American History X

I’ve lost count of the times I’ve watched American History X. Everytime I start deleting old movies that I don’t watch anymore, I always skip past the directory marked “A”. I’ve never even remotely contemplated deleting it, because its such a powerful movie.

American History X has got to be one of the most powerful movies I’ve ever watched in my 20 years of existance. Even though there’re scores of impressionable young kids around the world who view the movie as the movie for neo-nazism and for skinheads, their very own cult movie, I still stand by the fact that it is a powerful, and an amazing movie.

Indeed, I’d admit that I downloaded the movie, back when I was a young lad, to watch the scene where Derek Vinyard curbstomped a negro who tried to steal his truck. I admit that I downloaded the movie because I felt that Derek Vinyard’s swastika tattoos were damn cool.

And now here I am, re-watching the movie again and again. Not because I feel that it’s cool to be a Neo-Nazi or a skinhead, but because I feel that the message it sends across is amazingly clear and powerful. Makes you wonder about the human psyche and how some people could be manipulated to such an extent that their thinking and their way of life revolves around a flawed idealogy. It makes you wonder how some people could be so ignorant and bring racism to such an exaggerrated level.

Of noisy kids and stupid parties

So I’m sitting in a corner (har har i can predict that mat jokes coming alr -_-) with my powerbook surfing the net on free Starnet wireless at mac donalds, Lot 1, when some mac donald’s staff comes over and tells me in this annoyingly chirpy voice, “Hi sir, there’ll be a PARTY here soon so you can’t sit here anymore! Teehee!”. Thanks to her, I had to carry my laptop and shift to another corner – this time right next to the toilet. (Though I’m not complaining cuz there’s a powerpoint here)

While I’m ranting and angsting and musing, the kids are jumping around to strains of “Happy birthday” and being oh so happy. I’m gazing wistfully at them, and wishing with a passion that they’ll grow up, and enlist into the army soon. Then they’ll realise that there’s nothing fun about birthdays after all.

Now I’m just wondering. Why the hell does mac donalds allow kids to celebrate their birthdays INSIDE the pseudo-restaurant itself? They’ve got a humongous outdoor ‘dining’ area, so why can’t the kids use it? Perhaps I should work my way to becoming the CEO of mac donalds. Or the regional manager of Mac Donalds Singapore. Then I’ll pass the ruling that states:

All pesky kids who wish to celebrate their birthdays at said restaurant shall only be allowed to occupy no more than 3 (THREE) tables, in an outdoor setting only. Kids are not allowed to run about or scream in the restaurant. Failure to comply with the above mentioned law will result in severe disciplinary action being taken. Repeat offenders will be thrown into the vat of oil used to fry french fries. Parents of said offenders shall be liable to the cost incurred for the damaged fries inside the vat of oil. So help you God.

It would be cool! Just imagine a conversation between me and a nasty parent:

Me: Sorry ma’am, your son has repeated breached company laws and shall be pu-nished.
Parent: Huh? How ar.
Me: (picks up little boy screaming and all) I shall now throw him into the vat of oil.
Parent: HUH CANNOT!!! HE IZ MY BABY BOI IF U THROW HIM IN HOW HE DIE HOW??!?!?!?
Me: Well too bad ma’am. I have to set an example for future kids. (Throws kid into vat of boiling oil)
Kid: AHHHHHHH!!!……
Parent: AH BOI AH!!!! AHHHHHH! *goes crazy*
Me: Sorry ma’am, you’ve been caught screaming twice in mac donalds. According to company law, I have to throw you into the vat of oil as well. But before I do so, could you please sign this form. It states that you’ll pay us SGD$10,000 for damages to unsold fries and unused oil. (Picks woman up)
Parent: -faints-
Me: Bye fools. (Throws)

Endth.

Living on a prayer

It didn’t seem that long ago when I remember telling my friends who came to me for “priceless” (or was it worthless…?) advice on their relationship/pseudo-relationship/crush/infatuation problems. I vividly remembered telling most, if not all, of them to “follow your heart, because when you think too fucking much (exact words, I sunpa dua lampa), you start to become the bloody JC kid you are, weighing the pros and cons and trying to evaluate everything you do. And anyway your mind’s gay, so fuck it.”

Haha, I remember most of my friends telling me in a few days time that they were glad they followed their hearts. Of course there were the occasional anomalies who told me that they did follow their heart, but apparantly their hearts were gay too, so they’re just fucked. Whoops.

