'What does drink especially provoke? ...nose painting, sleep and urine
......it persuades him, and disheartens him; makes him stand to, and not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him'
-- The Porter 'Macbeth'
haven't really got that wasted for quite sometime. spent the better part of thursday getting wasted at mambo red in paramount - some sorta of 'singaporean clubbing event of the semester' here in perth - the lesser half in a tokenistic debate training session which my other 2 team-mates decided to give a miss...fuck, and the entire friday dragging a lethargic body to grocery shopping while nursing a quasi-hangover.
gone were the days of me challenging the corporate economic disingenuity of clubs offering free-flow...hell it wasn't even free flow here. all it took was just 5 glasses of JD coke at Joel's place, and 2 Samburca blacks and i'm off to surreality. surreal is just about the perfect word. in my vague recollections, i remember getting stuck in the R n B set upstairs and trying to persuade ppl to go downstairs to the retro set, but to no avail. i simply cannot appreciate the fascination about r n b, how could it be a true singaporean mambo event with no cheesy handmovements to retro music. i could also vaguely remember going around asking people if there were fights going on and to inform me if there was one. that's just so not me, i'm such a pacifist when it comes to dai ji. it's probably a manifestation of the pent up frustrations from the crappy debate session earlier in the day and the fact that no one else wanted to go to the retro set with me. it's probably good that there were no fights involving any frens...i would have gotten my ass kicked from northbridge to crawley in my altered state of consciouness. i'm pretty much a coward when it comes to dai ji, i could still remember an incident along Mohd Sultan about 2-3 yrs ago. i was out with the marlboro gang and we're chilling out outside Samsara. robin and his fren were leaning on this car which belonged to one of those lao buay lang uncles in the ktv beside samsara. in fact, many other random ppl whom we don't know were doing the same, and somehow the fuckers chose to pick on robin and fren. 2 of the fat lao buay langs came over and confronted robin and fren. delivering questions ranging from 'chup te loh eh?' to 'kia, ke aw buay kong'. robin tried to apologise...while sitting down on the aisle on the roadside. bad choice, one of the lao puay langs then decided to continue giving him a thermonuclear barage of hokkien expletives in Higher Hokkien while disgustingly nudging robin's head with his foot. according to robin, it wasn't really painful, but from our point of view, it was downright degrading. all through out all these indignation our fren face, all i could manage was to spectate, disassociating myself from the 2 of them. in fact, none of us tried to intervene apart from offering apologies on their behalf. it was an unforgivable act of cowardice, and i chose cowardice over integrity. although i apologised to robin later on, till this day, i still feel disgusted by my lack of courage, and i always wondered how things would have turned out if we were to just throw it all away and fought with the 2 motherfuckers.
digression aside, the 3rd thing i recalled was saying something highly unappropriate to this rather cute looking girl. i dunno her name, she was probably a fren of a fren of a fren or something, and we were all chilling out on the balcony at the 2nd storey outside the r n b set. i was sitting like perpendicular to where she was seated in a square table. apparantly her top slipped a little exposing part of her bra. i had no idea wat i was thinking, and just spontaneously told her 'eh, u zao geng liao'. it's one of those times where even in one's stupor you would immediately regret about what just came out of ur mouth. to my surprise and quite fortunately, she replied with a face-saving 'thank you, you're a good man'. i was so embarrassed, all i could manage was to smile and walk away. missy jurisfiction tot it was a case of good intention, but wrong application...hokkien descriptions are a no-no even if intentions were good. but then again, in my altered consciouness, how the fuck am i suppose to come out with a synonym for 'Zao Geng' in english? does it even exist? fuck, i hardly talk with girls in the club other than those i already know, and when i do talk to them, i just had to say something totally stupid...knnbccb.
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for the last 9 yrs of my life, since secondary 1, i dedicated myself to debating. fleeting facinations like gaming, gangsterism, chess, photography and many many more, come and go, but my involvement in debates either through debating or coaching is perhaps the longest sustaining passion in my life. From the wide-eyed thirteen year-old i once was to this embittered underachieving 22 year old now, all the carried me through this woeful debating career of mine, was nothing more than a dream that i could one day etch my name in my self-construed eternity by having just that one championship medal to my name. i came close to doing that once when i was sixteen. it was an incredible journey to the grand final. we pushed the boundaries of possibility. from debating minnows who broke into the knock-out rounds on a mathematical score tabulation error, then winning the rematch against the rightful semi-finalist, and defeating the other semi-finalist. we walked a million miles, only to stop a step from the destination. damn that rgs third speaker, or we could have done it that fateful night. for that night, we etched ourselves a place in debating obscurity, as the anonymous has-beens, could-have-beens ,never-have-beens. it hurts so much more knowing that you could have done it, rather than being crushed by the weight of reality right from the start. how different things would have turned out if we had just won that night. i probably wouldn't have went on indulging in a regime of self-pitying despondency instead of just studying for my O levels. and i probably won't have ended up in an ambitionless institution where i chose to give up on my life by my own device, otherwise known as CJC. and i probably wouldn't have resigned myself to indecent A level grades which otherwise would have sent me to a better university rather than just another institution with no debating ambition. the four words in the entire english vocabulary which you would wish that you'll never ever have to enunciate are 'If Only I had..'. judging from my referrals from search engines, many of which appear to be names of cat high debaters like fengyao and andre kua, there are probably many secondary sch debaters reading this. here's a piece of advice from an old hack: just perform to the best of ur abilities, do not short-change yourself on what your abilities carry you and enjoy what's left of this very brief debating career. and when it's all over, carry with you not the baggages of disappointments, but rather that of the fond memories and move on. just move on.
i'm part of the UWA contingent participating in the upcoming Australian Invervarsity Debating Championships, otherwise known as Easters (or westers since it's held in western oz for the 1st time), held over the easter weekend. even after 9 years into this, the sad truth is i'm still just a very average debater. i was hoping to be able to get into a team with more experience so that my lack of depth would be less glaring. but it wasn't to be. my team-mates are pretty much novices (at intervarsity level) like me, and it didn't help that we only had a grand total of ONE training session with all 3 members present. we're so going to embarrass ourselves this easter....
having spoken to some of the seniors, i seem to realise that this is perhaps the only competition UWA's gonna participate in this year, since the Australasian championships which will be held in Brisbane later this year is unlikely to feature any seniors since most seniors will be graduating. what this means is that participation will be subjected purely on interests and that if we were to send any team there, we'll probably just serve as cannon fodder for the eastern states powerhouses. the Easters will very likely be the curtain call for my woeful debating career. one grand final, one quarter final, 2 participation, one 5th best overall speaker of tournament and another potentially disasterous addition to my records. it's time for me to hang my case track books. life has a sardonic sense of humor doesn't it? bestowing upon those with an ambition overshadowing that of their abilities. it persuades him, and disheartens him, giving him the lie, and leaves him.
' a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.' --- Macbeth