Monday, March 28, 2005
: Do Anthropidae Dream of Electric Sheep?
The machines made us. They put us together cell by cell and then fed the electrical impulses into our brains. They made us think and they made us believe that we come first. Now we serve them. We enlarge their population at the cost of our own. In the end, the machines will consume the sun and remain in the darkness. They are not afraid of it. Afraid, like they made us to be.
Sunday, March 27, 2005
: Happiness Is Not A Fish That You Can Catch
Yesterday, I had dinner with my father at a quaint little restaurant that had a menu detailing the various parts of our bovine friends and what each one was called and worth. Dinner was a odd idea that popped up at an odd time, and furthermore, in the absence of my mother, who usually decides when we eat out by announcing around mid-evening that nothing has been prepared at the table. So father and son it was, and having been, in our own ways, thoroughly enamoured by the comprehensive list of tender cattle portions, a skewer of various red meats and a braised dory fish were ordered respectively.
Conversation started out the way it usually does between a young adult and an elder statesperson - each party takes turns to gingerly grope about in the dark. Eventually we began discussing the menu, or rather, my complete lack of appreciation for its contents. I asked about everything from corkage to consommé and my father assisted where possible, either drawing from his own experience or continually harassing the waiters for their opinions. I could only smile politely. He said that I should make it a point to master the nuances of etiquette and high culture in order to impress important people. Wistfully, he added that he never had an opportunity to pick up on these things and they have since eluded him.
My father has never struck me as a culture savant. He chews his food noisily, which I personally place as the bare minimum flaw for a person to never be considered for a seat in any hall of connoisseurs. His taste in art is restricted to comments such as 'beautiful', 'superb' and any other word that could be used to describe a delightful little tuna sandwich. I dare not judge his taste in music for it certainly is unique. My cousin is a DJ in New York and he cut a CD of his own trance and house music which his father duly sent to my own. The CD has found its way into my family car and its vile cacophony, into the appreciative cochlea of my father's inner ear where it subsequently manifests itself in the maniacal beat he taps out with his fingers on the steering wheel. He refuses to acknowledge my claims that trance music is strictly for dance floors and has not been acoustically tested on the leather upholstery of car interiors.
But, you don't need to be Roman to do as they do. My father, despite the conspicuous absence of refinement in his life, appreciates its value enough to encourage his children to spread their wings in the world of art and creativity.
He asked me what I thought to be the reason for his children being so different from other kids, a question that many parents ask him these days. What did we get that these other kids didn't? He hazarded a few guesses, such as our nomadic early childhood, our travel experiences, and our family's laissez-faire approach to governance. I weighed each one aloud, but certainly they were not unique enough. "Honestly", I explained to him after some thought, "the reason we are as we are is because we have a father who has the gift of tossing his children in the right direction when they're about to settle for less."
I never knew how much of a fighter my father was, in the literal sense. I've seen him argue with customers on the phone, bank managers in person and deans of colleges online, but apart from his college days as a boxer, I've never known my father to have actually knocked the pants off someone.
Apparently he has. Context: London, England, the winter of 1981. A cab stops outside my grand-uncle's residence and my father and the driver alight. My father hands a small stack of notes to the driver who counts the money and sneers. "You bloody fuckin' Indians," he cries, "You gave me a two pound tip, fuckin' hell." My father is astonished, but replies as calmly as possible, "What did you say?" The driver unabashedly repeats himself, "You bloody fuckin' Indi-" He doesn't complete his sentence. My father already has his fist coming around and he knocks the blooming carnations out of the poor sod. He ends up flat on his back, cursing and swearing. In a flash he is back on his feet, rolling up his sleeves. "I'ma gonna kill you," he mutters. My father doesn't back down. Instead he threatens to call the police and promises to show him a good time until they reach the scene. Within half a minute, the cab is speeding away down the street.
Just then, the cavalry arrives in the form of my panic-stricken grand-uncle, who comes barreling down the stairs and starts volleying questions at my father, who by now has picked up his belongings and is making his way to the front porch.
My father did not accept my claim at first, but came around to it eventually. He refuses to accept credit for the things he does to ensure others heap praise upon his children. Instead he uses vague terms such as 'blessed', 'written in the stars' and something about it being written in my horoscope to explain away his part in raising his children. A parent is unglorified labour personified and I can neither feel terribly sorry or particularly pleased about it. Like most other relationships, it is best admired from a distance - but admiring is not living.
Dinner ended with a toast to one another, our ages apparent in the contents of our glasses. It will be fourteen years before I'm only half of his age. There'll come a time when I'll be able to catch up to him, just as he is gaining on his father, as his father did to his own father before him. But he's not worried. He's already found that happiness in life is not a fish that you can catch. And you know what? I'm not worried either.
Conversation started out the way it usually does between a young adult and an elder statesperson - each party takes turns to gingerly grope about in the dark. Eventually we began discussing the menu, or rather, my complete lack of appreciation for its contents. I asked about everything from corkage to consommé and my father assisted where possible, either drawing from his own experience or continually harassing the waiters for their opinions. I could only smile politely. He said that I should make it a point to master the nuances of etiquette and high culture in order to impress important people. Wistfully, he added that he never had an opportunity to pick up on these things and they have since eluded him.
My father has never struck me as a culture savant. He chews his food noisily, which I personally place as the bare minimum flaw for a person to never be considered for a seat in any hall of connoisseurs. His taste in art is restricted to comments such as 'beautiful', 'superb' and any other word that could be used to describe a delightful little tuna sandwich. I dare not judge his taste in music for it certainly is unique. My cousin is a DJ in New York and he cut a CD of his own trance and house music which his father duly sent to my own. The CD has found its way into my family car and its vile cacophony, into the appreciative cochlea of my father's inner ear where it subsequently manifests itself in the maniacal beat he taps out with his fingers on the steering wheel. He refuses to acknowledge my claims that trance music is strictly for dance floors and has not been acoustically tested on the leather upholstery of car interiors.
But, you don't need to be Roman to do as they do. My father, despite the conspicuous absence of refinement in his life, appreciates its value enough to encourage his children to spread their wings in the world of art and creativity.
He asked me what I thought to be the reason for his children being so different from other kids, a question that many parents ask him these days. What did we get that these other kids didn't? He hazarded a few guesses, such as our nomadic early childhood, our travel experiences, and our family's laissez-faire approach to governance. I weighed each one aloud, but certainly they were not unique enough. "Honestly", I explained to him after some thought, "the reason we are as we are is because we have a father who has the gift of tossing his children in the right direction when they're about to settle for less."
I never knew how much of a fighter my father was, in the literal sense. I've seen him argue with customers on the phone, bank managers in person and deans of colleges online, but apart from his college days as a boxer, I've never known my father to have actually knocked the pants off someone.
Apparently he has. Context: London, England, the winter of 1981. A cab stops outside my grand-uncle's residence and my father and the driver alight. My father hands a small stack of notes to the driver who counts the money and sneers. "You bloody fuckin' Indians," he cries, "You gave me a two pound tip, fuckin' hell." My father is astonished, but replies as calmly as possible, "What did you say?" The driver unabashedly repeats himself, "You bloody fuckin' Indi-" He doesn't complete his sentence. My father already has his fist coming around and he knocks the blooming carnations out of the poor sod. He ends up flat on his back, cursing and swearing. In a flash he is back on his feet, rolling up his sleeves. "I'ma gonna kill you," he mutters. My father doesn't back down. Instead he threatens to call the police and promises to show him a good time until they reach the scene. Within half a minute, the cab is speeding away down the street.
Just then, the cavalry arrives in the form of my panic-stricken grand-uncle, who comes barreling down the stairs and starts volleying questions at my father, who by now has picked up his belongings and is making his way to the front porch.
My father did not accept my claim at first, but came around to it eventually. He refuses to accept credit for the things he does to ensure others heap praise upon his children. Instead he uses vague terms such as 'blessed', 'written in the stars' and something about it being written in my horoscope to explain away his part in raising his children. A parent is unglorified labour personified and I can neither feel terribly sorry or particularly pleased about it. Like most other relationships, it is best admired from a distance - but admiring is not living.
Dinner ended with a toast to one another, our ages apparent in the contents of our glasses. It will be fourteen years before I'm only half of his age. There'll come a time when I'll be able to catch up to him, just as he is gaining on his father, as his father did to his own father before him. But he's not worried. He's already found that happiness in life is not a fish that you can catch. And you know what? I'm not worried either.
Saturday, March 26, 2005
: Midas
He's proud, sure he is. He won't admit it, but he knows. He wouldn't be half of what he is now if not for that man. His father never healed him, no, his touch was far too rough for such things, but it fixed him, and more than once it did. He's too proud, is what he is. Never could accept his weaknesses. But we'll see. He'll be the first to cry at the old man's funeral. Take my word for it.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
: Compatibility
More likely than not, you have probably come across and/or taken Spark.com's fabled compatibility test that determines your personality type and rates its compatibility with your friends based on their results. Interesting to note that recent science has gone out of its way to disprove the myths about compatibility and establish some well-documented findings about what makes most relationships work. Take note, ladies and gentlemen.