I remember thinking to myself, “Hey there’s nothing really special about love. Either you love the person, or you don’t. Why’re all the morons getting all emo over another person?” But I guess I can put myself in their shoes now.

Love’s a sin, really. It befuddles your mind, it destroys the logical part of your brain and it makes you do things that you’d probably not do in normal times. Love’s a gift from the Devil himself. When you do fall in love with somebody, you don’t care if she’s attached. You don’t bother if she’s Miss Popular or Miss Most Hated. When you fall in love with somebody, you don’t care what others think. When you fall in love with somebody, you lose yourself in the moment and you lose your ability to think logically.

If love’s a sin, and you’re the precursor to sinning, I’d gladly be the sinner.

Of prostituted drummers and little dads.

Due to popular (maybe not so…) demand from Charlotte, here’s the long overdue post regarding a certain prostituted drummer I saw in orchard road on… saturday.

Ok I’ll bet most of my blog readers’ll be intimately familiar with this little boy behind a drumset, banging away and performing his own rendition of a “drum solo” in the middle (right fucking-smack) of orchard road. Personally, I’ve never seen that (supposed) drum virtuoso in action before, so I used to view him as some kind of a prodigy – until I saw the pseudo-prodigy in “action” last Saturday.

Visualise a little scrawny boy, complete with a “Dreamy, I’m-so-fucking-blur-I-don’t-know-what-to-do-because-I’m-just-a-bloody-kid” look on his little kiddy face, dwarfed by his new shiny Zildjian K custom HYBRID cymbals, allegedly free from Zildjian aka yamaha combo shop. Next, visualise his FATHER standing behind him, adjusting his drumset for him, adjusting the discman for him (?!?!?!) before picking up a mic and announcing proudly to the whole fucking crowd that his spawn-of-satan was about to “perform” the next song for the crowd, so would the crowd please clap a little for the boy to encourage him to play and bang away on his drumset loudly.

Now visualise, or in this case audiolise, strands of Planetshakers blaring out from one of the grossly undersized and underpowered amplifiers behind him, to which the little drummer boy picks his cue from, and starts DRUMMING AWAY OUT OF TIME WITHOUT DYNAMIC CONTROL AND WITH NO FUCKING GROOVE AT ALL.

HOORAY FOR NIGHTMARES AND MUSICAL BLASPHEMY. If God was Stanton Moore or Carter Beauford, He’d have smote (?) that little creep right there on the spot along with his pimpin’ father figure, and sent them straight to Hell for the sacrilegious display of “groove”.

What I was amazed at was the fact that Yamaha chose to ENDORSE him with hybrid cymbals just because he’s “Singapore’s Youngest Drummer”. Just because his father threw him in the middle of Orchard Road behind a drumse and told him to “bang around on the drumset” does not make him a drummer. Hell, I could get my cousin’s young son to sit behind my drumset and bang away and call him a drummer too, couldn’t I?

Next, I was disgusted at the way his “father” pimped him to the crowd, calling them on to clap for him, telling them to stay and listen to him play. When I first heard about the little drummer, I thought maybe he was doing it because he genuinely liked it. But after seeing him in action, I realised that he didn’t really have a choice.

Now all you fuckers who’re about to flame me (as usual), read this. Back when you fuck faces were what? 8 – 10 years old? Have you ever said no to your mom or dad when they said they were about to enrol you in ballad class? No? That’s right, because whatever you dipshits said would have NO impact on the outcome – you’d still go for the bloody ballad class.

Similarly, don’t tell me that the little boy had a choice not to play, because he wouldn’t have had a chance to refuse to play. He’d just have to sit down behind his drumset and bang away to please his parents.

Why destroy the peace in orchard road?

Why prostitute a young boy?

Why force us to listen to a young boy who can’t drum for nuts?

Why the FUCK?

Wideawake – Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrrow

I heard the news today. It came out of nowhere.
I wish I could run away, but where would I go?
Is this my destiny? Something so unfair…
What will become of me? God only knows.

And they say the road to heaven might lead us back through hell.
Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, we will win this fight and bury this sorrow.
We’re so alive, still holding on, not ready to die, so we livestrong.

My pride is left for dead, as my world gets shaken.
The thoughts inside my head are so hard to control.
I am staring down the unknown, but one thing is certain.
You could break my body, but you will never break my soul.

And they say the road to heaven might leads us back through hell,
but we’re holding on for more than stories to tell.
Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, we will win this fight and bury this sorrow.
We’re so alive, still holding on, not ready to die, so we livestrong.

