tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59595262011-04-22T03:04:41.888+08:00small talk on the radio it seems;<br> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;i am going <i>nowhere,<br></i> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;today<br> <br>small talk on the radio choose;<br> &nbsp;&nbsp;between a curtain <i>or a star</i><br> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;and im <b>silent to the dark</b><br> <br> (coz when i needed someone to &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;talk to<br> <b>you were the only one around</b>)<br><br><br> elle'snoreply@blogger.comBlogger3181100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1098536321940895472004-10-23T20:48:00.000+08:002004-10-23T20:58:41.940+08:00

hello,howcanyoubesosureofwhere iamgoing,howcanyoubesocon vincedthatiwillbetheon etocrash?

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1098439928411961432004-10-22T17:22:00.000+08:002004-10-23T20:46:56.520+08:00

it takes, three minutes for me to get the computer on and myself logged in, longer than the time it takes for everything i wanted to say to flow through my mind. i am just frivolous, because you are a good-looker. though it's not love, it means something rj stank, and im 80% sold on hc, hello i have been utterly brainwashed or i am a bona fide Nanyang Girl. somebody stole my shoes!

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1098113940831753752004-10-18T21:15:00.000+08:002004-10-18T23:39:00.833+08:00

im shifting, but not yet, should i make you ask me for my new url? hello im graduating, why arent you happy for me? you're like a lost spirit that hasnt been beckoned into the afterworld, you linger with me when i want it or dont, i cant find a will to banish your memory to where it belongs. do you know that feeling, when you feel yourself slipping into a bad dream, and you force yourself to

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1097926911751637382004-10-16T19:08:00.000+08:002004-10-16T23:38:38.206+08:00

im aching for my shoes to come in. i refuse to wash my schoolies just for five seconds onstage during grad ceremony, or for the three more days of school that i have. saw ol people at the vj open house, i should probably be getting used to this. maro looks like exactly the same person, just a million times less saccharine. lynnette looks exactly the same and like somebody the me of now would

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1097859351775037362004-10-16T01:50:00.000+08:002004-10-16T00:55:51.776+08:00

xinhui offered to help me start typing my uwc essay today, i am still pleasantly disbelieving that someone can be so nice. after looking at the uwc website i realize how completely textbook the issues that i care about have come out sounding, even though i have done my absolute to be obvious and honest about it. and meiying wants to be a director too, hurhur my junior stole my dream vocation.

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1097683183910327322004-10-13T23:56:00.000+08:002004-10-14T00:04:33.106+08:00

stupid cannot study, stupid went shopping but stupid chased all over orchard for the skycaptain poster with success! and had interesting conversation with sweet faced guy over the phone and over counter about said movie poster, hurhur. joliefan! i forsee myself screwing up my olevels, i feel both sheepish and indignant because i have every right to worry my ass off.

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1097591937559673122004-10-12T22:35:00.000+08:002004-10-12T22:45:06.340+08:00

things i owe people after the o's -hoonie's shanghai photos -evita soundtrack to alina -gradnight photos to everybody i think everybody knows what it is like to feel you are not good or good enough at anything. i miss my silverchair muchlymuchly, i like his face pursed and questioning on the cd jacket in the store, but inversely it looks like their earlier work was disappointment. i am

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1097401908337858972004-10-10T17:39:00.000+08:002004-10-11T00:04:38.366+08:00

system shut-down on me around two-o-clock, graduation is pending but hasnt bowled me over as yet. you know i never talk about how i feel. i need to get out of the house to get my studying done, i need to do my work laced with caffeine and far away from a place to lay my head. ella please stop falling asleep. ran into cuishan at the club, and she said something that struck me as a million

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1097330035482769292004-10-09T21:04:00.000+08:002004-10-09T21:58:44.156+08:00

i dont keep a guestbook, or a tagboard, because. i dont want people to fluff me, if you were the sort to have something useful to say you would dare to say it to my face. buy me off the net, take me to a rock concert. how fundamentally appropriate we are, linking arms and smiling at the camera, like that. hello. i used to think about you a lot more than i would care to admit, did you ever

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1097068828210111762004-10-06T21:19:00.000+08:002004-10-06T21:20:28.210+08:00

did i say i was sorry? because that's what i meant, after it all. im sorry, solely for how i have been, everything else comes loaded and bearing skeletons. that's all.

