MRT diaries

Listening to the Kings of Leon on the train. Saw a middle-aged guy in a yellow polo shirt cradling his son. His son - 9 years old maybe - muscular atrophy, skinny limbs, distended stomach. drooling. rolling eyes. crooked teeth.

To stop staring, people turned away from them. They didn't want to share the misery which they believed the father felt. All around the father and son, standing up, looking elsewhere and everywhere except - except - as if - if they saw them their own unborn children would turn up like his son - so they looked away. to be polite, they rationalised, to be civilized and not stare. not be rude.

They never saw the way the father smiled when his son looked up at him, gurgling. And gave the most beautiful smile i have ever seen.

pure, unadulterated love.

MRT DIARIES 2

naomi says hello to interrupt this narrative.

HELLO!

disruptive brat.

see lah no mood to continue.

Oh regarding the good news - it's UNSW.

HALLELUJAH!

Right.

Is it me? Or have I mellowed a lot these days? Today, I saw some very good looking girls in the train and I didn't even have the desire to approach them. I didn't even want to. Instead, I sat down next to two ex-convicts (they were skin-heads! and speaking hokkien! and were really muscled! and their fashion-sense is a few years old! Or maybe they're just two retro gays.) ANYWAY. I sat down beside them, and despite my blasting music, I over-heard this conversation.

Not that I meant to eavesdrop or anything, just -

Wah lau, damn long never ride mrt hor. Everything change. Yah, yah. last time the floor is white one, now the floor is blue lor. The mrt floor where got blue??? it's green lah. No, blue lah. Green lah. Ok ok blue green can? No, green blue eh... it where got look like blue eh?.... ok lah...and now got tv eh! wah chio sia.

and on and on something like that. Maybe they turned gay in prison. How utterly romantic.

At this very ungodly hour, I received a piece of VERY VERY VERY good news.

I am loved.

much loved.

There is peace in the world.

All is calm.

As the popular hindi saying goes: BALEH BALEH!

I'm about to book in.

But that doesn't matter. Nothing matters. The rain falls, ice cold on my face and mingling with hot tears running down my cheeks. I'm getting soaked, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

She doesn't love me anymore.

I would have given her worlds, created her universes beautiful, green and sparkling blue. I would have killed for her. I would have loved her so much. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

She decided she didn't love me anymore.

After all I did for her - the mansion made of strawberries and diamonds, the groves of rose-orchid hybrids. The lilac dresses made from moonbeams and starlight, the bouquets of sunshine wrapped in tomorrow's papers. It all didn't matter. Nothing matters.

She doesn't love me anymore.

Just watched a really funny video on ifilms.

A chinese man was translating a chinese article about the San Francisco 49ers.

"I luve the 49ers! You know Joe Montana? Joe Montana sign my balls."

"This one, training camp. You know training camp? They say, Jake Daly no play in training camp.
He play with himself. He play with himself first." "Oh really? That explains his sore forearm."

"This one, 49ers, very active in community. Very patriotic. You know patriotic? They support Bush and his erection. If you support Bush, you support erection."

"Oh! I love Brian Ur-lack-er. Very nice sacks. I like his sacks. Ball sacks very good."

Awesome racial stereotypind there. Kudos.

THE FOLLOWING SCENE MAY OR MAY NOT BE TRUE.

The curtains rise, and we're presented with a Kalm's store selling annoyingly cute, cuddly, and totally impractical things like cards, soft toys and key chains. A pretty salesgirl is rearranging random things, looking bored.

Enter Timothy

Timothy begins to browse, looking for something.
The pretty salesgirl approaches him, bored. Timothy makes eye contact and smiles. She smiles back - she has a pretty smile.

Salesgirl: Excuse me, can I help you?

Timothy: Yeah, do you all have any handphone chains - or whatever you call it?... I need something cute to replace mine - it broke. (Shows her broken keychain thingie)

S: Well, yes, we do. (Leads him over to the rack, and points it out.)

T: Wow, great thanks. (Proceeds to look at everything.)

S: Are you looking for something specific?

T: Yeah, I'm looking for the name "Timothy"?

The salesgirl gets down on her knees and begins checking the lower racks while Timothy tries not to check hers out. She finds it.

T: Wow, thanks.

S: I'll get it for you.

T: Thanks. I'm getting it for my gay partner. His name's Timothy.

S: Really?

T: Nah. It's for myself.

S: Oh. (Laughs at the bad joke)

T: That's my name. (Points at the 'Timothy' Chain in her hand) And I'm not gay. (The salesgirl laughs again.) What's yours?

S: XXX (Name changed to protect her privacy)

T: XXX. Wow. Is that cantonese?

XXX: Yeah! It is!

T: (Tries to say something in Hokkien)

XXX: (Laughs) That's hokkien lah!

T: Oh... (Tries to say something in Shanghainese)

XXX: That's Shanghainese, I think.

T: Really? Aiyah! They're all the same lah, so ma fan. (Says something random in cantonese)

XXX: Actually I can't speak it either!

T: You're a lousy cantonese. Though, I'm not much better myself.

XXX: (Laughs)

T: So you're on holiday now?

XXX: Yeah! How did you know? Are you on holiday too?

T: I just know. You have the smell of a student. (Fans nose) NUS.

XXX: Yeah! How did you know? Are you from NUS?

T: I told you. I can smell it...

(More trading of pleasantries occur - XXX does the talking, Timothy just encourages and nods. She's a year older, in XYZ Faculty, living in XYZ location blah blah blah. She doesn't have a boyfriend.)

T:....(Laughing at something XXX said, then looks at his phone)... Hey, I gotta be going off. Driving lessons.

XXX: Oh... ok.

T: Nice talking to you. What's your number? We can continue the conversation.

XXX: 90000000. Give me a missed-call.

T: (Does just that.)

XXX checks her phone and saves the number.

T: Bye XXX!

XXX: See you!

Timothy walks off. The lights fade, and the curtains fall.




The he realised he didn't pay for his handphone keychain thingie. OOPS.

YO! YO! YO! YO!
I'm hot and surrounded by ho's,
decked out with bling worthy of a bad mofo,
girls tell me they like it slow,
then give me a nice peepshow,
so I just smile and go with da flow,
baby yeah let's get low!

CHORUS:
So i'm grooving
and moving,
and down and dirty dancing,
swaying,
sashaying,
feel the music playing,
sexing,
loving,
loving till the morning,
gyrations,
exclamations,
oh I can move the nations!
We will move together tonight!

Yo yo yo yo
So we be rocking my crib at the count of ten
one, two, three and ten,
don't nag at me like a mother hen,
just write me a note with a magic pen,
leave it with Doctor dre, not glen,
don't disturb me while I'm getting low then!

CHORUS

Yo yo yo yo
I be all over you and such,
don't make me all jumpy, not too much,
i'll be happy to go half-dutch,
stick-shift don't forget to half-clutch,
or you'll stall, you got a bad touch,
just sit your white ass back in that hutch!

CHORUS X2

-COPYRIGHT - The One-eyed snakes. (I like this band name already.)

When you can read each other's mind at a glance, and when you can complete each other's sentences without words - that's when you know you're best friends.

Happy Birthday, Patrick. (Although it's a month late, you're not going to let a technicality like that get in the way, right?...)