ergo... [cigarette et parfum]

having lost belief in blue skies and green leaves and breezes, having growing fondness for the sweetly sick mix of cigarettes and perfume, there is, at rough count, the eiffel tower and goa and dolphins left. past these, however, past the eiffel and goa and dolphins, what is there left? where do i go?

addendum

dont not want to hear from you, just cant stand ONLY hearing from you.

and how dare my father make me feel guilty about that fourth A, how dare he. and how dare my mother make me feel guilty about wanting to escape from here, how dare she.

"Maulana", meanwhile...

not "boy", not "dude", not "ivan" but "Maulana", capped. if words be the measure, then how far apart we are now. you arent the last person i want to hear from, just the last person i want to think about. unfortunately - for this does not happen in any other case in the world - last is the first; i think of you way too much. anyhow, looking back from the end of our road, the veritable end [not our false aborted endings], i cringe and double over in agony for, oh, what would i not give to be in the middle of the road again, better yet, the beginning. paid way too much, threw everything out, and now at the end of the road without a penny to my name, nothing on my back and 500 miles away from where i want to be. all in a dream. this poverty of thought that comes from thinking about you extends into so many things. sketchbook, photoshop, blog lie untouched because i have nothing to give mentally. you are the paucity of all things of life and colour. "man hands misery to man," wrote larkin, is there anything more true? faith, you say, but there is just too much in there and too much in me, for me to reside comfortably in the centre of faith. words, words, words, disappear into wisps of want and wonder.

so far away,
doesnt anybody stay in one place anymore?
it would be so fine to see your face at my door.
doesnt help to know that you're just time away;
long ago i reached for you and there you stood,
holding you again could only do me good.
how i wish i could, but you're so far away.

meanwhile, the release of the a-level results. Literature - A. for this i cannot imagine how many people i have to thank. most importantly, mrs perry and kingston, for being the two women who touched me the most during the trying exam period. History - A. credit must go to edmund kwok, for marking essays upon essays, b's upon b's, until i achieved what he saw in me. viknes, for letting me recycle her seahist notes with utter disrespect, without which seahist have drove me up walls and then some more. Math - A. thank you chin keat, for being with me since o levels, and ming jing for those shared taxi rides, exasperating math questions, and dreams. and fah yik, for giving me the strength to do five math papers within a day. Econs - B. umm, thanks to... mona chew? only she could have done this to me. S Econs - Merit. so grateful for ms yeo and ms lio for the solid foundation, sowden for showing me that crazy people can be economists too, reeves for giving me the love for economics, soon bee for her concern and jeanne lim for telling me that sometimes you just have to put up with things you dont want to do. GP - A2. thanks to elise, on a very professional level, for provoking thoughts, evoking emotions, for garp.

thanks to raffles - a topic for another day. but above all, thank god, for the momentary comfort everytime i end up crumpled on the prayer mat. and also, myself, for doing this in spite of, in spite of.