Kingskarl

Six Foot Six Man Mauls Living Legend

2009-09-15T22:09:00.010+08:00

It gives me no satisfaction to watch the US OPEN finals. There's no anxiety since I know the score, which two people had accidentally told me, and no gloating joy since Federer loses. Bah!

Yarr!

The MJ Tribute

2009-07-16T17:40:00.002+08:00

My mom's Michael Jackson tribute has become official! She sent it to the Star and it was printed as the page lead for letters. For today, it is the most emailed article. It's big.

I guess I am proud.

I Think I'm Tired Therefore I Am

2009-07-14T20:43:00.005+08:00

I slept for twelve hours. Then I got up. Then I wasted some time and felt tired again. So I went up and read about Nietszche. I read about how God is dead. I read that humans had killed God. I read that Christianity is wasting our time.

Nietszche is heavy stuff. After that, I slept for three hours. I didn't dream about God or Nietzsche since I guess they're both dead.

So is Michael Jackson. I'm not going to write a tribute but here is a heart-wrenching, soul-tearing and tear-inducing tribute.

Means

2009-07-08T18:33:00.006+08:00

At class today there were two girls, sitting side-by-side, talking. A girl in the row behind tried to get into their conversation. "I know! But..." "My mom also does that..." "Its so annoyi..." "Ya! So dis..." She tried six times but everytime they just kept on talking. They cut her in mid-sentence and didn't bother to look her way.

So she finally gave up trying to talk to them and the two oblivious (or maybe not so) girls continued their bimbotic conversation. The girl who tried to enter the conversation worships one of the two girls-who-continued-talking.

A Break

2009-04-23T17:45:00.002+08:00

I don't think I will be updating my blog anytime soon. I'm announcing my self-announced sabbatical up till the first of July. So, there will be no updates till July 1. TTFN.

Who Watches

2009-03-19T18:22:00.009+08:00

Watchemn was not brilliant. It was good but not great. The movie followed the comic fram by frame but didn't manage to gouge the depth that the graphic novel has. But, maybe that's also because it was heavily censored.

The movie was quite funny. I laughed a few times. I was one of the only people who laughed though.

Four Corners

2009-03-05T22:52:00.004+08:00

In the family, all four of us have different opinions on the direction society is heading in. My sister has no real idea, my dad thinks it's going to get worse, my mom thinks we are on the brink of a golden new age of humanity's awareness and I think nothing's going to change.

I tried to change the way they think of the direction of the world, but nothing changed.

Flee From My Verboseness

2009-02-25T23:03:00.007+08:00

I, the authoritative author, am now penning upon this fluttery piece of parchment my concierge of thoughts. My thoughts assume a latticed structure, monolithic in size, with gleaming epifaces reflecting the facets of finely manufactured gemstone of immense value.

I have increased the boundaries of my vocabulary for this very purpose. With my incredible abilities grasped within my sword-hand, I smote and cleaved my foes into ominouos submission.

Thank God nobody of worth notice writes like this.

Language

2009-02-17T21:48:00.003+08:00

We met up with our future French teacher at MPH. It was an okay meeting. About eleven of us crashed into the book club. The whole table ordered only one teh tarik which made the waiters give us the look.

French classes are supposed start in March.

But, I wonder when and who I'll speak French to. In Jane Austen Book Club, there's a french teacher who loves to speak in French. Nobody understands her, so she comes across as showing off, which she probably is.

Eternal Life

2009-02-11T18:03:00.016+08:00

The announcement rang through the world. The trials of death, suffering and pain, were over. Disco Ball, President of the United States, stood tall as he announced to the world a moment of triumph for all humans.

He looked down on the multitudes before him and those he knew were watching him through cameras. This would be the most important speech ever given, and he was about to give it!

“The Bible tells us that God put a sword of fire to guard the tree of eternal life. Eternal life was something taken away from humans, never to be even tasted. Eternal life was the boundary between us and God. It was something to be given to us only if we did his will and proclaimed his greatness.

