rachael yamagata rachael yamagata! rachael yamagata rolls in your tongue the same way rufus wainwright does (not in that sense) and she’s smouldering to boot. two ten in the morning and lush vocals sweep forth from the speakers and this is yesteryear where things were english and unhokkien and you can smile instead of thinking of yet another workday.

this moment lasts but briefly. but rachael yamagata still sounds as pretty as rufus wainwright.

today is the 28th april; two days ago marked the 26th which means i only have a year more to go.

i found a way to download gundam seed destiny again! which means life in may will be filled with mechas and memories of primary three when i first fell in love with the series.

and reflections are all i have to go on these days; i need to get my ipod soon.

a lance to a fully fledged corporal and fifty dollars more; i rather not that because now i have to officially serve two years and four months. today is the twenty third of april, and i have one year and 3 days of servitude to go; will reprieve ever come.

these days (yes these days because the present overwhelms the past, or does it) have been spent in ennui – where is the incandescence of love, the leaness of yesteryear and the companionship of friends who are no longer? there is no future to look forward to for the next 368 days because it will be monotonous; there are no diversions in the outside world either because i am deemed insignificant to their swirling exhuberant lives; i am just a footnote, a name of collective alphabets and nothing else; 500 smses a month with no one to send it too – it did be worth it because i have led a life of excesses previously and now i must save. savesavesave but will anyone save me from myself?

i remember the story of orpheus and the time when i would cry after reading it; these days i still cry, not for orpheus but for the loss of emotions i once had; what is a person without emotions and the capacity to love, or to feel love. i don’t know really, these days i no longer have any answer.

“One particular house was number 144, and it had such a beautiful door that looked so alone.”

these days i do not think i have the elegance of a voice to spell words so delicately and poignantly; what am i good at really.

“i know you can be more than what you are now if you just focused and give more than what you are doing now.”

i know that too, but these days i have almost forgotten how to.
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too much hubris, and everything’s falling into a pattern; i repeat myself too often.
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i’m finally back at home after an entire week in camp; confinement on sunday, range on monday tuesday, confinement on wednesday and duty on thursday, Thank God It’s Friday! liverpool won at pompey, sixers lost 2 in their last 10 matches and this monday, they will play detroit pistons; will they play an adroit game at the palace of auburn hills? sadly, lebron will not be playing but i suppose kidd and carter will more than make up for it.

these days i am getting fatter and this cannot be! i have to get a body like say, jon jonsson or allan wu, but the whole world can laugh at me; it is like two months to june and i can only say oh no!!!

untruths misunderstandings and grey areas of distrust; can anything said these days be taken into confidence? these days i do not vibrate with a sense of exhuberence as i enter social gatherings because simply what is the point. everything is a facade, like a play which pauses and continues after you enter and exit the stage and sometimes it is so hard to second guess. so why bother; just eat sleep and read and lead a life you formerly led.

omg(wtfbbq) i sound almost fourteen year old angsty.

these days i seem to lead a life of extreme ennui; i do not find incandescence in love, not that i have found it already or ever will (and in that respect i probably will not be able to revel in its entire, total magnificence); my basketball skills continues to deterioate, i am becoming fatter, slower and definitely stupider; i do not think i will be able to write with a poet’s elegance and sometimes i question if i even have a soul left. what is a life without all of these, without joy nor love nor luminence and why do we soldier on for nothing, towards absolute nadir.

and perhaps we is wrong, because failure is a singular thing; the past few days have been tales of courage and strength – liverpool for outlasting juventus, yange for coming in second in the national cross country competition; these are stories of heroics, of mental resolve and perserverance, scribes that are anything but me, the lackadaisical failure, the total abject scrap of a person, the one who climbed up once but who continues to plummet.

is there poetry in melancholic loss.

Red letters on the dashboard, oh what a gift
They pursue us to the deep end and then depart
Watch as the cracks in the wall feel pain
For only patterns on a snake’s back give us genuine fear

And I cannot lie, faces drop into the fire
I get by all the time on a shelf above the door
And it shouldn’t be clear but it’s not for me to decide
It’s a delicate degree
It’s a number I can see

Could prison cells be in my brain
For they’re safe inside the cover of a dirty face
And everybody finds a college graduate with joy
While I’m happy just sipping tonic water with lemon and lime

And I cannot lie, faces drop into the fire
I get by all the time on a shelf above the door
And it shouldn’t be clear but it’s not for me to decide
It’s a delicate degree
It’s a number I can see

You sit at home up late at night
When it’s beginning to arrive
And honestly
I don’t see the need for any routines
I’m all out of sink, I cover my cuts
And hope they are fixed before I get hurt again

And all this ground beneath my feet
Has decided not to crumble into the sea
I walked in a house, it smelt of paint
And the ceiling it has no trouble with me

Salt Wound Routine – Thirteen Senses

argh fate, fate! why is it that whenever it rains at two in the morning, i cannot lie in bed the whole day because i did have guard duty the next day and hence must wake up at six am?!?! confound it baaaah.

yet there is a reprieve of sorts; i just came back from wala @ holland village and cheers to eic for lovely covers of coldplay, u2 and red hot chilli peppers; nothing owns better than good live music with hoegarden and chicken wings!

and yet, how disastrously irrelevant.

a) What are your random ten songs?

from the 700mb of songs i ripped from dennis’ comp:-
1. The Doves – The Storm
2. Beck – Paper Tiger
3. The Stills – Fevered
4. Rudus Wainwright – Ups and Downs
5. Cerf Volant – les Choristes
6. Rufus Wainwright – Instant Pleasure
7. Stars – Your Ex-Lover is Dead
8. The Killers – Jenny Was a Friend of Mine
9. The Decemberists – July, July!
10. The Fiery Furnaces – Rub Alcohol Blues

b) What is the total amount of music on your computer?
768 songs, 3.18 gig

c) The last cd you bought:
Bloc Party’s Silent Alarm

d) Write down five songs which mean alot to you:

1. K’s Choice – Shadowman
2. Coldplay – The Scientist
3. Bebel Gilberto – The Girl From Ipanema
4. L’arc en Ciel – A Silent Letter
5. ah bollocks.