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1097066494922835432004-10-06T20:14:00.000+08:002004-10-06T20:42:08.293+08:00

of neurosis i dont know why i go into lapses of being so very much out of whack, i wish i could make it all go away. i am at once, both sorry for being so utterly neurotic, (both sorry and unsorry, because how i do help it, really, if you knew what it felt like?) and then again sorry for having you (or not you) affect me, in some moments i let myself think, why couldnt i have just let you be

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1096816797181318842004-10-03T21:59:00.000+08:002004-10-04T00:27:27.906+08:00

if i had ever thought i would miss my solitude, this is not how i thought it would have been. im sick of you. something pervasive, something that makes me feel at once stifled and degraded and self-conscious. this kind of sentiment i can do without. if i were here to, make you feel better about yourself. find a girl who can take it, give me. something else. i dream of myself leaping off a

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1096461087315416402004-09-29T19:56:00.000+08:002004-09-29T20:35:43.596+08:00

i read through the entire page again, all these people coming together to weep. i do have favourite songs, maybe those you might not call Music. i thought about you again. i think about you so much because you struck me as half of a lucid libertine, because i cant make up my mind about whether you're tenfold intelligent as you look, or absolutely not at all. i need to start studying again, i

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1096377596562760462004-09-28T20:56:00.000+08:002004-09-29T00:54:43.260+08:00

in no particular order: i dont care if it hurts even cold november rain take the painkiller im nothing if it makes you happy- wasting a handshake of carbon monoxide my empire or dirt blue skies from pain i dont care if it hurts i dont know.

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1096043112004660922004-09-25T01:10:00.000+08:002004-09-25T00:52:21.813+08:00

hello, im a typecast female, would it surprise you to know that this kind of news surprises me? i started thinking about it when michael made a face at the kind of movies i watch, asking for Good Stuff from a few years back, all that i cough up is complicated-female-identity-etc shit told in terms of slyly whispered voices and deadbeat downplayed irony. trading of barbs helps, as does slick

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1095824834694867752004-09-22T11:42:00.000+08:002004-09-23T22:28:26.233+08:00

hoonie said something about the me in her dream, writing her toilet wall with a suicide note and burning a building down. on the run for it too, sounds like some serious fun. i said it sounds like people's general impression of me, fuck starving crazy. and i should have watched malena instead of titanic, because the fifty-fifty i caught in snatches of it looked far more interesting than

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1095771614674003132004-09-21T20:03:00.000+08:002004-09-21T21:48:47.096+08:00

choo said i did well for english, and that my second lit essay was good. i dont know what to expect, because i cant tell whether good is good enough for a one, and also because i wonder if choo's just trying to make me feel better after i went to pieces that day. and... the idea that i did well for the second paper just makes it worse, because i keep thinking about how i bombed the first, and how

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1095689235752421892004-09-20T21:54:00.000+08:002004-09-20T22:07:15.753+08:00

and i like your voice, the way you sing about being so cold. the way it croons and it comes so close to hurting and it's different, really you're one of the few i can listen to without caring about the song. it's no fun being the only one who doesnt care about physics. hurhur. i think. it's not fair that you open me up so shamelessly, and refuse to let me to pry into your life. why should

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1095470081468440562004-09-18T09:09:00.000+08:002004-09-19T00:09:41.940+08:00

and what got me out of bed: no doubt and radiohead consecutive on class 95. when does that ever happen? nobody is ever a junkie with me. do you know how frustrating that can be? im good with conclusions, or they're bad with me. i would say i am a person who likes to have interesting things happen, to me and around me, they keep it less than mundane. (and one more thing: i could secretly

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1095440774253915872004-09-18T01:07:00.000+08:002004-09-18T02:02:55.553+08:00

i scaled my hill like a person drugged or half awake, but the week is over that i never want to look in the face again. the two single things i have missed in the last few: sleep and Good Movies, in no particular order, after which prelims feel another world apart. the idea of being in a band appeals to me, but not if we're not playing the same kind of music. and playing by heart corny cliche

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1095078214394584222004-09-13T20:19:00.000+08:002004-09-13T20:23:34.393+08:00

and all of a sudden. so racy to my ears, so undeprecating. so fast and so throttled, so suddenly void of anger. i cant find this, i cant say, take it away. if you have been good for me, it has not been news to myself until now. i need the time to break away.

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1094726777214021322004-09-09T18:38:00.000+08:002004-09-13T16:42:52.616+08:00

no starved weekends, i have been ballooning myself from the outside. china club and happy birthday marmie, i wore a skirt with fong and clawed at myself inside all fifty floors up and down. optimistic! run at six, or Sleep Til Ten, i am still your Communication Girl. i feel so stupid asking questions that i feel i ought long know the answers to, but please? if it's because im dense, i never

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1094305381171478872004-09-04T21:41:00.000+08:002004-09-04T21:43:01.173+08:00

hello. i desperately want to think better of you, but it's not going to happen by my gluing my eyes shut. nothing merits your self-conviction.

