The Manifesto.

Old Love.

2009-07-05T14:26:00.002+08:00

I forgot you for a moment,

I fell for you all over again when our eyes meet.

I thought I could be free,

But you were always my open sea.

Days when we walked and talked,

Times when we hopped some scotch.

Moments where we shared our cake,

Evenings when we spoke our mind.

Your heart was weary,

Mine was tired.

Love was new,

Now it's old.

The Manifesto. Out.

19.

2009-05-25T02:15:00.004+08:00

Happy 19th pal.

Thank you.

Today,

Charlene, Janice, Michelle, Qianwei, Yiling, Zaneta,.

Kiki, Luke, Sheena.

You people made my birthday a great one.

Thank you, I feel blessed to be where I am, what I am.

The Manifesto. Out.

Leaving; Ciao.

2009-05-23T13:42:00.003+08:00

Louis, Ivy, Das, Moon.

Goodbye.

Thank you for all that you have taught.

Thank you for all that I have grown.

Thank me for all the funny times,

Thank me for all the times I made you laugh.

Even though I wished we worked together longer,

I understand you guys have to move on.

I'll move on with other people till August.

Take care & Godspeed.

Best team- Dolce Vita.

The Manifesto. Out.

Trust.

2009-05-21T01:49:00.004+08:00

Today, I fucked up.

I have learnt all my life to trust only, I.

But sometimes we slip into unconsciousness,

fuck up.

I will not tolerate donkeys,

idiots,

incompetent bastards.

I do not blame anyone but myself,

I will not blame others if it's my bad.

I own up to mistakes, I move on.

However if you were part of the mistake,

boy I won't let you go.

Because you will hinder my progress,

At the end,

I will make it,

make it my way.

The Manifesto. Out.

Up.

2009-05-14T11:45:00.003+08:00

Growing up is tough, tough in almost all ways.

When we know what is right and wrong,

yet,

We do what is wrong,

Then make it right.

Come 19, I will turn it all down,

Make it right,

and count,

My wrongs,

say,

My prayers,

Hope:

for the best.

The Manifesto. Out.

When.

2009-05-12T11:30:00.003+08:00

It's when your heart feels weak, when you feel like sitting down, leaving it all.

When you feel bad, when you need someone.

When you know how things are but you go ahead using rationality.

When rationality comes in the way of being inhumane.

I fell into a trap of pain, a trap of uncertainty.

I fell for you, I left for us.

The Manifesto. Out.

This is it.

2009-04-11T00:39:00.001+08:00

This isn't the life I wanted, not completely.

This isn't what i asked for, not fully.

This isn't right for how things will turn out.

This may be time for me to just get away.

This may be when I lose.

This must not go wrong in any way possible, never.

I will, I will make it now.

The Manifesto. Out.

Alone.

2009-04-05T22:30:00.005+08:00

A loan to random strangers- Life is.

A song to sing- Pain is.

A cry- Relief is.

A pain- Nature is.

A run- Escape is.

A situation- Everyday is.

A walk- Peace is.

A thought- Worry is.

Alone- Sean is, in need.

The Manifesto. Out.

159.

2009-03-23T00:07:00.002+08:00

159 days till freedom. Thanks for all the help anyone, everyone. I am grateful for where I am today. I have my regrets, I am living some. I will make everything work. It's late for a resolution and a reflection. But with accordance, I want to live it like my last every sec and I have not been a good boy these months. It's time I do something. Even if things don't turn out the way we hope, it'll be awesome in time to come, at the end.

Alright.

Seldom do I address you here, but,

Make me well, God.

The Manifesto. Out.

Chris

2009-03-21T00:48:00.004+08:00

I am your friend, son, enemy, rival, eyecandy, lost contact, competitor, crush.

I was your friend, enemy, rival, eyecandy, lost contact, competitor, crush.

I am your Son, always will be.

Mom, Happy Birthday to you.

Today, dinner was nice. Food was awesome, you looked good. Thank you for all that you have done. Even when it seems like I'm quite the arse some times, I do not mean it. I just can't express myself well enough and so very easily irritable. Thank you for sticking with me and bear all the quiet moments when I keep to myself every other week.

I wish you great health and happiness.

With love, your son.

The Manifesto. Out.

Put me.

2009-03-14T23:45:00.000+08:00

I'm lost. I don't know if I'm doing it right, I never wanted anyone hurt, anyone sad, anyone down. But I ain't feel all that superb. Maybe it's going too fast, maybe I'm just not used to it. Maybe I'm not meant for this.

Maybe, I'm going to lose this time.

The Manifesto. Out.

&.

2009-02-08T11:03:00.003+08:00

I've given optimistic words to others.

Advices to the down.

Now, it's my turn on the other side.

It sucks and truthfully, it really is inconsolable.

The anxiety and anticipation builds a new high.

The wait is difficult to bear and take.

I can't fall, nobody can brace me.

The Manifesto. Out.

Let me.

2009-02-07T11:56:00.001+08:00

Give me some strength to hope.

I am going to hang on till,

Till it breaks.

The Manifesto. Out.

hello fuck.

2009-01-31T23:57:00.004+08:00

Right. Twist. I'm consumed by your ability to move people around and change them. To let them take sides, to make them think otherwise. It's a pity how some just stay the same. One more and it'd be too much.

The Manifesto. Out.

Douchebag.

2009-01-08T23:03:00.002+08:00

It's awesome to see how people have progressed in their lives.

The juvenile smiles now plagued with maturity and age,

the beady eyes now smothered with fatigue.

I've moved on myself,

to somewhere i think will be better.

Que Sara Sara.

The Manifesto. Out.

Mummy.

2009-01-02T23:58:00.003+08:00

It's been some time since I last wrote here. & incidentally tonight is a perfect day.

I've been feeling for her & she is a lady I respect. Not for the fact she is my mum nor she's an elderly. She has been a pillar of hope and joy, pain and noise, love and more warmth.

If she every reads this, i don't know. But since it's my avenue of saying a little something, here:

To my mum:

Thank you for everything you did.

I remember how i told you i was afraid to die when asthma hit hard one very night and you said I'll be fine.

I remember how you hugged me when i lost my confidence and my results plunged in primary5 and many other years till recent.

I recall how you gave me advice and i turned a deaf year because i thought i was always right, but i wasn't.

Right now i know it isn't the easiest time for you & I'd be there because you'll be awesome.

God bless & thank you.

The Manifesto. Out.

Thursday.

