Rev Dr. Sean (Arts director of the Singapore guitar board)

Longest Dream

2007-11-15T13:33:00.000+08:00

We were trying to fly an aeroplane. Why? We had dreams. A soaring ambition. A wild whim. A dash of hysteria. Just for the moment - the fleeting adrenaline - we wanted to see if ordinary folk could do something, "extraordinary" (in a sense).

Oh it was a big plane. Did we build it? It seemed that the unique element of this whole adventure was that it could be easily owned, and had some manner of simplicity that we were capable of. It was probably a jumbo jet. A glorious beast. Something that if you look at it from where you are, who you are, you'll feel like a climber at the foot of Mt. Everest. Not because of its sublime nature, but because of the madness of doing something irrelevant and fun, for the fun of it, with the best group of people on this earth. They are people you share the future with. People who understand the instantaneous joy; an everlasting joy; a joy that disappeares forever in a blink of an eye. The trivial, the simple, the completely insignificant endeavours. Yet, moments that last an eternity - or moments we hope to last forever. Why? Because they are shared.

Anyway, this plane was not going to just sit on its big rubber ass. Planes were built with a purpose, just like our lives were built with a purpose. We shared the same that day, to soar. Before I knew it, the engines were rumbling and the plane started to move. The very idea of having our own floating island trembled within our grasps. The awesome ecstasy of disappearing into the clouds, and the anticipation on the ground. Not that I had never flown before, but this time, we were in control. Where were going? Who knew. Just to accomplish this feat, was all that mattered.

Like a bunch of mad scientists in a laboratory, we worked the untamed beast. "Lift! Lift! Lift!" our hearts cried. She started to move quicker and quicker. It still seemed pretty slow though. We had not a runway, and no idea where we were. It was way too slow, and the makeshift runway way too short. We couldn't get a proper one, for we made for unchartered airs. The shrill excitement! OH! But still, we lifted off. It happened too quick for there to be any moment of relief or respite. We had no time to think about our fortunes or otherwise. Our concentration was binding. Our focus unparallelled. The chaos was too much for me. One lifted, the other turned, and the other other levelled. What was going on? The plane could not fly properly.
We took a sharp shoot for the sky - an incredibly steep climb. She stalled, and flipped on her back. She could not fly straight. It was a like a wobbly roller coaster. "We need to make for altitude!" The ground was enticingly close. We continued in chaos, and could not fly the plane. She could not climb. We pulled hard. Still, she would not budge.

Did we crash? But we took off again. Again, somehow, we managed to find some plot of land. The throttle was thrust, and we were going. She was going fast, fast towards a bridge. That bridge stood in our path, adamant. Our runway was cut short. We sped towards obstruction and destruction. None had time to think, or move, or say anything. Our focus was cast. We lifted. The nose of the plane gently grazed the edge of the bridge. We were safe. Because we had to lift sharply, we were climbing way too steep. We lacked speed. Again the plane could not fly.

A third time it happened, and we forgot why we tried. Forgot why we fought, why we fly. Everything was but a blurr. A dream? Where did we come from? Where were we going? Still, I enjoyed every moment of my dance with the sub-conscious.

Did we crash? Our dreams were crushed. Time and tide, ebb and flow. All stood in our way. Still we remained strong. Questions ran through our head. Thoughts of doubt and frustration. Bitterness against misfortune, anger against less-than-perfect conditions. Things should have flown smoothly. This time we won't fail.

We will make for a proper runway. Gain enough speed, and lift off gently, till we were safe in the high clouds. It didn't seem too difficult. Each one was delegated control over different parts of steering. It was an unbeatable plan. Again we could taste the delight, share the wind with the clouds.

This time there were more, a crew perhaps. In a swing that could carry a few on each side. Others wanted to join in the adventure at sky. Derek was there. It made it more exciting. We relived the birth of our dream. The hope of touching the sky with unknown fate. Now, it mattered though. It mattered if we could not fly, for we might perish. We knew not where to go, and how we were getting there. We just wanted to fly, but were also frighteningly sobered. How did we survive the other time? Doubt raced into our minds yet again. What if our plan fails this time? We marched on for it seemed to make sense.

The plane? What happened to the carrier of our dreams? If we imagined hard enough, we could build one. The next step seemed to be finding the runway. We sat in that swing, and in the blink of an eye we were at Eunos MRT. And in another, by the beach. There she stood, our jumbo jet, along the shore, againt the setting sun. Its deep red glow, ran placidly along the sea. It gently embraced the hide of our plane, till she glowed gold. On this shore we stood sublimed. We forgot the next step. The sea wavered calmly, and the thin clouds danced round the sun. The sky called to us, it was alive.

Then, we were attacked by Mark and gang. Pirates? We were saddened. They came from the 5th seas. We overcame. I run out of breath, out of steam. What next is to steal our dream? This final thief, none can overcome. A pleasant awakening into reality, but what about our dreams? It steals into our mind and carries us off. The series of events, the overloaded chorus. We forgot.