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1094272643783092132004-09-04T11:57:00.000+08:002004-09-04T21:31:31.946+08:00

i realize how i might be a hypocritical friend, but you are beyond a point of self-interest. i guess it must have taken something special for you to admit it, but just the same. can't over-look. kevin said something that brought ian up in my esteem. wasting time online i found one of the retarded videos he sent me, with him jumping up and down on my screen. hurhur. tienyew's going europe

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1094202173029521242004-09-03T16:54:00.000+08:002004-09-03T17:02:53.030+08:00

and exams are stupid i think, because i always think, because i cant concentrate ever and i sleep half my day away. i remember what you used to say about me sleeping all the time, i remember what you tried to prescribe. but prove it, prove it to me. because of course i dont believe you're off for real, the way you never believed about me. i will i think, bomb-or-nor-bomb. two ways to go, ma

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1093883163292589732004-08-31T00:22:00.000+08:002004-08-31T00:26:03.293+08:00

Were you floored by all the praise that "Lost in Translation" got? Yeah. Writing an original screenplay made me wonder if I was being completely indulgent. You think, Does anybody care about these things that I'm writing about? You've been thinking about this one little area of life. You never know who it will connect with. -Sofia Coppola, taken from Newsweek, February 9, 2004

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1093870592770952342004-08-30T20:50:00.000+08:002004-08-30T20:56:32.770+08:00

just listen to the rhythm of a gentle bosa nova you'll be dancing with em long before the night is over happy again the lights are much brighter there you can forget all your trouble forget all your care, and go downtown; where all the lights are bright downtown; waiting for you, tonight downtown you're gonna be alright, now

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1093706817932786452004-08-28T20:27:00.000+08:002004-08-28T23:26:57.933+08:00

i. scared, to sleep, of myself. because my dreams grow increasingly disturbed. searched the net, cant find a single interpretation of murder that is positive, or neutral, or doesnt scare me. forced myself to put it to words, pen and paper becomes less out-of-control, but im scared and i cant back it off, because...because they say dreams represent a part of you and i believe that, because i

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1093539476509421882004-08-27T00:57:00.000+08:002004-08-27T00:57:56.510+08:00

(i dont want you to use me to be happy) this monkey can't stand to see you black and blue

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1093524014085523572004-08-26T20:29:00.000+08:002004-08-26T20:48:08.793+08:00

here comes the cold i think. maybe wish it upon myself. instead, C16H13ClN2O. if you know it well enough you can always give me a call. in the middle of that night a hysterical voice started choking in my mind, in my dream i saw myself dangling off the end of a rope tied to the ceiling fan. and i dont ever wanna feel, like i did that day someone sings it to me: leave all this misery behind

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1093373877515117862004-08-25T02:43:00.000+08:002004-08-25T02:57:57.516+08:00

platform machine, the kind you might find at a factory. gears and bolts and metal parts, a slow crumble from the inside. hello. i think i thought i was getting better, and i think that is why i snapped when she told me, you see too deeply into things, do you think in a very complicate manner? i can't remember the last person who has said that to me, but i can remember a lot of people who have,

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1093194104173957392004-08-23T01:01:00.000+08:002004-08-23T01:13:31.366+08:00

and i think what bothers you about me is that you know what it feels like to be exactly where i stand. im not that stupid, you know. i know i act like it, but i guess, maybe just like you. im not. i only want to bother you because you remind me so much of me.

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1093176686533377472004-08-22T20:05:00.000+08:002004-08-22T20:11:26.533+08:00

i feel like im slow-bombing, almost inevitable, like the long drop down after stepping off a cliff. haven't talked to you for days, months, years. how are you? and all the relationships in my dreams are dysfunctional. you go girl. if i hadnt gotten out before, i would have wanted you to be the one to be there, welcoming me home. long-drawn waves and frantic smiles of helplessness, the threads

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1092592727479946442004-08-16T01:34:00.000+08:002004-08-16T01:58:47.480+08:00

dreamt dreams, stay up late. sometimes i wonder, what is it you say about me? it scares me because you see the more than one side of me, it scares me because you could be the one to force me to be honest, break up my facade. WHEN IS TRAMPOLINE OLYMPICS? i dont want to have to explain myself. i hate how there is just so much excess baggage, it makes it hard for me start a anew. im awful shit

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1092325496953676902004-08-12T23:40:00.000+08:002004-08-12T23:44:56.953+08:00

i have listened to this song at least- and the next time i do i shall- i have never hated dance so- hello another c-for- unprepared so i- burning-choreo-stupid-taping- this time tomorrow it shall be- twenty seconds short of an easy deal- anybody want a free offspring-

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1092153530646441072004-08-10T23:44:00.000+08:002004-08-10T23:58:50.646+08:00

people that piss me off -who toy with me -who are calculated to impress -who want to toy with me -who are self-convinced -who are insecure to the point of being arrogant -who want to box me -who want to toy with me -who dont believe in to each his own -who are afraid of themselves -who are insecure are try to make up for it by being overbearing, pompous -who cant get away from what someone else

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1092072708673426232004-08-10T01:28:00.000+08:002004-08-10T01:31:48.673+08:00

because you take me seriously. because i have to make believe that i am in control of myself. because around people i find myself over and over morphing myself, concealer and blush, making myself more understandable. it is not that i am ashamed of the person i am, it is not that i am not completely in love with myself. it is. an attempt to be understandable, because im a softie that way, it

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1092072193013782852004-08-10T00:38:00.000+08:002004-08-10T01:23:13.013+08:00

hello, i wont be your toy. i want to be the one who engineers the music. is there a proper word for this? while i tried to think of something to write for my english essay i thought about musical abstraction and how it intrigues me. sounds that i like -sitting in the middle of the quadrangle at 3 in the afternoon, when the entire world has woken up and is laughing gaily, far, far away. -moving

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1091893434125690212004-08-07T23:42:00.000+08:002004-08-07T23:47:30.820+08:00

How to make a eleanor Ingredients: 1 part anger 1 part courage 5 parts empathy Method:Blend at a low speed for 30 seconds. Top it off with a sprinkle of sadness and enjoy! Username: Personality cocktailFrom Go-Quiz.com i think you are disarmingly accurate, because you are completely random and completely unflattering. and i like you for that. christl yong can you teach me to flip?

