Morgaga’s Little Truths & Little Deaths

I’m trying not to move,
it’s just your ghost passing through.
I said I’m trying not to move
it’s just your ghost passing through,
it’s just your ghost passing through,
And now I’m quite sure…

There’s a light in your platoon.
I’ve never seen a light move like yours.
Can do to me,
so now I’m wishing for my best impression of my best Angie Dickinson,
but, now, I’ve got to worry
Cause, boy you still look pretty to me,
but, I’ve got a place to go.
I’ve got a ticket to your late show.

And now I’m worrying
cause even still you sure are pretty
when your putting the damage,
yes, when you’re putting the damage,
you’re just so pretty.
When your putting the damage on…

- Putting the Damage On from Boys of Pele, Tori Amos

*tap tap* what are you doing?

YIKES! ARGH! -_-”

Take my bony elbow in your sides you inconsiderate deaf BITCHES! Muahaha.

Those things below your mile-wide hips are called legs. Use them and MOVE!

Okay so I’m no singer. This entry belongs to my recent return to an eventful island south of Singapore – Sisters’ Island. Big Sister Island to be exact.

The boat ride of $160 from an enthusiastic Mr Cheong brought us there. The trip was memorable for many things. The camping, cooking and such basics went fine. It was the intrusion of two types of not-so-wild life that made our trip a little less than perfect.

First, the real monkeys. Within the first two hours on the island, they spotted us and took the opportunity when we were having a fast food lunch at the breakwater to grab half of our rations. Most sorely missed were our mooncakes. Grrr.

Further to that, while walking around the island, there was a point in time where we passed a group of them. One of the larger ones decided to show how tough he was by coming after us bit by bit, chattering away. Now I’m not sure how close monkeys are to baboons but I did see a documentary that mentioned any form of direct eye contact can be taken as a challenge. Good ‘ol nature loving me of course chose to avoid it and moved on, but the bugger continued to tailed us, trying to get a swipe or something to that effect. I got pissed. Taking a nearby stick, I went on the aggressive and shouted at him and brandished the stick like a ringmaster’s whip. It worked for a moment for he seemed a little taken aback, hesitating between fight and flight. I gave it a chance and walked off, but not without hearing another disgruntled chatter in the back. Eff you too.

That wasn’t so bad. What really spoiled the trip for me were the metaphorical monkeys – a group of teenagers, mostly girls, giggling like they’ve just seen porn for the first time. Not content with pitching a tent less than 10 metres away, they proceeded to use the two tables and three pavilions nearest to us, claiming it for their own hammock, baggage and food use. Just because we didn’t place anything there doesn’t mean we are not using it right? >.<

The final straw came for me when the detergent my friend left inside the restroom was used by them without our permission. And because they washed their stuff outside, it was left outside as well after they wered one with it. I mean, come on. I walked over to the nearest guy and told him that it wasn’t very nice that they had left it out, especially with the other pesky monkeys around. He apologised but I had a sneaky suspicion it wouldn’t be the last time I spoke to him.

True enough, when night fell and as we retired at 11 odd, we were kept awake by the group of girls playing drinking games, as well as their impromptu amateur light show compliments of their uncontrolled torchlights. Of all the tables to choose from, they used the one just next to us, shrieking and wailing like bad copies of bean sidhes. Even at about 12ish, when they walked over to the hammock to sleep, they continued their THX-worthy broadcasts, including one who whined in a disturbing nasal voice for another to accompany her to the toilet. Good grief. My friend decided to make his presence known. His first shout to them to keep their volume low was met with relative silence. The second time prompted one guy to walk to the rowdy group but because the girls didn’t react to him (either because they didn’t hear him or ignored him), he yelled for them to, “just shut up!” Silence came. Though not for long.

I could hear the footsteps of two girls returning and as they whispered quizzically, presumably enquiring why everyone else was so quiet, one gungho bitch decided to summon my inner catty self by yelling, “and then he asked us to SHADDAP!” That was it for me. I unzipped the tent, walked over barefoot and asked them if they were the group that was making so much noise. No answer. After much blank stares, empty words and hollow brains, I managed to get a promise from one of the guys that he will ‘keep them quiet’. Good luck buddy. But luckily, it was all quiet for the rest of the night.

Of course from here on out, they gave us a wide berth when they had to past our tent. I decided to show that we were forgiving folks as well by letting them know that they could use our huge stack of sticks for their fire after we have left. The guy with a non-responsive black face said it all about how badly this group needed an injection of self-awareness and camp etiquette. Sigh. Nevermind. Got next time!

Otherwise, it was an invigorating trip. Although I’m not as adaptable and tolerant of certain aspects of camp living, the rustic setting and routines plus the natural environment definitely improved my constitution.