There I laid, trying to remember, the lost dream. It didn't matter. I go without a fight. Reality.

Tame the cat

2007-11-08T10:03:00.000+08:00

The cat is a foe beyond measure of any galactic jurisdiction. The cat with its steel claws, self-impaled, retractable, and dagger-like, would wolverinize you. Beware I say again, of the cat. No pussy would belie his honour, that you must calm. This feline of felines, do not be mocked by its trickery and cunning. It steals upon you like clouds upon skies! AHH

River of Gold

2007-10-31T10:06:00.000+08:00

I was walking by the old oak tree one day,
Past the young blueberry bush.
I took a peak out of the shade,
To where the soft strike of the golden sun laid.
Its warmth was inviting, it was hiding something.
So I took a peak, out of the shade.

I saw a gentle stream, glistening clear.
Its emerald shade, flared and glared.
In a flash it came, and in another it went.
It was so full of colour, and so alive.
I looked and looked, and couldn't stop looking.
Its crystal cloak, its glass of green.
So discreet, and so distinct.
It was so pure and clean,
That i happed with glee.

Then came, a striking blue,
So frail and light,
Like the tears of night.
It came and danced,
As a leaf in breeze.
Smoothly it twirled, then
Blue and green were one.
The royal waters, so majestic and full.
Yet, so small and still, along the sand.
I never saw sand so white, so fine, that diamonds hide.
It crouched below, beneath the flow,
Like precious stones, in a bowl.
What we see, is just a show.
What's important, is what's below.

I heard its call, the birds agreed.
The sound of music?
The fowl, she sings.
Her feet gently slid,
Along the marble floor.
Like quiet wind, through ivory flutes.

The river came, and the river went.
The sun it blazed, and it
glared.
The river it came,
And it stared.
Its bright gold -
I could not look.
Its colour so full, but
I could not look.
All I see, a crystal cover;
A radiant shell, elegant and good.
But I could not look.

The river it went,
Residing now, beneath the moist sand.
A hint of gold, a stint of white,
Sparingly it shined,
Its dulling hide.
I looked and looked, but could not find.
The river of jewel, and its diamond sons.

-Anonymous (Reliable sources suggest the great SPC of the 17th century)

Ah, indeed how refreshed one must be after drinking the waters of the "River of Gold". A timeless classic, I'm sure all would agree.
This poem speaks of serendipity, serenity, silence, sincerity and submission. Through the course of the entire "river", we see the casualness of nature - her everlasting elegance, how she comes and goes. Yet we feel the soothing waters embrace our feet; its gentle caress. We smile, still, at its perennial fate. After all, beauty once beheld, let it then be gone. And when she comes again, rejoice. Dwell not in sorrow when she has to leave. For in due season, again she will greet.

2007-10-29T23:38:00.000+08:00

Confusion.

Hear the sound of the water
fall, roar,
And ring in my ear -
That is all i hear.

Its cape overflows the cup.
She trickles over and softly
crashes.

Her violent caress torments me gently.
I smile and cry, to its untuned tune.
Her melody sings to me,
Another song.

Taste the skies and drink its leaves.
She cries asleep and whispers thunder.
She twists and turn, calm as seas.
Arise and see, her serenity.

I walk on needles end,
yet know not what to mend.
If you hold me and behold,
Your soul be lost,
in a heaven's smile.

At long last

2007-10-04T21:12:00.000+08:00

Firstly, I would like to take this opportunity to apologise to all my readers for the previous entry.
It seemed that there was a little bit of a mix up in the editorial department. I wish to remind you all that quality is the name of our game. We take pride in our work, and would die for our dignity. After all, you deserve only the best.

Anyway, moving on to greater heights. This week's entry spells N-E-W, F-R-E-S-H and also W-H-E-W.

What holds the music in my ears?
I am but a dream,
In an endless eternity.
Shine your light and see,
The darkness play,
The dancers sway.
They move in circles,
O Monstrous seas.
See and see, but never seen.
Hear and hear, but never heard.
What carries the breath I breathe?

Poetry rush

2007-09-12T23:57:00.000+08:00

Divine high,
Gates shut.
Tempest's sail,
Clouds high.

Rhyme in ditch,
Flow in mud.
Built upon mountains,
seen and not touched.

Hidden behind clear veils,
Speaking behind walls.
Moving in shadows,
never found.

A dark and stormy night

2007-09-11T22:49:00.000+08:00

Whispers of wind and toil;
soil deep and drenched,
so my soul tears,
and thus I lend to sleep.

Sleep - within winds so steep,
so sharp they bleed,
so dark i weep.
Never imagined, a sleep so eternal,
yet a sleep so wretched.

Witch, wind, weary wretch;
I fail and fall within my dream;
grasping winds in storms so dark,
all is bare,
and all is lost.