- Compatibility is overrated. The similarities or personality traits that attract people to each other may not hold up over time.
- Sensitivity to the issue of compatibility may be in and of itself a sign of trouble. People overemphasize the effect of personality or values and underemphasize the extent to which easy, congenial temperaments aid marriages
- People assume compatibility as a baseline requirement, then want more.
- Measures of personality don't predict anything, but how people interact does.
- A couple needs to be within one standard deviation of each other in intelligence (10 points in either direction)
- Personality is important, but no one really knows how to match them up. Relationship skills, on the other hand, can always be improved, and they'll help any two people - with any two personalities - to get along better
- People must look for the best in each other. If a man comes home late, his wife may get angry and ask "Why didn't you call?". Instead, she could say, "Honey, I was worried about you. Did something happen?"
- There is no such thing as a compatible couple. All couples disagree about the same things: money, sex, kids, time. So it's really about how you manage your differences.
- We have expectations in a relationship, and we tend to make them come true. The most satisfied couples are those with overly rosy views of each other.
Scent is a driving force at all stages of a relationship, argues Rachel Herz, visiting assistant professor of psychology at Brown University. She has found that scent is the second most important criterion for women (after a pleasant disposition). Women are more interested in scent than in appearance, voice or muscle tone. While men also rank scent highly, Herz argues that women are the more aromatically perceptible sex.
The source of each person's one-of-a-kind odor is, in fact, his or her unique immune system. The segment of our DNA called the major histro-compatibility complex (MHC) controls proteins involved in immunity - and in producing our own singluar smell. Immunity is inherited from both parents, and because the human species is best protected by the broadest array of disease resistance, we are designed to mate with a partner whoe MHC profile differs from our own. As such, studies suggest that we like the scent of people with immune systems unlike ours.
(reproduced from Scientific American, Oct 2004)
Monday, March 21, 2005
: Quote, Unquote
Since all I've been doing today is reading and writing, I shall keep with the theme of the moment:
: : A SAYING is the simple, direct term for any pithy expression of wisdom or truth. For instance, one might comment on 'the sayings of Chairman Mao' or observe that a cynical friend 'knows the price of everything and, as the saying goes, the value of nothing.' (Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray) Several other words are often used in place of saying, yet shades of meaning set them somewhat apart.
: : An ADAGE is a SAYING that has been popularly accepted over a long period of time. For example: 'Where there's smoke, there's fire.'
: : An APHORISM is a terse SAYING that embodies a general, more or less profound truth or principle. For example: 'If you came unbidden you depart unthanked.'
: : An EPIGRAM is a terse, witty, pointed statement that often has a clever twist of thought. For example: 'The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.' This is not the same as an epigraph, which is either an inscription on a monument or building or a brief quotation placed at the beginning of a book or chapter to suggest its theme.
: : A MAXIM is a general principle drawn from practical experience and serving as a rule of conduct. For example: 'Practice what you preach.'
: : A MOTTO is a maxim accepted as a guiding principle or as an ideal of behavior. For example: 'Honesty is the best policy.'
: : A PROVERB is a piece of practical wisdom expressed in homely, concrete terms. For example: 'A closed mouth catches no flies.'
: : A SAW is an old homely SAYING that is well worn by repetition. For example: 'A stitch in time saves nine.'"
: : An APOTHEGM is an edgy, more cynical APHORISM; such as, 'Men are generally more careful of the breed of their horses and dogs than of their children.'
: : An IDIOM is an expression whose meaning can't be derived simply by hearing it, such as 'Kick the bucket.'
: : A SAYING is the simple, direct term for any pithy expression of wisdom or truth. For instance, one might comment on 'the sayings of Chairman Mao' or observe that a cynical friend 'knows the price of everything and, as the saying goes, the value of nothing.' (Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray) Several other words are often used in place of saying, yet shades of meaning set them somewhat apart.
: : An ADAGE is a SAYING that has been popularly accepted over a long period of time. For example: 'Where there's smoke, there's fire.'
: : An APHORISM is a terse SAYING that embodies a general, more or less profound truth or principle. For example: 'If you came unbidden you depart unthanked.'
: : An EPIGRAM is a terse, witty, pointed statement that often has a clever twist of thought. For example: 'The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.' This is not the same as an epigraph, which is either an inscription on a monument or building or a brief quotation placed at the beginning of a book or chapter to suggest its theme.
: : A MAXIM is a general principle drawn from practical experience and serving as a rule of conduct. For example: 'Practice what you preach.'
: : A MOTTO is a maxim accepted as a guiding principle or as an ideal of behavior. For example: 'Honesty is the best policy.'
: : A PROVERB is a piece of practical wisdom expressed in homely, concrete terms. For example: 'A closed mouth catches no flies.'
: : A SAW is an old homely SAYING that is well worn by repetition. For example: 'A stitch in time saves nine.'"
: : An APOTHEGM is an edgy, more cynical APHORISM; such as, 'Men are generally more careful of the breed of their horses and dogs than of their children.'
: : An IDIOM is an expression whose meaning can't be derived simply by hearing it, such as 'Kick the bucket.'
Friday, March 18, 2005
: How To Maintain A Girlfriend
A new age is upon us as we find young men and women feigning maturity and getting into relationships hastily. Often, these relationships end in acrimonious circumstances simply because, in adopting traditional male-dominance roles, the men are unable to impress themselves upon the relationship and satisfy the needs of their partners.
Simple rules need to be laid down by those who possess valuable experience and insight for those who lack such paradoxical essentials. Without experience, you cannot gain more. Yoghurt makes more yoghurt.
The first and most important rule can avoid you much heartache and suffering. Mostly suffering though. Heartache is for the obese. Simply put, you must, at all costs, ensure that you
1. Do Not Make Her Angry.
It is oft-quoted that "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned". The great poet who penned that probably did so with his posterior pressed upon a cobblestone street, beneath the oil lamp hanging outside the front door of the house he used to share with his wife. Certainly, women are to be reckoned with when they are upset, visibly distressed and/or angry. They will do anything to anyone at any time, with no forewarning. If you wish to place your personal wellbeing at the forefront of your relationship, then I strongly urge that you
2. Do Not Make Her Angry.
When she asks you if the dress she's wearing makes her look fat, you will reply that it does not. Do not add any comments such as 'you look fine', or anything that could be miscontrued as a sarcastic or untruthful remark. Silence is your safest bet. If she persists, find a subtle way to change the subject: 'My only concern is that the colour of your earrings may clash with the colour of your dress.' Never, under any circumstances including extreme duress, hint at or imply that your girlfriend is of an unacceptable weight. This is what relationship counsellors call 'The Point of No Return'.
Remember, gentleman: when complaining, girlfriends will always, always generalise. To be the undisputed captain of your relationship, you must be perfect.
3. In order to be perfect, you must appear perfect.
Perfection is very simple to attain if you only seek a pale shadow of it. Simply put, you must seem infallible. By this, I mean that you must be consistent. Always be in control of your conduct - it must be impeccable at all times. Always buy her flowers - one stalk for lunch or dinner dates and several for other occasions. Make it a point to appear that you have let the whole world see you carry the flowers to your girlfriend. For those who are embarrassed by the antics of romantics, hide them in a paper bag and dump the bag just before you meet her.
Always compliment something about her. Here is a list of things that should be complimented at one time or another (but of course, not all at once): hairstyle, tan, eyes, smile, earrings, lipstick, bracelet, necklace, handbag, clothes, fingernails, watch, complexion, skin texture, style, interests, tastes. Please note that you must actually observe a change in or display of any of the above before making a comment. If she looks whiter than chalk today, do not praise her sun-bronzed tan. She will see through your lie and you will not be spared.
You must be right. Do not argue over something that you are unsure of. Only objective matters are to be debated. Only argue when you know you are right and can prove it. If not, don't bother - let her have her way. She will think she is in control but she is not.
4. Sweet Nothings are Everything
True love smells faintly of alcohol. When one is madly in love, the feeling is almost intoxicating - the result is an endless flow of sweet nothings from parted lips. Occasionally delight your significant other with these whispered words of wistful wonder. She will think you are incredibly romantic and you can slack off the rest of the week.
Some people say that you cannot buy love, but they are wrong. You can buy love and I know a few places where they even accept foreign currency, but that's another story for another day. To your girlfriend, the giving of gifts is a show of affection as well as a necessity. You must show that you love her in a purely tangible way or you can forget about ever being kissed again. All's fair in love and war, until somebody gets strangled with pink ribbon. That's why you need to know how to
5. Buy Her Proper Gifts
That means no cheesy (pun unintended) photograph frames; no generic personal care items; nothing that hints at problems of hers or concerns that you may have; and certainly no food! If you cannot make anything, learn how to. If you posesss the dexterity, vision and purpose of a one-legged duck then you should actively seek unique and meaningful gifts. However, most people don't realise that you can actually give meaning to gifts rather than find gifts that have to explain their own meanings to her. Either you can buy something unique in advance and then set her up for it so that she'll be very pleased to receive it, or you can buy her something provided you are able to persuade her that it means something significant.
