in memoriam

note: disclaimers now appear for articles/sections of articles that are meant to be read in good humour courtesy of a select few who have been taking words waaaaay too seriously. Now, go crack a funny bone...

Sunday, August 05, 2012
via pre!

Posted at 8/5/2012 7:56:30 pm by nicholasaw

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Even as my Camel burns to a butt,
ve no longing for another
aming stick, to further
p itself caressingly upon my lips.

it comes down to this,
lifelessly draining neat
Into me
lancholy bittersweet;
The full
absolute realisation
That I do f
it not in plans of bliss.

In waiting for your presence—yes, you're still alive, contrary to your desire to die—I've come to the late realisation that...

I am not required now.

I only fit in later.

So much for that.  

Posted at 7/25/2012 3:30:30 am by nicholasaw

nagging nigglers

A certain nagging niggler of a feeling tells me that there are truths that are still being shaded. What those truths are, I'm not sure.

I wish this feeling would go away. I'm sure everything has already been accounted for.

But how can one when one doesn't know what it's supposed to be about?

I guess a general catch-all will do: if the foundations are indeed rotten with lies, then doom and destruction will ensue of its own volition.


On another note, I don't like how a certain tone of voice subconsciously triggers anger and despair in my own. I can't help it! 

Throw my hands up in the air!


We surrender!

Do tell us how we can work on that?


So she's unreachable somewhere in the skies. A brown-skinned maiden with sunshine in her eyes who wishes to hurtle to the ground in a burning silver bird.

Running away from it all will solve nothing, as she has taught me herself.

More holes for my Soul.


I've become her. One minute I was happy old me, the next minute I was a mean old dragon. Unconsciously spouting lines I had not said myself, "But you sent all those postcards around the same time!"

What's become of me? Has a gradual osmosis of thoughts and actions taken place without me noticing? This must stop!

Hmmm, but I mean if it's an osmosis of good stuff.... like her ability to *ahem* before I do comes over to me, then we might get lost together. You know what I mean.


Here are some lines traced out in GHOT4 before the midnight of the 25th,


There exists in my organised mess of papers, a clutch of verses written during the unwanted break describing the sorrows of the Soul that blasphemed falsely against choices made. How things would change for the better now that it [the Soul] had been enlightened.

They were written while the hand deliberated on punching in numbers that would have interrupted an exam-orientated head during stressful days.

Never shall those words see the light (even of a computers screen such as this). For while this Soul came to Enlightment in a somnolent Silence, the other Soul wrecked Everything—wrongly taking the Silence to mean ill.

Tragic was the Soul that witheld its desire of speaking. How kindly its thoughts and actions—of giving in to space requested by the other Soul—have been returned in the most minced way.

I. The Happy Soul

Extract me from this
ver rolling froth,
at marks passionate bliss
pping icy anger's wrath.

is this Emptiness?
A stif
ling contrast of Emotions,
Heavy a
lchemic blandness,
a hole with potions;
Ah! Poison
ing a once Happy Soul.

0950-1005H, 24/07/12

II. 'Rites Really Rhetorical
for it only exists as a rhetorical question

Empowering was that act deliberate,
venture planned to liberate;
an act of simple desperation,
A re
placement for our Passion!

in the choice of a separation
Made s
lyly on Promise broken,
To feed
longings of the Soul's devotion
For the m
aterial paper-chase unbroken.

How would
it be if I did the same?

1118-1122H, 24/07/12

III. Our Window Sill

Email me your Life,
ver copper and glass;
at with me on Life,
pped behind plastic or glass.

One W
indow Sill,
light still;
To see f
lowing tresses,
And sing
a song of sadness:
Of a long-d
istance Life shared.

1008-1015H, 24/07/12


Posted at 7/25/2012 12:55:55 am by nicholasaw

Tuesday, July 24, 2012
when your Soul needs more than just mine

The search has not yet ended. But it must be called off. Never in this world could there exist anyone who loved you in isolation from the world. Only in laboratory liaisons…

From 11201140 hours on the 23rd of July 2012 in ACC OT1, I wrote,

              I am hungry. The warm searing glow rising from my epigastrium also reminds me of the hunger my Soul feels. I ought to have written ‘Heart’, but the Romantic in me must die in a lie. So ‘Soul’ it shall be.

This life-long search for that singular pure Love still trundles along. It is a path many have walked and abandoned. But what is this childish belief?

That Happiness between two people is enough to sustain both? With nothing else in this world, no extraneous necessities considered.

Every day I watch people die. I watch their loved ones in anguish. Mostly for time unspent. Decorated dedicated career people with achievements galore, to the most academically unqualified deaths. No one brings anything with them when they die. This should be argument enough that it does not matter who you are with in this life. As you can’t bring them along either.

Still, that naïve belief in the need to placate the breathing Soul with its Soulmate dictates that there exists someone, somewhere, who believes that nothing can be brought over—there exists no other world—and that the here and now is what matters most.