I don't mean what I say

2007-09-10T19:43:00.000+08:00

Ah, my dear readers. It is good to be back, spilling sardines on what time has encapsuled, and speculating on what time will! Indeed this shear ecstasy rejuvenates the deepest springs within my highest wells. Forgive me, while i wallow in the overflowing radiance of my brilliant glory. Sometimes, it is good to rant, and sometimes it is good dinner that makes you healthy.

Ah yes! This old feeling, the gentle caress of a past eternity, so euphoric! so incredulous! so utterly jaw exploding! Ah! and ah again indeed. And again, ah. When words fail, and shouts cease to reverberate in vacuumed clusters - type and again I say, swim.

Alas, while my senile tendencies have subsided, my formal address shall become thus, more inclined in all appropriations. Hence, my address to you very precious readers:

Ages, grains of sands, they have withered. Eras have risen, monuments fallen - times ever a changing. I have seen countless souls, a myriad of dreams... endless strings of hope, mindless insanity, ingenious mediocrity, insane laughter, war, terror, pride, 54 species of fishes! The list goes on.

All in all, what I am trying to say is this. Time is only lost. It waits for no one. Age is time's best friend; and it has caught on. While memories and dreams - both good and bad - remain in sandy waters; drying on forgotten shores, i make a last attempt at rebuilding dilapidation. Beware I say, of random logic. It is math that steals the glory of science.

All in a bigger all, what I am trying to say is, time has left me stranded, but enriched. And while I would love to share with you my past innocence, she is but a whore; a beautiful bauble. If you haven't already realised - yes, this may very well be the last issue, the last idea, the last opportunity. And I will seize it with violence and unshakable adamant fists. And then with all casualness I will let it slip.

It's been awhile

2007-09-10T19:11:00.000+08:00

To my dearest, old love.

It certainly has been awhile. I really miss the sound of you thinking; the sweet dance of words, so elegant and serene. Ah, at last my insatiable passions... you soothed, when you invited me back; to be lost again... O but what joy. My love, my love, you may have ceased and changed, but once a bud; now a flower. Ah! what passion in passion! RRAAAGE in tranquility. MADNESS in reality. Yes, that's pretty much the deal here. The truth is, I'm just really smart and crazy.

Dr Chua

Artadeius

2007-01-04T20:30:00.000+08:00

Artaxerxes to you all.

I will talk to you on discipline today, because a discipline is a very important Without a discipline, you cant anything of work.

Hello

2006-10-27T17:44:00.000+08:00

Dear wonderful people

It is certainly a wonderful pleasure to be back! Although the words may run dry, and the rivers out of ink, nothing shall stop the ever faithful clouds from turning black.

Firstly, I would like to thank all my great fans who have been rooting for me this past week. Your support was a great help indeed! This prerogative is not mine to enjoy! However, I must still thank the skies for such splendid and marvelous treasures.

Okay! bye bye

darkness

2006-10-25T20:40:00.001+08:00

the darkness is spreading. what's going on? since when was it supposed to be difficult or a challenge.

Is it but a wall of my own creation, framed by the trickery of my mind? Why do I know so much, and yet know not what to do of it. Why do you understand, but still live in confusion?

You know what you must do, but what exactly is stopping you. There is nothing in sight, or do you fear the deep chasm that awaits? I am well and fine, but my mind is weary. Now my legs won't budge. How am i going to fight?

I have the strength and the capacity, but not the will.

Faith but not courage?

Roar

2006-10-16T21:24:00.000+08:00

The ground trembled violently. The whole earth was shaken off its foundations. A frightening crack raced across as though a razor had spun through it. The tear strecthed as far as the eye could see; a dark and scary perspective. Then, like a tree would sprout its brances, so it did.

Soon, the rest of the parched crust danced and crumbled into a million frenzied pieces. That very instant, the ground fell, as though a lid had been opened at the bottom of the earth. There was no safe place to hide from this treacherous catastrohpe. The scream continued to bellow, amplifying in pain. It was like shards of impaling glass were excruciatingly jammed into our flesh.

All matter fell into a dark endless void, a dark and scary place. As you fall into the darkness, all light starts to dim, and it seemed as though the blackness was engulfing everything. There was no refuge or rest. Even after crossing the limits, we still went on. It was an eternity of perpetual suffering.

So is a person's heart who roars from within.

Memories

2006-10-15T01:49:00.000+08:00

Memories tear us within.
Beautiful ones are agonising to cast.
Evil ones are cast in stone;
painful to keep,
yet painful to break.

A second of admiration,
An eternity of hate.
All we will ever hold:
our memories, that which kills us.

Swift, does the sun rise,
Kind, yet cunning,
Plotting our demise.
Brilliant splendor is thus bestowed upon a dull night;
Invading the eager void.
In a tick, an array of colour,
a show of glamour.
Yet blinding is the sun to all who dare look.

Now we wait in fear, for it to pass;
carelessly hiding ourselves in the denial of our past.
Smile or frown, the sun is down;
cowering beneath its evening gown.