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1091893003594295992004-08-07T22:48:00.000+08:002004-08-07T23:36:43.596+08:00

things i have to haha-unrealistic accomplish by the end of this long weekend: -finish chem til sulphuric acid -finish up twelf night notes -have one maths lesson -finish two chapters of social studies -finish chinese 4b i cant help it. everytime i look at you i think of him. him and his sounds systems, his endless cables and circuits, dials and switches and plugs galore. and. once i start

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1091800139462917032004-08-06T21:09:00.000+08:002004-08-06T21:48:59.463+08:00

i found the wristband, the dino one, of how very long ago. bury with a polaroid, the one of me with amanda and rachel, in our identical shirts. i want to tell you that im sorry, ever sorry, incredibly sorry, and then not sorry at all. im sorry for how i deceived and how i took you a sport, sorry for making a mess of something that could have become something true. but. dearie i cant ever say

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1091728577490347602004-08-06T01:08:00.000+08:002004-08-06T02:06:16.626+08:00

i ive been full of shit lately. everything feels unhealthy because eat sleep vice and then some. i feel the need to soak myself in fickle liquids and let all the evil seep out through my pores. im not saying anything. i like the trophy they gave for the napha awards thing, even though its dinky and plastic and fairly lame. i like the pretty pose and the cherubin wings. i think everything is

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1091464022546887162004-08-02T23:54:00.000+08:002004-08-03T00:27:02.546+08:00

rough and tumble hello. this is my standstill. this is my point-blank sudden death, this is my fall away from a crooning and familiar self, this is my altogether cluelessness, the machinery of the past few weeks. hello i dont recognize anything about myself anymore, hello i have really forgotten how to write. my immaculate friend. these days i pick up a pen to write and the moment it starts

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1091032722219305142004-07-29T00:31:00.000+08:002004-07-29T00:38:42.220+08:00

and i dreamt of the apocalypse too, that night. the biggest fish in the ocean, my mirror, sylvia plath. stained-glass contortions, the scariest thing i have had in years. you're a pretty boy, but you'd be a prettier girl. i watched the mothman prophecies, oggling at the camera angles. but freaked, so much of me freaked that ma had to sit on the toilet bowl and un-paint her nails while i

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1090767555371585362004-07-25T22:51:00.000+08:002004-07-25T23:02:15.993+08:00

i've gotten paid, bought myself bailey's again. i think. bringing comics around when you study is a good and muchly risky thing, like triggerhappy therapy. and... i guess i've been used to some brand of unhealthy. but lately it feels like i've been unravelled, stood in the sun, burnt to crisp. im wondering when i will get bored of predictability, when i will shroud myself again with

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1090512236091736502004-07-22T22:56:00.000+08:002004-07-23T00:09:28.523+08:00

i can't jump on the tram anymore. the waves of pain and waves of shock up and down my spine, i cant believe you can train for four years straight and lose it all in a week flat. im sorry for being such a control freak. but you know i just do it again, because it's something... really i dont know how to help it. there is no space in between the extremes, it's just that: i'd rather screw thigns

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1090173616662361082004-07-19T01:23:00.000+08:002004-07-19T02:00:16.663+08:00

feels better to have put it to words.   so i sat myself down and tried to think of the different ways in which ive become a Bad Person, and i've come to a non-conclusion about myself, which is i suppose in too many ways good and unexpected. because i need to break away from ultimatums, need to break away from absolutes, need to stop seeing things in terms of black and white and the great expanse

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1090156051940846482004-07-18T20:33:00.000+08:002004-07-18T21:07:31.940+08:00

im finding this all pointless.   these days. feels like im a culmination of everything disgusting you can think of. all those despicable people you've ever known, i've been on their side and ive been in their shoes. and. there's nothing more true to myself, nothing more unabashed.   i pissed jeannette off today. fucking judgemental. and saying sorry felt too familiar, because im always offending

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1090002936594864952004-07-17T00:43:00.000+08:002004-07-17T02:42:28.320+08:00

nuts.   dont wanna say anything because there's no way to un-cornify things. no way to say it right too, and i think an hour of mass-hugging-crying goodbyes is enough.   tired. the gymnasium was so utterly serene after it all. i like it when the air is still, just like that. aftermath.   it's never going to feel that way again i know, all of a sudden i feel a million years older than i was