I’ve always been at two minds about exploring unchartered lands and forests. On one hand, we get to see the most unbelievable scenes and creatures. And yet, with that virginity broken, things are never the same again. I can only hope (and I do believe) that the people who are privileged enough to do this, are people who will respect the environment they are in.

Scientists, cavers and wildlife film-makers have recently ventured inside the extinct Mount Bosavi volcano in Papua New Guinea in search of rare species. This is what they found:

The crater of the extinct volcano Mount Bosavi. Photograph: Ulla Lohmann/BBC

The beautiful fruit dove. Photograph: Ulla Lohmann/BBC

A hairy caterpillar found in the rainforest. Photograph: Ulla Lohmann/BBC

Okay last I heard, she’s the winner for Miss World Singapore. You might have seen the video by now, of her spouting words (?!) like RARD, safari PRINCE and hospitilitality (actually it’s ‘red’, ‘safari prints’ and ‘hospitality’). Apparently she’s also studying steel,  advises one to wear jungle prints with khaki green, and she strots down Orchard Road. Poor girl.

We keep looking at these brainless beauties and we wonder how did they end up there. Maybe it’s time to turn our attention not on the contestant, but on the judges instead?

So much drama.

A recent friend of a friend got on my nerves when he became this vortex of drama.

The story starts when he got H1N1. My friend didn’t manage to see him in his sudden 3-day-hospital stay because my friend was having night shifts at work. The drama queen then proceeded to harass my friend with emotional calls, blackmailing him with persecutions of insincerity and fraud. Sobbing like a little girl, this Survivor-fan (sic) then made it clear on his Facebook that he has learnt, through this ‘life lesson’ of a stay, who his true friends are.

He posted an article entitled ‘Surviving H1N1′. Sharply contrasting the ‘ordeal’ are pictures of him smiling away, with and without mask, of hospital food, the Tamiflu medication etc. Very traumatising stuff I’m sure. *rolls eyes*

He then named my friend by his initial, tagged people in this note, of which he coincidentally put my friend as the first. Very subtle no?

Finding his antics a bit too much, I posted a comment telling him to readjust his expectations so that it doesn’t kill his friendships, as well as pointing out that naming someone on Facebook wasn’t very nice.

This dancing pansy then reacted by deleting my comment and SMSing me that he doesn’t like me lecturing him on Facebook. How hypocritical. I then said that I was just protecting my friend and that he shouldn’t have double-standards before I ended the SMS and relationship by bidding goodbye.

A few days later, I became verily disturbed by his effusive hourly updates. No, not because it was antagonistic or aggressive in nature, but because, having 10 days of MC and just being sent home, the fruitcake decided to make the best use of his MC by going to wonderfully populated spots like Iluma, Ion Orchard, Orchard Central, Tampines, Bedok and more. But to top it all off he did it, wait for it… SANS mask. Nice work. A quick call to the hospital confirmed that he is supposed to be staying at home. But another call to MOH told me this is not legally enforced but voluntary, and is based on the person’s own sense of social responsibility. Crap.

So I posted a status update on Facebook (without naming the flaming floosy) and of course the blinking idiot had to comment. Wonderfully factual points raised were ‘You’re childish’, ‘Pot calling the kettle black’. Uh. Okay. I countered with the lack of social consciousness and his triple acts of selfishness – namely, going out, to heavily populated spots, and lastly without a mask. No reply. Not that I expected one from an emotional unbalanced ass who choses to swath himself in a coat of victimisation. Pfft.

Enough for now. I won’t have to deal with him anymore. Good luck to my friend. o.O

I always imagined that if a car was to come hurtling towards me, I will be able to jump up onto the hood and run above to the other side.

Of course reality is going to be a little more hard-knocking, especially given my perchance to have life-threatening encounters when I am crossing the road safely.

Case in point, yesterday night as I walked back from East Coast Road after meeting Roger, down at the traffic lights in front of a school, I was on one end of the lights while a cyclist was at the other. I punched in my button for the lights to change and waited. As the green light came on and blinked happily and the cars on my side came to a halt, I ambled lazily to the other side while the cyclist got ready to ride. Suddenly, his face registered a shocked look and he braked, so I looked to my left and… WHOOOSH!

Needless to say, I would have been knocked down if I took another 5 steps and the cyclist would not be going anywhere for a while. All I saw as the car drove off was the driver holding up his hands in apology. This would have to suffice for now, and I hope for his sake, it doesn’t ever happen again.

Of all the typos that I usually receive, the funniest should be shortening the word ‘good’.

God to touch base with you.

I know!