“After all our struggles, we have found the pinnacle, the holy grail, of life. A breakthrough in nanotechnology has given us a miracle cure. Every disease would be cured.

“But, we have found more than just a cure to diseases. We have found the secret to everlasting life. We have overcome the problem of death. Our quest is at an end. We have succeeded in attaining eternal life. The world has changed. Our world has changed.”

All it would take was an injection and all suffering would be gone. It was a magical solution, who wouldn’t want eternal life? Who wouldn’t want to end their suffering and pain? What we were denied was being given back to us again. It was ours to take. It was mine to take. I would take it.

All it took was an injection and we were guaranteed eternal life. Stations were set up at hospitals around the country, stations dubbed “Eternal Life” stations. Huge queues full of excited people waited. The stink of bodies pressed together was buzzed out of the mind by the excitement. After two days of waiting, I was nine people away from my injection. With sleeves rolled up, I entered.

Pristine white walls glared down at me in the room, as if to show that here we would be cleansed of our weaknesses. The sheer cleanness of the room was imposing. I received my injection and was sent out into a room filled with other patients.

I changed, I felt strong. I felt fresh as I hadn’t for years. Others around me were going through the same thing. Faces ravaged by the glare of screens were healed. Scars and wounds were gone as well. I left with the others, as homo superior, heirs to the earth.

Freg’s Coffe Café, my haunt. I stopped for a cup but also to have a chat with Dunbar. Dunbar was probably the only person who spent as much time as I did at Freg’s.

There he was, hunched over a cup of tea in his brown moleskin coat, with his face wet from the steam of too many cups. He had a rough face to match his rough voice. With a face like a grouchy Grizzly and the sheer size of him, you never missed Dunbar.

“Ah! Dunbar! Heard the news?”
“Could I not with everyone talking my ear off ‘bout it?”
“Good to see you’ve learned to cheer up. Have you gotten your-“
“No, can’t anyone ask something else?”
“You’re not excited?”
“You are?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“What’s there to be excited ‘bout?”
“Let’s see, no disease, no pain, and eternal life. You’re right, not much at all”
“Oh ha ha, that’s really sarcastic. No, I’m not excited.”
“Why not?”
“I’m looking forward to death. Why should I be?”
“Be what?”
“Excited.”
“Come on Dunbar! This is everlasting life, the fountain of youth!”
“That just doesn’t excite me at all.”
“You really do need to get excited more often then.”
“You should go and see Jasper.”
Father Cakes?”
“Yes, I see you haven’t heard the news,” Oh no! Here comes the teasing.
“…Well?”
“Well what?”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“You should find out by yourself, just head to church.”

Driving back, up-turned cars, dented cars, and bashed up cars littered the road. I suppose with the threat of death gone, nobody really cared for their safety anymore. I was speeding. So was everybody else. I was empowered by the force of sureness within me. I was indestructible. I was fearless.

Turn right, go past the park and take the left turn. 66, 6 Tibbles Street, I loved the irony of the church’s address, 666, the number of the devil. The feeling within the church was one of a constant struggle between both sides. Now it appeared the devil had won.

“Father, what are you doing?”
“I am burning the bibles.”

Father Jasper Cakes always spoke solemnly. He was the picture of solemnity, with simple clothes and a wrinkled face that was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. Just solemn. His chubby, bulldog face acted only to enhance his seriousness.

“I am burning the bibles,” he said with the air of someone drowning in happiness.
“You’re sick. You need to go to the hospital.”
“How can I be sick son, I cannot even die. I have been given the gift of eternal life.”

The raging fir of holiness crackled with the laughter of the devil. I stood there lost for words. Here was Father Cakes, the epitome of solidity and reliability humming to the Rolling Stones’ I Can’ Get No Satisfaction while burning bibles.

“You can’t do this. You…can’t."

I lunged to stop him but two other held me back.

