bleed out...

cruising at midnight on highways or long stretches of road with green light all the way through pacify the raving lunacy that drives me. was on the road in an area too familiar, at the tip of the t junction away from the decrepit dilapidated hellhouse. when the call came singing, was trying to grab my cell from my bag whilst trying to be careful trying not to go abanging into someone's ass or veer off course. somehow or other, there was this out of the blue off feeling of peril. mayhap that may be due to the earlier spillage of precious evian at my doorstep, talk about the most expensive doorstep spring cleaning done in a split second. if anything, have learnt never to ever doubt one's sixth sense, and true enough, it was not totally off. for it was a fateful call, one that would had have me gone crashing and in a position of inadvertably bleed out.

driving past the subway station that brought a cabbie driving at a crazy mad rush from my area to this area, all because of one tired traveller's attempt to spring a consequential surprise for the other in a time of long ago, was remniscent of all that was no longer. a text then came, with a little less calamity behind, from a concerned mommy who hollered at me about forgetting my keys, once again attributed to that ominous accident of having my evian rain on the floor. with the left mirror being totally off its usual axis and still staying unrepaired at the moment, it is imperial to be all the more vigilant on the road, what more with mortal car warnings, with a car that is bloody smart, when starting the car, that beeps and flashes a verbal warning on the dashboard about the damn coolant level running low. with the cellphone on an all time low, perhaps it was predestination at its best, or worst, to have to be the ignorant rat of the day. do not know, and do not question.

retreating into a complete silence whilst trying to carry out the rest of the errand running was the order of the night. fatigue is still a leechy bug hanging around for all it is worth, not to mention with the slightly more feeble flu bug hand in hand because the temperature went for abit of a run and spiked after those direful rings. shrinking back into the four walls and three doors of a cubby hole on getting back relinquished one of the going ons in the outside world, especially when one just did not know what to do, nor how to react, let alone how to be anymore, because one, somehow or other, no longer knew no more. reading haunting words that did, and yet did not, make sense left the mind reeling like a tornado on a mission to leave ruins behind. thinking, thinking, and still thinking what those portentous words could possibly mean, wondering if it really meant anything to begin with. at this point, only the ending is distinctively clear, a cessation of all reason, or emotion. either way, one that resided in inevitable grave destruction.

backbreaking...

had a pretty fascinating evening all rolled up in one. got to work and earn a little, at one of my classic favorite and fanciest places of all time, with a most unusual choice, and one heck of a striking uniform, serving one of the more culturally likeable and cuter races of all time, and basically assigned to waiting on the minister of the japanese embassy hand and foot the whole night. "oh what a night" could not have been more aptly sung, if the live jazz band had chosen to try and tweak that into a jazzy number, with my spine broken into two by the time the number is done from all the backbreaking bowing done.

thankfully it still worked out considering the minister was busy hobnobbing with everyone and handing out namecards like free cotton candy, given my japanese is just about half past six, and my sensei would roll in her grave if she knew, so my conversation was kept short to making sure he was comfortably fed and attended to, alongside the swarms that kept having shift changes. think it was quite a feat considering it was done for five odd hours on end standing on three and a half inches, standing beside like a complimentary wall decoration, smiling till my mandible was about to fall out with my teeth flaking out like miniature hailstones in the winter, drabbed in a high flying sarong kebaya that is not walker friendly, and sounding like an off tune bullfrog that can neither croak nor ribbit aproper whilst trying hard not to sniffle nor sneeze in case it scared everyone into a swine flu frenzy. oh yeah, free dream upgrade to boot considering that was one of the two who got to wear the green instead of the normal blue floral batik prints.

made it out alive in all singapore girl glory, with more incessant bowing as the grand finale to the night. did not quite want end to come so soon considering the place was about as magically enchanting as the castle on a cloud in little fantine's song, not to mention the people watching was about as entertaining as a japanese hallmark channel. although cinderella did sing something along the lines that a dream is a dream the heart makes, when one is fast asleep, of which was fortunate enough to have a web of dreams all tied up in a neat little bundle, weaved and threaded together so delicately into a culmination of indulgence in a few hours, nevertheless, the curtains still have to close, leaving in its end, the reality of it all that the setting on stage is pretty much just simply one little boy in a modern day les misérables.

shoot...

shoot, shoot, and more shoots. that is what it looks like to be if it all comes together to be true. "if" being the operative word.

the next two weeks seems to be set for a thrilling rollercoaster ride, though it is probably a joyride to take one for a detrimental fall. everything after, is probably a platter of dessert to sweeten the deal. either that, or to fatten up the chicken and brutally slaughter after without thought of hesitation.

