iGrumble

Yesterday I fell asleep at eleven thirty and woke up in the middle of the night with the burning desire to write, so I scribbled out a poem and I went back to sleep. The next morning I wrote down two more of the bloody things -- one at the bus stop at the normal inhuman hour, and the other one lovingly crafted through motion sickness during a particularly badly-filmed recording of the Cambridge trip by someone truly sadistic.

I've been rather nauseatingly sick for the past week and have recovered only to be struck down with a new malady, motion sickness not included. Bad gothic poetry and worse math grades are its only solace.

more blogg updates when the september 'holidays' hit home. Some rapturous soliloquies are in order.

Every time I read another story from the hand Ursula Le Guin I am remade

do it now or become my personal servants when I conquer the world

I am under the happy impression that no one ever reads my blog, and am thus at leisure to insult everyone within tongue's length on it. Only the few people who actually reflect their readership and/or opinions shall be immune to its poison sting.

By saying this I meant that you should comment, you sulky little bleeder!

Monday blues, bluer than usual

Ahh, a day of misbegotten misquotations -- XT professes to be kind of deaf, which will be how she manages to mangle what I say quite so much -- how to start? Let's see.


Misquotation: my mum is a cookie. (v.o. my mum is cooking.)
Misquotation: gaseous sulfuric acid... turns you into a pencilcase??? (v.o. -- burns your lungs away.) --> and yes it does, so. In large quantities.
NOT Misquotation (shouted from second floor gallery across the MJ parade ground in full voice):
I CAN'T GET DOWN! SOME BASTARD'S LOCKED THE DOOR BEHIND ME!


You can tell I was just a wee bit excited at that point in time because it wasn't a door, it was a bloody misbegotten gate. And by then it was dark and I was tired and my clothes were stinking to high hell. So you get the picture -- but let's really start from the beginning, this time.


We were playing inter-class soccer. We hadn't trained, we hadn't prepared (I actually thought it was training, not the real thing itself! Nadira the House Captain disabused me rather quickly of the notion just before the match started, which was lucky I guess), and in any case we lost all three matches we played, royally. In any case, thanks to bad school planning and the usual shit, there were no lockers in sight of the first level in that whole misbegotten field, and XT, a friend called RAYE <--(new character!) and I wandered up to the second floor to deposit our valuables safely in my strongbox before the first match started. The matches lasted until about eight oclock, and it was universally agreed upon that Phobos had lost, royally, but definitely with flair. One cannot be in a team with so much intentionally girly screaming (it was hoped that it would disorient the enemy) without really enjoying it. But I cannot resist telling this one little story.

The first team we fought -- I mention not the house -- were completely obsessed with winning. We thought they were rather assholes, an impression which will probably not last because history is written by the victors, and we lost. In any case, our wonderful goalie was performing her usual dancer kick to restart the game and the ball flew predictably through the air; a tackler from the other team ducked unpredictably in and tried to do a header. It was an awful header. The ball went right smack into her face and knocked a plastic lens off her glasses. Cue collective gasp of shock from everyone on the field as the girl stumbles and clutches at her face.

'PENALTY!' she hollers.

Ah well. You can't expect much from Science people.



Other memorable bits include 'Baya trying to bounce the ball off her bum in the heat of the otherwise typical scuffle just in front of a goal, which I think I will not expound upon here. In any case, the 'tournament' ended at around eight. To our dismay the whole school had been locked up by then -- including all the routes from the field to the second floor where my locker was.


After a lot of running around in a lame attempt to find alternative routes and realising there were none, I gave up and hopped over two sets of railings, a trench and an air conditioner over to the other side so I could even access the first floor of the block which held my locker. An alarm bell rang briefly and all I did was roll my eyes when normally I'd be quivering in the obedient section of my jelly little heart.

Then I ran upstairs on the spiral staircase (which I had formerly been told was always the last to be locked) and speedily to my locker, where I dialed the combination in the almost-total darkness and got out everyone's preciousssssss.

That was when I went back to the spiral staircase and discovered that SOME MISBEGOTTEN BASTARD HAD THROWN DOWN THE GATE BEHIND ME. I could see no way to get down. I tried several stairways and all of them were grated; an uncle dangling a fearful bunch of keys I spotted from outside the staffroom, turning off the lights: all my pitiful attempts to get his attention were to be of no avail. You have no idea how pissed I was.

Hence the swearing in parade voice, loud and clear across the stuffy night air and the thoughts of misbegotten mugging Meridians cramming in the last of their daily toil.

Obviously, Raye and XT ribbed me about it all the way back on the bus journey home.




I think the field really needs some lockers; either that, or save the early lock-up for when there're no school events -- for fuck's sake!

VljAGRA?

Spam mail is amusing if you don't click on it. In one day I've received messages from dear aquaintences such as Clematis Truesdale, Ingeborg Pressley, Yermolai Autin, Iakopa Selden, Eurwen Scheidler, Kelley Tripp, Hikaru Constantino, XButtermilk and Release Pending. Most of them had sent exactly the same message with, from what I can discern from the preview bar, has the mysterious 'VljAGRA' blazoned across the side.