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1089901750732310712004-07-15T22:18:00.000+08:002004-07-15T22:29:10.733+08:00

homework is lots. miserable me. cong, i changed my mind right after i said it. why should my one affect the other, when sentiment like that is completely unrelated? i haven't watched enough of your teenage melodramas, i have none of your regard for things like these. and we tricked liz into thinking she'd left her shoes on the bus. hurhurhur, can't keep a straight face. i want pictures from

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1089824253669145772004-07-15T00:49:00.000+08:002004-07-15T00:57:33.670+08:00

i dont know how to say it, make myself explain. being this close to you as a person, but not as a person. will you even return, with a glare? because. i forget you so well, until the time comes again: i want to remember what it feels like. not growing cold. sometimes it is that, i want to feel the way i did when he is around. when i wonder: if i had returned your letter? these worlds

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1089821027218830902004-07-14T23:30:00.000+08:002004-07-15T00:03:47.216+08:00

first day of competition almost entirely missed. considering skipping the whole of friday, i want to watch my ouuxiang compete. we had hysterics over them complicated paper cranes, hurhurhur, i want to see my seniors, i miss them insane. there's no sensation like this one, when you're standing in the shoes of someone who seemed to know the entire rigmarole: clueless, helpless, lost as as

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1089558437780321682004-07-11T23:05:00.000+08:002004-07-11T23:07:17.780+08:00

weicong despite it all. you help keep me convinced that relationships are bad news; bad mistakes all just waiting to happen.

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1089446843417991502004-07-10T15:56:00.000+08:002004-07-10T16:17:08.113+08:00

i woke up at two-thirty and hung all my flowers upside down to dry. i read all the letters one by one and then i put them into my box and shut the lid on it. my leotard is still crumpled on the bathroom floor, the trophy on my bed where i collapsed last night. maybe the sleep makes it all seem so distant. all the random paraphanelia, now im pointless, im thinking about my juniors, the ones who

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1089391257191197012004-07-10T00:16:00.000+08:002004-07-10T00:40:57.190+08:00

so shag. im tired. because i was a bitch today, i still hate them, but i know it's not their fault. the same way it's not the fault of the blind and not the fault of the stupid. what made me laugh, was his ribbing. how is it possible, to make everything sound so retarded? takes guts, takes skill. i realize what a difference school culture makes. and i miss my teamates already, and my

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1089295778372816362004-07-08T21:31:00.000+08:002004-07-08T22:19:38.210+08:00

wreckless as we are. once in a while im proud of it. i realized why im good at this. it's because, of practice with mind games, trying to get under your skin. how i deal with things and people that i dont like, is mere pretending that they're not there. mud. nowhere as composed as we think you are. self induced sugar high, lots of feel-good runs. the rhythm's an old beginning, and keep it

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1089213610980485532004-07-07T23:14:00.000+08:002004-07-07T23:20:10.980+08:00

i want to own a typewriter. there's something very pretentious about sitting at a computer. ostentation, put together. im sorry, in a manner perfunctory. i dont believe i should be sorry, overtly understanding. i would call my state of mind for right now over-confidence. im fighting for it, clawing for it, because of the dilution it will undergo under adrenalin and under pressure. the relative

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1089131091889061922004-07-07T00:23:00.000+08:002004-07-07T00:24:51.900+08:00

Tomorrow! Give me strawberries! Give me liberty of give me death! Dude my testimonial doesn’t sound like a model student at all, because I am so obviously skewed, because I am so obviously queer. There is No Way I can make myself sound better without twisting the truth beyond breakpoint, there is No Way I can shortchange myself, change what I want to see of myself. Some times when I hit the end

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1089122472496165312004-07-06T21:33:00.000+08:002004-07-06T22:13:43.573+08:00

im working it up. i need to be pompous for the next one hour, so i can write my testimonial. i found a picture of weicong's mother. a recording of his voice, singing a corny chinese song. a recording of tienyew's, singing a so-called Original Composition, hurhurhur. we have a banner and a-lots of paint left. we have... pictures of tram routine, 6 more taos before we look our competitors in the

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1088922446711712042004-07-04T13:48:00.000+08:002004-07-04T14:27:26.713+08:00

dont know if i should. what would you do. if you were given a sort of chance, a once-in-a-lifetime chance to do something-well not big, but not small. not some thing life-changing, but something that contributes to a bigger thing, a bigger thing that you believe in. oh heck am i making any sense. i wish he'd asked me last year. he says my mom would kill him, i think she would. or she would not

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1088784281431225062004-07-02T23:37:00.000+08:002004-07-06T22:10:15.266+08:00

chocolate truffles, the best kind. hidden from my brother, the endless vacuum of a bottomles pit. so. after changing email three times, i've decided: i'm too tempermental. and let's keep it as that, because at the end. i dont care that much any way. i think eventually i want to write my own testimonial. i keep thinking about this because it's something that is going to affect the Everything

