mood: frozenmusic: 'st. james infirmary' by louis armstrong

the song is befitting for the times. ok, so maybe the times aren't that depressing. anyway, in about an hour and a half i go in for surgery. and while it's a minor operation (pins in my right hand), i can't help but feel all that much more nervous everytime someone tries to comfort me. is that weird?

stories of past operations and kind words somehow rub me the wrong way.

---Goei---

mood: outmusic: 'are you there?' by mono

PICTURE POST!!!
Tonight's Edition: Weird Fruit Buffet

1. Durian

of course I start with the most infamous of southeast asian fruits. natives tend to live by this fruit. i say it looks good but smells like rotting turkey sausage. the downside: it also tastes like rotting turkey sausage.

my cousin said he brought one of these in to work to eat with his lunch. within half an hour, someone came up to his cubicle and told him to get out of the building as soon as he could. apparently someone smelled a gas leak. when he evacuated, he left the fruit in his car and pleaded ignorance. says something when fresh fruit smells like flammable gas doesn't it...

2. Mangosteen

durian is the king of fruits and mangosteen is the queen. the red rind stains like blood and tastes extremely bitter, but the inside is sweet and tart and, oddly enough, like a juicy custard. sounds gross, right? well, at least this one tasted good. durian had the custard texture while tasting like (all together now) rotting turkey sausage.

3. Buah Naga (Dragonfruit)

this one kinda surprised me. i felt like it should have exploded in a pyrotechnic display when my aunt cut it open, but instead it behaved like a normal fruit. it didn't have too much flavor, but i liked it.

4. Rambutan

if you couldn't tell, rambutan is related to lychee. the only difference is that it's not as sickly sweet. the name is indonesian and literally means 'hairy'. not even 'hairy fruit' but just 'hairy'. i like to think of the zoloft pork bun as an adventurous goth-hippie.

5. Duku

this is another variation on the lychee-type fruit. this one is much easier to eat than the troublesome rambutan though. it does, however, have about 7-8 times as many seeds. the flesh of the fruit is translucent, sweet, and juicy, but as soon as you nick an edge of one of the seeds, your mouth tastes like the US women's gymnastics team with silver medals around their necks: bitter.

6. Jambu Air (Wax Apple)

ok, so the name of this thing means literally 'water guava', but it doesn't look or taste anything like a guava inside or out. the common name in chinese is 'wax apple' but it doesn't look or taste anything like an apple either. it's more like a firm watermelon with the aftertaste of a yellow bell pepper. i was not a fan.

7. Jeruk Bali (Pomelo)

TBD. we were going to try this one tonight too, but by the time we were about to cut it open, we had eaten 6 other kinds of fruit already, and before prowling the night market for those fruits we just finished eating singapore's famous char kway teow. and by 'eating' i mean 'stuffing ourselves with', because with my family and food, when it rains it pours.

so it's to be determined. wikipedia says it's basically a mild grapefruit. i like to focus more on the fact that the fucking thing is bigger than my head including the helmet of hair.

in conclusion: what the fuck, man? who's been keeping these fruits from me for the last 21 years? yeah i realize they weren't that good, but you would think that somewhere along the way, with all of my jetting around here and there that i would notice that there was such a thing as a fucking dragonfruit and a grapefruit the size of a 20-pound bowling ball.

yours,
brandon.

---Goei---

mood: fidgetymusic: 'trophy' by bat for lashes

it's about 3:15 in the morning here in singapore. i just woke up from a very bizarre jetlag slumber. it's that odd feeling you get when you wake up and it's still dark. a sort of split second of total confusion. i had the same feeling the other day waking up before dawn, but now it's a whole different story since i've woken up in the middle of the night, with hours of darkness still to come.

i'm reading 1984 for the first time. many say my run of it has been long overdue. it does have quite a bit of philosophical undertone, but i'm not sure if i necessarily like that. i'll read a textbook if i want someone to tell me about sense and reference. still, the folklore is interesting. and more frighteningly it's believeable. a whole new air comes over me when i use the internet in singapore. is there someone watching me to make sure of my harmlessness? it wouldn't really surprise me.

anyway, it still would surprise me if singapore's finest broke into the house in the middle of the night and vaporized me in a rousing game of 'find the capitalist pig'. i find that a lot of the government regulations are useful for getting leverage out of those you want to get leverage out of, but not for controlling the masses per se.

as the night continues, i slap weird bugs into the plaster walls and wait for sleep like a hitchhiker on the turnpike.