Sadly, losing it is how we gain it.
Breaking away, is how we mould it.
And Shunning it, is how it remains.
A prison of glass surrounds all,
who foolishly wade in its fallen blaze.

In touching it, we cease to
breathe...
To run away, is to return.
To hide, is only to remember.
All that is left are our memories;
so trivial, but still
so precious - and now our pain.
Memories;
the chapter of life that never seems to endure.

Now the night cometh.
Sorrow, she gently steals.
With her soothing words, she lifts our veil.
Clearly now, the stars in heaven;
look down upon us, with their precious eyes.

To look back, is to smile.
To go forward, is one's gain.
What once was good and had turned sour,
is now intimately hidden within;
courting our angel's love.

It is cold of the night, which freezes time;
stopping the past and sealing it all behind.
Alas its pricelessness, is how it fades.
Now, all that is left:
The bittersweet relics of a past.

-Anonymous, or possible the great SPC (according to many reliable historians.)

sianz

2006-10-11T19:56:00.000+08:00

another day of doin nth lor. so sian lor. everyday also the same 1. nth ever happens. so stress la, wat to do?

Don't worry kids

2006-10-10T19:34:00.000+08:00

News Flash

I have just realised that there has been an increasing need for writing pointless, needless, complex and full-of-error sentences, to fulfill this burning, insatiable hunger for sophistication. Fear not, what was a lovely art(subject to debate) has become a fly-by lifestyle. However, with respect to you beloved fanatics, that may not be such a good thing.

Certainly that which increases in frequency, decreases in quantity. To the rest of you tortured babies, things finally seem to be falling into place.

Now, before I get carried away by the tiny, remaining portion of the true essence--that which is so deeply cast within the foundations of my hobby/past-time activity/self-entertainment/goals--I shall remind myself of: the direction of this post which is, the outcome of this continuously dwindling portion of "true essence"; the loss of the original, purposeful thrusts of ultimate reason and logic.

You score ten points if you were able to completely comprehend every single aspect of the previous sentence.
You score twenty if you can rephrase it in one complete setence; for the sake of coherence.

I have also realised a growing trend, for me to drive a stake into a watermelon. This metaphor can be easily understood if observed in comparison with how post ended.

Another day of waiting.

2006-10-09T15:53:00.000+08:00

The waiting never seems to end. I have been standing there, waiting. Time doesnt seem to go on. Has it broken its heart? Its time to move on. So move on time. Stop waiting for time to fly by, time flies. Darn! This wretched eternity, fall back to the seconds you held. The shear anguish I have to wear on my back, wears me out with time. But time, where have you gone?

Hello children!

2006-10-08T22:31:00.000+08:00

Hey chef.

How's it going?

Bad.

Why bad?

I've decided to write 2 consecutive posts, to quench the flame of my boredom; the thirst for expression. To those of you who are at your limit, please do not force yourself. I understand the love you have for my posts, but one a day is enough. For those of you courages dare-devils who would like another round. Be my guest, but be warned, I will not go easy on you. It is said that the mountain lion comes from behind, and with a great big swipe, slices a dandelion for your enjoyment. Of course, the death from a heart attack is not surprising. Today, I will perfect this technique. Gear yourselves up. Breathe deep breaths for about ten minutes, and return to read the rest of the post.

One of a kind!!!

2006-10-08T21:42:00.000+08:00

Greetings to my much acknowledged readers.

It seems that this delicate box of transistors, and its friendly sub-components are plunging into a dire situation. The viscious trend it seems, is ploughing up whatever ground is left of this arena. If you have not come to terms with the current issue - by a standard, maximum time of 2 seconds, you can very well boast to be classified under a much favourable group of people called, "the normal people".

For regular readers, you would by now, have understood to the deepest of depths; my purpose, what I am talking about, where I am headed with what I am saying, and what will the outcome of it be. For the not-so-regular readers, do not fret. The time is coming when the snail of commitment and loyalty will snag you like a temperamental lion. If that happens, pray the fairy of understanding will come upon you and lift the dark shadows that surely encircles your very eyes. If not, prepare yourself to be forever subject to a life time of false comprehension, and aimless progression.

Back to the topic. As I attempt, with as much conciseness as the english language will allow, the dangers of dying, I only ask for your much appreciated attention.

Dying, as I would like to describe it, is a phenomenon. Why do I say that? For a very good reason. When you die, you do not live.
Now stop for a moment and ponder the immense and infinite possibilities or theorems that could spring from this very statement. What is it to live? And what is it that death takes away from you. Is death to life? or life to death?Is death taken away in life, or life taken away in death? What is the order in which this complex structure is supported? Ladies and gentlemen. If your patronizing reasoning of the initial question has finally dwindled to nano-sized proportions, and the very frame of your mind is bursting at its seams, be patient. The truth will be revealed to you shortly.

The truth is, death is like a dark chocolate cake. And life is like a white-chocolate cake.

