Bacon sarnie is a hangover cure! oh what joyous news has been brought. tasty! if i could have a bacon sarnie everytime i got drunk, i would get drunk more often.
of course the more annoying part about getting that far drunk is that i would have consumed many glasses of ethanol which would have many undesirable negative effects on such a perfectly tuned homeostatic system. my least favorite being dehydration. i hate waking up feeling like i need to drink a river to quench my thirst. it took me half a day to finally equalize my damn system.
i swear if i ever become a doctor, i'm going to buy that hook thing and stock up on IV fluids and catheters. then everytime i get drunk, i'll come home and attempt to to hook myself up to the IV (hopefully the high would've past and i'll be dying from the hangover so i don't miss the vein), thus ensuring proper electrolytic balance and continuous hydration. of course i won't be able to drink as much as often then or my colleagues are gonna think i'm some kinda crackhead. oh joy. i gotta make sure i don't bring the equipment down to the club either. i'm quite sure the bouncers aren't gonna let me back in, if i'm pulling my iv along with me.
Thanks for the night fellas, though you'll probably never read this, i hope we can do it again soon. I wish I had taken more photos, but i'm not that narcisstic.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Exercise.
This began as a writing exercise; an opportunity to flex those creative muscles associated with graphia, the ones i stored away in an old shoebox under the bed to get all mouldy with cobbwebbs since the end of the a level cataclysm. I have since dugged them up and surgerically rettached them to my already skewered mental state and hoped that everyone would work like riding a bike.
Thats two weeks ago.
Unfortunately, no, it didn't work and i caught cerebral meningitis, but that's another story. So here I am, attempting to proceed with a writing exercise to remember how to the ride my bicycle down the lane of esssAy.
I've been through this dark demented path many times before, with the creeky twigs and crunchy leaves under foot at all time, shrouded in the shadow of the magnificient leafless branches whos sinister fingers protrude outward in a the apparent desire to snare you as you clumber past. The forest floor is apparently teeming with life, colourlife at that, however colours have become dull and grey, having never seen the sun for decades ever since the threes grew tall and leafless. the sole available light is a tiny stream that seems to direct to ward a part of the forest. follow it and find the light, and there is your goal. follow it and lose the light, and there belies no hope. quite a nasty trip it is, don't you a agree? could use a touring agency and some souvenior sales. quick come buy your decapitated cats! demented seal plushies! true rememants of the werewolve's pendent for sale! witches hat's and white lab coats and a stetoscope.SALE! SALE! Business will indeed improve. i clearly derogated. nevertheless, the point i was trying to point across and parley with the opposite point is that i need to practice my writing. so here it is.
MAJOR DISCLAIMER. Author is writing under the influence of sleeping pills, johnny walk, the coca cola company and funeral for a friend.
Deja Vu. This originally began as a writing exercise to de rust my skills for sats. And so it shall be done, however i most sincerely regret the choice of topic. You see, I've been keeping company with Ghosts lately, many ghosts, they're all in my head and they all come creeping out in the dead of night when i am truely alone, in a resting position.I am plagued by memories of the things past, of people past, of opportunities past. fantasies about time turning, time adjustment, alteration soley to affect the future, fantasies that come out at night and seem so real. the ifs and what could'ves plague me tonight. then the worst ghost comes, the smallest one, dressed in a small white cloth wrapped around the pale transcient child's body, when he walks the ground trembles reverently. he turns to you and looks at you with his white blond tussles, and crytal clear blue eyes, as you look right through him. he brings the greatest pain, for he is PRESENT and within in can lie only truths. the ones we deny and thus consequently, his other ghostly relatives haunt us. and these ghosts, these voices talk to me in my attempts at rest, work and play. most often, they arrive during rest when the mind can be made to fully focus on a sole single subject of their choice.
In the past weeks, that chosen topic has always been life. Mine in particular. Allow me to introduce my self.
Born, 17th May on wednesdsay, of the 88th year of the 20th century.
Blood type : o+
185cm
220lbs
Named David by his parents, and Yung by his family.
I am David Yung,
3rd generation Reluctant Singaporean Citizen
4th generation ACSIAN.
enrolled in the finest institutes of learning. AC, AC, ACJC.
Attention-Deficiet/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD Combined type),servere
Suspected Asperger's Syndrome
has fallen three times into clinical depression.
High intellect with talented analytical skills.
line art artist.
obsession with medical science.
Archievements:
none.
AGE.....21.
Subject is regarded as a legal adult under Singaporean Law.
I am an Adult. Already, finally reached the forbidden age of twenty-one. An adult. I have spent twenty-one long years of painful existence on this planet learning and learning. Yet, for all the time I have spent here, i have done nothing, achieved nothing. I am wondering what purpose do i have for being born here on this hot humid sweaty island? I have fallen being my peers in their academic pursuits, most theirs are coerced upon them by other's, yet they are pursuing academic half-heartedly, while i rott away in a glass cage waiting for a university to claim me as their own.For me, I have chosen my desired path, and I have dreams and aspirations to do good, yet time and timee again, I am foiled in my plan. Sitting here watching them walk off with their new ownners to go home to a loving dinner, while i feel the cold glass on my skin. Fate is fair is she not?
I do not have any commercialble talents. I don't do party tricks, I never cared about, was what i obsessed about. When i obsessed about something, i learnt everything i could about it.when i obsessed about something, and had enough time to obsess about it, i became good at it.when i cared about something, it grew. concepts came easily, the practice too, albeit later on. though that didn't matter to the examiners. we can't make an exam just for one person after all. my obsessions are my only talents. my mind holds much knowledge over a variety of subjects, and the ability to synthesis new elemeents from their basis nature. But this talent is useless. It makes you socially awkward. no one wnats the friend who can see things they can'. its like having the friend who can see dead grandma.
