In KL. I'm about to start a new job. Coping with excema, parents divorce (Shuttling between two homes now). Going to Yan's sister's wedding this saturday. Trying to pick up Trumpet lessons again. Studying for my final 10 credits so I can get my degree.

that's me in a nutshell

Someone needs to consolidate all these fucking Instant Messaging clients. I liked it better when ICQ slowed my computer enough to outrun dumb animals. I am reading a shocking book right now called The Human Stain. Or have I only just recently joined the human race and everyone knows this is a very good book. Through very simple set pieces, the author throws echoes all around the book and meaning seems to build itself up Everything seems so carefully put together. If you read this book, I think it is difficult not to consider the complex problems this book addresses like this complete aversion to offend anyone with your opinions. The politically correct revolution. It's in the tradition of The Great American Novel, in that it overturns the fabric of the American lifestyle analogous to the Great Gatsby.

It's an important book about how we camouflage freedom with idealogy. About how we mistake politics and power games for the human condition. I think people should read this book.

Blazes, I almost forgot to mention the author: Phillip Roth. He's approaching 50 or so books and still going strong.

Done and done.

You need to email me your new hotmail passport address.

You canny bastards have forced me to register for a hotmail passport and join MSN messenger. I surrender. And plus, Malaysia is getting boring without the regular flaming and tender phrases.

I didn't give up. Journalists like to felch people. Good journalists need to fuck their sources for the best material for a story. They need to follow their instincts and criticise none of the facts. Criticise on the shallowest level. To be honest, I haven't given up anything. I've only delayed the inevitable.

Oh, you took it away.

Han, I se you had a draft here, then it disappeared.

I wrote a massive post. Amazingly, it didn't get deleted. Then I realised it fit well into a story I'm writing. I'm going to submit the thing for a short story anthology. It, of course, rambles like no other so I'm gonna try and obscenely trim and craft the story. It's about writing. It's self-conscious about the act of writing. It's semi-autobiographical. This is like a 2000 word story, so I might just stick this somewhere else.

You're not curious. You are just spurious.

Where is the Sinful binful of vin these days? and what does it mean to felch someone?

I might get a job at ISKL. Only after I got my foot in the door did I realise the horrible and arduous it is to journey to ISKL. Without the bus I'll have to use public transport. I still don't know how much I'm gonna get paid, it better be worth my while. It's an assistant theater manager position. For some reason whenever people hear the drama dept. is doing a play called Tom Jones, they exclaim, "What? You mean the singer?"

It's weird. I get back to my room at 9C, I see all these CDs I didn't take with me. Bush. Chumbawumba. and I feel like listening to them again. Even though I distinctly remember they were shit. Especially Chumbawumba. But I saw something in the papers a couple of days before I left England about Chumbawumba who play folk-inspired pop songs. Pop marxism.

Bush have a song called Straight no Chaser on Razorblade suitcase, it's nothing like Thelonius monk and I think they still suck.

Joli. Pukka.

Trying to recapture the English experience in my mom's Damansara flat by drinking copious amounts of tea. All I am succeeding in is, in getting adrenalised. The Onion AV club is a suprisingly good source for book reviews.

Anyone know any songs with drunk pianos? I'm thinking like Bowie's Aladdin Sane. Or drunk instruments for that matter. Kid Koala's got a song called Drunk Trumpet, and he's scratching up a trumpet solo. Stretching and pulling the sound like taffy or glass, it is class.

Reading Chuck Palahniuk's Choke for a second time.

Han. 1st quarter would be perfect. Have to check out where I am living but if you want to kick it down here with me for awhile it would be totally sweet. We could check out some big ass rocks.

I present my
feminine side with flowers
She cuts the stems
and places them gently down my throat.
And these two lips
Will soon eclipse
Your brightest hopes.

-Saul Williams

I got an email saying it's ok to study abroad, and I should give them a call. What a gamble! Also instead of a lecture-fest from my parents I got a composed apology from my dad, defending the advantages of a degree. I was so flustered I started raising my voice. haha. Taking a breather for the time being, as in my general swing of things is inert. My mom just asked me to lay the table, that very request almost made me angry. It was the way she asked me (three times). I'm looking to purchase one of those futurephones, them phones that can take pictures. I'm also looking to restart this blog of mine. I'm also looking for a job. Joli what's a good time to visit? I'm thinking first quarter next year.

I've sent a letter to the principal of the university asking him if I can study the course for credit, only I would be reading and writing the essays in Malaysia. I haven't told my parents, I would naturally have to tell my dad soon if he's going to pay for it. If the principal doesn't let me study the course, I'm going to go back to England in a couple of years.

I am writing this entry in my mom's flat in Damansara Jaya. I'm certain about one thing. I am finished with classrooms, writing chairs, studying, etc. I want to write but I don't know what I want to write about. A degree may open doors for me, to larger sums of money, to larger portions of respectability I haven't previously enjoyed. But there is always some other way of looking at this. I don't feel bad because I don't hold a degree, if I'm not permitted to study this last course, the last three years are not a waste. Employers will just have to make a judgment of character without any help.

It's funny you mentioned the poems page of my PirateHan page because I recently surfed onto the thing myself. I like the Steve King series myself, the one by Riccardo is dark which maybe reflects his distaste for writing a poem. Yan's poem is strangely beautiful, she should write more often. That "I masturbate" poem comes back to me like every six months (not a statement to be read into).

What are you going to do, Han.

By the way, this still exists.

I am getting ready to leave England. I just got back from Norway yesterday. "Play here" in Norwegian is "Spill her". a speed bump is called a farts--bempere. Last week I found out I didn't have enough credits to graduate even though I was told otherwise, and I attended the graduation ceremony with my parents. I'm stressed out these days.