Random still frames : =

"Don't forget I got 3 different levels of tolerance one hor. Hah? haaaah?? HAAAAAHHH????!!!"

"You're the first guy that I ever prepared a picnic for so you should feel damn honoured."

"You don't know me, Kelvin. You don't know me."

"Everyone's been asking me, is there any hope of you guys getting back together again? Maybe what didn't work out before will work out now? You've changed and he's changed. So why not?"

"I actually like some one now. Just that I know him for barely 2 weeks only. So i'm trying to figure this out. I don't wanna get hurt again."

"Thanks for just being there. If you didn't look like what you are, I'd swear I'd fall in love with you."

"Why didn't I choose you that time huh?"

"Can I hold your hand?"

"How nice it'd be if we could just waste our life away like this. How nice if everything was just the way it was now."

"Of course you can't see the char siew bao red dot on my head - it's hidden."

"I think my grandma likes you."

"I think you should just let me go."

"死白痴。"

Moods and muses::
Kavin Hoo - The Winding Path

Considering my life is resembling a mud pack;

Try his, or his, or even his, maybe hers if u haven't already but I love hers the most.

Knock yourselves out.

I am tired. Therefore today I shall write in simple plain engrish.

Why, you ask. I haven't the slightest faintest idea why. Or maybe I do. Or maybe its just everything.

Nothing to explain. Nothing to say. Just sick of everything. Work. Money. Family. Relationships. The world just doesn't work the way it used to be anymore. It has become thwarted, cruel, and it's totally ignorant to my pleas.

I plead temporary insanity.

I can no longer comprehend the human mind. Its twisted sense of humour. The forelorn indignancy of keeping promises. The interpretation of what-nots. How shallow it can get. And how misleading it can seem to others.

Everybody gets this sense of foreboding once in a while, but, dunno why leh, I can't seem to get out of this whirlpool of limbo. Why do I always feel this way? Why is it that things always turn out this way? Why am I who I am? Why?

I've been telling people, (adopt Confusciously pose) "Never ask yourself why, but as to how u can manage the why..." Seems more than often, our whys never seem to get answered.

I wish some higher being from some higher plane would pave my way to solace. I think I am addicted to feeling nostalgic and melancholy. People say its a disease and it prevents you from re-establishing rationality.

Sometimes I just want to be the one with the questions rather than the answers. But at this moment, I dunno what I should ask and I dread what the answers might be.

"Fuck you! Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it.
Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back.
Fuck squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car. Get a fucking job!
Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores and stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. Slow the fuck down!
Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35.
Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English?
Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in caf�s, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you fucking came from!
Fuck the black-hatted Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds!
Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gecko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for fucking life! You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break! Tyco! Imclone! Adelphia! Worldcom!
Fuck the Puerto Ricans. 20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin' parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, because they make the Puerto Ricans look good.
Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, and their St. Anthony medallions. Swinging their, Jason Giambi, Louisville slugger, baseball bats, trying to audition for the Sopranos.
Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermés scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart!
Fuck the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense, they take fives steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on!
Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust!
Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while you're at it, fuck JC! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in fuckin Otisville, Jay!
Fuck Osama Bin Laden, Alqueda, and backward-ass, cave-dwelling, fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fueled fire in hell. You towel headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal, Irish ass!
Fuck Jacob Elinski, whining malcontent.
Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery, my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend's ass.
Fuck Naturel Rivera. I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back. Sold me up the river. Fucking bitch.
Fuck my father with his endless grief, standing behind that bar. Sipping on club soda, selling whiskey to firemen and cheering the Bronx Bombers.
Fuck this whole city and everyone in it. From the row houses of Astoria to the penthouses on Park Avenue. From the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho. From the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park slope to the split levels in Staten Island. Let an earthquake crumble it. Let the fires rage. Let it burn to fuckin ash then let the waters rise and submerge this whole, rat-infested place." - excerpt from 25th Hour (Monty's Reflection)

Fuck the world.

No. No, fuck you, Kelvin. You.

::Moods and Muses::
Kavin Hoo - Sailboats in the Sky