Monday, August 29, 2005
Cool stuff. Check out the wonderfully amusing pictures.
Gavin
pondered @ 21:39
Black Chain Girl
"Clink"
And so she walked, alone in the silent, silent world, of colour that faded from sight. Slowly, the blue breeze blew, back her tresses, brightly black. The sounds rush by, that paint a grey lanscape.
The curtains close. The thundering silence permeates the solid air. The lights die out. The silent souls scream like a thousand banshees. They await their meal, these sleepless vampires that thirist for life. For now, they stay calm and tame.
"Clink"
First step, she walks with grace. Second step, she hears them stir. Third step, she pauses. Fourth step, the curtains part. Like waves of blood, they slice the low yellow glow, the feeble essence that the light feeds. Now they see her.
A thousand stares, hungry zealous leers. They want her. And she knows. The sway of her dress, and they lick their lips. Her moving hips feed their wildest fantasies, and the look in her eyes make them lust like savage beasts. They go wild as she looks at them, she feels their vulgar gaze piercing through her clothes.
"Clink"
She craves the attention, for that is the greatest affirmation of her raw appeal. Her sad beauty seeks recognition, and in these poor sad souls she shall find it. Pathetic. Sometimes, she forgets if it is them or her who should be pitied.
Standing there, she knows they cannot touch her. Queen of the wretches, steeped in the mire of lust, but a perverse joy pervades her being. Untouched by mortal hands she remains while they seek so to defile her sacred temple.
"Clink"
Inside a tear is shed, as a desperate girl screams in pain. She opens her mouth, a requiem piece that mourns her fate. They sway in tune, every time. She wishes to let them to desecrate her virgin flesh. Almost, she can feel their vile touch, and she does not resist. Inside, she cries, for pleasure they can bring, but not what she desires.
"Clink"
She holds the chain hung on her neck, the necklace, black as night. Given to her long ago. A promise of protection. A promise of heaven. Heaven? No, only the caverns of hell.
But every night she returns, to face the dreaded demons. Stubbornly clinging to a hope. Foolishly waiting for him to take her hand. Anticipating the day her knight covers her from the infernal flames.
Maybe he is scared. Coward.
But she cries. "Where are you?"
Gavin
pondered @ 21:37
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Video game poet
Video games are really bad,
video games they hhok you fast.
Video game is really bad,
and video game is killing time.
Stare at coloured screen,
and see the flashing lights.
That's not bad if they had worth.
Game there are so brilliantly good
But games like those are things of the past.
Hook them all, the CD's plot.
With coloured screens and nothign more.
Let them slay and let them swoon,
in front of pixel idols and virtual gods.
Zombie bashing, and button mashing.
Pointless movements void of sense.
But what to do? There's nothing else.
The other choice is far more worse.
Gavin
pondered @ 22:20
Sunday, August 21, 2005
I never want to stop moving.
When you fail, people make a big fuss out of it. Little do they reaalise how difficult it is to succeed the first time round. Standing on both feet is hard, but just because everyone can does not take away that fact.
So many times, I see how people try to console others, and I think that it is not an effective remedy. It wastes time and it accentuates the failure. That's why I would like to take this opportunity to elaborate the fact that I am not heartless.
I just don't like you to brood over something that has passed. Let's not circle around that same old spot, instead, let's continue moving forward. Keep the momentum moving, because everytime we stop, it only makes us even more inert.
There is no time for regret. As much as we like to think that we can afford to pity ourselves, we cannot.
So if you fall, let me blow the dirt of your wound. Then give me your hand and we shall continue moving, bacause even I get so lost when I stop moving.
Gavin
pondered @ 21:58
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Captain Gavin Part II
"I want to fly!" I often wake up thinking, and then I look to the blue sky and I see the plane soaring high, so majestically, like a bird.
Like a bird, that is the way to live. Where the blue is your endless canvas, and the clouds are white, where in a day the sun rises forever. Only in the sky will I ever feel these sensations, and that's where I long to be.
As soon as I'm out of NS, I am going to apply for SIA's cadet pilot. Oh yes I am.
Yet all the details are so sketchy. I need more information, I need to research. Who can help me unravel the complexities of being a pilot?
Seriously, if any of you have any friends, or family who can enlighten me, I will be eternally grateful.
Gavin
pondered @ 22:12
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Hashshashin
On friday, the Sri Lnkan Foreign Minister was assassinated. Accorging to reports, he was hit in the head and chest several times, and from what I gathered, the calibre of the bullet was 7.62mm.
Russian made bullet, probably fired from a modified AK-47 by a sniper.
It's been quite a while since such methods were used on political leaders, and today, let's talk about the origins of the word, "assassin".
The word assassin probably is derived from the term Hashshashin. I first heard of this word on the Discovery channel, during on of the Lonely Planet episodes, that brought the viewers to turkey. The Hashshashin were a feared group of muslim zealots who carried out killing missions. These men were feared for their ferocity, which according to historians, due to their usage of opium and a drug, hashih, derived from the cannabis resin.