Unless you share her immense interest in something, do not buy her something she is interested in, or worse, extremely proficient in, without knowing exactly what it is that you're getting her. For this you will require someone who is proficient in the instruments or articles of her favoured trade. Buying watercolour paint for an oil-painter will earn you nothing but contempt.
6. Never Forget What It Is That She Loves About You.
Ask her once, at an opportune moment and she will list a few things that you must make a point to note down somewhere. Keep this list in your wallet, tape it to your bathroom wall, stuff it under your pillow - do whatever it takes to remember the contents of this list. Strive, toil, slave, whatever it is, to retain these good things about yourself. Without them, you are nothing and she will leave you at the next available opportune moment.
Speaking of which, when the two of you disagree, as you undoubtedly will on some things, you must remember to
7. Always Keep Your Head On Straight
Ladies are incredibly talented in emotive responses. They can be unreasonable now and then and yet wonderfully empathetic at other times. They do not mean to harm you or cause you grief. They just want what is best for you. What is best for you, however, is a subjective matter. As I mentioned before, you must strive to avoid subjective debates. You have two options - you either turn tail and flee, or you learn to stay and cheat. Cheating involves turning a normally subjective issue into a purely objective one that you are able to manipulate to satisfy your own dastardly ends.
For example, the two of you disagree on an issue of health - she feels that you must eat more vegetables and you don't see this as necessary. These are not your opinions at odds with one another - these are your values. The head is easier to persuade than the heart. However, simply shifting the focus from subjective values to objective scientific proof can tilt this debate in your favour. "Why should I eat vegetables? I get my fibre from this health drink and anyway, vegetables are my food's food - not mine."
Problem solved.
8. Never Talk About The Ex
Simple rules need to be laid down by those who possess valuable experience and insight for those who lack such paradoxical essentials. Without experience, you cannot gain more. Yoghurt makes more yoghurt.
The first and most important rule can avoid you much heartache and suffering. Mostly suffering though. Heartache is for the obese. Simply put, you must, at all costs, ensure that you
1. Do Not Make Her Angry.
It is oft-quoted that "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned". The great poet who penned that probably did so with his posterior pressed upon a cobblestone street, beneath the oil lamp hanging outside the front door of the house he used to share with his wife. Certainly, women are to be reckoned with when they are upset, visibly distressed and/or angry. They will do anything to anyone at any time, with no forewarning. If you wish to place your personal wellbeing at the forefront of your relationship, then I strongly urge that you
2. Do Not Make Her Angry.
When she asks you if the dress she's wearing makes her look fat, you will reply that it does not. Do not add any comments such as 'you look fine', or anything that could be miscontrued as a sarcastic or untruthful remark. Silence is your safest bet. If she persists, find a subtle way to change the subject: 'My only concern is that the colour of your earrings may clash with the colour of your dress.' Never, under any circumstances including extreme duress, hint at or imply that your girlfriend is of an unacceptable weight. This is what relationship counsellors call 'The Point of No Return'.
Remember, gentleman: when complaining, girlfriends will always, always generalise. To be the undisputed captain of your relationship, you must be perfect.
3. In order to be perfect, you must appear perfect.
Perfection is very simple to attain if you only seek a pale shadow of it. Simply put, you must seem infallible. By this, I mean that you must be consistent. Always be in control of your conduct - it must be impeccable at all times. Always buy her flowers - one stalk for lunch or dinner dates and several for other occasions. Make it a point to appear that you have let the whole world see you carry the flowers to your girlfriend. For those who are embarrassed by the antics of romantics, hide them in a paper bag and dump the bag just before you meet her.
Always compliment something about her. Here is a list of things that should be complimented at one time or another (but of course, not all at once): hairstyle, tan, eyes, smile, earrings, lipstick, bracelet, necklace, handbag, clothes, fingernails, watch, complexion, skin texture, style, interests, tastes. Please note that you must actually observe a change in or display of any of the above before making a comment. If she looks whiter than chalk today, do not praise her sun-bronzed tan. She will see through your lie and you will not be spared.
You must be right. Do not argue over something that you are unsure of. Only objective matters are to be debated. Only argue when you know you are right and can prove it. If not, don't bother - let her have her way. She will think she is in control but she is not.
4. Sweet Nothings are Everything
True love smells faintly of alcohol. When one is madly in love, the feeling is almost intoxicating - the result is an endless flow of sweet nothings from parted lips. Occasionally delight your significant other with these whispered words of wistful wonder. She will think you are incredibly romantic and you can slack off the rest of the week.
Some people say that you cannot buy love, but they are wrong. You can buy love and I know a few places where they even accept foreign currency, but that's another story for another day. To your girlfriend, the giving of gifts is a show of affection as well as a necessity. You must show that you love her in a purely tangible way or you can forget about ever being kissed again. All's fair in love and war, until somebody gets strangled with pink ribbon. That's why you need to know how to
5. Buy Her Proper Gifts
That means no cheesy (pun unintended) photograph frames; no generic personal care items; nothing that hints at problems of hers or concerns that you may have; and certainly no food! If you cannot make anything, learn how to. If you posesss the dexterity, vision and purpose of a one-legged duck then you should actively seek unique and meaningful gifts. However, most people don't realise that you can actually give meaning to gifts rather than find gifts that have to explain their own meanings to her. Either you can buy something unique in advance and then set her up for it so that she'll be very pleased to receive it, or you can buy her something provided you are able to persuade her that it means something significant.
Unless you share her immense interest in something, do not buy her something she is interested in, or worse, extremely proficient in, without knowing exactly what it is that you're getting her. For this you will require someone who is proficient in the instruments or articles of her favoured trade. Buying watercolour paint for an oil-painter will earn you nothing but contempt.
6. Never Forget What It Is That She Loves About You.
Ask her once, at an opportune moment and she will list a few things that you must make a point to note down somewhere. Keep this list in your wallet, tape it to your bathroom wall, stuff it under your pillow - do whatever it takes to remember the contents of this list. Strive, toil, slave, whatever it is, to retain these good things about yourself. Without them, you are nothing and she will leave you at the next available opportune moment.
Speaking of which, when the two of you disagree, as you undoubtedly will on some things, you must remember to
7. Always Keep Your Head On Straight
Ladies are incredibly talented in emotive responses. They can be unreasonable now and then and yet wonderfully empathetic at other times. They do not mean to harm you or cause you grief. They just want what is best for you. What is best for you, however, is a subjective matter. As I mentioned before, you must strive to avoid subjective debates. You have two options - you either turn tail and flee, or you learn to stay and cheat. Cheating involves turning a normally subjective issue into a purely objective one that you are able to manipulate to satisfy your own dastardly ends.
For example, the two of you disagree on an issue of health - she feels that you must eat more vegetables and you don't see this as necessary. These are not your opinions at odds with one another - these are your values. The head is easier to persuade than the heart. However, simply shifting the focus from subjective values to objective scientific proof can tilt this debate in your favour. "Why should I eat vegetables? I get my fibre from this health drink and anyway, vegetables are my food's food - not mine."
Problem solved.
8. Never Talk About The Ex
Talking about your Ex is infinitely worse than calling your girlfriend a fat-fuck, to her face.
9. Her Friends Are Your Friends
They may be chronically uncool or terminally annoying, but she sees something in them that she likes, and she will definitely hope that you can get along with them as well as you do. Some girls don't understand that most relationships are about complementary needs, but nevertheless, you must persevere with her friends. Getting along with them will set you up for the last and most important task, which is to
10. Make Her Parents Love You
If you win their trust and affection, nothing can possibly go wrong. They will even side with you when she is angry with you and encourage you to 'talk some sense into that crazy girl'. They are valuable allies and showering them with praise, affection, feigned attention, gifts and wanton displays of perfection will only cement your place in their hearts as their daughter's only worthy match. Hitting on the daughter involves (to some extent) hitting on her mother too.
Remember these ten rules and you will be on your way to a well-maintained relationship. Soon wedding bells may be ringing, who knows? Alas, there is no guide to marriage. By then, anyway, it is too late to save yourself.
Little did she know that the card after this read
"A Perfect 10. Will you be my tart forever?"
Thursday, March 17, 2005
: Warning
As a writer, one must make others read what he has to write rather than write what they want to read. Failure to understand this difference will result in the writer being forever bound to a particular blueprint of thought, and a great many ideas lost to the excesses of favour.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
: Waxing and Waning
Today, Apply to Madame Tussaud's.