2008-11-27T20:20:00.003+08:00

Apt. It is a Thursday.
The smell in the air is familiar.
Stained with the rain.
The symphony of birds whistling.
I've lost faith in myself.
To move,
To breathe,
To be happy.
Maybe I can,
Maybe it's me.
It's the weather.

The Manifesto. Out.

Likewise.

2008-11-24T22:16:00.002+08:00

I've remembered.

I'll not do twice.

You've lost it.

I can't make music out of noise.

Make love out of lust.

I hate mum's mouth.

I hate yours.

Till then.

Yours truly,

The Manifesto. Out.

Oui.

2008-11-23T18:32:00.003+08:00

I am rude.

I am moody.

I am unpredictable.

I am bright.

I am hilarious.

I am not who you are.

I am Sean.

You will never know me.

You will never understand fully.

You are you.

The Manifesto. Out.

Tipping.

2008-11-17T22:24:00.002+08:00

Your childish acts have become immaculately painful.

The words you put out are simply selfish,

Self-centered, oblivious to others.

Your thoughts are clouded with prejudice and misplaced geography of time.

When in a flash of a rush, one should know how things should be placed.

Halt all before it pours,

On you.

Again.

The Manifesto. Out.

In the load.

2008-11-13T20:53:00.002+08:00

Sean is starting to feel tired.

Tired of sequences, repetitions, talking.

Talking to the mind of curious thoughts.

Feeling less optimistic,

Staying cool.

Walking on strong he seems,

Falling soon I tell.

The Manifesto. Out.

Check.

2008-11-02T21:45:00.004+08:00

In the blur of a chess piece,

I've been checked.

The outer shell of yours is tarnished,

Your score is soiled.

Juveniles on the alter bridge,

Jacko on the boardwalk.

Waiting for Tuesday evenings with orange rain,

Purple skies & Turquoise clouds.

Cautious,

bold.

Connotations of a failure to begin,

& end.

The Manifesto. Out.

Right.

2008-10-19T15:55:00.002+08:00

Today, I've decided.

I'm going to wash my hands off most.

To live the moment and cherish others.

The uproar it may cause,

the phase we all love.

I'm going to live: A good season.

The Manifesto. Out.

End:Start.

2008-10-16T20:30:00.004+08:00

The summer birds gone,

The slumbers of gold perished.

The tired eyes weary as ever,

The restless souls are forced to work.

In the midst of October,

A young boy walks on.

He of a short stature,

Wears a tall hat.

Without a bat,

He hits hard.

He wants more.

Happiness, bliss, character.

Like a soul, tired one,

He moves unlike others.

He moves fast,

And strong.

A hurricane,

of hope, joy

& tears.

He who is intelligent to tell,

To make it happen.

Will make this a good season.

For this, he calls it:

A good season.

The Manifesto. Out.

sorry.

2008-10-13T23:09:00.002+08:00

I did something so very out of this world today.

I had a piercing on my wrist and to be honest,

I'm not excited about it at all.

Not cool, however, an experience.

A very crazy one.

The feeling was surreal.

The pain pictured in mind somehow didn't match up.

It felt like a sting.

Maybe it takes something like that to realise how some words really made sense.

Mum, yes.

My feelings plummet, my guilt erupts.

Flippant to say its juvenile, a lesson, an experience;

indie kids could live without.

Sorry mummy.

The Manifesto. Out.

212.

2008-10-12T16:49:00.003+08:00

This is the longest one.

The one that causes the dicks to plummet and the hearts to fail.

You are a jerk off,

Never to change,

Ever the same,

a facade,

a child,

a performer,

a flute playing master,

a friend,

a sorrow,

a history.

My pal,

my alliance,

my jukebox.

my ear.

ciaociao.

The Manifesto. Out.

I want out.

2008-10-03T15:44:00.003+08:00

I'm not ready for these complications.
Complications caused by trust and thoughts.
I never wanted to be a splinter for others.
Others to hate/love/share.
I need to be free inside.
I need space.
I need time alone.
I need to breathe.
I need to run.
Run away.
Away from all.
All but myself.
Myself ?
I don't know who.

& vengeance is a wonderful force to kill,
to move,
to climb.
& I've got some in me,
ready to show.
Be ready pal, I may just strike soon.

The Manifesto. Out.

Paint.

2008-10-02T12:21:00.002+08:00

You're better quiet.
You're better a nerd.
You're better less complicated.
You have become a pain.
You have been rallying your pals.
You have been doing little actions around.
You have been a disappointment for these childish acts.
It is almost time i tell you fuck off to feed the rats.
I'm but doing things pretty.
So cutesy, so pretty.
So dolled up.
But you are ever so fucked up.

The Manifesto. Out.

Save: Les Miserables.

2008-09-24T22:54:00.002+08:00

Indie boys like I.
Yeh, we fly by things.
Yeh, we are all about the strokes.
Yeh, we still fee.
Yeh, we all hate you.

with love, fuck off.

The Manifesto. Out.

Mr Eff.

2008-09-23T21:27:00.001+08:00

I don't know. I mean fuck the emos? But, i get hit hard and fast. It's difficult to hide the fatigue, it's hard to move on. It's a pain to bounce about. I need some serious rest, fast&hard.

Fucking indie kids.

The Manifesto. Out.

This Is It.

2008-09-18T00:23:00.002+08:00

I shine in darkness, i move like an enigma.
I love to care, I hate to bear.
I want to be nice, I get the slice; of hate.
I could get away, but there is a price to pay.
I am difficult, I know its not easy.
Please me, don't have to.
Love me, half of how i do for you.
Colour me red, I'm about to succumb to fate.
I'm not who you know, I am who you see.
For real, I'm sensitive as it can be.
However, it's me.
Love or hate,
it's your date.

I'm fucking care everything,
I'm doing what i can,
I'm just your friend,
I''m Sean
&
I just want to be happy and free.

The Manifesto. Out.

I am Sean.

2008-08-17T14:02:00.002+08:00

I'm Sean.
I'm lost.
I'm smart.
I'm dumb.
I'm unpredictable.
I'm uncontrollable.
I'm easy to flow.
I'm difficult to get along.
I'm your best friend.
I'm your worst enemy.
I'm just trying to be myself.
I'm being too nice.
I'm losing it all.
I'm getting back;
Pronto.

The Manifesto. Out.

Ends.

2008-07-13T18:00:00.001+08:00

Here, fuck you, you and you.

Today, I know im gone, im lost.

The Manifesto. Out.

Sane.

