reminiscing the wet gap (not THAT kind of wet gap)

a man, is but a man.
his existence stemming from his non-existence
his worth valuated by his expediency
his pride, a measure of how much others could deride
'what art thee?'- the bishop asked the pawn
'i'm but another accessory to this extravagent pomp'
where dreams are forgotten
individuality, downtrodden
collective security, or so they said
freedom - the price paid, in the most farcial way.


circa july-august 2002
location: wet gap, seletar east camp.
modus operandi: one full water bottle, many many many pushups, and several times of semula-ing stores and a couple of wayang antics observed


dreadful nights and tasteless mornings
the only ripples in this melacholic monotony
a two year mourning
grief over youthful pleasures lost and fading humanity too.
and that cyniccal realism which you otherwise would have never known
glimpse at your fate, a prelude to your darkest fearss
for it's just an entity devoid of all this you hold dear.

100702, slipway, seletar east camp
after 1-3-1 raft construction

Barcelona

facades of bliss
illusions of euphoria
surreal? perhaps
forgotten? likely
out goes worldly concerns
in comes worldy desires
mind the lights though
it's glaring to the mind
it's balm to the tortured body
but calm to the restless soul
revel in this nirvana - while it lasts
for this transient purgatory
will be just another day in hell

140702, barcelona @ robertson walk
modus operandi: a magarita, 2 bombay martinis before that (@ aphrodisiac),
plus 2 minus 2 after booking out

'a pleasant surprise from my old army notebook. its so interesting to see how perception can be so different when one's in a situation, and when one looks at it in hindsight... what would i not give just to be in bravo coy, to be whacked and tekkaned all over again'