What happened to effortless humour? This is too much. I'm going to skip days the near-impossible tasks from now on. Starting with today. Not tomorrow though, because it's St. Patrick's day. Time to soften your vowels, harden your consonants and lyricize your inflections - just like Shrek. The ladies love it.
What happened to effortless humour? This is too much. I'm going to skip days the near-impossible tasks from now on. Starting with today. Not tomorrow though, because it's St. Patrick's day. Time to soften your vowels, harden your consonants and lyricize your inflections - just like Shrek. The ladies love it.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
: Jigsong
Dashboard Confessional - Several Ways to Die Trying
Keane - On A Day Like Today
Dave Matthews Band - Grey Street
Rob Dougan - Nothing At All
Pacific Sun, you should have warned us, it gets so cold here.
And the night can freeze, before you set it on fire.
And our flares go unnoticed.
Diminished, faded just as soon as they are fired.
We are, we are, intrigued. We are, we are, invisible.
I looked at you and I
Saw something in the way
You stared into the sky
Oh look at how she listens
She says nothing of what she thinks
She just goes stumbling through her memories
Let the whole world fall away
And fall into my arms
Stay with me
I don't know how long we've got left
And so I'm asking you
To forgive me
I dream myself a thousand times around the world
But I can't get out of this place.
I learn as I go
To float far away
Into silence
And just watch your face
And find some kind of grace
In that quiet bliss
If you only knew the way I feel
I'd really love to tell you
But I could never seem to say the words I needed to
On a day like today no other words would do
Oh, how we've shouted, how we've screamed, take notice, take interest, take me with you.
But all our fears fall on deaf ears.
Tonight, they're burning the roads they built to lead us to the light. And blinding our hearts with their shining lies, while closing our caskets cold and tight. But I'm dying to live.
Will you walk into the grave with me
Will you leave this empty world
Soft and wistful
To sink into the dark, dank earth
And never reappear would be blissful
To float far away
Into eternal space
And God's silence
Where I'll watch your face
And find patience and grace
In each line there
If you only knew the way I feel
I'd really love to tell you
But I can never find the words to say and I don't know why
Can I stay and say nothing at all.
Keane - On A Day Like Today
Dave Matthews Band - Grey Street
Rob Dougan - Nothing At All
Pacific Sun, you should have warned us, it gets so cold here.
And the night can freeze, before you set it on fire.
And our flares go unnoticed.
Diminished, faded just as soon as they are fired.
We are, we are, intrigued. We are, we are, invisible.
I looked at you and I
Saw something in the way
You stared into the sky
Oh look at how she listens
She says nothing of what she thinks
She just goes stumbling through her memories
Let the whole world fall away
And fall into my arms
Stay with me
I don't know how long we've got left
And so I'm asking you
To forgive me
I dream myself a thousand times around the world
But I can't get out of this place.
I learn as I go
To float far away
Into silence
And just watch your face
And find some kind of grace
In that quiet bliss
If you only knew the way I feel
I'd really love to tell you
But I could never seem to say the words I needed to
On a day like today no other words would do
Oh, how we've shouted, how we've screamed, take notice, take interest, take me with you.
But all our fears fall on deaf ears.
Tonight, they're burning the roads they built to lead us to the light. And blinding our hearts with their shining lies, while closing our caskets cold and tight. But I'm dying to live.
Will you walk into the grave with me
Will you leave this empty world
Soft and wistful
To sink into the dark, dank earth
And never reappear would be blissful
To float far away
Into eternal space
And God's silence
Where I'll watch your face
And find patience and grace
In each line there
If you only knew the way I feel
I'd really love to tell you
But I can never find the words to say and I don't know why
Can I stay and say nothing at all.
: Reconnect
Today, reconnect with the outside world.
The diary is addictive, the crack cocaine of the book world. Today try to step back from its life-changing tentacles and assess the damage. Have your friends stopped calling you? Have you been passed over for promotion? Has your mother disowned you? Today repair those bridges and explain once again that the experiment will pay off.
Have you ever watched Face Off? The one with John Travolta and Nicholas Cage where John's character Sean Archer swaps faces with the evil Castor Troy in a secret operation. Then things go awry when Castor steals Sean's face in return while killing all those who know their true identities. I feel like Sean Archer now. Nobody would believe that it's really me. The diary is me and I am the diary. We are one. The Alpha and the Omega. Frodo and Sam.
The diary is addictive, the crack cocaine of the book world. Today try to step back from its life-changing tentacles and assess the damage. Have your friends stopped calling you? Have you been passed over for promotion? Has your mother disowned you? Today repair those bridges and explain once again that the experiment will pay off.
Have you ever watched Face Off? The one with John Travolta and Nicholas Cage where John's character Sean Archer swaps faces with the evil Castor Troy in a secret operation. Then things go awry when Castor steals Sean's face in return while killing all those who know their true identities. I feel like Sean Archer now. Nobody would believe that it's really me. The diary is me and I am the diary. We are one. The Alpha and the Omega. Frodo and Sam.
Monday, March 14, 2005
: Current Affairs
It has been my dream since I was a small child to be trapped in a vicious cycle. At age 3, I started to eat vast quantities of food. This continued until I was 8 and my weight and consequent shape managed to severely impede my progress in the learning-how-to-tie-your-shoelace part of life. I was sad that I was so rotund, but the sadness made me hungry and I continued to eat. By the age of 11, I was well on my way to perfecting my first vicious cycle. Then I met Anthony Robbins. I was now happy to be fat and soon my vicious cycle came apart, nuts, bolts and all.
Eventually I lost all this excess weight, so I considered gambling. The whole lose-money-then-gamble-more-to-win-back-debts vicious cycle was terribly appealing, and dabbling in it for a few months made me realise that I am a born winner and there was nothing I could do about it. With wads of cash safely tucked into my coat pockets, I left the world of gambling and resigned myself to a life of failure.
Little did I expect that a vicious cycle would find me instead.
Rather, it had always been present in my life, as far back as I can remember. I had just never thought of it until a friend pointed out, during a discussion on mobile phones, that a battery would last longer if we kept the mobile on instead of turning it off and on repeatedly to conserve power. Starting the phone up uses up more power than the drain from keeping it on during a reasonable period of time, he said. Something occurred to me. I asked him if the same principle could be applied to household appliances; for instance, fans and lights. He nodded.
My mother used to come into my room and turn off the lights and fan when I had left it briefly to attend to something somewhere else in the house. At the same time, she would complain that I was wasting electricity and that the electricity bills for the past month had been far in excess of her expectations. And when I went back to my room, I would turn on the lights and fan to resume whatever I was doing, thus wasting more electricity than if she had just left them on.
Now imagine her linkage between the electricity bill and the lights being on - she sees the lights and fan being on unnecessarily as the cause of the larger bill each month when in fact it is from the the constant turning off and on of these fixtures. So she will turn off the lights and fans whenever she can to 'save electricity' when in fact she is serving to continually increase our usage of it.
Diabolical! A vicious cycle! And I've been in it for years!
--
By the way, if you're a kid, use this line of reasoning against your parents and watch them squirm in the presence of your illuminating brilliance. After that, send me $20 in small bills as a token of your everlasting gratitude.
Eventually I lost all this excess weight, so I considered gambling. The whole lose-money-then-gamble-more-to-win-back-debts vicious cycle was terribly appealing, and dabbling in it for a few months made me realise that I am a born winner and there was nothing I could do about it. With wads of cash safely tucked into my coat pockets, I left the world of gambling and resigned myself to a life of failure.
Little did I expect that a vicious cycle would find me instead.
Rather, it had always been present in my life, as far back as I can remember. I had just never thought of it until a friend pointed out, during a discussion on mobile phones, that a battery would last longer if we kept the mobile on instead of turning it off and on repeatedly to conserve power. Starting the phone up uses up more power than the drain from keeping it on during a reasonable period of time, he said. Something occurred to me. I asked him if the same principle could be applied to household appliances; for instance, fans and lights. He nodded.
My mother used to come into my room and turn off the lights and fan when I had left it briefly to attend to something somewhere else in the house. At the same time, she would complain that I was wasting electricity and that the electricity bills for the past month had been far in excess of her expectations. And when I went back to my room, I would turn on the lights and fan to resume whatever I was doing, thus wasting more electricity than if she had just left them on.
Now imagine her linkage between the electricity bill and the lights being on - she sees the lights and fan being on unnecessarily as the cause of the larger bill each month when in fact it is from the the constant turning off and on of these fixtures. So she will turn off the lights and fans whenever she can to 'save electricity' when in fact she is serving to continually increase our usage of it.
Diabolical! A vicious cycle! And I've been in it for years!
--
By the way, if you're a kid, use this line of reasoning against your parents and watch them squirm in the presence of your illuminating brilliance. After that, send me $20 in small bills as a token of your everlasting gratitude.
