oh, do I give a flying fuck.

1. This has been a most fuckingly crap day.

2. Will blog about King Lear if I ever get round to it.

3. My mum believes in fate.

4. Neil Gaiman writes most amusingly.

5. My mum is boasting about my brother on the phone now. It's amusing and painful at the same time to hear.

6. Homework.

7. This has been a most fuckingly crap day. It'll be an even more fuckingly crap night, and the next morning will be the epitome of fucking crap. Murphy's Law is one thing, but regularly sheduled vomiting is another.

pencilly

I realise anew that the one thing that can put me out of a looming existential apocalypse is a good long draw. Long being the word, because if I am forced to stop halfway I end up feeling worse than ever.

Unfortunately, it has also eaten up 3 precious homework hours, but I believe I'd rather be sleep-deprived than sprayed ten floors below my bedroom window from an escapist fit.

erk.

What are my values?

I want to kill the person responsible for this

I was foolish to trust MJ's reputation for efficiency. It doesn't extend to their online dominions. They've just fucking deleted one and a half hours of my fucking work.

Witness, you ever-burning lights above

Providence has been kind to me. I feel happy and adequate and competent. Please let this mood last!

I must do well for the A levels. I want to retire into cartooning without scruples.





What are my values?

humph

King Lear is very stupid. It will be up to Sir Ian MacKellen to help me pity him properly. As it is I have no patience with parents like that.

3-bit threatre

My blog is starting to read like inspirational slush. My performance this mid-years was disappointing, considering how hard I'd worked. Now I should at least manage to give birth to the H3 thing by tonight, and THEN I will find my solace on Youtube.

good things. think about good things.

that H3 thing just won't come out. 16 hours of labour and counting.

I love my com. It doesn't hang on me. I love you, com.

potential energy

I'm quite in love with archery. Money and hurting fingers notwithstanding, it's something I'm going to go for as a serious hobby. The feeling of standing up to shoot something -- that infinite moment just before releasing when it's just you, the target and your bow-arrow -- is immensely satisfying. If anything in my life can be zen at all, this moment is it. It's a moment of complete potential and you don't even have to need to want to concentrate, unless the bow is unsuitable for some reason and you aren't comfortable with it. For that one moment verything goes taut -- your arms, the limbs of the bow, the string, your brain. For that one amazing moment you're alone and liberated. And then either you release the arrow or you don't.

A simple recurve bow with a 20-pound draw weight cuts my fingers... I feel like such a wimp. I hear that the average English longbow has a draw weight of about 70-80 pounds, whereas for the famed Mongolian composite bow it can be anything between 100 and 160 pounds. What I need before I can talk about anything is to practice a lot and build up callus. Again, after the A levels.

After the A levels T___T

Now, H3. What am i doing blogging when I'm supposed to be pushing it out. Sigh.

small mercies

I do not like school. But I bear in mind that this is a statement I may, all things forbid, want retract when I start working, so I'm going to enjoy it as much as I damn well can. There's only four months left after all. And there's no more PE, except that I'm learning ARCHERY on Saturdays!!!

Life is not perfect, so I take the bits I can get. Like the one about my older brother having eloped to Pulau Ubin with my favourite pair of shoes. While he appears to have survived, my shoes haven't.

Damn, I'd loved those shoes. Damn. Dammit man!

*hic*

I can't hold my brandy... I felt sleepy after consuming only half a cup of alcoholic japanese jelly. And then I hiccuped. It felt like my diaphragm was conducting a war against my other innards. *hic*

But it was such NICE jelly. And this isn't stopping me from going back to buy about five more cups the next time I go to Little India and end up inexplicably in Clark Quay. Aren't I incorrigible.

Thank you tiffy for the generously shared Fables! Ho ho next time we wander CHINATOWN.