Top few anti-pickup lines

HE : Can I buy you a drink?
SHE : Actually I’d rather have the money.
HE : I’m a photographer. I’ve been looking for a face like yours.
SHE : I’m a plastic surgeon. I’ve been looking for a face like yours
HE : Hi. Didn’t we go on a date once? Or was it twice?
SHE : Must’ve been once. I never make the same mistake twice.
HE : How did you get to be so beautiful?
SHE : I must’ve been given your share.
HE : Will you go out with me this Saturday?
SHE : Sorry. I’m having a headache this weekend.
HE : Your face must turn a few heads.
SHE : And your face must turn a few stomachs.
HE : Go on ,don’t be shy. Ask me out.
SHE : Okay, get out.
HE : I think I could make you very happy.
SHE : Why? Are you leaving?
HE : What would you say if I asked you to marry me?
SHE : Nothing. I can’t talk and laugh at the same time.
HE : Can I have your name?
SHE : Why? Don’t you already have one?
HE : Shall we go see a movie?
SHE : I’ve already seen it.
HE : Where have you been all my life?
SHE : Hiding from you.
HE : Haven’t I seen you some place before?
SHE : Yes. That’s why I don’t go there anymore.
HE : Is this seat empty?
SHE : Yes, and this one will be if you sit down.
HE : So, what do you do for a living?
SHE : I’m a female impersonator.
HE : Hey baby, what’s your sign?
SHE : Do not enter.
HE : Your body is like a temple.
SHE : Sorry, there are no services today.
HE : If I could see you naked, I’d die happy.
SHE : If I saw you naked, I’d probably die laughing.

Inside my circus

I like hiding in the mask of nonchalance, smothering myself in the carefree persona that I tend (like) to project out on others. Tis’ be my little hidey hole you see, I’m the Alice in my Pseudo-wonderland, and I’m a-tumblin’ head over heels down the rabbit hole that goes on forever.

But I like hiding in my mask of nonchalance.

I like smothering myself in the persona that isn’t really me.

I like tumbling down the never-ending rabbit hole that leads right down to Hell.

Because this way, I’m hiding within myself. And when I hide myself within myself, I cannot be injured. When I hide within myself, I cannot be touched. When I hide within myself, I am invincible.

Singapore Idle-no-more

The crowd went wild – screaming, jeering, some even crying. Emotions ran high among the audience, and there was more than one dry eye amongst them.

Well I’m sorry, dry eyes may have been a rather rare sight over at Caldecott Hill, but over here in heartlandy Choa Chu Kang, dry eyes were the norm.

It’s finally a singing contest now, and not just stage presence and popularity leading the way. I watched the “fan club” on TV shed tears of sorrow and sadness as Paul was voted off SI, and I wondered to myself, “What the FUCK made the n00bs so blind (deaf?) that they can’t even tell that he CANNOT SING, even if his NUTS depended on it. Urgh.

Well, I’m glad he’s out. It’s a sign, me thinks, with Joakim going out the week before, and Paul going out today. It’s a sign that the general population in Singapore has gone for their annual medical, and in the process have discovered the hearing defect that all seem to have. ENT departments at the various hospitals in Singapore have to be commended for their quick and promt action in handling, and successfully overcoming this aural problem. Kudos to you fellows hur hur.

Oh I just have to add the following:
The reason why Five For Fighting – Superman was such a popular song that DOMINATED the airwaves for a period of time is due to the fact that the lead vocalist’s voice is fucking MIXED to the maxed, and he can switch from his uber voice to his uber fasletto. By downtuning the song and singing it in 100% uber un-l33t voice, the song was completely FUCKED.

Ugh.

Of unsecure wireless connections and free bandwidth

So here I am in front of the TV in my mom’s room with my macbook in front of me and I’m online via some wireless connection called, “linksys01″. Well, the signal strength’s pretty high.. 3 bars according to Mr. Airport status.

Yeah I know you ethical morally-upright bastards will probably be leaving comments on this post such as, “ZOMG!!11 yuo r l33ching his megahurtz yuo r stealin!!11oneone.” Well, fuck you very much. My logic stands – if thou leaveth thy wireless connection unsecuredeth, then thou shalt not blame thy neighbour from stealing thy bandwidtheth.

We’re hitting Zouk again this wednesday, Me, Shabbir, Claudia, Peixuan, Carrine, Charlotte, Peh, Siao Hiao and friends. Hur hur this’ll be quite fun, me thinks.