2008-07-13T14:17:00.002+08:00

I've lost touch of sanity, composure, thought.
I've fought with thoughts, tempered with sanity and lost my composure.
Is there a guide for obscure relief of worries?
A manual for lost boys?
Too often the sense of anguish, too often the misconception of balance.
The pique of anger, the pinch of reality.
Nobody gets me, no one knows.
Juggling is never easy, i know, we all do.
Quiet moments in the hustle and bustle,
Nostalgia in the grey,
I will learn the way,
The way to free.

Godbless & godspeed Son.

The Manifesto. Out.

Septembers.

2008-06-25T22:56:00.003+08:00

Crossroads of uncertainty,
Paths to reality.
Voices from hell,
Messages to dwell.
Average Joe for hope,
All ended with a cut of dope.

The Manifesto. Out.

11:58.

2008-06-18T23:57:00.002+08:00

In the isle of uncertainty, in the mind of a whiz.
In the steps to greatness, in the dust of a pain.
I've lost count of things i counted.
I've lost sight of things I've seen.
Insanity is sane and straight is a line.
Superheroes for tomorrow,
the whiz of today.

The Manifesto. Out.

走了样.

2008-06-14T13:12:00.001+08:00

变了，一切都不一样了。
一年不知不觉以从我人身飘走。
回头看看，心里也感到不禁的压抑。
短短的一年里，有谁也走过了酸甜苦辣。
有谁能了解我现在所感受的。
今日，心里的网，三言两语表答不了。

The Manifesto. Out.

Color me- Bliss.

2008-05-28T20:55:00.002+08:00

" You remembered things we went through i never thought you will ", yes i will.
" I hope this was the best birthday you had. ", sure it was.

Thank you dearest friends, closest pals, heartfelt moments.

More than a memento, less than sadness.
Bigger than I, smaller than you.
Larger than life, diminished by jaded eyes.

Back in '07, i never thought anything will blossom. Strangers, we stood.
Come '08, absence is pain. Partners we hold.

To you, thanks & god bless.

The Manifesto. Out.

The Poet.

2008-04-18T00:06:00.003+08:00

Fashion's life, life within.
It's more than eyes have seen,
More that love has graced.
Love me like your average Joe,
Make me love you more than the other Jane.
You've graced balls, winter & fall.
In your blood,
Every other heart.

The Manifesto. Out.

The Grip.

2008-04-09T00:07:00.004+08:00

"The painful grip of death and sickness. You die before sickness gets to you. It tires you out, it wears you down. It's a time where denial is awesome. A refuge, a haven, a place to feel better- mentally. Cancer is nothing more than a bad flu, i wished it was. "

To my hero, my friend, my grandpa :

I wish you well, good health soon, uncountable years to live on. I may have spoken more to grandma when i visit your place, but sure i do adore you. The things you say that make me laugh effortlessly, the things you do that grant your wish of getting scolded by grandma. Also, you spoke words of wisdom and made me realise things i never thought i would. Thank you.

With love, everything will be over soon and you will be munching on your favourite siew mai before long.

Say your prayers, i will say mine.

The Manifesto. Out.

Jock.

2008-04-06T08:25:00.002+08:00

I'm a worried kid, I'm lost again, I'm dumb-founded, I'm over-reacting?

I really have to clue how things are going to be or what things have become. As the early morning wakes me up, i find myself in a similar situation. This time, a hundered times better. Yes, i dig them.

The Manifesto. Out.

The Usual Trader.

2008-03-23T22:31:00.003+08:00

"Shoot friends in days before hours of daze. "

It's never easy to make things jolly for the lot. When you do things your way and try to fuck the world under your feet, somehow, a part of you stages mutiny and all goes back to ground zero. Hero to zero, all in 10mins i'd say? When you realise people around you are losing their lives, cheating death in assorted fashions, you stop and ask if all's worth it and really is fun and joy. Let's just get lost in words and music. Photos and occasional mofos.

The Manifesto. Out.

Green Dean.

2008-03-22T02:30:00.003+08:00

"Fast hands, mighty gems , for the tired man."

Miles to glory, hours to light, 20seconds to a fight. You crawl out of bed in your familiar PJs, heat the stale short-cakes, make some amazingly bad-tasting coco and hit the roads for your bullfight. Like a seasoned matador, you put on the leather boots, tight pants and in your arms, you hold a sharp spear. Say a prayer with utmost conviction and grace, you bow and treat the next few minutes like a fight of your life. You hear your breath under the cover of your sweat, the crowd's roaring, eyes watching, your heart thumping so hard you wished it was out.

The Manifesto. Out.

Hollywood Tapes.

2008-03-21T01:16:00.005+08:00

"It seems like days are getting better, only for others, you're older & death's nearer."

Sticky, recordings, cordon-off(s), anything. Like tinseltown, when everything seems nice, perfect, glamorous, life has been like that. I can't seem to stop bothering about anything, everything. I seem to realise the new every step of my way. Life has changed. It isn't about being all nice, accommodating, cheery&sad at the same time. It's for yourself, for the less fortunate, for the deprived, for the greatness of being straight-forward, the joy of being able to tell what other's are thinking.
Rich or poor, the beats of your wee sings the same tune. But I'll never be like anyone, ever.

The Manifesto. Out.

Quiet.

2008-03-20T00:35:00.004+08:00

"I don't expect anything, anything, nothing."

You hold your ink, trying to pen your words, trying to compose, trying to write. Write, you write nothing, nothing appears, appears to be just balderdash, balderdash they say; you say it's the work of a whiz. Whiz, just a kid on the block, blocked out of your thoughts, thoughts that make you worry, worrisome you get, get a grip. When you look through the viewfinder, when you picture how it will turn out, when you ask for permission to shoot her tattooed leg, when you take shots blocked out on purpose, when you hold a huge umbrella and wear your RayBan's,
"when you are nothing but a boyish/gay-ish dude called, Sean."

The Manifesto. Out.

Above.

2008-03-17T02:04:00.003+08:00

"All around me are familiar face, worn out faces"

As i sat there with my ipod to my ears, your familiar face struck me. The cutesy red top with polka dots and the straw bag which i probably figure its a Guess. I'm uncertain if it really is you. It's a plus to the record number of times we bump into each other if it really is you. With you, it brought me back to the days in lower levels of my education stint. The days where i had layers under my shirt, the days you were in front of me with the school counsellor badge, the days i thought i liked you till mum spoke about infatuation and puppy love. Days where i stayed at grann's place, days where i was a blob, days where i thought i looked when in actual fact i was a dud. An arrogant, cocksure, intelligent bastard, i was. Still am, with records to my name. It is crazy far-fetched how i could generate much thought from a view, from above. Dear oh dear.

The Manifesto. Out.

Pens & Cents.