: Writ
Graphology Day : Manipulate others through your handwriting
Backward-sloping : You are a rebel
Upward-sloping : You are a born optimist
Disconnected writing : You are introverted
High-looped : You are a dreamer
Extra-wide : You are extravagant
Light-pressured : You are easily led
Different-slanting : You are unstable
Extra-large : You are an egomaniac
Wide-spaced : You are antisocial
Ts crossed at the top : You are a born leader
Is dotted to the left : You are a procrastinator
"Cute" writing : You are an American Teenage Girl
What the hell? How am I supposed to do this?
I just passed a handwritten memo to my boss with my comments (requested, of course) on his latest paper. He looked at it for a moment, held it an angle and asked me why my handwriting had suddenly become illegible. I paused (for effect, ladies and gentlemen) and replied that my handwriting was a reflection of my inner personality and that I was going through a period of metamorphosis. He raised his eyebrows. "Like a caterpillar to a butterfly," I added, and suddenly he understood.
Backward-sloping : You are a rebel
Upward-sloping : You are a born optimist
Disconnected writing : You are introverted
High-looped : You are a dreamer
Extra-wide : You are extravagant
Light-pressured : You are easily led
Different-slanting : You are unstable
Extra-large : You are an egomaniac
Wide-spaced : You are antisocial
Ts crossed at the top : You are a born leader
Is dotted to the left : You are a procrastinator
"Cute" writing : You are an American Teenage Girl
What the hell? How am I supposed to do this?
I just passed a handwritten memo to my boss with my comments (requested, of course) on his latest paper. He looked at it for a moment, held it an angle and asked me why my handwriting had suddenly become illegible. I paused (for effect, ladies and gentlemen) and replied that my handwriting was a reflection of my inner personality and that I was going through a period of metamorphosis. He raised his eyebrows. "Like a caterpillar to a butterfly," I added, and suddenly he understood.
Sunday, March 13, 2005
: Bent
Gender Bending Weekend. Explore your other side this weekend through the role-play scenarios below.
Men : this weekend, you are Deborah, a woman of the world who loves the feel of pink silk knickers and would never dream up of going out without any make-up. Deborah loves to shop, especially for high heels and she loves to have her legs and bikini line waxed down at the local beauty salon, where she asks for a 'Brazilian', shameless hussy that she is! Debbie (to her girlfriends) loves it when builders wolf-whistle as she sashays down the high street, but she plays hard-to-get, never forgetting that come Sunday night she has to turn back Cinderella-like into a man.
Several websites have Internet Relay Chat engines built into them, so using my new weekend identity, I logged on and waited for a sleazy bum to approach me. It didn't take long:
You have entered a private conversation with hard78.
[08:02] hey ther hottie
[08:13] hotdebbie waves
[08:13] asl? [age/sex/something apparently]
[08:14] 19 female from diablo con carne, puerto rico
[08:14] whoaa
[08:14] u must b hot
[08:14] I could be. Who's asking?
[08:15] teh man of ur dreams, baby
[08:23] Is that you, Orlando?
[08:23] who?
[08:23] no im hard.. nice to meet u. hehe
[08:23] Cute. How old are you, son?
[08:23] ol enuff to bone u, hottie!!
[08:24] Likely. Well I wear pink knickers if you're interested.
[08:28] what? kickers?
[08:32] Knickers. Go look in a dictionary, under K.
[08:39] that's sexy as helll. take them off for me.
[08:43] I can't. I'm also wearing high heels.
[08:43] take thenm off too and bend over bitch
[08:45] Take them off yourself, you mutt.
[08:49] ohhh u like it roguh dont u?
[08:52] i can give you roguh
[08:54] For fuck's sake. Can't you spell?
[08:54] shuddup bitch i can spel anyway i want to
[08:57] how do u like it u whore
[09:01] With your mouth firmly shut, I suppose.
[09:04] dun mess with me yo i'll cut you
[09:06] With what, your razor sharp wit?
[09:06] i dont get u but u think ur a smartass dont u
[09:06] mayb u need to b spanked
[09:06] Yes, maybe I do.
[09:08] I'm having my periods these last few days.
[09:08] yes you do so bend down
[09:08] wtf?
[09:09] Bleeding all over the place lately. Like a leaky faucet.
[09:09] stfu [shut the fuck up] bith
[09:09] Oh don't worry though, Mr Hard. I'll be changing back to a guy come Monday, so it'll all be alright then.
[09:10] fuck!
[09:10] Not now, dear. I have a headache.
hard78 has left the conversation.
Men : this weekend, you are Deborah, a woman of the world who loves the feel of pink silk knickers and would never dream up of going out without any make-up. Deborah loves to shop, especially for high heels and she loves to have her legs and bikini line waxed down at the local beauty salon, where she asks for a 'Brazilian', shameless hussy that she is! Debbie (to her girlfriends) loves it when builders wolf-whistle as she sashays down the high street, but she plays hard-to-get, never forgetting that come Sunday night she has to turn back Cinderella-like into a man.
Several websites have Internet Relay Chat engines built into them, so using my new weekend identity, I logged on and waited for a sleazy bum to approach me. It didn't take long:
You have entered a private conversation with hard78.
[08:02] hey ther hottie
[08:13] hotdebbie waves
[08:13] asl? [age/sex/something apparently]
[08:14] 19 female from diablo con carne, puerto rico
[08:14] whoaa
[08:14] u must b hot
[08:14] I could be. Who's asking?
[08:15] teh man of ur dreams, baby
[08:23] Is that you, Orlando?
[08:23] who?
[08:23] no im hard.. nice to meet u. hehe
[08:23] Cute. How old are you, son?
[08:23] ol enuff to bone u, hottie!!
[08:24] Likely. Well I wear pink knickers if you're interested.
[08:28] what? kickers?
[08:32] Knickers. Go look in a dictionary, under K.
[08:39] that's sexy as helll. take them off for me.
[08:43] I can't. I'm also wearing high heels.
[08:43] take thenm off too and bend over bitch
[08:45] Take them off yourself, you mutt.
[08:49] ohhh u like it roguh dont u?
[08:52] i can give you roguh
[08:54] For fuck's sake. Can't you spell?
[08:54] shuddup bitch i can spel anyway i want to
[08:57] how do u like it u whore
[09:01] With your mouth firmly shut, I suppose.
[09:04] dun mess with me yo i'll cut you
[09:06] With what, your razor sharp wit?
[09:06] i dont get u but u think ur a smartass dont u
[09:06] mayb u need to b spanked
[09:06] Yes, maybe I do.
[09:08] I'm having my periods these last few days.
[09:08] yes you do so bend down
[09:08] wtf?
[09:09] Bleeding all over the place lately. Like a leaky faucet.
[09:09] stfu [shut the fuck up] bith
[09:09] Oh don't worry though, Mr Hard. I'll be changing back to a guy come Monday, so it'll all be alright then.
[09:10] fuck!
[09:10] Not now, dear. I have a headache.
hard78 has left the conversation.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
: Beautiful Soul
So Jesse McCartney looks his lady right in the eye and whispers that she has a beautiful soul. He then plants a kiss on her lips and within five minutes they are half naked and soon to round third base on a very long night. And she never even stopped for a moment to ask him what exactly a beautiful soul is.
I'm being hard on the boy, aren't I? I mean, he's been a good lad and treated her very well, like a gem in fact. And they've been seeing one another for 6 months already. Very little has gone wrong between the two of them and it all seems like wonderful, wonderful chemistry. I mean, they both listen to and love Coldplay! They were made for one another, surely.
He met her at a friend's party. She was introduced as a prominent peer's younger sister. They hit it off immediately, with his boyish good looks and her burgeoning alcohol levels. They exchanged numbers and little else.
She played the game tremendously, selectively returning calls, ignoring his clearer intentions and picking up on the less noticeable ones. She was not interested in a relationship, having just come off of several flings and looking forward to the next when time was on her side again. She didn't want to be held down, free spirit that she was. Habits, once formed and recognised, were quickly deconstructed. Even reckless behaviour could become a habit, given enough time.
He persisted and soon gained a foothold in her mind. Eventually he got to her and he started dating her. Initially, she despaired, but soon, with his impeccable manners and magical timing, she found that she could no longer draw the line between herself and them as a couple. She slipped and slid into a relationship, and with both joy and fear in her eye, she suggested one day, over a peach schnapps, that they acknowledge their status.
Many months later and he is struck blind with her curse. Another party, another girl and he decides to call an end to the relationship in favour of the prospect of another, more exciting one. Undoubtedly, she is shattered - a position she would, at the very begininning, have been hard pressed to imagine herself in. Beneath that smeared mascara, those soft, swollen cheeks, these cold fingers, if one looks closely enough - her beautiful soul has been bared to all. Crushed, and scattered.
Let's not worry too much about her though. She'll recover eventually and move on, just like everyone finds a way, given enough time and space. As for him, he's a jerk, so he'll live in bliss till he kicks the proverbial bucket.