I am unfit and overweight, and too tall for this society, but those are minor details. I've also never achieved any of the Goals I've set out to accomplish. My life is surrounded by failure. my failure to find community. my failure to reach university. my recent failure to get into ocs and to have a meaningful job for 2 years. my failure to upset the labels plastered on my be society. my failure to find contentment. failure to change life. It does seem that every adventure i am entailed, results only in unadulterated failure.i have failed love and i have failed life.
I can't think of any good that i have done in this life. It is a hopeless one and i wish God would end it sooner.
I've been asked to celebrate a "milestone", i can't understand or comprehend what this milestone will be. i see no reason to celebrate. David Yung, 21, a no one.
Thats two weeks ago.
Unfortunately, no, it didn't work and i caught cerebral meningitis, but that's another story. So here I am, attempting to proceed with a writing exercise to remember how to the ride my bicycle down the lane of esssAy.
I've been through this dark demented path many times before, with the creeky twigs and crunchy leaves under foot at all time, shrouded in the shadow of the magnificient leafless branches whos sinister fingers protrude outward in a the apparent desire to snare you as you clumber past. The forest floor is apparently teeming with life, colourlife at that, however colours have become dull and grey, having never seen the sun for decades ever since the threes grew tall and leafless. the sole available light is a tiny stream that seems to direct to ward a part of the forest. follow it and find the light, and there is your goal. follow it and lose the light, and there belies no hope. quite a nasty trip it is, don't you a agree? could use a touring agency and some souvenior sales. quick come buy your decapitated cats! demented seal plushies! true rememants of the werewolve's pendent for sale! witches hat's and white lab coats and a stetoscope.SALE! SALE! Business will indeed improve. i clearly derogated. nevertheless, the point i was trying to point across and parley with the opposite point is that i need to practice my writing. so here it is.
MAJOR DISCLAIMER. Author is writing under the influence of sleeping pills, johnny walk, the coca cola company and funeral for a friend.
Deja Vu. This originally began as a writing exercise to de rust my skills for sats. And so it shall be done, however i most sincerely regret the choice of topic. You see, I've been keeping company with Ghosts lately, many ghosts, they're all in my head and they all come creeping out in the dead of night when i am truely alone, in a resting position.I am plagued by memories of the things past, of people past, of opportunities past. fantasies about time turning, time adjustment, alteration soley to affect the future, fantasies that come out at night and seem so real. the ifs and what could'ves plague me tonight. then the worst ghost comes, the smallest one, dressed in a small white cloth wrapped around the pale transcient child's body, when he walks the ground trembles reverently. he turns to you and looks at you with his white blond tussles, and crytal clear blue eyes, as you look right through him. he brings the greatest pain, for he is PRESENT and within in can lie only truths. the ones we deny and thus consequently, his other ghostly relatives haunt us. and these ghosts, these voices talk to me in my attempts at rest, work and play. most often, they arrive during rest when the mind can be made to fully focus on a sole single subject of their choice.
In the past weeks, that chosen topic has always been life. Mine in particular. Allow me to introduce my self.
Born, 17th May on wednesdsay, of the 88th year of the 20th century.
Blood type : o+
185cm
220lbs
Named David by his parents, and Yung by his family.
I am David Yung,
3rd generation Reluctant Singaporean Citizen
4th generation ACSIAN.
enrolled in the finest institutes of learning. AC, AC, ACJC.
Attention-Deficiet/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD Combined type),servere
Suspected Asperger's Syndrome
has fallen three times into clinical depression.
High intellect with talented analytical skills.
line art artist.
obsession with medical science.
Archievements:
none.
AGE.....21.
Subject is regarded as a legal adult under Singaporean Law.
I am an Adult. Already, finally reached the forbidden age of twenty-one. An adult. I have spent twenty-one long years of painful existence on this planet learning and learning. Yet, for all the time I have spent here, i have done nothing, achieved nothing. I am wondering what purpose do i have for being born here on this hot humid sweaty island? I have fallen being my peers in their academic pursuits, most theirs are coerced upon them by other's, yet they are pursuing academic half-heartedly, while i rott away in a glass cage waiting for a university to claim me as their own.For me, I have chosen my desired path, and I have dreams and aspirations to do good, yet time and timee again, I am foiled in my plan. Sitting here watching them walk off with their new ownners to go home to a loving dinner, while i feel the cold glass on my skin. Fate is fair is she not?
I do not have any commercialble talents. I don't do party tricks, I never cared about, was what i obsessed about. When i obsessed about something, i learnt everything i could about it.when i obsessed about something, and had enough time to obsess about it, i became good at it.when i cared about something, it grew. concepts came easily, the practice too, albeit later on. though that didn't matter to the examiners. we can't make an exam just for one person after all. my obsessions are my only talents. my mind holds much knowledge over a variety of subjects, and the ability to synthesis new elemeents from their basis nature. But this talent is useless. It makes you socially awkward. no one wnats the friend who can see things they can'. its like having the friend who can see dead grandma.
I am unfit and overweight, and too tall for this society, but those are minor details. I've also never achieved any of the Goals I've set out to accomplish. My life is surrounded by failure. my failure to find community. my failure to reach university. my recent failure to get into ocs and to have a meaningful job for 2 years. my failure to upset the labels plastered on my be society. my failure to find contentment. failure to change life. It does seem that every adventure i am entailed, results only in unadulterated failure.i have failed love and i have failed life.
I can't think of any good that i have done in this life. It is a hopeless one and i wish God would end it sooner.
I've been asked to celebrate a "milestone", i can't understand or comprehend what this milestone will be. i see no reason to celebrate. David Yung, 21, a no one.
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