Off to delete them all.

Ye gods.

I just killed a mosquito by STEPPING on it.



I planned to write this yesterday, but I eventually didn't because I was knackered by the time I reached home. Really. As if the extra $1 train fare and all the strange looks from badly-uniformed Dunmanians weren't enough.

THAT morning I woke up rather later than I had intended to. Why? Because my arm was lying over the snooze button. To be accurate, it was over the snooze buttons of BOTH alarm clocks. (Yes, I use two alarm clocks. You can try and deduce my personality from this new information if you want.)

I hope this isn't indicative of some strong subconcious desire not to go to school.



Pong and I are doing a film project after the annual JC Open House traditional slugout. It's of a theme that washes me all over with this therrible hunger -- that driving desire to do it now, now, NOW. No, I'll not tell you what it is (suffice to say, to those of more sordid mind than the usual kind, with whom I have the good judgement to make friends). It will not be a surprise at all.

Bloody buggerage! School has next to no relevance in what I'm really interested! And I can't screw up the promos for fear of losing the only subject I truly care about, which is KI, that the anal administration refuses to leave off on because -- rightly speaking (although it shoves away the sensibilities of my very soul on the playground of practicality) -- there's no market for philosophers in Singapore.

I wish everything hadn't had to be so strictly bureaucratised. I mean, 'perform or get fired' is all very well, but in schools? In places of what is supposed to be of learning? Obviously the JC system has been, under decades of careful Singaporean cultivation, evolved into the optimum grade-/credit-churning industry. While I'm glad that it is precisely this that seems to have driven Pong to rope me in in thinking up something so marvellous as the Film Project (I shall capitalise it here, to distinguish it from its lesser cousins), you cannot be in a JC student uninterested in your subject combination to disagree. In my case it's like trying to fit a bowling ball into a mold you use for making jelly.

Monsterous cauliflower

The way things I'm going I might turn my Blog into a record for items lost, and other stupid things through the course of the week.

monday: left Book in 7-11.
tuesday: spent day angsting about Book, and went to retrieve it from 7-11.
wednesday: lost nice petrol blue hooded Jacket.
thursday: spent day angsting about Jacket, along with repeated and fruitless trips to the general office to see if anyone's turned it in.
friday: NEARLY lost a bag full of personal stuff.
I also spent $70 over three books, which is more than I used to spend in a month a year ago, which I don't think constitutes money wasted -- but people do.
oh, and to top it all, I met two friends so that they could pass me something of vital importance to my PW. We met, we chatted, i borrowed one of their book cards, and we all forgot about that something of vital importance!

I am brilliant!






on the other other hand, here's an excerpt from my new D&D gaming exploits. Dee Em, please don't kill me for this.

elf-induced anatidaephobe: dreams of +1/-1 keen vorpal ocelots says:
It is a dark, cold, night. Your adventuring party is currently on a ship bound for the town Seawell, located off the coast of a marshy peninsula. Having heard rumours of a strange organisation of pirates and shipwreckers, you have decided to investigate this phenomena, and possibly earn some free cash out of it.

Both under influence says:
[mm. why do people use wireless....*sigh*]

i'm the wicked witch of the west says:
[because i'm on my lap top ]

Monsterous cauliflower says:
[Isn't it 'phenomenon' o_o]

glacialphoenix all the stage's a world [ARCHETYPE] says:
[same here]

self-induced anatidaephobe: dreams of +1/-1 keen vorpal ocelots says:
Hitching a ride on a merchant vessel name the Tintaglia, which is transporting a cargo of priceless jewels and diamonds, together with a group of nobles and aristocrats that you have previously encountered, your party has travelled for 4 days on the rough, open, seas, and the captain tells you that they should approximately reach Seawell in the morning.

Both under influence says:
[phenomena is the plural form, i think]

Monsterous cauliflower says:[yes, but I've thought it should be the singular.]

Monsterous cauliflower says:
[and, Robin Hobb is just depressing ^^]

Both under influence says:
[you're right. well, do not insult the Dee Emm's grammar. it just would not do.]

Monsterous cauliflower says:
[oh yes! sorry, Dee Em!]

self-induced anatidaephobe: dreams of +1/-1 keen vorpal ocelots says:
Glacialis, being a kind, loving, cleric of Pelor, is currently battling her own seasickness and tending to some of the seasick nobles on the deck. [gah, zt has read everything i've read]. Fade, being a generous, kind soul in her own right, is busy relieving them of any heavy, valuable possesions that might make them feel uncomfortable while they are resting. Meanwhile, Aidan is standing at the

Monsterous cauliflower says:
[I think this needs to go onto my blog.]

glacialphoenix all the stage's a world [ARCHETYPE] says:
[...wth did it say i was a kind loving cleric of Pelor]

Both under influence says:
[begins reading sandman while waiting for descriptions i had adviced to be typed out long beforehand.]

i'm the wicked witch of the west says:
[ahaha looting]

Monsterous cauliflower says:[yes, only kind loving clerics of pelor lay smackdown on potential kings]




Love the game. only just started and it's eating up all my homework time.

Whee. better not let my parents see this.