This made these warriors literally impervious, as they did not seem to experience any pain, and the Crusaders started to refer to them as the "Hashashin" (sometimes Hashishin).
The main purpose of this group was to carry out politically motivated assasinations against rival muslim factions. However since, such warrirors consumed drugs, they are cosidered by the muslim world as heretics. They are perhaps one of the very first terrorist groups to emerge in history.
Like the ninjas from Japan, their modus operandi is to operate in stealth, often opting for disguise. The Hashashin's preferred weapon was a dagger, as they would not choose any weapon that would not ensure a kill. It is said that these men are so fearless that they would choose to die when captured over revealing any secrets.
Wouldn't it be fun to be the leader of these men?
In your spare time, you and the boys could spend your time smoking some joint, and when the need arises, the boys could be sent out to carry out assasinations for you. It was certainly a very lethal group while it existed. It is no wonder that the group is spoken of in a sort of hushed respect.
Gavin
pondered @ 17:23
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Study Overseas
Lately, I've been having thoughts of leaving this small island, I'm thinking of going overseas to study. To the UK, France, Canada, or maybe the US?
I really don't know if me entering the engineering faculty of NTU will be an eventuality. This small country is just starting to choke the breath out of me.
People often make it out to seem like such an incomprehensible sin to entertain thoughts of leaving Singapore. There's is this unspoken stigma about the mere mention of such an inkling, that only the most ungrateful of ingrates who hate the country so would atempt such a feat.
A whole load of bullshit.
If you know what is good for the country, then alll the more one should be encourage to spend a few years abroad. The problem is that the government tries to hard to prevent people from not ever returning to Singapore is what works against the eventual reliefed return to the homeland. People stay away because this places just drains the life out of you.
I'm beginning to feel like I don't a single thing, and my horizons are so narrow that the world escapes me. So often, I get the feeling that I am moving around in great giant cirlces, and in the end, I end up where I started. I don't fit in.So often, I feel that I just stick out like a sore-thumb, and in a society where the citizens seldom appreciate differences, it is a stiffling pressure that haunts me.
Maybe a few years somewhere else would be good. Maybe it will open my mind, or at the worse, it will teach me that there's no place like Singapore. It's too early to say, one thing is for sure. I will never reach my full potential by restricting myself to this small tiny island. Would I be content with competing with 2 million other Singaporeans or 4 billion people in the world?
Definitely 4 billion.
So know, I need to start reaseaching into the various Universities and Colleges out there. Then some research on scholarships need to be done. Anyone to offer some help?
Gavin
pondered @ 17:21
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Am I strong enough?
Fear is immortal and hits you in the most unexpected of times. In the middle of the night, it hits like a large arrow, and pierces through the layers of mental steel. In a moment, the mind is torn asunder and the strong reduced to a crying mess.
It engulfs the soul, and throws one into a bottomless pit. One's being left alone and sinking into the dark, deep depths of the murky.
In the middle of the nights, one's ears twitch, as though a cacophony had struck, but in truth there was not a sound. Then the heart beats, faster, louder. And the surroundings lose their familiarity. They become sinister, danger personified.
Then your mind stops being ration. Overdrive.
That's fear.
But there are things worse than that.
Like when you can never convince your subconcious to stop thinking. Not to brood over that little thought you tell yourself. It's nothing, you offer. Then, the mind just cannot let it go. It haunts you, like the most malicious ghost, and the most blood-thirsty vampire. Only you have no defences against your thoughts.
Stakes slay the vampire, crucifixes exorcise the ghost, but you have no weapons against the sub-concious, except yourself.
Then you ask: am I strong enough?
Gavin
pondered @ 21:55
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Rubicon
A few days back, I received news from Houf. He asked "do you still ahve to sketched for Rubicon".
Yes folks, the Rubicon project is on the very verge of revival.
Back when we were younger, Houf and I used to have ideas that we would revolutionize the gaming concept. We predicted that the gaming market would become so lucrative that it would be folly not to be part of it. Those were the days, where so many ideas flowed freely. Psyka, Rubicon, Blue Skies, these are few of the many ideas that were spawned.
Of course the lack of tecnical knowledge and hardware, and other new-found distractions, these ideas were eventually shelved. But now, almost 3 years later, we once again turn to Rubicon.
I tried searching for the sketch book, but I reckon it must have be thrown away with the many old books. A pity definitely, but also a good portend of a new beginning. The characters of Rubicon were quite well thought out, and till now, are still deeply etched in my mind. It would be interesting to say the least when the new sketches come out. Better artwork perhaps?
Like the old sketch book, Fourblades is all but prominent. We used to call our company Fourbaldes, and even had a domain running. I would be the first to admit that Fourbaldes is surely gone and 'dead'. Now it shall go by the name "Ripple Works". It takes it's name from the "Ripple Project" in Rubicon.