---Goei---

mood: warblymusic: 'st. james infirmary' by louis armstrong

last night and today were a flurry of uncategorized ideas and free thoughts. all throughout the night i kept losing track of time and realizing the malleability of it all when wrung through screens and sounds.

triggered by cookies and milk, i kept feeling an out-of-body warmth. it kept me up. needless to say, many things do as they always did. it's not a bad thing, just a reason for me to be alive; to claim existence while others' has faded into the calm of the night. sometimes quiet, sometimes bold.

i was bored with screens and fascinated with print: i tossed around a pile of magazines until i rested on a glossy cover of nylon. vividly i could remember what color they burned and my eyes were filled with life. outside, walked to a secluded area and flipped through pretty pictures of outcasted victory and emperor's clothes. wrinkled, fluffed, and vertical, the pages leapt up in smoke and flames. my memory served me well: the outlines were glowing green and blue as if possessed by the northern lights.

i crept inside, fell asleep to my bloody valentine. their echoed voices feeding dreams of restaurants with waterlilies and people with hats.

---Goei---

mood: sharpmusic: 'untitled' by interpol

sitting on my ass at work, counting money and watching people walk by in the sun.

this morning i was about to shower when all of a sudden i felt a burst of pure energy, not in my step but in my mind and maybe in my heart. why do these crazy bipolar daydreams always happen to me? i was optimistic in a stern silent way and i decided that i would venture forth on two tires before i ruined the perfect film of sweat and stink from the previous bike riding expedition.

i went to starbucks like any good coffee snob would never do. my justification is that i wasn't looking to bike too far. then i shot that to the ground in a fiery ball of 'what the fuck just happened'. en route i decided to go to the other starbucks on campus (yes there are two, plus another across the street from campus boundaries) way out where only med students and business folk stake their claim. i ended up sitting around in the weirdly lit cube of a starbucks watching the local fauna.

i've returned with the following obvious conclusion: there is not a single standout weirdo in irvine. each person was dressed either business casual or computer nerd (blizzard has an office across the street), hung out with at least 2 others of the same sex (office buddies i suppose), and ordered something extravagant (with names embodying ozymandian status).

i got a phone call from mel that finally shook me from my reverie. i looked at my bike outside and at myself and realized that i was the weirdo. i didn't really mind but i got up and left a little while after that revelation. it was starting to feel like logan's run in that building and that people in pastel jumpsuits were going to pop up and chase me down for the sake of the county.

---Goei---

mood: sleeplessmusic: 'eight line poem' by david bowie

the sun is rising in the window behind me and i fear to look back and face it. not because i dread tomorrow, but because i hate that feeling you get when you know you're gonna have to go to sleep amidst chirping birds and pale blue sunshine.

if you're reading this, you either in the wrong place or you're a somebody. and if you're a somebody, you know which somebody you are. you're the somebody.

you'll notice i changed things a little bit. this is not to escape the past. this is for the future. maybe this is the beginning of something new?

i haven't written here in a while because i found it to be a bit redundant. really though, the things i write here i can never write anywhere else. the journal? too secluded. addressed notes? too much purpose. so i write here about my mind. in the very real dangers of having them read by the curious, the lost, and the somebodies.

and so i will get to bed, not only because i can hear the voices of my consciences (both internal and external) telling me to get some fucking sleep, but because i don't have my insomniac's reader around to help put me to sleep with strange thoughts and ponderings. i will, though, do something that harkens back to the days when i first started pouring my soul into the ethereal plain of the internet: show and tell.

Ah, that would be the life: simple responses
to big worries. I could yell at my food to tell it
I was coming to kill it & I'd let people know I loved them
by hitting myself, purple splotches blossoming
on my chest like clouds. Anybody could see
there was something inside that hurt so much I wanted it out.

- Nate Pritts, Apeman

---Goei---

mood: 'blurred' music: 'suicide' by the damned

i really ought to update here more often. i know i've probably lost all of my reading audience, but i still feel more free whenever i see these little letters travel across the blank canvas of my screen.

anyway, my days lately have been straight out of a movie. melissa and i broke up and i've fallen for someone all too soon. not too soon for me, but for everyone else. the glares i feel when i walk through familiar neighborhoods is enough to jar me towards seclusion, but the warmth and rightness i feel around my new home and environment is enough to convince me that my decisions are justified.

for the first time in a long time, i can feel the passion of a new life breaking through the mist and into the sunlight. under normal circumstances i would probably hate myself for living the way i do, but i feel an odd dichotomy. the grass and flowers shine brighter and the lovers' eyes gleam a little more for me. music itself has taken no backseat to my life, and once again i feel like myself. traveling through thick forest and dreary plains is my soul, en route to a fresh start and an amazing beginning. i am a born again christian without that pesky god to get in the way. i am a new human being without reservations or secrets. i am a newborn puppy excited to see the world in a blink and a heartbeat. i am a prophet, prosaic and profound, watching the world in front of me blur and jumping into the mainline.

---Goei---