? So we went to the Burger King at Borders instead and there we met my band members Hannah and Raihana and then we all went jamming - at Peninsular which is at City Hall anyway and the only reason we were suicidal enough to go back there was because we were desperate to jam.
So because Bruce and I were all dressed up punk and shit, we did the only thing there was left to do: I took my off punkrock shirt and wore Raihan's plain t-shirt, I took off my boots, my chains and wore my ski cap to hide my spiked hair and wore Hadi's skate shoes. I was reduced to a skater. Bruce had to wear his ski cap, he wore Hadi's collar shirt and he had to cover his knee high boots by wearing his jeans over them - he looked like he just got back from work or something.
And then we met our drummer and together with our friends covering for us, we furtively walked to Peninsular the way thieves would. The skinheads were every-FUCKING-where, loads of them, all waiting for some punk to wander around nearby.
So yeah, we managed to jam for about 1 1/2 hours. It was the best jamming session I've we've had, we covered 6 songs all by the likes of Tsunami Bomb, Nirvana, Bikini Kill, Fabulous Disaster, The Donnas and the Ramones. It was so power packed and fun that I actually sorta moshed and danced with my pals in there as we jammed.
When we got out of there, Raihan got confronted with a couple of skinheads but then we all scrambled out of there, almost got followed by a couple of skinheads and in our delusion, we saw 2 guys on bicycles and we thought they looked like skinheads with bomber jackets on bikes. It was the most fucking scary time of my life. So we went through Funan and in the darkness somehow managed to find our way to walk through Boat Quay and then to Raffles City train station and then I went home with Bruce, we had dinner and then I went home. Wee! My dream of a punkrock grrrl band is finally coming true!

mood> Bored
music> The Paradise Motel - Drive

Why can't you make up your mind?
While lying on my bed just now, preoccupied with boredom, a sudden wave of melancholia seized me and for an instant I was so gripped with terror and sadness that I became momentarily paralyzed. This is about you again. This is about you leaving me again. In spite of everything we share now, I still harbour that inevitability of losing you some time. Yes, being with you is like being in an utopia but it is a vague one.

In my paralysis, I re-analyzed everything that has been happening for the past 3 months and realized that for the past few weeks that I have been with you, whenever I am with you, I get so consumed with an inferiority complex because to me, suddenly everything you say about me matters too much and my opinions are secondary to yours. And then there is the unexplained awkwardness in my movement and my manner of speech and I'd feel out of place, I'd feel lost, I'd feel so fucking insecure even though you're right there, right there in front of me, smiling - unaware of my predicament.
In reality, what are we? Mere overtly-affectionate ex-lovers in a charade where we're too ashamed to admit. Maybe the whole idea of being affectionate is really about being polite. Because, well, what else is there left to do?
I haven't tasted an empty kiss yet but I've already seen an empty heart - and a paranoid vision that it belongs to you.
This is not sad anymore. This is tragic. And this is where I get cynical.
Oh please allow me the opportunity to doubt you. Haven't you heard of nothing lasts forever, haven't you heard that even bliss has an expiry date? No, I am not comparing our emotions with something you get from the supermarket's freezer. But sometimes I get just as cold and you never notice anything.
And at the checkout counter: 'Uhmm, how long will this last, miss?' The woman said she doesn't know and she doesn't care either. So do I. I want the adrenalin now, I want the happiness now, everything in one big chunk right on top of me, inside me, rushing through my veins, in my blood streams, rushing rushing rushing through my tummy like a washing machine on overdrive, rushing rushing to my brain until everything is just a blur until I can't feel anything but perfect perfect fucking bliss. I want the rush now, now now now and more and more and more and again.
'It is never enough - yours is an elusive love.'
I am the forever unsatisfied drug-addict and every fix of you is not enough.
'It's not like you're going to marry me, right?'
The possibilities are endless, my dear. And you questioning my devotion is just as upsetting as anything. Whenever I think of you, I think of suicide and then I wonder what's the connection between the two. It's an impulse thing. Impromptu, at the spur of the moment, unexplainable, it just is - like the sky just is, like I just am, like a murder is a murder is a murder. You're a murderer: you killed me with your smile and you killed me with your beautiful eyes and you kill me every time you kiss me.
And then I snapped out of it. The paralysis and paranoia, that is. The last time I checked, you're still here, alive, with me. And I know you'd call me at 7:30pm later. Nothing happened. Everything is alright again. I got up from my bed and smiled.

At the checkout counter: 'Uhmm, how long will this last, miss?'
-trent 010403

I may not be able to update much in this blog at the moment because of some technical problems but don't fret, I still have another blog that I sorta share with Lux. So if I don't update here, that means I'll update stuff there instead.
Do visit my zine's website when you're free and look around. #13 is FINALLY out so start ordering before I lose my patience. lol.