I'm being hard on the boy, aren't I? I mean, he's been a good lad and treated her very well, like a gem in fact. And they've been seeing one another for 6 months already. Very little has gone wrong between the two of them and it all seems like wonderful, wonderful chemistry. I mean, they both listen to and love Coldplay! They were made for one another, surely.
He met her at a friend's party. She was introduced as a prominent peer's younger sister. They hit it off immediately, with his boyish good looks and her burgeoning alcohol levels. They exchanged numbers and little else.
She played the game tremendously, selectively returning calls, ignoring his clearer intentions and picking up on the less noticeable ones. She was not interested in a relationship, having just come off of several flings and looking forward to the next when time was on her side again. She didn't want to be held down, free spirit that she was. Habits, once formed and recognised, were quickly deconstructed. Even reckless behaviour could become a habit, given enough time.
He persisted and soon gained a foothold in her mind. Eventually he got to her and he started dating her. Initially, she despaired, but soon, with his impeccable manners and magical timing, she found that she could no longer draw the line between herself and them as a couple. She slipped and slid into a relationship, and with both joy and fear in her eye, she suggested one day, over a peach schnapps, that they acknowledge their status.
Many months later and he is struck blind with her curse. Another party, another girl and he decides to call an end to the relationship in favour of the prospect of another, more exciting one. Undoubtedly, she is shattered - a position she would, at the very begininning, have been hard pressed to imagine herself in. Beneath that smeared mascara, those soft, swollen cheeks, these cold fingers, if one looks closely enough - her beautiful soul has been bared to all. Crushed, and scattered.
Let's not worry too much about her though. She'll recover eventually and move on, just like everyone finds a way, given enough time and space. As for him, he's a jerk, so he'll live in bliss till he kicks the proverbial bucket.
Love is constant, but romance is always in flux.
The former is simple, the latter, Byzantine in nature.
We have mastered the art,
At the cost of common sense,
Of auctioning away our hearts
To evade our discontents.
We seldom take time to consider
At the cost of common sense,
Of auctioning away our hearts
To evade our discontents.
We seldom take time to consider
The intentions not plain to see
For so often the highest bidder
Sought not the value, but the fee.
For so often the highest bidder
Sought not the value, but the fee.
Friday, March 11, 2005
: Observation
When people on the receiving end of good fortune are too lazy to think of the probabilities involved, they call it luck.
: Scream
Everybody scream today.
At 20:07 GMT everyone across the world will scream at once. Whether you are in a pub, a movie, a confessional, a funeral, on a date or just sitting at home on your computer, we'll asll scream at once and see if we can hear it.
Screamed as scheduled. Couldn't hear squat.
At 20:07 GMT everyone across the world will scream at once. Whether you are in a pub, a movie, a confessional, a funeral, on a date or just sitting at home on your computer, we'll asll scream at once and see if we can hear it.
Screamed as scheduled. Couldn't hear squat.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
: Well
Today, dig for oil.
And what do you know, I have a brand new oil industry blooming in my backyard. Estimated production is close to 200 tonnes a year, and that is enough to make me a very rich man. Now Anna Nicole Smith will want to marry me until she realises that I'm closer to half her age rather than double it.
And what do you know, I have a brand new oil industry blooming in my backyard. Estimated production is close to 200 tonnes a year, and that is enough to make me a very rich man. Now Anna Nicole Smith will want to marry me until she realises that I'm closer to half her age rather than double it.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
: On the News
I found a site that streams the French channel Journal LCI the other day, so in an attempt to brush up on my language skills, I tuned in. Within five minutes, I was presented with the most beautiful face I have even laid my eyes upon. She makes Helen of Troy look like Madam Griselda Babbidge of 13D Curtis Street. And I was (and am still) certain that I was not being fickle or silly. This really is the most beautiful face I've ever seen.
Only an angel could trump those Seven Sins. And her name is Mélissa Theuriau. Please quote me on that.
I'll be your breaking story anyday, mon cherie!
Only an angel could trump those Seven Sins. And her name is Mélissa Theuriau. Please quote me on that.
I'll be your breaking story anyday, mon cherie!
: Madeleine Love
Madeleine Day: today recover a childhood memory
madeleine (MAD-uh-lin) noun
1. A small, rich cake baked in a fluted, shell-shaped pan.
2. Something that evokes memory or nostalgia.
There comes a point in childhood when girls no longer become the carriers of plagues in the eyes of young men, and they start to appear interesting, charming and (eventually we'll admit it) attractive. Of course, we then a thrust into an unfamiliar, complicated social situation for the very first time in our lives. We experience the very first kind of romantic tension. The boy is attracted to the girl, but any hint of this to the other boys and he will become a pariah to them.
Simon and Mandy in a tree
K-I-S-S-I-N-G
First comes love, then comes marriage
then comes Sandy in a baby carriage
Simon will be a very unhappy child - not only does he resent the mockery of his peers, but also the feelings he has for Mandy. He will be in conflict with his desires and consequently, set himself up for a long battle with depression and mild personality disorder that will be ignored for years to come.
Mandy, on the other hand, can blush and all will be well again. Girls can even feign concern for one another at that age. She has other girls to share her pain with. At least until they reach the age of 13 and discover what words like slut and bitch mean.
A few years later, boys will start noticing that other boys have suddenly started bragging about their girlfriends. Just like everything else, including Pokemon, Transformers and Spiderman, these boys will not want to be left out. However, they will soon realise that Mum and Dad aren't going to buy them girlfriends. They're going to have to purchase them, or acquire them, or at least earn them. There's no guide to girlfriends. It's all hit-and-miss until someone brings a copy of Playboy to school.
Once the boys, who now fancy themselves as educated young men, realise what this whole girlfriend thing is all about, they will, en masse, attempt to get into the skirt of every girl they meet for the next year or so. Some will be successful, and the subsequent bragging will only encourage their peers. Some will pretend that they have been successful and will describe their endeavours with the same vision and clarity that Bill Gates possessed when he predicted that 640k of RAM ought to be enough for anybody.
Which brings up the next source of tension to these young men. Boys are fiercely logical and hence, cannot understand how it is that girls can be so fickle, wasteful and indecisive. Eventually, some boys will fall over into the dark side and soon find themselves in possession of such traits. They will forever be seen as the 'elder brother figures' of these girls - and hence unlikely candidates for romance, passion and ultimately, copulation.
At this time, Young girls also grow increasingly aware of their additional attributes and the power that these give them over the simple minds of men. Some will shy away from the opposite sex in the archaic belief that purity can contained forever. Others will embrace these young men, while cutting their backs open with scalpels and removing their organs for sale.
By their teenage years, a vast array of boys and girls will make up the demographic. There will be those who are blissfully unaware of the joys and pitfalls of relationships, those who shun or shy away from them, and those who have more scratches than the Titanic. Very few relationships will last beyond these teenage years, simply because neither gender has even the vaguest idea what they are in it for.
For those who suffer humiliation, depression and/or disappointment, relationships will either become progressively more volatile or will entirely disappear from their day planners. Some shift back into the real world fairly well. Others become bitter or cold, and continue to rage against the machine well into their early 20s. Or until they meet their first hot-blooded latino counterpart. Some forgive and forget, some forgive but don't forget, and a further some don't forgive, don't forget, and become the most evil people alive.
The emptiness is a respite for those who were cheated. The constant dull throbs of pain save those who drifted away. Some will never reconcile their differences. Words will be left unsaid. Hope is left to waste away in some dilapitated house in a foreign land at the juncture of time immemorial and thoughts inconceivable. Next door, someone will be having a good shag and making sure everyone can hear that he is. The ironies and disappointments of romance are well-chronicled but rarely read.
Yet in the whirlwind of romance, desire and deception, we seldom forget the first time we were kissed. Our first love is the hardest to forget, though in its remembrance lies no special significance. We may still loathe the person or we may secretly harbour a wish to return to the past, but our hearts fail us not - it is our minds that crystallize these memories and make us slow to forget that which first moved us in ways we never believed we could.
madeleine (MAD-uh-lin) noun
1. A small, rich cake baked in a fluted, shell-shaped pan.
2. Something that evokes memory or nostalgia.
There comes a point in childhood when girls no longer become the carriers of plagues in the eyes of young men, and they start to appear interesting, charming and (eventually we'll admit it) attractive. Of course, we then a thrust into an unfamiliar, complicated social situation for the very first time in our lives. We experience the very first kind of romantic tension. The boy is attracted to the girl, but any hint of this to the other boys and he will become a pariah to them.
Simon and Mandy in a tree
K-I-S-S-I-N-G
First comes love, then comes marriage
then comes Sandy in a baby carriage
Simon will be a very unhappy child - not only does he resent the mockery of his peers, but also the feelings he has for Mandy. He will be in conflict with his desires and consequently, set himself up for a long battle with depression and mild personality disorder that will be ignored for years to come.
Mandy, on the other hand, can blush and all will be well again. Girls can even feign concern for one another at that age. She has other girls to share her pain with. At least until they reach the age of 13 and discover what words like slut and bitch mean.