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1088688207258670082004-07-01T21:04:00.000+08:002004-07-01T21:23:27.256+08:00

im not an over-the-phone type, nor an msn-type or an sms type. or even your video conference type. there are only two forms of communication im good at: writing and face to face. everything else feels... at least a little make believe, at least a little misinterpretable. killer pt today. im trying to get myself sorted and its not the best experience. choo says for us to write each other's

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1088522647004209442004-06-29T22:46:00.000+08:002004-06-29T23:28:15.236+08:00

kevin asks. why dont i blog these days? dont feel like saying things, but i'll do it now. face value, because the thinking too much is what makes you miserable. i think. i peaked at the wrong time, the best run ive had on the tram in recent was last week, on the sji tram that i hate, the one that spins me out of control. legs are the overcooked spaghetti i had for lunch, this is the last time

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1088175466138532252004-06-25T22:38:00.000+08:002004-06-25T23:35:12.176+08:00

im done with thinking the better of you. with making excuses for you in my mind, with trying ever so desperately to remember your intelligence at times like these. im done with your primadonna ways, with your total lack of morals and ethics, with you complete disregard for the most basic of respect that you go beyond demanding. im done with trying to disperse my disgust with you, about everything

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1087911781675479972004-06-22T20:33:00.000+08:002004-06-22T21:44:36.150+08:00

im wanting to shift again. uproot myself. quiz quiz quiz. 1 part anger 1 part courage 5 parts empathy. blend at low speed, sprinkle with sadness. some times i want to say: do you want to believe what you hear. madison avenue, mighty attractive. and that's just about as much thinking as i want to do, right now. i want a cocktail, the banana one, with five different flavours. was it more. or

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1087838639886482542004-06-22T01:23:00.000+08:002004-06-22T01:23:59.886+08:00

hey. i wish id met you now, or at least after those times. after i was done being screwed up, after i started learning what it is to be a real friend. the normalcy is hard for me. clearing the computer. came acros a picture of lilo, from lilo and stitch, laughing. mouth stretched open in a watermelon grin. titled duneveropentilyoursad. and i just thought. fucking sweet. then i cry, not over

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1087829998266358032004-06-21T22:37:00.000+08:002004-06-21T23:23:32.996+08:00

we're all going crazy, i cant help you. tell me. when i talked to him today the first thing i thought was that he was insecure, the way he rambles, halfheartedly, as if he thinks: they cant still be listenign to me do you believe in what you're saying? the little things, we are no where close to epiphany. whats that word he likes. shrapnel. shrapppp-nel. and ive wronged you so bad, im sorry.

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1087579031660664812004-06-19T00:06:00.000+08:002004-06-19T01:17:11.660+08:00

how id like to trash my computer. save the geekspeak, say it with a sledgehammer. fuckyourpopupadsalready, my web browser jams with every five pages. today she said, liberal arts. i roll the words over my tongue, i like them already.

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1087493636143761002004-06-18T01:02:00.000+08:002004-06-18T02:01:43.363+08:00

i just want one day. one day so laze around with friends, one day to sit around musing. i love musing, you know that, i dont do that any more. it's just let's get back to work, let's not think too much. i want to be able to let my mind wander halfway around the world and beyond, i want to feel some colour and some texture and some tone. i want to stumble upon words that i never would have thought

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1087227791048416072004-06-14T21:50:00.000+08:002004-06-15T01:37:35.703+08:00

like a ramble-radio, and full, full to the brim of it, i can't imagine you any other way. the way the voice changes with you, the way things let slide. meany-poke, we're both better at this than we know. but you're still my top three, and that has to say something. you know that, dont you? how. how i wish i could make it, too bad. oh some days i feel so stupid, i cant help how i let it all get

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1087138682454588422004-06-13T22:24:00.000+08:002004-06-13T22:58:02.453+08:00

i need to start working. every one says things about how you die if you dont start in june. im slow to kick start, i have No Self Control. ive slept all day. it took me an hour of meticulous wrapping. the air is warm and feels like being stifled, but i cant make my self do anything. the flesh is so, so weak. i need to start working. i think about competition more than id like to talk about. i

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1086974374957165212004-06-12T00:57:00.000+08:002004-06-12T01:19:34.956+08:00

scary thought on the way home. many, well nevermind. im displaced. tired of being out of control on the tram. boingboingboing. let's paint a banner, i want a new gym tee. i can't concentrate, i am never stable, because it never lasts, it is never something i can count on, indefinitely. it extends to my routine. one off chord, one lingering thought. i scatter like sand in the wind.

