Mee Siam Mai Hum

Monday, March 13, 2006

Well I've officially fallen in love with Jap music. After digging out my mom's 6 year old album that she bought because of one song inside. Slow Jap music leaves you relishing the beautiful and sweet voices. If possible I'll put a jukebox on my blog so everyone can listen! Anyways its LEGAL. So no worries like my previous jukebox. Which was a major flop because I couldn't be bothered. Now I've got English out of the way, I think I'll rest for a day, doing full slack.

Yesterday my dad was dying of boredom at home and thus was tussling with me for the computer. Aargh. He plays Chinese Chess, I play scrabble/blog/surf/listen to music. Which one is more productive? I learn words that I'll never know the meaning of. At least. Muahaha. Well never mind about that I will talk about my essay, the 3rd essay, 5th redoing. Not very proud of it the plot is weak. Describing macabre and grisly stuff has never been my forte anyway. But the title Fury HAS to incorporate these elements right? It makes for a juicy tale. How else to vent your fury? The episode transition was very rough. Bad... anyway I rushed it out last minute, finishing at 10.37.

Yesterday my cousins came. They generally speak Chinese a lot, kind of like me at home. Bleargh they wanted to go swimming. After goodness knows how long of tuggin and pushin and not wantin to go swimming, I was forcibly obliged to enter the pool. Prudish and abashed, I procrastinated and whined and threw everything I could at my poor mother. In the end I still went down. Anyways my cousin had just bought a zombie map 5 minutes before he left for my house, so he was whining lots more. God.

Today morning was worse. My mom wanted to cut my hair. Running through the same vigorous procedures to delay everything, I tried to shower before she came out of the toilet, run next door, hide in the computer room, everything. Childish I know, but that shows how much I dread my mom cutting my hair. I look terrible now. SOB.

Bleargh, bored with nothing to blog about. Shall edit my blogskin, then proceed to do my Lit ACE and Lit Summary.

Shall post my essay here... its rather gruesome. Not very good though.
Fury-
I stepped out of “my” armoured Mercedes, which was part of the fake impression the organization had to project. What they wanted was for us to be known as glamourous celebrities, to be judged worthy by the public. This delusion was not unwarranted. They wanted to make us special, to make us stand out. We were portrayed as extraordinary personalities, to pique consumer interest and increase revenues. It was all an act. I did not mind. I enjoyed the ring; I enjoyed the atmosphere and the fights. It was all in there for me. The pay mattered not. What matters at the end of the day is whether you had enjoyed it all. I was an exception. The rest either were seeking protection from the triads or had some threat issued to them.
I raised my arms parallel to my waist as two “personal assistants” buttoned my coat. One of them, a sniveling opportunist muttered, “You’d better win. I bet my month’s money on you.” I snorted in reply, striding haughtily towards the entrance. When had I ever lost a match? The King of the Hill has never failed to deliver.
I entered the sleazy building which could house a surprisingly large number of people. Such was my popularity that tickets were hard to come by. The arena’s atmosphere was rejuvenating. My hero-worshippers cheered so loud the whispers from the loser’s side were drowned out. I smirked and spat in the direction of the enemy. Every fight was a war. I was the ever-victorious general. No one doubted that. Not unless they were a bunch of suckers or deluded rascals. War had no rules. I loved the pandemonium. Very rarely did my opponent leave the arena alive. Even IF so, he would be in a mangled mess, head and everything bloodied.
Cockily I stood in the middle of the arena, arms folded, eyes rolled. The crowd went into complete ecstasy at these very simple actions. Characteristically I smirked. My opponent, a wimp who deserved nothing but death, entered. Fear was etched in his eyes, evident in his mannerisms, especially when he saw my nonchalance and aura of confidence. All my victims were the same, all defeated by my great name before they were even struck by my first blow. Routinely, I raised him by the neck then threw him head on into the iron pillar. Grinning wildly now, with the huge, roaring, bloodthirsty crowd bearing witness to my actions, I dealt him a merciless punch in the ribcage. It felt awesome hearing his ribs crack. Macabre, grisly perhaps, but I was just fulfilling the crowd’s wish! I yelled in an all-consuming rage, “DON’T YOU EVER DARE TRY OPPOSE ME! THIS SERVES AS A WARNING TO EVERYBODY!!!” Euphoria struck the masses, as the spectators went insane. Fuelled by this, my fury and sadism reached another peak. I lay him prostrate on the ground, and then proceeded to stamp on his groin with an earthshaking force.
“Mercy…please…” he begged, as he writhed in pain, his life energies dissipating fast. I stood a minute in silent tribute to yet another fallen fool. This was customary, a ritual I performed each time I did this. A minute of regret, a minute of flashback.
Fifteen years ago, I had watched my own father mobbed by a gang for defaulting on payment. He had suffered fatal injuries and died in hospital. The emotional hurt it cost me transformed me overnight. I had once been a silent and timid boy, inconceivable as it seems. I became an aggressor, a champion. A fighter, not a quitter, in a quest to avenge my dad by taking it out on whoever was unlucky to cross my path. I clenched my fists in iron resolve, then opened my eyes. The lights were blinding and had intensified in celebration. Another pawn had added to my tally of victories.
Amidst the intoxicating fervor and caterwauling of bettors collecting and paying bets, the police slipped in. Gunshots rang out, and the mafia-run illegal wrestling den was declared bust. Spectators and organizers alike squat down in the most humiliating manner. Proud and supercilious, I squealed in the most highfalutin manner, “Ooh! It’s the police. Am I soooo scared!” to general smiles. I was delivered a shot to the leg. I winced in pain as they were ushered outside. Furious, I began assaulting the nearest police officer. I was beyond caring. I preferred a quick death to life imprisonment anyway. Not the wishy-washy sort, no that is so not me. Blood gushed out of his head like a fountain.
“Criminal madman! Reinforcements!” the policemen shouted into their walkie-talkies. I grinned maniacally and pounced on the next. They emptied their cartridges into me. I knew I was dead. But I had to deal as much damage as possible. My life would not come easy. Seething with fury, nearing death, I broke the spinal cord of my next victim, who had been paralysed with morbid fear. I was a tornado of destruction. I threw a chair at the nearest person, knocking the breath and consciousness out of him. Furious that they had rendered my career and awesome life to an end, inborn strength resulted. I was oblivious to any sort of pain they could inflict on me with those pathetic pistols. They would pay manifold. Bloodlust and frenzy took on an enhanced meaning as I lunged for another target, yet another of those who hadn’t run yet.
Suddenly, I heard a loud boom and felt my actions slur. A hole had been blown in my skull by a shotgun! I collapsed, lifeless. The faces of the victims, mocking and smug, floated as holograms in front of me. Divine comeuppance, as religious people would say. I never believed their crap. Regret had never been in my vocabulary. I had lived my life the way I wanted to. I showed them all, they all paid, I triumphed countless times…. Faintly smiling with contentment, the last wisps of life left me….
yay this command is nice. whee!

2L @ 10:26 AM
"Sorry also must exprain"
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Hello Uncle...Bah Chor Mee one. I want chilli plus tur Kwa plus can I watch your CCTV playback of Jeff Lopez...=D