2008-03-13T01:58:00.002+08:00

"The only two you would think twice lying to is god and yourself, lie to everyone else."

I've been writing, reading, listening, writing, reading and listening, six-folds over. Cooking, tossing, cleaning, cooking, tossing, and cleaning, another thirty folds. A poet, a love-struck, just another kid on the streets. As i walk aimlessly through back alleys and dark corners, green pastures and orange lights, i await a picture-worthy moment to show off to my friends, myself, the world. The world, a place of uncertainty, warmth, cold, pain, love, sweet, sour, wealth, poverty, you & I. I worry for my wardrobe, i worry for you, i worry for her, him, that, there, where, why, how, now, brown, cow. I'm a worrisome kid, i find myself too smart, i know people think its weird, i know know know everything, not exactly. I need a pen in my hand to make sense and cents.

This is going nowhere close to a closure.

The Manifesto. Out.

Lavender.

2008-03-11T23:18:00.003+08:00

Where birds sang a tune. Where words felt different. Where love was around, where i was there to be found. You cared, taught, scolded, fed and still loving, me. It was you i learnt the language of myself, the codes of yesterday and the steps for tomorrow. Now you're all old, wrinkled, limping, yet still active and kicking, i do fear of losing you. Someone i could give up for, you will never see this but i do hope it lasts for decades to come. You're someone exceptional, the way you make wicked dishes, the way you say the profanities which i totally am a fan for and the way you held my hand on those overseas trips. Your house is my refuge, the place of comfort, the smell of the past, i do treasure. You're hella a woman grann.

The Manifesto. Out.

Blue Sundays.

2008-03-09T22:50:00.003+08:00

The air was still. Still the smell of yesterday's rain was around. You slip into your furry slippers, grab the papers and hit the gates open for bottles of milk. Maybe i felt you too much in bed, maybe you were tired, maybe it wasn't you anymore. Coffee stains on the table, marks of the past. As you sat at the table sipping, reading. Your glasses sitting well on your nose, the voice of johnny cash filling the chilly morning, i needed you. You whispered words i could hardly hear and kissed goodbye. It was another day, another sunday. Sunday never was a special day for us, you said it was for us. "Us" was something you had at your shoulders, heart was I. Very too often i made dinner and you were away, very too often i waited for you in bed and you were missing, very too often i said my good night to your shots on the wall. Remember the times you said i was your world, i was your touch. Remembering is my refuge, my solace, almost a religion.

The Manifesto. Out.

The Freedom Guild.

2008-03-05T16:20:00.002+08:00

"I'll be happy to just act like myself."

I take my hat off to the freedom writers and of course Ms. G. Her courage, enthusiasm, zest, knowledge, ability to inspire and change was unparalleled to any educator. It's not often how people mean what they say, do what they speak, act what they plan. She moved and united people of different races, blood, beliefs and thought. There was love, care and warmth in her words. Also, it's funny how it relates to me in some ways or other. There was reminiscence. Be it the love or connotations of each sentences or lingo/slang she tried to do in order to get the children working. Inspiring, touching. It makes you realise how unturned messages, bad scores, or even lost love could inspire new, better beginnings. Not a bad thing always, really. The immense emotion Hilary Swank put into the show was breath-taking, realistic and believable. A film for all accolades, for all people, everyone.

The Manifesto. Out.

Just another ride.

2008-02-17T23:30:00.002+08:00

"It's just another ride, before a fight, Son."

You lied, I died.
It's times like that we feel sad, we notice things around us, we treasure, we learn, then we try, we try our best just to earn. To earn respect, results, love & trust. Like a James Braddock, I've learnt the hard way. With cuffs, with torn friendships, with hatred & regret. Moving on, greener pastures couldn't be any greener. I've looked upon myself as a charm, a lucky charm. A religious, self-taught, lost prophet.

I'm a love-struck child.

The Manifesto. Out.

Era.

2008-02-04T23:43:00.000+08:00

Not mine, yet. As you think everything's planned out, worked out, straightened out. As you worked for yourself, planned for youself, spoke to youself, you finally stumble and realise it isn't the case. Like Cash, you sang words of wisdom & wrote notes of thought. I'm not going to start falling just when I felt great.

A whiz, the king.

The Manifesto. Out.

Fab.

2008-02-01T00:04:00.000+08:00

3 years and counting, love we are mounting. Times we fought, days we laughed. Places we walked, hours we spilled our hearts. The inconsolable me those days, the love-struck you. Like how things worked out those times, like how things wouldn't. Not those cliche words people say, not those beautiful accidents. But really, you are. Fuck me for nit-picking, stab me for laughing, strike me for everything.

Awesome times, sumblime moments.

The Manifesto. Out.

30-Folds.

2008-01-29T23:40:00.000+08:00

Thirty folds of pain, angst & stress. I seldom speak about how lousy I am, how bad I suck and how easily affected I am. Probably looked upon as a confident, easy-going, loud & not to mention, unfriendly lad. I'm losing my touch on matters important to me and gaining feel on things I should let go. With rife competition, my game of stepping up has reached a whole new peak. Almost an epitome of fear, I would say. The fear of failing. My frowns, my thoughts, my silly ideas. I have to bring it to a halt. Plus my nausea. Come my new stint in the kitchen, I'm afraid it would fail me. Doesn't sound like me at all. Alright, no two shits. Ima own it,
come what may.

The Manifesto. Out.

I think my death is close.

2008-01-15T22:13:00.000+08:00

Losing weight is bad.

I've seen the doc a record number of times these months and mum thinks it's crazy. Of course, my latest and most "enjoyable" installation, nausea. The sensation is a wreck, i think im dying. Please dress well to my wake/funeral yes. I'm not ready to go, come on now. I've to get well lickety-split. Fuck this illness, fuck everything.

The Manifesto. Out.

View-finder Syndrome.

2007-12-27T22:54:00.001+08:00

A passing fad, a phase in my simple life, an interest. Photography, my love. Like how you get all psyched up visualizing how an image is captured by the shutters before pressing down on the oh-so-tempting button. Like how you get all disappointed when the guy at the developing place tells you he misplaced the film. This & that. A love-hate affair, most likely. Anyhow, check it. By me, the shooter.

http://viewfindersupremo.blogspot.com

The Manifesto. Out.

Image.

2007-12-16T23:02:00.000+08:00

Before post proper, safe trip sis&ali.

Days after years, image has been my primary objective. Looking good was first in line, zits were killers. It's time for a change. I need to start thinking what i really want. Phases, many. Times where i thought writing was my forte, now it's cooking, which i still think is. But, watching the number of people failing and falling, has made it quite a gamble. Brushing it off like it's a bug-bear, my kind of assurance. Money has never been a problem for me since my parents provide well enough for my needs. However, i have been over-spending. Apologies.