Distance be damned. Happiness is found close at hand. The replacements found for the long-distance Lover might not measure up in intensity, but sooner or later lead to a straying of Hearts, betraying the subconscious fact and motive that created a distance in the first place—that Love did not truly exist. Else, the need for personal fulfilment would already have been fulfilled. Ah.

Yes, your Soul is not calm. It desires other forms of fulfilment. No matter how the Head lies for the Heart, a gentle child-like Love lies dying.

I remember when a rather unhappy countenance ticked me off. With reference to a friend’s present from that friend’s chosen one. Some personalised cookbook.

Yet in my limited skill-set I’ve made printable designs. Only to be told they’re worth nothing: because I used a computer and printer that wasn’t mine. No matter the personalisation. No matter that it was done with the blooming glow of Love. No matter the computer art intricacies involved. No matter the personal taste in aesthetics. They’ve meant nought.

How does one find the one who wants You? Not for anything you own or can do? But for You. And you alone. Stripped down to A+E [I’ve forgotten what that stands for].

But they would have had to have satiated the hunger in their Souls first. Their own unhappiness within. Their lack of fulfilment. Otherwise, they will end up tearing a hole in your Soul.

A reminder that your Search must go on.

Any attempts to reveal this to the other would only result in a contrarian action: The Run-away.


And so I just had that conversation. My Soul had to have what it sought.

The truth is my Soul was happy until a hole was torn in it. Had it not been promised unpromisable things; had it not learned of thoughts that once were but now are not; had it but been left Happy in its Search; had it been left alone: It would still be Happy.

Now that it seeks to parch its thirst, thinking it has found a Promised Future, we must torture and torment it. For isn’t the Oriental approach to Life treasured? Thus Orientalists will send my Soul through the depths of Hell, like Orpheus lyred. Stripping the Soul of everything that had already made it Happy and contented. Making it long to turn its head around.


A Promise of Words broken, the hole in the Soul stretched and gaped, like an ugly truth exposing the festering maggots eating at its once Happy Heart. To ensure that the broken Promise of Words was eternalised, there had to a break in the Promise of Actions. So that the Hole ate the Soul.

Like a Phoenix immortal, the Soul shall arise changed. In form. But will always seek what it must have to assuage it.


Academic excellence is no substitute for poverty of character.—GFC.

We’ll go on living our own way of living. —GJ.


Have you noticed that my writings have taken on a morose tone? Just do a search on academic excellence &c. After sustaining itself on Happiness, my Soul has decided to feed on its Sorrows. Just so that there’ll be nothing left of it come Hell or Gripewater.

Posted at 7/24/2012 1:55:44 am by nicholasaw

Monday, July 23, 2012
the case of the missing veils of perception

Fluidity casts a spell on you. Flashbang! You saw it, but now you don't know where it went. Was it really written? Was that really thought then?

she comes around and tells you her plans change with time.

Shouldn't yours too?


Now you know why you once loved someone more than yourself. Even when
she now insists that's impossible. She once felt the same way.



Dredging through your own internet trash turns up surprising stuff, pictured and quoted below, verbatim.




When you know, you KNOW.

Those who are closest to me were probably the ones most surprised by my decision to commit the rest of my life to one man. A lifetime (admittedly, a -shade less than a- quarter of a century barely accounts for much...) of over-analyzing, disquieting ambivalence and indifference -nay, actually acute desperation and agony- when given choice/ asked to make decisions offhand, has allowed me to believe that I will never know my mind. 

My mother often attributes my indecisive nature to the fact that I'm a Libran. When buying clothes, she'd tell shop assistants that her dear child was weighing things on her "scales" and always has problems picking a damn-thing already. My poor father, in desperation, has offered to buy me several items due to my inability to make decisions and his short "shopping" attention span (either I buy three tee shirts of the same kind in different colours or -more often than not- he usually ends up terribly blustery and flustered when I get nothing at all since the acute pressure of decision making makes me want to stick my face in a paper bag and hyperventilate). To date, my parents prefer not take me out shopping, they attempt to get the other to do it by incentivising trips out with me :(( haha.

So how have I decided so quickly that it is worth returning to a country whose abject affirmative action policies I abhor; whose stark gender inequity is more concrete roof than glass ceiling; whose lack of meritocracy and opportunity mean thrice the work for half the result? Dreams of a phD before 30, may remain as that, mere dreams. The globe-trotting, jet-setting lifestyle envisioned is now being revamped. Why in the dear Flying Spaghetti Monster's name am I turning 180 degrees and mooning at my own goals? Maybe because they do not matter so much any more.

It is almost petrifying when one realises that what they have wanted for so long means a whole lot less than what they have now. To be completely honest, I am terrified, not because of the choice made but because I can love someone more than myself. That the dreams of another person could become mine, that an averaged out life with less of what I wanted to begin with is way more appealing than the dream life without the other person.

I always believed that my sense of self -scatter brained and zany as it is- would trump all deviations to the plan. With previous boyfriends, I could go out with them knowing that if my plans did not coincide with "our" plans, to hell with them and away I'd sail in my one-girl skiff. Here, I am willing to throw all caution to the wind, to scoot my arse over so you can fit on the bench or more frighteningly, I'm willing to get out of my own boat and share another one instead.