From this very comparison, I have managed to arrive at a biased conclusion, unfortunately for you. Based on my preference falling more towards the "white-chocolate" side, I would definitely suggest that life is worth eating. For those who beg to differ, I differ for you to beg. My friends, if you prefer white chocolate to dark chocolate, you are perfectly fine. If however, you posses a taste for death, I suggest you seek professional help. If ever a thought such as, "Dr. Chua, you are wrong," comes to your mind, I can only recommend the nearest mental "institute".

What gives me such authority to say what I'm saying? Well, some people say that carrots have nothing in common with cucumbers.

I certainly hope that this post was as informative, as all my previous posts. It is adviced, that you do not spend more than fifteen minutes on pondering what has just happened. Possible consequences include depression, vomitting and/or death.

To you avid readers, send my warmest regards to Jim!

Dr Chua. phD in logic (University of Soiless culture. Major: Minor studies)

The light's out - pun may be intended here.

2006-09-19T19:47:00.000+08:00

"Grab a taste of the first irrevokable beams of light! Run!" Said the Grand utoil.
This was the moment everyone was waiting for.

As I carried my legs as an ostrich would carry her eggs, I yielded my strength, to the heart strings of my head.

There it was! the glorious, wonderfully blinding intensity that split through the darkness. Everything else, everywhere else, was but a spectrum of streaming blackness. The heaviness was so immense that the light only revealed the depth of the terror which engulfed us all.

However, little lemiee's and his "hope crusaders' " cardio mechanisms were stubbornly geared, to always look ...... "Where ever hope can be found!" screamed the children in the audience.

That's right kids! Conveyed the narrator. Back to the story.

As little lemiee and I egged our tiny muscles on, with all the doggedness we had, the contractile tissue of our legs, derived from the mesodermal layer of embryonic germ cells were beginning to cry happy, lactic acidic tears. The kids however, were adamant in spirit.

The light beam, which I will now call, starky, revealed the looming "sky" which towered over us. It stretched far into the horizontal horizon of space. The beam, shooting down from a higher darkness, seemed like a giant, golden, misplaced pillar, in a huge, dark hall. This stupendous mass of light was so dense, that it made our "world" seem so big, and us seem so small. The beam of light, or more affectionately known as starky, was so bright, that one could not even see what was on the other side.

However, the degree of light present, did nothing to its surrounding enemy; darkness. It seemed that darkness was fighting it with phenomenal pressure. The light which was so blinding to the eye, failed to reveal the slightest bit of landscape; hidden so timidly in the cloak of terror!
We could only catch the dead-black clouds, twirling in endless circles around starky. The air looked extremely pale and dead.

For days we ran towards it. Starky seemed to get smaller and smaller in diameter. Our hearts were trembling. What held it, the strength which fueled us on, started to diminish day by day. We started to grow tired. The fatigue ate into our bones; our limbs begun to strain amidst the spate of blood. Our careless eyes grew weary of our surroundings. The wretched mud that continually edged to cover us, was beginning to slow us down. It would eventually consume us. The bright aura we so blithe fully carried was now a dull, desolate, disconsolate cradle of sloth and pee.

We held on to our hope, the last drops of perseverance. However, it seemed that the closer we got to it, the smaller it became, until it was right in front of us, a small stint, stretching all the way into the highest heavens, or as a matter of fact, to the ends of our vision.

"A strange phenomenon!" Screamed lemiee.
Indeed it was. The further away the kids were from the starky, the bigger it got.

If they so much as stepped into the intricate spot that harboured the light, my guess is that it would disappear. Commented the scientists, who were being interviewed by channel news Asia's news reporter, alan jyoke.

By this time, a crowd was beginning to form. How large it finally got, no one knew, no one could see. We could only smell the inexhaustible effluvium that our dead flesh emitted.

As harmless as the theory seemed to be, no one dared to step in, for fear that the light would completely go out, leaving them all alone, shrouded by the very pitch black darkness that caused the extinction of euphoria. It was an Idea, or a past-reality no one wanted to live in again.

"Yipee!!!!" screamed Lemiee as he joyfully plunged into that tiny spot. All of a sudden, the brightness began to stretch out, as if being sheared by a great force, gradually growing like a slow wave; moving outward. The beam of light, became like a tent for Lemiee, cloaking him, as it kept on growing. The light just kept on going, consuming the darkness. The carriage of darkness looked like it was fleeing from the tsunami of hope. Whatever that was hidden before was subtly being revealed, like an emerging flower.

The pillar named, "STARKY!" yelled the delirious kids in the audience. Thats right kids! Conveyed the narrator. Back to the story

The pillar of light just kept growing. Lemiee found himself surrounded by a huge colosseum of light. Then, it kept growing until it was like a monumental fortress with golden, circular walls, reaching as far as the horizon. Then, it was like day time again.

Golden tears, began to swell in Lemiee's dirty, swollen eyes, like huge balls of glue. He stared into the open, as far as his myopia would allow. It was a forgotten sight, one that once held no value.