Inspirations never seem to run dry, for me at least. Ideas, thoughts, plans, none seem to work most of the times. Letting go is too early right now, i need to start working through my plans thoroughly. Lamenting this and that after sucks, big time. And yes, things are starting to happen over. This time its twice the speed, keep it slow for me.

The Manifesto. Out.

A Tribute: Chee Wei Cheng. 1987-2007.

2007-11-25T21:00:00.000+08:00

A family friend, a Mr. nice guy, a guy we all knew, a dragon-boater, a guy i never spoke to.

Quiet, studious, nice, friendly, courteous, generous, filial.

Not your Mr. Perfect in many ways but an almost perfect son in more ways.

I regret not talking to you, i regret being a stuck-up ass in the pass, i regret being me.

Mom & Brother of Wei Cheng, my condolences and god bless.

The Manifesto. Out.

The Fall.

2007-11-15T22:27:00.000+08:00

It has been years since I felt like a true great student. Somehow competition spurred me on during my younger days when my sis was on par as i was. Never a grade under A. But as time passed and my relentless efforts to pick myself up foiled, i lagged. Scraping through all exams and tests, feeling sore turned a norm. Passes were treats. I've lost the ability to play the piano, sight-reading seems more difficult than ever. Big dreams, expensive goods, they were instantaneous joys. It's time i find myself. Life's pretty much a fuck these days. I lament the touch of diligence.

The Manifesto. Out.

tweep & drip.

2007-10-23T00:03:00.000+08:00

Monday blues, they last longer than a day.

Cool wind, wet roads, damp air. Yes, weather's perfect for some. I'm odd. Breaking it down simply, the smell of plants reek memories. Pleasant, mostly not. This post is going everywhere but making sense. Yet another post that most wouldn't understand. It's not one of my usual roman à clé posts this time. Anyway,.

The Manifesto. Out.

Just before.

2007-10-18T14:43:00.000+08:00

The uncertainty that runs in the blood, the mood-swings that come so very often, the thoughts of letting go which never seem to materialize. At 17, i would say things have gone pretty smoothly. Little hiccups are bound to surface. Most times, bug-bears i would say. It will be again, this very time.

The Manifesto. Out.

Those snapshots.

2007-10-07T14:15:00.000+08:00

As i stumbled on your snapshots, it felt great seeing your pretty face. Along with it were bittersweet memories. It was good to have you for sometime. Stories you told, words you spoke, it was never too difficult for me to believe even though the rest thought you were fake. You're a decadent cookie, girl-friend.

The Manifesto. Out.

I'm the globe-trekker.

2007-09-23T23:15:00.000+08:00

Simply, countries i have visited, a few. I would say, an unaccomplished traveller. The vibes i got were different in almost every country, state, island, nation, place that i covered. Smells, scents, sights, scenery, picturesque or not, somehow there was a speck of sadness in all trips. The old and wrinkled in China, the so very quiet nights in new zealand, the jerks on the horse-rides in aust., the night-walks in bangkok, thailand, the poor in neighbouring countries. Class differences, i've seen them. Beggars that we were told to avoid, the handicap we were told to steer clear from, and the side streets we were told to not buy food from. I'll share this, the food stalls served up the best few i tasted. Poorer states made me want to return, buildings were snap-shot worthy, people were the warmest you would get.

Walks to remember, they were.
Yes, certainly.

The Manifesto. Out.

Come Again(s).

2007-09-04T22:15:00.000+08:00

The setting's right, the mood's right, your pace is perfect. I know where is all this heading to. Im just thinking, maybe not. Somehow, it seems clearer where i'm placed. Forget the one way posts, deliveries, and post cards. It isn't going to happen again, not now, not in the future. As the still waters bask restlessly in the city lights, i knew i was going to make this right, this time.

The Manifesto. Out.

He's my Dad.

2007-08-19T00:23:00.000+08:00

My family. My dad. To you:

I am sorry for all the fights, im sorry for all the vulgarities, im sorry for being rude, im sorry i didn't listen to you, im sorry i got into trouble at your expense, im sorry i hurt you.

I am grateful for all the love, the time, the money, the shelter and to have you.

It has been a long time, since we spoke for more than 5mins, or so. But, i do respect you. It is not that i hate you, but i think i dislike you. Not for anything, but because i dont understand the stuff you do for me at times. I do hope this cut-up turns out great and all the best.

I know you won't get to read this but, godspeed.

Love.

The Manifesto. Out.

Old Glory.

2007-08-13T01:07:00.000+08:00

"Past glory spurs new", it was a lie. Sometimes, it is never more difficult to spell out how you feel, don't you agree, love? As the so-very-costly cut up is making me think, there's more, always more. I can't put my pen down, nor my thoughts for a sec. It is simply a sticky wicket. At points like that, i brush them off, usually. But, I'm too tired and exhausted to think anymore. As i penned down my last words and proceeded with the sending, i just wanted it to be fine for all. Fast losing track of my speech, it shall end, lickety-split.

God Bless.

The Manifesto. Out.

Toe to Pole.

2007-06-30T01:49:00.000+08:00

It has been a short two months since we hit off well. Time spent was awesome and the oh so often profanities that the clique screamed, surely contributed largely. Apologies i thought you were older at first but the connotations were too strong. Even though i was asked to post this, you are truly a great friend, partner tan. I can see the whites.

The Manifesto. Out.

Back In the Sack.

2007-06-27T03:00:00.000+08:00

As i walked the familiar road, as i browsed the card stand, as i saw the cakes, as i made quick steps across the the past half/year. You were on the low, i lied down too. I thought i had made my mark, i really thought i had done it. But, you came back soon. Refreshing, reminding, it got me thinking but i knew i did well; so did you. It wasnt as though as i thought it was, you made me walk the talk, i did pretty well, as least i think i did. Okay, you're going to be great. I would be better, i hope.
Yes, i would.

The Manifesto. Out.

Déjà Vu.

2007-06-18T00:58:00.000+08:00

I know, yes, tell me it's passe to talk about it. I'm not talking about a science-fiction flick, not a song nor a movie. Tell me, when was the last time you felt this, that, happened before. What if you were part of my sight, déjà vu, what if you were the one that said hi, déjà vu, what if you told me i was part of your déjà vu. The repetition of the word, its annoying; absurd, irritating, mind-blowing? I'll say, realistic. Tell me once, you did something without the reminiscence of the past, the people you cared, the ones you felt for. Let me bring this to a halt, these words could be ballistic in a sec, but i fear that my déjà vu would repeat twice, again.
Brace me, hon.