“Will, religion was a great big scam. We have now challenged God, we are like God. We cannot die, like him. Face it, none of us knew if he was real anyways. Besides, he wouldn’t want us to gain eternal life anyways.”

The sky above boomed. But, if it was a chuckle or growl, I couldn’t decide.

* * *

One…Two…Seven…Sixteen

Off they jumped, one after another. Each landed in a burst of red and a crunch of bones, the number on the scoreboard increased, one by one. Slowly, the pavement turned red, then the road, and finally the pavement across.

Ninety-seven…One hundred sixteen…One hundred fifty-two

A voice announced to the millions watching around the world, “Look at them go! The record is in their hands now.” Down they plunged. The only difference was the squelching thuds replaced the crunching impact as the heap of corpses grew.

Two hundred nine…

“Four! Three! Two! One! Zero!” the crowd roared as the timer ended. Two and thirty-nine! It’s a new world record! The whole country celebrated as the United States regained the record for the most suicides in a minute.

Something wriggled, another twisted. The mangled bodies began to move. Broken arms rejoined themselves, crushed skulls rebuilt themselves. The whole mound moved as the corpses came back to life.

Danny Zbugz, the billionaire shouted, “Free drinks to all.”

Everyone in the street reached out for the free beer as more bones got broken in the stampede. Crunch, crunch, nobody cared, there was no lasting damage, why worry.

The beer was running out, it was clear there wouldn’t be enough for everyone. Bang! Bang! Another gunshot returned. Head were blown apart as people shot each other to get the last bottle of beer. The pavement grew redder, but nobody was permanently hurt.

I was disgusted and so was Dunbar. In the year since, scientists had managed to “inject” the substance into inorganic materials, so buildings were always spick and span, and your shirt never lost its button.

We watched it all. Through the giant three-dimensional screen in Freg’s, we saw the world grow mad as it enjoyed the harvests of eternal life.

We’d tried to talk to the President, but his secretary wouldn’t even pass on what we said to him. Disco Ball’s ratings were through the roof, an unprecedented 98% in approval ratings.

His familiar face flicked on the screen to give the slogan of his campaign.

“My fellow Americans, we are living the dream. Just remember, you still got to vote.”

Confidence oozed out of his face. Nobody predicted against him winning. Opposition only had a fumbler as their best candidate now that all their best members had switched sides.

One party rule ruled America. America ruled the world through its magic cure.

Yet, the world was sick. People shot each other in the streets, “Just for fun.” I myself had been shot seven times. Nobody did a thing stop it. All the offender had to do was say, “We, he isn’t hurt, is he?” and he would be left off scot-free.

Nobody valued life anymore. Life was cheap, since there was no more death. Blood could be replenished, broken bones would be mended, but something had been lost.

I would rather die and take my chances with God than live forever in a world like this. But, I can’t. There’s no cure to kill me.

Hum Drum

2009-02-11T15:03:00.005+08:00

The blog gets a new shot of determination. Posts will be regular, frequent, constant. This time, it will last.

Sinister Transparently Yellow

2009-02-10T21:46:00.005+08:00

My mom is sick. I am not.

But, I am forced to drink some Malaysian herbal drink. I haven't drunk it yet, but it's supposed to be very bitter. Imagine all the pain that could come from drinking a bitter drink. I could vomit, then I would have to eat again. Or maybe the bitterness will stay in my mouth so I won't be able to sleep.

Then, if I don't sleep, I'll be a zombie tomorrow. The whole day will skip past me while i daze around in a trance. While I'm not paying attention in class, the teacher might cover something important which I will miss. That might come up in the exam and I'll fail! Because I fail, I won't get into a University and I won't get a decent paying job. Then, I'll live the rest of my life in poverty and squalor.

The herbal drink plots to destroy all my hard work. My life, destroyed by some drink. Gah!

Book and Movie

2009-02-09T16:40:00.003+08:00

I finished Shopaholic Ties the Knot on Sunday morning. I only wanted to read it for a short while before going to sleep but I ended up sleeping at 6.30am.