But wait! Said the narrator, where were his friends?

The devastating reality hit Lemiee square in the head. The impact was so great that he was out cold for at least 30 minutes. As the flutter of his starry gaze, tenderly refocused into the drunken daze of his impassion, he mustered all of his weak but extraordinary strength, and sat up.

He started to look........ "Where ever hope can be found!" screamed the kids in the audience.

No no, not this time children, conveyed the narrator.

Back to the story:

He started to look for his dear friends, but couldn't find anyone in sight. For endless miles he walked. The bright earth was but a desolate, barren desert.

The End

Running out of ideas

2006-08-27T13:47:00.000+08:00

Dear good people of Sean's guitar journals.

As we come to the end of our story, all we can do is sit back, and look at what has happened. So let us be glad, and bow our heads.

Going nuts

2006-07-24T20:45:00.000+08:00

OH YEAH! FEEL THE PAIN. FEED ON YOUR SELF PITY AND ANGUISH. GO CRAZY!
WALLOW IN A POOL EXCRUCIATING AGONIZING FILTH.

The 14th post

2006-07-21T18:15:00.000+08:00

Most well-mannered salutations.

Today, is a glorious day. A day to be remembered. It isn't just any ordinary day, but the most important day of the year. Today is the day, when the insignificant are clothed with the significance and magnificence of the sun. Why this day and not any other day? Well, we are but little men; and do not call forth the rain.

Yes, it is THE 14th post. What's so special about the 14th post - you might say. I assure you, with all manner of assurance, that this post is what chicken is to rice in our pathetic, hectic life. The 14th post is to be honoured, respected, loved, with the strength and diligence of a humming bird. The surreal experience one gets from reading the 14th post is beyong an adrenaline spate from a river of ecstacy. The cascade of exhilaration, bursting through the diamond riveted seems, is beyond comprehension of the setting sun. WHY the 14th post? why not the 13th or 15th? Such questions are inappropriate in conjuction to the extent of the infinite answer. To describe the simplicity of this madly complicated theorem of joy, confusion and divine appointment, one must receive THE enlightenment. Why the enlightenment and not light diffusionment? Again, the depth of the answer is as deep as the universe. Until men finds the key to step onto the edge of what holds matter, we all have to conform with humble ignorance.

For those who have yet to come to terms with reality, yes! - this is the14th post. Open your eyes sunshine, morning glory, chrysanthemum, a new dawn awaits this blistering creek. For it holds the true treasures to life. In fact, it is the essence of all life. The significance of this event, holds more value than when the foundation of this earth held superficial matter.

No, this is not a joke. And for those who are new, we are just getting started. You will understand, beyond a possible undestanding, why this post is so marvellous. You will gleam with tears, when you grasp the importance of this day. This privelledged day, chosen out of the millions of suitable days, is a day that no memory bank has the power to clean. So just be prepared for the wave of astonishment that is about to blow you away.

Hey

2006-07-19T17:39:00.000+08:00

Greetings to everyone in this ever growing community.

I would like to announce my attempt on acting out what bloggers do. Here goes:

Today was a day filled with coffee. On top of that, I got many tests, where I discovered my papers were a shade of yellow. Furthermore, I saw many of my classmates in class. Amazing? The teachers were all wearing shirts and trousers, and doing what they do best- teaching. So the saying goes, the pupil surpasses the teacher. However, this was not the case.

Teachers are a fine bunch of charlie chaplins. They make you wonder why the science of discipline revolves around the fabrication of authority. This is, of course, apart from home economics. Home economics, pastoral care and values education are fine subjects indeed. They fix prenumbra shadows on people, with a mentality of boredom. They also dilute the sensible lobe of our complex brain. Just like how the blind's visual cortex is still active although they are blind. We are a people of morals, and not education. Work, but not industriousness.

So it seems that the day was not of school, but of thought. Yes the clouds were in high altitudes today. They filled the sky in a sparce-like pattern. Birds seemed to add sensibility to a dull environment; an artifical nature. I spent the rest of my day sitting in my greyish-white chair, staring at what seems to be a black forest. When curriculum activities stop at the end of the day, it would mean that the day has just begun. Next in line are the post curricula activities, which apart from being separated by a line of paper work, is practically the same.

It seems that the classroom tends to morph a little, whenever it comes to this paradigm shift. I cannot explain it. I guess things around me happen so fast. The people in school,or more specifically, the good natured nannies, have no problem in showering us with plenty of freedom and canteen food. This can be distinguished, and confirmed with the assertion of "let your yes be a yes and your no be a no". Yet, for our own good, they restrict our freedom and canteen food. We have to conform to such puny dictatorship and propaganda. People say they are cynics of sarcasm. I beg to differ. They are ignorant of its marvellous usage. As you can see, fatigue is beginning to wear my thin, but I will strive on.