The Manifesto. Out.

Ten in Sixty.

2007-06-14T23:59:00.000+08:00

Yes, let it fly. But slowly, i take back my words, please slow down. As i recall the days you made lunch and asked if i was hungry. I was famished, but picky. I remember how you asked me to stop the over - indulgence; of sweets. I wanted, but rebellious. So much for care, relentlessly, i stumbled upon problems after another. You were concerned, i was nonchalant. You assured that things would be fine, and words that allowed my disconsolation to die off, momentarily. Through time, as your hair turned white and skin wrinkled, cheeks drooped and hearing failed, i stood there stagnant. I was unmoved my situations, i realise now.

The Manifesto. Out.

Misjudged Demeanour.

2007-06-13T00:47:00.000+08:00

Tick, Tock. Alright, lets allow things to take flight now. It has been seventeen years and individual thoughts run wild. With the stained negatives flashed under lights, genuine smiles and truths can be seen from the almost porcelin eyes. Such pale skin, yet it glows, such black hair, yet it shines, such lies, yet it never breaks through. Behind the dark curtains of yours, i believe we have been walking deeper into the canyon. Deep enough for it all to end, in misery. Babe, it never would end after years, would it. Rest assured, affirmation is not needed, but let me know when this would stop, make it quick.

The Manifesto. Out.

Caroline.

2007-06-08T23:38:00.000+08:00

Keeping things simple, a life list, goals, smiles and sufficient spending power enriches my life sufficiently. As we advance into the woods of new avenues, as we take the path less taken, as we talk. Stop the sniggering, smell the distinct, so very distinct smell of the field nearby. Ignore your mom's de-caffed', try to. As we move along with the crowd day by day, ask if you called home when you're running late. Ask if you spoke to your parents well, ask if your lunch was snapped up before you could taste fully. I'd say no. But changes would not be eminent. It never would. I'd wish you a speedy recovery. Love.

The Manifesto. Out.

Scent '00.

2007-05-17T01:41:00.000+08:00

In the bus, on the ride, pacing through the side, i saw myself cry. That was years ago when times were just simply great. Best times, i would say. Simply great, carefree, happy and fat. When looks were'nt a factor, when time simply went along and stretched as i called for it. Bring me back to the times, now. Missing the steamed fish slices, warm soup and touch of wrinkled hand on my fairly smooth palms. I miss the days, of breathing.

The Manifesto. Out.

Time & Thyme.

2007-05-05T00:51:00.000+08:00

As it slips through my pudgy fingers, 21st seems closer. When i sensed that i was'nt in a sanctuary afterall. Leaving my roots, im embarking on something people look at with inquisitive eyes. Never have i stopped to contemplate on my doings, but somehow, i just did. Spare me the politics, count me out in the labyrinthine culture of planting a new society.

Let time fly.

The Manifesto. Out.

Skipping the Quip.

2007-02-26T01:05:00.000+08:00

Things couldn't be better, could it. As Jim said quietly, almost whispering to Mary, Cash went by the corner and started hearing things he shouldn't, yet. Jim was going for an op soon, of which needed a specialist surgeon. Putting the pace down, taking caution to his demeanor as cash walked pass the room. Thinking to himself it could all be a bugbear, Cash shut his eyes and asked for the grant of amnesty.
Coming along, Judi was sick. It's a phase we'd all go through somehow. Help was long gone, and Cash knew he had to give up his badge for Judi's sustenance, at least for now. Judi didn't seem wrong, the same frown, but she was getting younger, mentally. Snapshots of friends moved along lickety-split, too quick to halt.
In his tee and shorts, he said his night prayers and asked for a better day.

The Manifesto. Out.

17/2/06-07. Match-point.

2007-02-17T23:53:00.000+08:00

06
With joy and utmost eagerness, i looked forward to what was coming up. Breaking the silence of the night, i spent time convincing, everything would be fine. The night was spent at set-like images, as words and thoughts started pouring in, i just prayed. Afraid the well-bruised tatooed mate would soon start a conversation, i pretended to doze off. As they shouted for the gates, the night passed slower than i imagined. Time was an element to me, as i waited for the gates to be opened, prayers were naturally said. Tea that consisted more of sugar and water than tea leaves but bread was alright. Home seemed attractive, like it never did the same.

07
Wishing things would work out somehow or another, reluctantly i did the dish.
The on-going reflux was almost unbearable, lying and swallowing's tough for once. Tell me if its going to be fine this time, i'd guess its going to be tough.

God bless.

The Manifesto. Out.

The Phase.

2007-02-12T22:00:00.000+08:00

The sudden difficulty of speaking and expressing certainly caused much gloom. Potrayed as a callous and lost self, redeeming was certain. Quickly, i hope. With contributing factors and almost topping up the thought vacancies, sorting out seems the only choice. Always played the second choice back home, excelling was never possible; I dont know.
Jim's list of names for me has piled over the top, not forgetting Mary's many speeches of the past. It'd be over soon, yes. All over.

The Manifesto. Out.

Yesterday's All.

2007-01-05T01:40:00.000+08:00

Its a bitter pill to swallow, how quickly things change and feelings disrupted. The silence of the other party, the cold night's screams and the shot off the block. Leaning backwards, the touch of the unattended leather seat felt softer than usual. Awaiting the words of forgiveness, seconds felt longer than usual. Time was a factor of everything, first times, subsequents, so forth. Leaving behind a track was never a good idea, there wasnt another choice showcased.

I ask for everything thats left behind.

The Manifesto. Out.

Speaking Tongues.

2006-12-22T23:34:00.000+08:00

Landing, returning back was almost a mixture of feelings. Tough letting go and the yearn to move on, at least thats how it felt like. Crisp the images were, it faded to black almost the very next minute. Seeing doubt in every senario and feeling somewhat insecure, it's not that easy to move on is it. It was certainly great in a foreign country even though it was a little peculiar to mix around and unaware of their very sexes. Trannies, respect them.

Blessing Kylie.

2006-12-10T21:33:00.000+08:00

We never know, do we. Its painful, probably tough seeing loved ones suffering in the silence. Knowing on the sly, the very truth. I will pray, for you. Probably it will all make sense someday, i hope everything goes well. Even when hair falls off, lips turn pale, we'd stand by you. Rusty would weep wouldn't he. God Bless and well wishes.

The Manifesto. Out.

Why So?