And Snow Patrol’s Chasing Cars makes me really wanna chase some cars.

A nice, deserted stretch of road with orange overhead street lights. Crickets making that occasional crickety noise (or whatever you call it) every few minutes or so, chorused by the solitary bark every now and then. The moon, round and bright way up in the starless sky, hypnotizing us with his luminance. Since I’ve got to find a way to adhere to the song, I guess I should be Chasing Cars right about now. But hey, chasing you’s like chasing cars. Gaining the lead initially, but gradually losing it, and losing strength, stamina and speed along the way.

Escape me not, for I r riding a big ass noisy powerful motorcycle foo mwahaha.

Photos!

As promised, here’re the photos from yesterday. When Charlotte went crazy with my phone. Haha.

Charlotte and me

Here we go again…

And again…

Mousey charlotte…

Jaundiced us….

Taken at al-azhaar at 0151 hrs.

Of noisy kids, useless parents and library rats

So I spent approximately an hour (thanks charlotte ) in the library reading. And in this short span of an hour, I’ve grown to categorize library goers into a few general groups, and at the same time, managed to instill this bloodlust in me that screams (no sorry, maybe it’s shouting, I wouldn’t know, I was too mad at that time) “Decapitate all noisy kids. Draw and quarter their charges. Hang them by their necks and let them swing until they breathe no more.”

A little extreme, you might say. But hey, Alvyn says no, and since we all know that Alvyn is king, and that the king’s word is just and right, therefore it isn’t too extreme.

Moving back on track, I’ve classified library goers into a few general groups, namely:

1. The normal kind of library goers (librarus-goeus), who generally are quiet, consciencious of their surroundings, and are really in the library to do reading, or revision. These are the kind of library goers that I Alvyn’s bloodlust level – 0

2. The kind of library goers who sit at a spot, pretend to read, and yak/sms on their handphones, or to their friends (fakus-librarus-goeus). These are the kind of people (usually immature, whiny little teenage kids, who hold on to a book, sit amongst the aisle and yak on their handphones. They usually lack a volume control knob, so their voices are always at the maximum volume. If 2 or more should be placed in the nearby vicinity, noise level doubles and interaction takes place. Alvyn’s bloodlust level – 2

3. Library goers, usually adults, who bring kids along to run around screaming and shouting in the library. (librarus-adultus-moronus) These are the kind of preppy parents who think that by bringing their satanic experiment-gone-wrong spawns to the library, the infomation from the various books will somehow magically (through osmosis me thinks. or probably via blue fucking tooth) enter the minds of their joke-of-a-spawn (or spawns), thus making them smarter. In the process, they neglect the other library goers who’re trying to fucking read a fucking book in the fucking serenity (har har) of the bloody library. Alvyn’s bloodlust level – 4

4. Kids who think that they have a God-given (since when did I give that to them?) right to brag about their apparant amazing knowledge of various kiddy subjects, ranging from ASStronomy to ASStrology. (librarus-kiddus-noobus-wannabus). These little morons really piss me off because they deem fit to tell their parents that they refuse to enter the kiddy section because “Oh my God I’m too good for little kiddy bookies, imma go get myself a book regarding the Wall Fucking Street so imma be a fucking banker when I grow up. Oops, I mean, if Alvyn doesn’t kill me before I get a chance to grow some hair on my balls! Alvyn’s bloodlust level – 4.5

5. Last but not least, adults who bring their kids to the library, thinking its their God-given (again.) right to run around, screaming and shouting. And should they magically fall flat on their kiddy fucking faces, blame it on the nearest person sitting down reading his book, alleging that the alleged leg that was allegedly stuck out at an obnoxious angle allegedly caused the alleged kid to allegedly fall down on the fucking floor. (stupidus-maximus-fuckus) Alvyn’s bloodlust level – Off the fucking chart

So, as you can see, Alvyn’s rather pissed off. And what made things worse was the fact that the library “staff”, note the parenthesises, as I deem it fit NOT to call them staff since they do nothing but sit at the counter marked “Customer Service”, smile at everybody and pretend that they’re busy. Perhaps a criteria for employment was to be deaf and mute, since they apparantly couldn’t hear the racket coming from Choa Chu Kang Library/Market place.

Anyway charlotte, if you’re reading this, I’ll be uploading the photos soon ok. Will send you the links asap.

Now playing:
Breaking Benjamin – Diary of Jane