makes me wonder if am a sputnik for failure. if so, guess there is a spot of comfort that there is, at the very least and on the house, a smoking shot to take away for keeps. on second thought, maybe not, provided if do not die under the shooting conditions first.

jackpot...

a shot at pocketing a five figure digit, nice. a possibility of a four digit average zipping in on and off for a couple of months at the very least, very nice. an opportunity to oogle at race cars at the grand stand, jackpot.

high possibility of a free cellphone, if that company really lives up to what they say, not bad. slight possibility of probable job opportunity and openings if it all works out, even better. minuscule possibility of being paid to travel and just have to blab like no tomorrow, way cool, although honestly, verbal diarrhoea ain't nothing new, so yes, double jackpot on that account.

cross my fingers, hope to die, tomorrow will tell it all. seriously, if this is god's way of raining money on a poor soul, what is not to like?!? triple jackpot, and it all started, with that one call.

big old tree...

the road just outside my place is known for having trucking containers drive by as it is just about a three minute walk from a turn out from the highway to head to the harbour and docking bays. even mommy, who is the renowned squid of the family, can tell that there are fewer of them honking their way down during the peak hours with the economic recession. looking on the "brighter" side of it, it technically means less air and noise pollution.

when the rains pour and the winds blow their hearts out in a thunderstorm, the roads become dangerously trecherous to drive on and become slippery slides. just the other day when the skies decided to be a rain the zoo day, a truck with a container load full skidded, overturned, and went crashing, just about nine steps away from me since just happened to walk out from the entrance of my place where the guardhouse was, into the old tree just outside my place. there me was, standing, neither shocked nor surprised, a happening so very near, yet so far.

the only thought that went through my mind, was wondering why it did not went off a couple more inches. that way, the truck would have missed the tree altogether and get to hitting the actual target it was meant for. shards of glass scattered across the gravel, with mud patches drudged up and specks of rock and sand splattered all around, my feet took a life of its own and walked on mindlessly as if nothing had happened, with glass bits crunching below my feet in its meaningless automated motion. if had been waiting for a cab just that much earlier, the truck hit would have been me since a favourite cabbie wait point was actually in front of that tree. that big old tree now bears the scars of the heavy blow, and whenever looking at it, the three words "what a miss" always permeate with a resounding tone of melancholic morbidity in my mind.

thou shalt not...

as morning broke, so did the fever, of sorts that is, though still feel the germs having a go at a marathon to see if is possible to make the human body temperature reach boiling point. for now, the body pretty much aches as if it has been run over by a couple of army tanks, not to mention the abdominal muscles hurt as if a gazillion crunches were part of some lousy no good due punishment in boot camp for daring to share and breathe the same air as the staff sergeant. when the body is about as woozy as a drunk bird crash flying about the skies, and the head spinning like hurricane katrina, the following must be adhered to for plain sanity, not to mention pain relief:

thou shalt not sneeze.

thou shalt not cough.

thou shalt not breathe... too hard.

to sneeze is helluva painful, but to cough is far worse, for it is deadly, given that it causes severe contractions in the abdominal and chest cavities. as for the not breathing too hard, guess there is a distinct possibility old friend bronchitis decided to pay a visit as well as it does hurt to breathe, especially with "cold" air, though the problem is that it ain't freezing cold like being up in the rockies, it is only just a fan at low speed not blowing directly?!? the last time was this sick, it was a full one and a half months before recovery was in even in sight, wonder if the record will be broken this time around, if so, looks like am in for an extremely long haul, brilliant.

poker face...

cacographic poker face...

unquestionably impenetrable...

provactively illusory...

safely hidden...

away from view...

silent prayer...

granny going under the knife...

in silent prayer...

again...

ditching game...

had an early morning emergency call from granny asking me if it was okay to accompany her to hospital for her presurgery checkup. her appointment was at nine. the time of call, was eight thirty, could not get anymore brilliant than that.

not that me minded in all honesty as it did allow for me to see granny again and have a little catch up with her, though it really saddened the heart to see the state she was in. picked her up, accompanied her throughout the check up and even went marketing with her, just like me used to do when was a tiny tot, after she was done at the hospital before checking her in back home. what was not liked, was the extreme upset from the heartache and disappointment the stupid uncle put granny through, no thanks to his good for nothing character and lackadaisical attitude, who decided at the spur of the moment that he did not feel like taking granny to the hospital because he was having a hay day, wow.

granny spent the whole morning and afternoon grousing over uncle's behaviour while we were waiting for her turn, even calling him a "rotting log" and that she was better off if she had given birth to a block of wood, at least that could be put to better use, all the while with watery eyes but the tears just not quite falling. it ain't the first time the uncle has done this, doubt it would be the last, so honestly, ain't too impressed myself, god damn the heartless creep. seriously, what is it with the males me know who love playing the ditching game?!?