2006-11-26T01:21:00.000+08:00

We've never been able to speak of what we thought of. Holding back, afraid it would potray an image less impressive or whatsoever. Acting differently in front of someone you fancy shows no flaw. It all boils down to one's view. Remembering the skies i saw when i was away. It was differnt. The air had a different smell to it, even the touch of familiar hands felt different. It was almost peculiar. As i walked through the parks and hills, i knew that was what i wanted, at least for that moment. Speaking with a random fashion and zlich pictures to concurr to, i shall bring it to an end. Good-day.

The Manifesto. Out.

Ten to Three.

2006-11-24T01:30:00.000+08:00

"Its tough making the perfect grain cooked. Needless to say, risotto takes time and skill." Sunday cooking talks on the radio have seemed to be part of Cash's schedule. As he poured his grains into the pan along with yesterday's leftover fish stock, he allowed it to simmer slowly. Busking in the afternoon sun, along in his home, he yearned to return back to the past. Where he had everything he wanted. People he could lean on, friends who were trustable, and loved ones who remembered him. It was his friend he missed most. April. She was a promisisng lady, an aspiring singer. She had fair skin and deep-set eyes. She made the best morning toasts with pancettas. Every now and then when Cash wanted to do something, Tinsey appears in his mind. Just before he went to bed every night, he would cross his legs and say a prayer. This didnt take his mind off much, but it brought a short phase of quietness and thanks. Cash knew there was more to come above the pile of thoughts he was harbouring deep down. No one knew what was going on, not even Tinsey. Its soon Cash blows off. To him, everyhings has been surreal. He did things according to numbers. From twenty six to 174, every number meant something to him. He was confused. He smiled and tried to make things work. Even in the expense of himself, he knew no one was going to agree. In four months, Cash would seize.

The Manifesto. Out.

The Jury.

2006-11-21T23:56:00.000+08:00

The cover ups werent good enough. Jim sold Cash, it has all turned into a rat race now. There was too much doubt and speculation taking place in Stork-Vile. The Isle seemed dead, pretty much when it just opened. Cash was in trial, surprisingly, Tinsey was a juror. It was a cover up by Syke. He, who is a dissident, spent most of his time listening to his members. Plans which never go further than burining homes. This time, it sure helped Cash. Tinsey who was chosen, had no clue what would be surfacing soon. All he knew was, MJ was a lady he missed. He missed the scent of her hair, her pretty white and a tad lacy miu miu she wore on their first date. Their relationship was a secret no one knew off, so much so, Cash was left clueless at first time. In fortnight, things would go bad and it would be time for Syke to bounce.

The Manifesto. Out.

The Churos Shooting.

2006-11-19T14:57:00.000+08:00

Slowly dipping in thick sauce, it went soft, everyone would have, seeing the shoot out. As the dinner ladies were whipping up simple pasta, Tinsey walked in with his hands behind his back. Cash was just around the corner, filling up his magazine. In his dark coat and fedoras, he signaled to him and cued him to start off. Mary-Jane was at the corner, with Jim. Tinsey had known MJ for sometime now, ever since The Isle was up. Cash had a spot for him, probably because he was the one that thought almost alike. Tinsey slowly closed up on Jim and whispered, " Pay the bills. ". Jim knew something was wrong. MJ swept herself off his lap and went off. Jim fired his gun a couple of times. Everything came to a stop for a moment. There, Mary-Jane lied motionless, bleeding. Jim merely fell to the floor and unbuckled the anklet he gave. Cash had no other choice, but to finish it. Weeding out slowly. Cash lit his pipe and spoke to himself. Leaving behind prints of blood. Tinsey teared, it was not long before he left Stork-Vile in search of his Senorita.

The Manifesto. Out.

Red Pesto

2006-10-31T14:01:00.000+08:00

"Enigma", Cash whispered to himself as he walked through the slightly littled room. He could not get his mind off what happened moments ago. As always, he tucked his clothes aside and lit his pipe. As slowly the burning of tobacco, he hummed a tune. One that was familiar to all. "A kid at heart", thats what his mum used to say. As Cash sat there smoking, he thought of things he never thought would bother him. The lady in white has been appearing and he knew Jim was getting on with his plans. Nothing could stop him, Jim was a promising young chap. His band served as a vault, vault of power and fame in Stork-Vile. Cash knew him since they were kids, Stork-Vile town has since prospered and things changes. Jim wasn't spared. Cash had plans, but he knew the time was not right. The name of the lady in white was Mary Jane, a dinner lady at Stork-Vile high school. She had blue eyes, a pony and pretty small in size. MJ, like what the rest of her collegues called her, was well liked and too, and had company behind her. Cash walked with his pal, Tinsey. He, had a background no one knew off. Dark skinned and wrinkled for his age. "Join me, soon.", Cash told him before they left for home.

The Manifesto. Out.

Fitting Wings.

2006-10-24T22:18:00.000+08:00

"Im right", Cash told himself, walking the dark alley. Time's running up, similarly, his strength within. Though its been a short period, he is weighing down. After being put through tests after tests, modules after modules, he yearned for a peck of affection or somewhat with relation. Mummy once said, "Short and Sweet.", she's wrong. He lit his pipe once more, and thought of the lady in white. She was dwindling, fading slowly. He waited, knowing that she would come someday. She did, but as quickly, she left. It was her back he saw the first, the back he saw the last. He knelt and started saying some prayers, his heart ached. A reason he had no grasp or knowledge of. He knew the lady in white had someone in mind, a guy who had been there. "A little while more, i shall." Cash stood up and smoked the night.

The Manifesto. Out.

The Burner.

2006-10-19T23:25:00.000+08:00

Little did Cash know, little did he smell. It was tough, a second thought softened things up. Putting back the pipe in place, he walked off. Almost with wit and grace. There was a look in his eyes, of fear and thoughts that clogged up. Everything that happened, was a reason. An agenda, for senarios, sequence like, somewhat. Every night, he said a prayer, hopping somewhere, Lady Luck and God will hear. He prayed for everything. He was an insecure but unexpectedly intelligent man. Dressed in old-suede coat and olive pants, his smelt of his workplace, sweat lingered through his brows. Little was it obnoxious, very much, peculiar. The Isle, was not in its usual state. Jim and his band went silent, for a moment or two. He walked out alone, with his signature fedoras. Sat down and whisteled along, against the wind that flowed through the marquee. He thought little, all he wanted was to leave an impression to the lady in her white muumuu. Cash lit his pipe, and looked right into her eyes. " Yes, you got things right now. " Deep in he sang, " Look at me, look at me fondly. " But it was just too late now, the weed burned.