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1086874527259168292004-06-10T20:30:00.000+08:002004-06-10T21:35:27.260+08:00

i still think about what you said that day. it bothers me because it scared me, the notion of it, at that time. and this whole idea of me being that sort of person. well. there's just so much i cant stand about myself anymore. all my heebiejeebies. but nevermind. today was a good day, i think. i keep thinking about placebo's without you i am nothing. a million garbled sentences follow that, but

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1086783066840175912004-06-09T19:43:00.000+08:002004-06-09T20:13:12.506+08:00

perfunctory. how can i tell you what i am feeling now. i would give you a song, ask you to listen to it, with me. i think you would understand me without my having to say a single thing. like gun-shots, vodka bullets. this is how i want to die: drowned in my bath-tub, floating like a mermaid beneath the surface. pink liquid. when ran my friends down my wrists (once, hard, each) the water was

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1086700928450555082004-06-08T21:21:00.000+08:002004-06-08T21:22:08.450+08:00

i feel like i cant ask you to understand me any more. i cant reach you any more. you've gone off, you've been right here. i feel like. we are headed towards different things. different friendships, different people. well hell yeah i miss you, i always miss people after things have gone off. like rockets, to greener galaxies, while i am shackled to a planet heading further and further from the

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1086700137358205362004-06-08T20:58:00.000+08:002004-06-08T21:10:42.683+08:00

whoever sang the Love Song. its bass is pounding in my head, that hypnotic and indulgent ramble of chords. try harder, my dove. my fingers itch for new emotion. i'm sorry. i am. i didnt mean it that way, probably neither did you. oh well. i dont want to make a big deal out of... nothing much. we're still both here, we're still going to make it. but i am sorry. she keeps telling me. get

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1086264841244365132004-06-03T19:52:00.000+08:002004-06-03T20:35:50.480+08:00

my back somer has started to feel good, good in a way i would not have believed if you had told me a few months ago. gerard scoffs it in my head, easy shit man. snap of your fingers, just like that. i only get it now, i can only start to imagine now how it might be natural. i need to stop being such a bitch. but how, i have a way with words when it comes to things like that. im not

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1086100459211766312004-06-01T22:33:00.000+08:002004-06-01T22:34:19.210+08:00

gab says: catch all the wormies! hurhurhur.

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1086099498714268762004-06-01T21:05:00.000+08:002004-06-01T22:18:18.716+08:00

im easy confused, and easy believing. you should know this, whether or not you give a shit. and i know you dont, until it happens i become your inconvenience. there is left Not Much Point, in my trying to burrow through. im sorry, sometimes. for being so scathing, though i still think you deserve it. when i think: i am wasting my time on you, i am blowing the whistle on everyone who has ever

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1086015062762197102004-05-31T22:39:00.000+08:002004-05-31T22:51:02.763+08:00

i want to be cheery again. and not thinking. i want to swim, in the sea, and in a pool. the sun is some where but i havent seen it. i want to watch swan lake city, and a lot of other things. ma was good, tiring, slowly incomprehensible for the first half hour. but dance takes on a new meaning. i want to shop. i want to do Something, geez this is insane. before i get this sedentary, before i

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1086011146401357402004-05-31T21:39:00.000+08:002004-05-31T21:45:46.400+08:00

ive gotten tired of saying things. endless platitudes and my own blindness. today i saw all his bitterness and all his insecurity manifested so, childish like a little boy's pout. im not saying anything bad about you. i remember being angry like this, and ashamed later on, i remember times before when ive thought about how im better than you, im not, im not and ive only known this now. all we

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1085846568266276542004-05-30T00:02:00.000+08:002004-05-30T00:02:48.266+08:00

figures. i dont know how to deal either.

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1085846286106258332004-05-29T23:28:00.000+08:002004-05-29T23:58:06.106+08:00

the family day things they do. are cute. mahjong and hammocks and little kids running around. and while i am there i think of how i dont really want to lose this. cotton wool familiarity. i keep thinking about beating myself up. im done moping and i just feel like an asshole now. some times when i talk to them i wonder what i am saying. its something that flows from within, i wonder how weird

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1085762024850346902004-05-29T00:24:00.000+08:002004-05-29T00:37:52.646+08:00

and just so you remember, ella, other things happened today: choo said the wiring and sensitivity where language concerned transcends the language itself. not a problem. i saw a good script, moderate acting, close-to-bad directing. hard material in this context, with all the contexts. no Artistry involved. sudden new regard for gary tang, for sticking to his guns. he didnt call today. scared

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1085761114038958822004-05-28T23:36:00.000+08:002004-05-29T00:18:34.036+08:00

leftover steam from high school drama im not angry now like i was a few hours ago. a few hours ago things were fresh and undistracted in my mind, and i had a clearer picture of what i was crying about. it is not about being weak, it is about me, being angry, pissing off at myself, at things. Things. i try to imagine what you might tell me, and i dont know. i believe, and i still believe. but

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1085668404444508152004-05-27T21:58:00.000+08:002004-05-27T22:41:30.143+08:00

i want to see: the local art scene. im not the shawl and strawberries kind of girl. i dont believe things are defined in any one way. but i want to be there, i want to be challenged again. i want to watch something subversive, that i may never understand. of course i am waiting for you again. this is practically tradition, the vicious cycles of awkwardness and passion and sudden understanding and