A few years later, boys will start noticing that other boys have suddenly started bragging about their girlfriends. Just like everything else, including Pokemon, Transformers and Spiderman, these boys will not want to be left out. However, they will soon realise that Mum and Dad aren't going to buy them girlfriends. They're going to have to purchase them, or acquire them, or at least earn them. There's no guide to girlfriends. It's all hit-and-miss until someone brings a copy of Playboy to school.
Once the boys, who now fancy themselves as educated young men, realise what this whole girlfriend thing is all about, they will, en masse, attempt to get into the skirt of every girl they meet for the next year or so. Some will be successful, and the subsequent bragging will only encourage their peers. Some will pretend that they have been successful and will describe their endeavours with the same vision and clarity that Bill Gates possessed when he predicted that 640k of RAM ought to be enough for anybody.
Which brings up the next source of tension to these young men. Boys are fiercely logical and hence, cannot understand how it is that girls can be so fickle, wasteful and indecisive. Eventually, some boys will fall over into the dark side and soon find themselves in possession of such traits. They will forever be seen as the 'elder brother figures' of these girls - and hence unlikely candidates for romance, passion and ultimately, copulation.
At this time, Young girls also grow increasingly aware of their additional attributes and the power that these give them over the simple minds of men. Some will shy away from the opposite sex in the archaic belief that purity can contained forever. Others will embrace these young men, while cutting their backs open with scalpels and removing their organs for sale.
By their teenage years, a vast array of boys and girls will make up the demographic. There will be those who are blissfully unaware of the joys and pitfalls of relationships, those who shun or shy away from them, and those who have more scratches than the Titanic. Very few relationships will last beyond these teenage years, simply because neither gender has even the vaguest idea what they are in it for.
For those who suffer humiliation, depression and/or disappointment, relationships will either become progressively more volatile or will entirely disappear from their day planners. Some shift back into the real world fairly well. Others become bitter or cold, and continue to rage against the machine well into their early 20s. Or until they meet their first hot-blooded latino counterpart. Some forgive and forget, some forgive but don't forget, and a further some don't forgive, don't forget, and become the most evil people alive.
The emptiness is a respite for those who were cheated. The constant dull throbs of pain save those who drifted away. Some will never reconcile their differences. Words will be left unsaid. Hope is left to waste away in some dilapitated house in a foreign land at the juncture of time immemorial and thoughts inconceivable. Next door, someone will be having a good shag and making sure everyone can hear that he is. The ironies and disappointments of romance are well-chronicled but rarely read.
Yet in the whirlwind of romance, desire and deception, we seldom forget the first time we were kissed. Our first love is the hardest to forget, though in its remembrance lies no special significance. We may still loathe the person or we may secretly harbour a wish to return to the past, but our hearts fail us not - it is our minds that crystallize these memories and make us slow to forget that which first moved us in ways we never believed we could.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
: Seven
I present to you, in all their stunning glory, the seven deadly sins.
Gentlemen, keep your hands out of your pockets.
Gluttony.
Greed.
Lust.
Pride.
Anger.
Sloth.
Envy.
As an aside, and strictly out of concern for taste and preference, Tara Reid, despite being old, weird, and in possession of the weirdest pair of bouncy castles I have ever seen in my life, is still hot. I had a celebrity-of-the-month calendar with that picture of her in it and I swear I wanted it to be February all year long.
Gentlemen, keep your hands out of your pockets.
Gluttony.
Greed.
Lust.
Pride.
Anger.
Sloth.
Envy.
As an aside, and strictly out of concern for taste and preference, Tara Reid, despite being old, weird, and in possession of the weirdest pair of bouncy castles I have ever seen in my life, is still hot. I had a celebrity-of-the-month calendar with that picture of her in it and I swear I wanted it to be February all year long.
: Peace
Today release a dove for peace.
It didn't get very far though.
Damn you, industrialisation.
It didn't get very far though.
Damn you, industrialisation.
Monday, March 07, 2005
: Meet Dorian
Wilde's Picture of Dorian Gray was a fascinating read. Though the bard, who Oscar so often quoteth in his novel, once wrote, 'Brevity is the soul of wit', Oscar has come to show that even a largely ambagious story can still bear tremendous wit and insight on beauty, relationships and human nature. Lord Henry Wooton's pithy epigrams display all the genius and charm that Wilde is so renowned for. It is a remarkable piece of philosophy on the nature of beauty well disguised as a novel on the corruption of the human soul.
My opinion:
Everyone grows tired of sin, just as they can also become wary of morality. Both are habits that cease to tickle our fancy in due time. Even fine sirloin becomes fowl to tortured palates. We swear to goodness for as long as it does not bore our subconcious. Niceties agitate and irritate when we can no longer appreciate them. We soon forsake our company in search of those who will lead us astray. Good and evil are both natural to men. They coexist in the grey areas of our minds, allowing us to seek pleasure through the avoidance of pain. Your heart is an organ that pumps blood through your arteries. Your mind is an illusion of consciousness. Your soul serves only to be corrupted. Two things are simple and present in all of us: instinct and habit. A sin is an instinct and/or habit that is frowned upon by those who believe in absolutes but live in relatives.
My opinion:
Everyone grows tired of sin, just as they can also become wary of morality. Both are habits that cease to tickle our fancy in due time. Even fine sirloin becomes fowl to tortured palates. We swear to goodness for as long as it does not bore our subconcious. Niceties agitate and irritate when we can no longer appreciate them. We soon forsake our company in search of those who will lead us astray. Good and evil are both natural to men. They coexist in the grey areas of our minds, allowing us to seek pleasure through the avoidance of pain. Your heart is an organ that pumps blood through your arteries. Your mind is an illusion of consciousness. Your soul serves only to be corrupted. Two things are simple and present in all of us: instinct and habit. A sin is an instinct and/or habit that is frowned upon by those who believe in absolutes but live in relatives.
: Orders
Today do as you are told. It's much less stressful to let other rule your life, which is why we tend to remember childhood with such a bittersweet twinge of regret. Leave your grown up ego aside today and go with the flow. Stop clinging onto the illusion of free will. In some way, shape or form, every one of your so-called choices has already been decided for you, by circumstances, history and genes. Surrender yourself to others for the day and see how much you really miss it. Here are some commands you may listen out for and obey in your glorious abdication of free will :
- do the dishes.
- pass the salt.
- mow the lawn.
- get a job.
- move along.
- turn the tv off.
- write that report.
- buy milk.
- turn the lights off when you leave.
- speak up.
- change the channel.
- pick up the soap.
- sign here.
- walk the dog.
Mumsy was having all of this. All day long.
Thankfully my friends didn't catch on to it sooner, otherwise I'd find myself hanging from a bridge by me boxers. Bloody perverts, is what they really are. But sense of humour trumps all in life. I can find it in myself to forgive them, even if society will no longer accept me, let alone prod me with a ten-foot pole.
Sunday, March 06, 2005
: Forgiveness.
Life Lesson:
When trouble arises and things look bad, there is always one individual who perceives a solution and is willing to take command. Very often, that individual is crazy.
When trouble arises and things look bad, there is always one individual who perceives a solution and is willing to take command. Very often, that individual is crazy.
Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in our lifetime;
therefore, we must be saved by hope.
Nothing which is true, or beautiful, or good, makes complete sense in
any immediate context of history; therefore, we must be saved by
faith.
Nothing we do, however virtuous, could be accomplished alone;
therefore, we must be saved by love.
No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our
friend or foe as it is from our own standpoint; therefore, we must be saved by
the final form of love, which is forgiveness.
- Reinhold Niebuhr
I forgive you all! Go free! Fly like the wind, my children!
Saturday, March 05, 2005
: Normal Is Relative.
Lesson of the day:
A person who is nice to you, but rude to the waiter/janitor, is not a nice person.
I have lost count of the number of times that someone I know has sensuously described a woman's body using expressions such as 'sexy, flowing curves', 'smooth as silk', 'delicate to the touch', 'perfectly shaped', 'incredibly naughty' and the all-time-crowd-favourite 'un-fucking-believably hot', all the while with the twisted, tormented, fiery flames of passion and lust burning in their eyes, only to go on to reveal that the object of their desire was actually a guitar, or a car or worse, an animal.
These people don't frighten me. Aberrant behaviour is perfectly acceptable. It's the people who applaud such things who scare me.
A person who is nice to you, but rude to the waiter/janitor, is not a nice person.
I have lost count of the number of times that someone I know has sensuously described a woman's body using expressions such as 'sexy, flowing curves', 'smooth as silk', 'delicate to the touch', 'perfectly shaped', 'incredibly naughty' and the all-time-crowd-favourite 'un-fucking-believably hot', all the while with the twisted, tormented, fiery flames of passion and lust burning in their eyes, only to go on to reveal that the object of their desire was actually a guitar, or a car or worse, an animal.