So the teachers involved, are but a few. But the hours are just as long. No, I did not see much paper during this transitional period. More like dust and saw dust. They say you cut wood, on wood. But you sharpen iron with iron. Which then is better? Yes, all I did was sit in a stool, and record the diameter of my nose.

Congratulations to all who made it this far. I have about 10 more paragraphs that I intend to complete before leaving this wretched box of anxiety and bondage.

If you think I am kidding, I am not.

I seem to be doing fine, don't you think?

My daily events are numerous, and detailed to the extent of a third decimal place.

However, my games, are played by my rules.

And so I come to an end,

My fatal attempt at blogging.

It seems that I must persevere.

I have plenty of dreams and ambitions; foolish endeavours.

I know you must be asking yourself, and trying to reason, with much pathetic, straineous effort, which is due to your minimal brain capacity, why I am leaving spaces after every sentence.

Technically you are wrong, not every sentence has its own personal space.

There you go, 10 paragraphs. If you are saying "thats not 10 paragraphs, that's 10 sentences"
You are probably, and most definitely-maybish-wrong. If you read carefully, like a straits times editor, you will see only 9 sentences.

Ah, that was my eleventh paragraph. Which reminds me - try saying "Ruth's One hundredth and eleventh birthday." Quickly, with perfect articulation.

Alright, I better stop before you kill yourself by drowning in your own blood, sweat and tears, secreated from the pain of commitment you planted in yourself, to read this post.

Good bye, thank you for your time.
Dr Chua

Guitar Theory, part 5 no. 13a (ii)

2006-07-13T21:58:00.000+08:00

Greetings to all aspiring guitarist, I am fast.

This lesson goes out to all you people who can never dream of reaching my standard. I will be teaching you how to play like me, (Of course, only I can do it though. I'm so fast) and hopefully one day, you will just give up and be reduced to lesser, but more meaningful things, other than your pathetic wishful thinking.

First of all, we shall focus on the key of A minor. Any other key is just bad, don't choose any other key. We are going to explore the versatility of this key, and I will explain how you can use the H chord in this key. ( I invented that chord)

The H chord requires that you have seven fingers. If you don't then thats too bad. We will be exploring the diversity of the 8th note in the diminished seventh minor scale in A minor/H. To play with the proper emotion you want, you will have to switch from the minor to major at every 6th note. That way, you will have the subtle mood changes, but still maintaining the same key and using the same modes. However, it may sound different, since you change the whole chord by one note. Thats where the magic begins.

The secret to the H chord is the modes you use. If you use the B aeolian mode, beginning in F sharp, then you switch its genetic strucutre to a frigian mode, you will get complete A minor G. But if you use it in A minor, and hang the 6th note over the 8th, not forgetting your double flats, then you will have the H scale, which sounds like a key in D. It really all depends on the 6th note you use, and the first note in the chord. So basically its an organised structure, which is far too complicated for you lower beings to comprehend. The suspended chords in the key require you to stretch 8 frets, and switching frets simultaenously, such that you get a "double" note effect; as if you had 2 fingers instead of 1.

Now lets say you have the chord progression Am and H, you would normally think of the A minor scale, or maybe a seven. But in my incredible way of exploring music's volatility, a b# would actually be the best fit, however, only using the minors. This is because the 3rd and 6th notes blend into the major so well, it forms the completely new H, however, switching the 6th would give you a platform for the natural minor mode.

Alright steve, joe, putrucci, this is all I can give you beginners. Explaining my other 21 chords and notes like E# would be far too complicated. Keep practising, and rock on.

HEHE

2006-07-11T20:00:00.000+08:00

today is an evil day. this evilness is stretching on for weeks. At least something good did come out of it! HO! since when did i become so serious about my blog. RAHAHA you lame ppl who read this. why read this for wat? nth nice to see. just me typing what i feel like typing. u cant do crap about it. thats right noobs. let me release all the black qi and then when im normal, this blog will return to its original purpose.

love,
sadness, sorrow, aimless, lost, confusion. fear

Wary

2006-07-09T18:16:00.000+08:00

My most warm greeting is extended to all who happen to venture upon this barren wasteland.

It seems that this online diary called a "blog" is no longer in fashion. People no longer faithfully write entries, filling it with their daily experiences, emotions and opinions. And even though it is supposed to be a diary, it would seem that its main feature, is the joy of sharing it with others, and receive some form of recognition. The readers , comprising a circle of friends no longer read such things; somehow the purpose of a blog is defeated!?
Oh well. I only got a blog so that I could write nonsense and appear cool and to fit in. Very unfortunately, I have to pronounce this blog dead. To my kawaii friends, you who faithfully read my entries, and so readily agree with my ideaologies, may the worse plague come upon you. To all my loyal followers, I salute you with a loathe of bread. To all the starving children, may you find peace in water.

Dr Chua

Salutations!