It might signify many things, but that's perhaps not of significance at this point of time. What's important is that something is brewing, and it's a good hint that I should dig out my CAD programs and start something.
Rubicon is a very interesting story to work with, given the insight that 2 15 year old kids had. Many events that where portrayed in Rubicon seems like a haunting prophecy of the future events, namely the rampant spread of random acts of senseless violence.
More intriguing is the concept of the "Ripple Project". I shall refrain from giving out any secrets at this point of time, but I am rather surprised that no one has yet proposed such a system for applicatio in the rael world.
So far, I've done 2 sketches of the protagonist, Stef, and the first thing that I notice is that she remotely looks like a female this time around.
Heh. I'm out of here.
Gavin
pondered @ 23:07
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Mika Hakkinen!
While having my yoghurt I wonder: How do you tell if your yoghurt is spoilt?
I mean yoghurt is basically spoilt milk, and since it's already, bad, is it possible for yoghurt to go bad then?
Indeed, that is a very good question to ponder. For you see, youghurt's sour, and spoilt food tastes sour. Yoghurt is a watery goo, and so is most rotten and congealed food. So, how are we to ascertain the "freshness" of yoghurt? I don't know, and honestly, something that good can't possibly be bad.
But that's not important, what I've come to say today is that Mika Hakkinen was present at the Hungary GP last week!
The flying Finn and Schumi. Brings back many fond memories. I hear Mika's now racing in DTM and he's won a race not too long ago. That's great. But What I'll give to see him behind the McLaren. His smooth driving style is something I have much to learn from, but most importantly, it's his personality that I truly respect. A gentlemen and a sportsman. Qualities that I find myself trying to emulate.
Gavin
pondered @ 21:54
Friday, August 05, 2005
Finding art
When someone is talented and relies only on that talent, he is never going to improve. If he neve hons his technique, neither bothering to broaden his horizons nor experiences, then that is a waste of his gifts.
And that someone refers to me.
For years and years, all I've done is draw without improvement. And one days, the frustrations and inabilities expressed themselves in a piece of work.
Despair and desperation in the art. Such inability to express, and only the ability to show what "should be". Impressionism, they call it. Art which represents the exact replica of the real world. But then, the world is not real. How can one draw what is not real to begin with. Not just that. Technique is lacking in the first place. Quandry. Confusion.
Thus, it was decided to begin a to learn the ropes from the very start. Begin from the bottom rung.
Thus, this piece was attempted in that process.
An experimentation with space an perspective, and somewhat "abstract"
But of course, the previous 2 are simply precursors to the star attraction. I hereby present to you, ladies and gentlemen, the "Black Chain Girl"
This is a potrait of a fine young lady by the name of Fumiko Mizuta. It's still an impressionist piece of art, by I like it for it's sublime charm. This picture is silently screaming "brilliant", yet posses a malencholic undertone. As though she is crying inside.
Gavin
pondered @ 23:30
First line in Indonesian
Hari ini, saya ada cacup bahasa Indonesia. Says jumpa cikgu JC saya di Kembanggan.
This day was a day filled with weird conincidences and a tinge of nostalgia.
Making overlays for a map. I haven;t done that in a long time, not since that stint at OCS. Back when I thought I might be destined to lead a life on the battlefield, and perhaps, an innoncent kind of folly that pervaded my being. I'm not really one to miss the past, but w=talking to Mr. Tan about the army life, it inevitably brings out a hint of regret in me. There is jsut something so primal about being in the combat side that the male psyche is able to identify with. It is weird how Mr. Tan and I or any other of the regulars find the generation gap non-existant when we talk about the hell that was military training. Indeed, it is a tempting kind of comaradarie, but nonetheless, it would not be something I would like to feel everyday, for it will only mean one thing: war.
This bonds are best left to war time, for they are forged in times of suffering. No one hopes for peace to be shattered. Not me at least. But damn! I do miss running around in the muck.
I also happened to run into my JC physics lecturer, Mr. Khoo. Quite literally run-into, as I bumped into him while jogging.
It's good to see people you know, and not met in a while. It assures you that normalcy is the prefeerred state of the world. Of course, that is a sick perversion of "reality". MAtter does not have emotions, nor is it subject to the laws of "narration". It is merel the human mind that pieces it together to make sense. Just like how I find more affection for my physics tutor after that long absence. He appeared more endearing and inside the heart, a little flutter, telling me that I miss the good old times. Hell, those were some crazy days.
Don't fret, I will be going back to school in 351 days. Saya mau balik ke sekolah.
Gavin
pondered @ 22:12
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Through the raindrops
Rainy day with a view through the window. Like a magical castle, the window shows, the world that slowly passes by. When it rains liek that I like to watch the view through the window, and the sights out there as though a swirling pastel palette mixing and changing perceptions.
The houses washed anew, the flowers smile out bright, and the silver mirror ground dances the raindrop waltz.Moreso is the world, quiet for a moment. Just the sound of the falling rain.
Simply beautiful.
Gavin
pondered @ 19:50