Last night we went to watch Changeling. We wanted to watch Benjamin button, but at it was full. Even at 11am, the line was so long. I'm surprised that Benjamin Button was sold out. I thought it would be a niche movie and not many people would watch it.

I liked Changeling. It was too slow at the start, but the end-middle part was good. Especially as everything slowly reveals itself.

I also enjoyed Shopaholic, but the book is quite frustrating. Becky Bloomwood keeps on procrastinating her problems till her denial becomes silly. After all, everything will work itself out in the end.

In Real Life

2009-01-12T18:44:00.004+08:00

I was once held hostage by a crazy boy with a gun. Three of us were held hostage and he directed us into our place by grunts, waves and points. When we were slow he fired some warning shots.

We huddled together, trying to use each other as a human shield. He would point his gun at one of us, see the fear and laugh. He was living for the sense of power he felt and three of us were stuck like dead rabbits.

Actually, this happened during Chinese New Year in my aunt's tuition centre. The gunman was my cousin. The other two "hostages" were also my cousins. The gun in his hand was a BB gun. Not so bad, but this gun would leave a dense blue-black where you were hit.

In the end, he got bored of it. But, for good measure, he shot us a few times before he left.

Big Wind Coming

2009-01-09T22:08:00.003+08:00

The first week of school is over. Usually this won't matter a single bit to me but titanic, geodesic forces have been at work. So now I am attending a tution center which runs like a school. Five days a week and eight hours a day.

The report so far is that I have survived. But it was exhausting. Very exhausting to the point of insufficient funds.

The school is in a secret location I shall not divulge. I have been attending Malay and Chinese classes. I have very little idea or no idea what is going on most of the time during these classess.

My first assignment:

Cita-cita saya dan sepuluh langkah saya akan mengambil (to achive them)

Cita-cita saya belajar dan cakap enam bahasa ramai-ramai dengan banyak kuat-kuat.

1. Langkah pertama saya ambil ke dalam sekolah ini.

2. Langkah kedua saya ambil ke dalam bilik kelas ini.

3. Di dalam bilik kelas saya akan belajar Bahasa Melayu, Ingerris dan Cina dengan tenaga

4. Jadi, saya akan belajar tiga lagi bahasa. Saya boleh pergi ke mana-mana dan cakap dengan semua orang.

Do not notice the grammatical errors and choice of words.

Merry Boxing Day

2008-12-26T15:05:00.001+08:00

Remember, if you haven't, get me a present because I just might have one for you.

Presents

2008-12-23T23:09:00.003+08:00

I didn't actually want to buy a lot of gifts. But then, one gift leads to another and so on and on. I end up buying the most gifts in the family.

The budget was RM50. All the expensive gifts, gifts more than Rm10, are for family. Those for friends are all under RM3. But they are good.

I think that's something I've enjoyed, a lot. Shopping for gifts around RM1. Then, you have to get very creative. Also, the tags are great fun. A chance to be witty, festive and fun. Hahaha.

Im looking forward to Christmas.

Just Flat Incumbus

2008-12-18T11:00:00.005+08:00

The spectre of the MOUNTAINTOP EXPERIENCE! You go to a Christian camp and your spirituality and relationship with God climbs. Preferably on the last day, you peak. Then on, its downhill all the way.

I just came back from a Youth camp. I didn't enjoy it. I don't feel any spiritual perk.

It just didn't work for me. Though I know it worked for others.

I didn't feel God. It was just me and the abyss. And when I looked into the abyss, the abyss looked back at me.

Movie

2008-12-10T23:31:00.003+08:00

A quick note before turning in, I went to watch Space Chimps.

It is one-of-a-kind. Words cannot describe it. I suggest everyone watch it for an unforgettable experience.

Moochers Theorem

2008-12-10T11:24:00.002+08:00

Finally, I put into writing the unofficial theorem that all like-hearted moochers around the world have always known. Perhaps you are a moocher the moment you are born. Or do you grow into one because of your environment?