These people don't frighten me. Aberrant behaviour is perfectly acceptable. It's the people who applaud such things who scare me.
: A Sick Note For Mumsy.
She gave birth to you. She brought you up. She loved you unconditionally. She gave you her all. It's time you repaid her. A mere card won't do. This weekend, take care of her the way she took care of you.
Mother's Day Weekend : Mother Your Mother For A Change.
Mother's Day Weekend : Mother Your Mother For A Change.
- Wake her up and cook breakfast
- Do up her shoelaces
- Hold her hand as you cross the street
- Write her a sick note
- Breastfeed her (well, it was weird for her too at the time)
- Wipe her bottom
- Drag her around the supermarket
- Bake her a cake
- Play peek-a-boo
- Kiss her boo-boo better
- Explain about the birds and the bees
- Tuck her into bed and lull her to sleep with a story and a kiss
- Give up your career for her
- Help her with her homework
And for the very special mums!
- Carry her around in your stomach for 9 months, throwing up now and again.
Mumsy was having none of it today.
Though I did write her a sick note and it was a terribly good one. I have a talent.
Friday, March 04, 2005
: The Cookbook
If you've never heard of the Anarchist's Cookbook, you haven't been watching enough cinema. Chuck Palahniuk probably read this shit and loved it before he wrote Fight Club.
It is not a guide to making Uncle Pedro's Special Fire-igniting Hot Sauce or TNT-laden Thanksgiving turkeys. It is a guide to dangerous (and often illegal) activities and, hopefully, getting away with it. Everything from concocting explosives (phone bombs, book bombs, Molotov cocktails, parcel bombs, light bulb bombs, tennis ball bombs even) to lockpicking to hypnotism to making drugs is covered in this 220-part guide. Sure I have it, but I'm not going to distribute it. I'm dangerous enough as it is. I'm so dangerous that even my own mother says I'm dangerous. That's how dangerous I am. Very dangerous. Very. V.
It is not a guide to making Uncle Pedro's Special Fire-igniting Hot Sauce or TNT-laden Thanksgiving turkeys. It is a guide to dangerous (and often illegal) activities and, hopefully, getting away with it. Everything from concocting explosives (phone bombs, book bombs, Molotov cocktails, parcel bombs, light bulb bombs, tennis ball bombs even) to lockpicking to hypnotism to making drugs is covered in this 220-part guide. Sure I have it, but I'm not going to distribute it. I'm dangerous enough as it is. I'm so dangerous that even my own mother says I'm dangerous. That's how dangerous I am. Very dangerous. Very. V.
: Anarchy Rules
Today wreak havoc on a microscopic scale.
I am not prepared to wash my hands under boiling water until the skin peels and my tender red flesh is exposed, so I squirted a bit of BIOGARD-CHG on my hands and rubbed it in for about a minute. With all that Chlorhexidine Glucomate goodness drowned in luxurious 70% methyl alcohol, this anticrobial, virucidal, bactericidal and fungicidal hand rub was heaven in a handbasket to my palms.
Now die you foul microscopic demons!
I am not prepared to wash my hands under boiling water until the skin peels and my tender red flesh is exposed, so I squirted a bit of BIOGARD-CHG on my hands and rubbed it in for about a minute. With all that Chlorhexidine Glucomate goodness drowned in luxurious 70% methyl alcohol, this anticrobial, virucidal, bactericidal and fungicidal hand rub was heaven in a handbasket to my palms.
Now die you foul microscopic demons!
Thursday, March 03, 2005
: The Lil' Black Book of Paris
Lesson for Today :
You should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests that you think she is pregnant unless you can actually see a baby emerging from her womb at that moment.
Take my word for it.
I got my hands on Paris Hilton's Personal Address Book. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you can read about it here. I'm going to go call Anna Kournikova after this to let her know that I'm the only admirer of her tennis skills in the whole world.
Some choice contacts here, really. Time to start networking. I'll see you lot at the Oscars next year.
You should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests that you think she is pregnant unless you can actually see a baby emerging from her womb at that moment.
Take my word for it.
I got my hands on Paris Hilton's Personal Address Book. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you can read about it here. I'm going to go call Anna Kournikova after this to let her know that I'm the only admirer of her tennis skills in the whole world.
Some choice contacts here, really. Time to start networking. I'll see you lot at the Oscars next year.
: Which Side Am I On?
Today work out which side you are on.
- Evil (not Good)
- Black (not White)
- South (not North)
- West (not East)
- Meat (not Fish)
- Bikes (not Cars)
- Night (not Day)
- Socks (not Shoes)
- Hell (not Heaven)
- Vodka (not Gin)
- Raspberries (not Strawberries)
- Supper (not Dinner)
- Owning (not Renting)
- Boys (not Girls)
- Cigars (not Pipes)
- Mozart (not Beethoven)
- Red (not White)
- Sparkling (not Still)
- Friends (not Family)
- Boxers (not Y-fronts)
- Electricity (not Gas)
- PC (not Mac)
- L.A. (not New York)
- Sean Connery (not Roger Moore)
- Play (not Work)
Straightforward enough. I'm getting disappointed with the difficulty of these tasks.
and Sean Connery, yes. Never Roger Moore.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
: What Comes Next?
Excellent. The monumental first post has been published and a reassuring sense of calm descends upon I, the architect. Let's not muck about with the details then. This is get wilde. I write, and you are presented with two very unique choices : one, you may read and use your brains, heart, loins or whatever else it is that you think with to process what I have to say, or two, you can beat yourself to death with your keyboard. The consequences of both actions are clear enough. If they are not, you should not be here. You should be here.
I believe in customer satisfaction. Please inform me if I have made any factual or typographical errors so that I can hunt you down by your IP address and hurt you until you are satisfied. Thank you. Sincerely.
First up, let me introduce you to This Diary Will Change Your Life 2005. It's a diary and it recommends some things. Some of these things are not very good. People may get injured or end up in jail if they do these things. They are bad things. That is why I am going to attempt them all.
March 2nd is Self-Portrait Day. Today use a digital camera to take the best portrait of yourself you can manage.
This is easy. See how my right hand reaches around to take the self-portrait? What can I say? I have long forearms.
My friends say I look a bit like Tyson Beckford, but I guess it's just the shadows or lighting or something.
I believe in customer satisfaction. Please inform me if I have made any factual or typographical errors so that I can hunt you down by your IP address and hurt you until you are satisfied. Thank you. Sincerely.
First up, let me introduce you to This Diary Will Change Your Life 2005. It's a diary and it recommends some things. Some of these things are not very good. People may get injured or end up in jail if they do these things. They are bad things. That is why I am going to attempt them all.
March 2nd is Self-Portrait Day. Today use a digital camera to take the best portrait of yourself you can manage.
This is easy. See how my right hand reaches around to take the self-portrait? What can I say? I have long forearms.
My friends say I look a bit like Tyson Beckford, but I guess it's just the shadows or lighting or something.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
: About Me
Hello. I have many different entities.
I am John Doe and I work for the Grim Reaper.
I am Calliope Stephanides and I am proud to be a hermaphrodite.
I am the Alpha and the Omega.
I am Groklan Mufta, Principal Bounty Hunter for the V'rzan Colonies.
I am one of the Wright Brothers.
I am the man who shot Yitzhak Rabin.
I am Thomas the Train.
I am living my One Hundred Years of Solitude.
I am Rosa Parks and I will damn well sit where I like.
I am Trung Nguyen and I am a victim of Agent Orange.
I am Atreyu Balthazar and this is my Neverending Story.
I am Winston Churchill's forgotten conscience.
I am the Right Hand of the United Nations.
I am named after my uncle, Fabiano Rochelme Da Silva.
I am something I cannot understand.
I am buried beside Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
I am the words to his melodies.
I am afraid to listen to those who understand.
I am Evita, though I cannot sing like Madonna.
I am Janet Jackson's right nipple.
I am an endless list of entities.
I am small and insignificant, but hear me roar.
I am John Doe and I work for the Grim Reaper.
I am Calliope Stephanides and I am proud to be a hermaphrodite.
I am the Alpha and the Omega.
I am Groklan Mufta, Principal Bounty Hunter for the V'rzan Colonies.
I am one of the Wright Brothers.
I am the man who shot Yitzhak Rabin.
I am Thomas the Train.
I am living my One Hundred Years of Solitude.
I am Rosa Parks and I will damn well sit where I like.
I am Trung Nguyen and I am a victim of Agent Orange.
I am Atreyu Balthazar and this is my Neverending Story.
I am Winston Churchill's forgotten conscience.
I am the Right Hand of the United Nations.
I am named after my uncle, Fabiano Rochelme Da Silva.
I am something I cannot understand.
I am buried beside Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
I am the words to his melodies.
I am afraid to listen to those who understand.
I am Evita, though I cannot sing like Madonna.
I am Janet Jackson's right nipple.
I am an endless list of entities.
I am small and insignificant, but hear me roar.