The Manifesto. Out.

Mr Ordinary.

2006-10-17T23:43:00.000+08:00

Boy, a a very first one thats pretty normal to you. We've been through lots, pain and all. I do appreciate what you have done and not done. I shall keep it short yeah. All the best.

The Manifesto. Out.

Lady Symphony.

2006-10-17T22:49:00.000+08:00

Struck a note, played a tune. Claps heard, the final yet distinct one left a defeaning tone. Not too crisp, just right. Almost like a gourmet, he whispered, "English Flavoured creams". Standstill, it came. Mystical it felt and seemed, he sipped on his young latte and hummed the dusk into set. Bam, almost like a smoke screen, he was deafened by the music of the night. Just then, in time, almost, he kissed his plam and it all was seized. Bowed and left, whistling against the strong evening winds the tune of goodbye.

The Manifesto. Out.

Back to Haunt.

2006-10-10T23:06:00.000+08:00

"The need to put an end is overwhelming." he said. As he paced up and down the marbled flooring, his knees went weak. I then saw those eyes, engulfed with fear and worries. "Leave me", he whispered. In dark, he scribbled and paused. A fashion that seemed to go on, almost. He went on his knees and prayed. Soon, it came back once again. Fear, was a mere scare to him. It time, the consequences poured in fast, really fast. "I'd be good", with little effort his muttered. There, i left him, knowing that he was least of being well. I prayed for him, but it seemed help was coming, never. God Bless.

The Manifesto. Out.

Searching Twenty-six. 26.

2006-09-29T18:59:00.000+08:00

Dropping all, giving none. I've got to give in to the harshness, i guess. Fancy words, one liners, pro-bono work? Im not letting it go, but working is tough. Stopping thoughts, penning words, giving in, apologising, playing it well. It's been really tough and a hassle now. It has been a sore, i want to start from the start, sure i do. It is not lady luck i need, its a cork, to stop. Compromising, thanking, searching, i pray it stops now. I need and pray for a one way journey, i need something, Mr. 26.

The Manifesto. Out.

Leaving All. Mr. 31.

2006-09-24T00:46:00.000+08:00

Since sometime ago, it has been posts after posts about issues foreign, weird, somemay say, lame. This very one comes from within, and it speaks alot. There have been three deaths. Two related one foreign to me. Never did i drop a tear, but as it passed, it certainly does hurt. It weird someone walks away, so quickly. As fear bottles within, it comes along with pricks, of pain. Im afraid, very. " What if.. ? " I've been asking. There are too many " If's " i thought. Actually, there is one, only. With words penned, a sense of relief i wished for, didnt come to. It's beautiful to be small, with little worries, joy, smiles, love. We are all told to be happy with what we have, didn't we? It was a comparison too far, for grasp. At least for me though. " Would it be today that its over? " " Soon, very soon. ". God's Blessings.

The Manifesto. Out.

Sufle de Chocolate.

2006-09-21T18:40:00.000+08:00

It was a sensous and addicitve dessert. Certainly we did enjoy it, but i guess it was an instantaneous enjoyment, as usual. It was a cheap thrill, we may say? But somehow, you made things pretty slow, than i thought and anticipated through thoughts. Taste the bitter-sweet before the course ends, and fianlly finish it with some spirit. Someday, it may be another one of your enjoyment with Churoos? Who knows about your thoughts, fair lady. God bless at the bistro.

The Manifesto. Out.

Slice and Sautee.

2006-09-15T20:07:00.000+08:00

"Its been a while, with words i spoke of only i could hear. I wished you could have braced the men that stayed here, waiting. I pray and preach that god would shed light on me, someday. With much ingorance and heart, i became someone i knew of, nowhere close. Aye, god bless, i whispered.

Time and control proved to me exceptional. As minutes and weeks passed, i thought. And, thought. I knew, i had to cut the line, but somehow, i could not bear. I've never been disconsolated, " its time, its time " , i told myself. It never seems to work.

There've been sometime since i wrote of things in a random fashion. Probably, its meaningless. But, its time i poured and spilled my thoughts." He left shortly after these words.

The Manifesto. Out.

Cross Worlds.

2006-09-10T02:21:00.000+08:00

If, you could stop and take a look.
If, you could see how they walked by.
If, i could control.

Probably, its the third we all hopped, always. Being lost for words is simply something we'd should grace. In time to come, I would be preparing to. Being a kid was never a hassle, losing someone was, though. Its god i could go to now.

The Manifesto. Out.

First Cries.

2006-09-06T00:34:00.000+08:00

My, birthdays do mean alot don't they. Certainly, they do. Well-wishes and god bless to all on this very day. Probably Jay-z would be out right now with his boo. Sweet. Other birthday girls, stocking up on messages in cell(s)? Ah, texts. Alright, a year to go now. Once again, god bless.

The Manifesto. Out.

Kiss of Death.

2006-09-04T23:11:00.000+08:00

Heart goes out to Irwin's family and loved ones. Regardless believes or faiths.
God Bless.

The Manifesto. Out.

G. Last Take[s] .

2006-09-04T16:54:00.000+08:00

Its been sometime. And it all seems well for you now. Thats great dude, guess its I that makes all the comotion? Sorry. Though time has passed, quickly, i still yearn to go back. Ah, its getting little gay here aye? I wish u luck and be well. The day's reaching soon, well wishes.

The Manifesto. Out.

Fiddle Riddle.

2006-09-01T17:51:00.000+08:00

"Come away, with me. Lady, its never going to be the same again." With luggages packed and coats crisp, he walked down with oiled hair. Praying she would arrive. As time passed, he thought if all these was worth it. As harsh reality surfaced, he knew this was what he wanted, never. With thoughts of broadway flashing on his mind, he was urged by his inner-self to leave. Maliciously, his heart spoke. Words of wisdom, only realisable by nobles rang.

I give you, my word. Its never going to be the same, he whispered.

The Manifesto. Out.

Flashing Cards.

2006-08-16T21:00:00.000+08:00

"Little, or allow me to say, never could i thought it would be me. Thankfully, it was. Ha, taking the rap. Its all alright, never could i tag you down." With little hesitation, he took a look-a-round. No steps made, it was difficult.

If words could speak about how he felt, that would be great. Sometimes, we follow the path thats planned. My, tell me once again, and i shall execute the whole thing simply beautifully. You never know, playing the cards right is important. Babe, my impression stays. The soft spot wrinkles, not a tiny bit.

"With words of thanks, i would walk away, slowly."

Gutsy words he spoke, it was something he knew was insurmountable.

The Manifesto. Out.