—Eva K. Pillai, 12th August 2012


Posted at 7/23/2012 9:41:12 pm by nicholasaw

chirping high and sassy

As much as I do want a kid now, I must be kidding! You're not prepared. 

And do you think I could handle not being the only person in your life? RAWR! 

Just a jot of a thought that crossed my mind, but that I don't truly believe in. In reverse, could you handle being not the only person in my life?

 "When you see land
Kinda green and grassy,
Beneath a moon
Bright beyond compare;

When you hear blue jays
Chirping high and sassy,
And catch one sniff of Southern cooking
Hanging on the evening air;

When you see folks
(What kinda folks is this, sounds like the Grapes of Wrath folks!)
And every smile
Bids you stay and rest;

When you see land
(Out of the window of a plane)
Kinda green and grassy
(How in the world can you complain?)

Beneath a moon
(You'd ought to see the way it shines)
Bright beyond compare
(The way it shines upon the pines)

When you hear blue jays
Chirping high and sassy,
And catch one sniff of Southern cooking
Hanging on the evening air
(Mmmmmmm sun!)

When you see folks
(Having their after dinner chats)
All polite and classy
(Gentlemen all remove their hats)

And every smile
(Perfect harmony and peace)
Bids you stay and rest
(Hand the porter your valise)

There is no doubt of it,
We do not exaggerate of it,
The Southland at its very best!"

Posted at 7/23/2012 7:19:19 pm by nicholasaw

anger management

Nothing boils my blood like the horrible lack of trying I have to face. Yes, I've had assignments before. Yes, I can e-mail them. Yes, we all drop the hyphen in email.

Now that people are leaving and emailing their assignments, it probably doesn't matter.

Because the truth is nothing mattered. Otherwise a request would have been put in. Flights would have been changed.

Scratch that. The truths is, being with me doesn't matter.

Scratch that too, with kitty nails. The truth is, I don't matter.


Ooo, a best friend's soulmate gives them a cookbook that's personalised with jottings inside. Greatest gift ever! You suck.

Ewww, you're using my computer AND printer to make personalised cards/posters/pictures. Yuck, it's all computer-generated anyway. No effort.


My sense of aesthetics, my sense of me. All that is worth nothing. Has always been that way from the start, in retrospect. Why didn't I see it?

Blinded by Beauty.


Nothing can ever come of anything if someone has decided they'll believe everything that is the opposite from what you are. You can't ever reach them any more.


Now I know why my friends are extremely happy. Even though I might not agree with their ways of life, at least they're getting happy. Happy. There, I said it.

Who wouldn't be when a girl cleans your ears, trims your nails, gives you a nice rub-down; and all that after a passionate time? And they won't ever try to change who you are. Nor will these girlfriends denigrate you in comparison to their chicks chosen halves.

Everything has its place.

You could be swinging on a star!

Posted at 7/23/2012 7:08:18 pm by nicholasaw

Sunday, July 22, 2012

viable when used to justify the unjustifiable, e.g.

today, when showed the far-reaching consequences,

"I wasn't thinking about us then!"

a week before...

"I did it to hurt you!"

Posted at 7/22/2012 12:18:19 am by nicholasaw

Saturday, July 21, 2012

When it suddenly strikes you that you are using the knowledge and training you received from medical school as well as the experience from your day-to-day job as a doctor on loved ones: they're either dying, or have been totally irresponsible :(

Posted at 7/21/2012 11:35:23 pm by nicholasaw

a bad acrostic for a naughty girl

Exposing us both
Over your mistimed cue
Sharing your fever with me.
I still can't fucking believe it. The sheer reckless irresponsibility. The nonchalant shrugging off when confronted with the facts.

The least that could've been done was offer me informed consent. If I chose to, armed with all the facts, it would have been fine. Agreed?

In fact, I laboured under the false impression that tiredness was the root of it. Yes, in fact it is the root of most of your malaise most of the time.

Not this time.

How could you?


This is worse than the thought of being drawn and quartered.


Why didn't I think of it earlier? Because I would never think that of you. I would never even do it myself. Hahaha you've told me how it's empowered you!

How misdirected your anger was. How you misjudged everything and took action as you saw appropriate.

And I, the completely useless idiot in the room, didn't even think of it when you 'fessed. I didn't even give it a thought.

Until you told me just. That you were under the weather again.

As the sunbeams streamed across your already lovely countenance, picking up its flawless Beauty, I was thinking what it'd be like to hold you again...

When that thought struck out of nowhere.

What in Hell's name possessed me to think so? What the fuck! Why don't I think, like, with my training? For myself!

I can't account for my actions other than to offer my distracted apologies. Unbecoming of my vocal cords.

Distracted. Sigh.




Oh wait. And you still don't care. Nor are you taking responsibility. Nor are you taking this seriously at all.

p.s. I know the title and the acrostic can be read to mean a good thing (between a man and a woman)

Posted at 7/21/2012 11:04:44 pm by nicholasaw

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