We're talking about the laws of psychology and sociology here. I don't even know what those laws are. All I know is that mooching is the highest point of self-sufficiency that can be reached.

Mooching is not begging. Begging is asking for money. It is crude, rude and uncivilised. Mooching is an art.

The best moochers mooch without slipping out a word. A slight jerk to the hamburger of choice or a smile to the potato chips.

So here is the theorem:

You have go out with 8 friends and each friends buys a burger at McDonald's. From each friend you take a bite. One bite is equivalent to 1/8 of a burger. How much would you have eaten if you mooched a bite from every friend?

A whole burger! Plus, you would have eaten the most burger of all your friends because they would be left with 7/8 of their burger.

Young Writers' Camp

2008-12-08T16:28:00.004+08:00

It's been almost one week since I've returned. Whatever after-camp hangover is over. So, I write this with a sober mind.

YWC 2008 was a writing camp. Last years camp was much more relaxed, we only wrote one piece in four days. This year, I wrote four pieces in as many days. Last year there were sessions and lots of play time. This year there were sessions and deadlines, stress and facilitators pointing to the clock, shaking their heads and asking you to hurry up.

Over the blood, sweat and hands of time we clambered to hand in our articles. Then we waited to see if it was published. Front page? Back page?

Throughout the camp I was always looking out for stories. There was no rest, there was no relent from the gnashing teeth of the newspaper!

But, I enjoyed myself.

I enjoyed writing. I enjoyed trying to find a story that nobody else would write about. I enjoyed laboriously trying to put it into words.

However, I suspect I might have liked writing so much because my pieces were published. I think some didn't enjoy it because they just weren't very interested in writing and they're articles were cut so they felt left out.

The Onion

2008-12-03T17:02:00.007+08:00

A story I wrote in YWC:

There was once a tiny little onion bud. Luckily, for this onion bud, it had a really good farmer. Everyday the farmer would come and feed it water and fertilizer.

In the ground, the onion and its friends grew with the tender care of the farmer. They learnt the hardship and goodship of friendship. They matured with time and put on layers. Together, they grew.

Then, one day, they were plucked from the ground. They were shocked, but they trusted their farmer. They were carried into the big place where the farmer lived and put on a wooden board.

The farmer peeled them, then started to dice them. "Help! Ouch! Ow!" they screamed in their oniony voices. They didn't understand this, the farmer they trusted was hurting them! The farmer heard some pleading voices, shrugged and brought the knife down again.

In Flesh and In Blood

2008-11-19T13:08:00.003+08:00

I got tickets! I got tickets! Actually, a tag.

A tag to the VIP seats. To the VIP seats for Federer's exhibition match. Federer's exhibition match!

I wasn't invited, yet. I went with a friend. There was a VIP hospitality area with gilded furniture an a whole buffet to eat. But, it wasn't that good anyway. The food was only so-so.

We got court side seats. Court side seats! Closer that ten steps from the players. Close enough to see the hair on their legs!

For me, what was intoxicating was to see them up close, in flesh and blood, in person. This was the Federer. The Roger Federer that kept me up till four am, watching him play that final in Wimbledon. Its bizarre.

Sprinkle some stardust on me.

Geez.

I also got to see Najib's wife. They went onto the court to meet the players and she walked right by us. Close enough to shake hand. She's fat, massive. So big she was teetering and tottering. On the way down, she stumbled. Three men held her.

Tropic Thunder

2008-11-19T13:04:00.002+08:00

Give it a chance. I didn't like it either on my first viewing. But the movie is like wine or pu-er tea. It ferments to become better. You start with something that feels wasted, let it rot a bit and end with a very hilarious show.

Up there with Blades of Glory and Hot Fuzz.

Also, I realized I have only written 20 posts this year. Shame.

To Readers

2008-11-18T15:05:00.002+08:00

Please feel free to leave comments.

The Management