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1085490716467481982004-05-25T20:58:00.000+08:002004-05-25T21:11:56.466+08:00

it is all just in my head. as is everything, and all the people i have known. living and inconsequential, a swipe of radar. i feel like i am perpetually playing these little girl games. hide and seek, in floral dresses. ma's heels and talcum powder for magic dust. pretending to be... whatever it is. like screwed up is in my blood, like i am coded for stupidity. come, come hither, i am just too

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1085487854495824032004-05-25T20:15:00.000+08:002004-05-25T20:24:14.496+08:00

like breaths in between us. made of paper and the smallest things. the way things coil themselves into messes around my throat, right here and now, and righ under our noses. the way i react. the way you do things. the way i cant shake the smallest of nagging doubts, where you are concerned. you will find me, it is easy. i dont want to sound like. i have known you inside out. i want to sound

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1085335274232586752004-05-24T01:31:00.000+08:002004-05-24T02:01:14.233+08:00

weicong makes me laugh things that i would only admit, to weicong, at one-thirty am in the morning

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1085326194908835862004-05-23T23:28:00.000+08:002004-05-23T23:29:54.906+08:00

so much i want to say right now, all that baggage to unload. killing me, but not. i dont want to be pathetic, i would never forgive myself. all over again. sometimes i think id like to watch it burn.

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1085323885668245052004-05-23T22:42:00.000+08:002004-05-23T23:01:05.063+08:00

what was it that candy says. were you being secretly ironic? things id like to say i have been strong i have been true i have not sold out i have no reason to say i am sorry to you you have been the first i have had no regrets i have never given up i have had hope from the start i have not been stupid about you i will be able to forget this i will abe able to forgive this i have been constant i

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1085241851299155362004-05-22T23:19:00.000+08:002004-05-23T00:04:11.300+08:00

there is honey and there is juice, there is my brother's pending eighteenth, michelle's bicycle in my garage. i feel like going right back to sleep again. training got me down, coz it's the first time in two weeks and its pathetic how it feels now, touching the tram. cant even do two minutes of beiji or twenty vsits without feeling it, in the air it feels perpetually like i am full of loose and

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1084975205870757922004-05-19T21:39:00.000+08:002004-05-19T22:09:17.123+08:00

i wrote a poem about you, the five seconds i have been alone. i write over the words that are already there, because nothing brings back the feeling, nothing is ever exactly the same, twice. when i attempt to capture it with words, it is like trying to cage a smell in a box. never mind what they say about being contrived, i cannot face this feeling that justice has not been done, by myself. i

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1084798012132901012004-05-17T20:29:00.000+08:002004-05-17T20:46:52.133+08:00

dino. i keep thinking. she's wearing your shirt today. remember the one you leant over me to see. how things started. how things started, and how i have not been able to forget. because. just because. there is nothing to it.

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1084721915539644852004-05-16T23:08:00.000+08:002004-05-16T23:38:35.540+08:00

some days. everything feels ridiculous. looks and sounds. i want to know what i should be hearing, in my head. im afraid of myself, what i am going to do to myself. make myself become. no one else to blame. but today is okay. i promised fong id study three chapters of chem. i think of kuo and how he will flare while marking the scripts. i think about the house that is still in a mess, the

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1084701171347093952004-05-16T17:29:00.000+08:002004-05-16T17:52:51.346+08:00

so, while the midyears have slowly come crashing down on my head, this entire weekend has just been one long and nonstop Hangout, with nothing that i feel (right now) to be regretted. cluedo, pizza, sneaking into the pool. lots of senseless ice cream. i feel like... days have been going so fast now, i feel like i ought take a deep breath of someone else's cigarette smoke, sit down for a moment

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1084282513026606542004-05-11T21:24:00.000+08:002004-05-11T21:35:13.026+08:00

this has completely gone to the dogs.

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1084159587011598552004-05-10T11:26:00.000+08:002004-05-11T21:37:20.086+08:00

dear polaroid girl how often do you get nervous breakdowns? what do the aftermaths feel like to you? like mine? like being constricted and fragile, or like the entire world is on the brink of explosion? inside your head? like being trapped in a slab of concrete, like you are walking forever and ever and ever? like you are dead, and eternity has left you your senses, when there is nothing left

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1084100617159075802004-05-09T19:03:00.000+08:002004-05-09T19:11:41.903+08:00

i want to play in a band, yearning accoustic music. someone full of feeling, that is not me. a head and a belief, who eats on the go. fast food. low low maintainence. my favourite thing to wear. my baggy jeans and my marijuana shirt. and my orange jacket, and sneaks. like i am ready to run, like i am ready to do it all. no maintainence.

elle'snoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5959526.post-1084099623005930922004-05-09T18:47:00.000+08:002004-05-09T18:51:33.153+08:00

this is gun, this is gun to foot. this time it is stress, but this time i have not been studying. i dont care, but i care, but i have no energy. i have malt tea. i have people around me who i feel like smacking, for being so convinced. Convinced. and i think: i want to get out of here. the Stress Test, my high score, has nothing to do with my exams. fuck this. feels like im defending myself,

elle'snoreply@blogger.com