2006-05-22T21:11:00.000+08:00

Hi! Today the topic is on the yellow flying trees of the madegascarian tigers and the sky of the pit which sits on a brown chair standing on an elephant who likes to dance on yesterday of the light cable now is the time for looking at the clock and it says that people are living in cereals which taste nice and is crowded now the time is 5 in the evening the printer prints ink and the micophone tissue is like soft fibres of apples which taste like dust on the cement prior to an injection which of course is like the black sea of glass amidst the papers and boxes stacked on top of the wood grain is beautiful like the person who has an inner gas such as helium and hydrogen and is extremely hollow and hairline cracks line the area with flowing white creativity is running out so the red and yellow air conditioner is spewing red hot lava so the blue tree likes to sway in the ripples of an earthquake sitting next to a fire place drinking newspaper and reading away at the fence which is painted with blood of plants and the greenery is so placid like the welcome of the hotel in the hollistic afternoon.

Design and technology

2006-02-16T15:08:00.000+08:00

Greetings... to the countable audience of my blog.

I shall write breifly about design and technology (D & T)
It is a very sophisticated and educated procedure. Definitely not a subject. This "subject" tends to squeeze the guts out of ur ribs and then kick you out of the window. Certainly not for the faint of heart. It combines three different heavy segments together, into one big course of study. It supplies as well as demands many different skills, intelligence and resources to fund the project. At the start of the year, our company team is assigned a theme, coupled with many deadlines to meet and other relevant issues to juggle. Then, it is all up to us. According to the formal design procedure, we employees are to tackle the common every-day problems associated to our theme, come up with a solution in a state-of-the-arts fashion and then produce a proto-type. This proto-type must be top-notch and marketable. Through the lengthy and tedious design procedure, we must provide extensive research (on areas usually not of our genre), list down the requirements of our product and attend regular meetings to discuss important issues pertaining to our product. We also have a very interesting job-scope; which is to bombard society with something new, and something very much relevant... much to the dismay of our creative juices. Our analysis of the issue, and identification of common problems will then lead us into our detailed development of our prototype, whereby our team must form the best solution, and elimate all forms of flaws and serve the best quality product with extended affordability. Next our work will then shift to the marketing and planning procedure (which is very important), whereby we will have to present our solution and design to our clients, schedule the dates, and coordinate the time to meet our companies' deadline target in sales and profits. After mass production, we will have to do an extensive evaluation of our project, not forgetting market surveys and much calculations of the overall statistics of our project etc etc. Modifications from here on may be necessary. As we look through the design procedure, development, brainstorming session and planning, we should be all set to present our product to our clients, and draw in substantial critical grading and moderation before it is marketed. Next we will need to be knowledgable in the area of our theory, tackling long problems in written-form and providing the best solutions and techniques. After all this, at the end of the year, we will hope to receive company bonuses and rewards, as well as higher responsibilties and status.

Thanks for reading

Thumbs up

2006-01-31T18:47:00.000+08:00

Dear good people of my fan club.

I would like to extend my thanks for your continual support and visitation to my lovely blog. One of my dreams is this turn this blog into a global hub for exponential increase in intricate, intellectual discussions and social relations. Without you, it would not be possible. Once again, thanks, and do not give hope on a dying tradition.

Abit more on an update in my life, since this is my blog anyway..
I have discovered that hot water freezes quicker than cold water.
That is all, thank you for taking a handful of your precious time and investing it on my brain empowering blog.

Prophet Chua.

Well.

2005-12-30T15:57:00.000+08:00

It has been a very eventful 2 and a half months for me. Time is short, and I am so excited. As every second inches across my irregular-shaped clock, i tremble in my sweat of joy; the thought of school crawling across the borders of time, to finally grasp the essence of my life.

Greeetings

2005-12-23T11:13:00.000+08:00

After spending the longest time away from Singapore, I am glad to be back.

Time. . .

2005-11-23T00:53:00.000+08:00

Dear bytes,

As we try to unfold, what time contains for us, whether it be a sequence that is un-altered, or predestined, we will find what it means to lose, or to gain. In all that is inside of us, our own being and thoughts, control what we are to ourselves, and to the people around us.. Much like an unwilling government, built on an empire that never existed. And as we cease to exist, we may just find the answer of; what in the world it is about you and me that makes us different.
Think about it.

Rev Dr Sean

Help

2005-11-17T16:53:00.000+08:00

Fellow people of www.blogger.com, I needeth help. The hour draws nigh. How am I supposed to add a tag board to my blog? Or add more "pages". I need help to configure this useless blog. Yes I know no one is going to see this, so this is for the sake of posting as well. Ha Ha Ha.

I also want to add that my guitar skills are soaring.

E337

2005-11-17T12:32:00.000+08:00

E337

My New Blog

2005-11-17T11:44:00.000+08:00

Greetings, to no one.
As you can see I have just made a blog. But as you can also see, no one in the world knows about it. So as you can already realise, I am talking to myself, and posting this for the sake of posting. But fear not, for there will come a day where my blog will be published in the newspaper for racist remarks, and this very honourable first post shall be remembered, as one that lived...

Rev Dr Sean