Up & Rising

Not for the vulgarities-sensitive.

Well, fuck you, too. Fuck me, fuck you, fuck this whole city and everyone in it.

Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back.

Fuck the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car. Get a fucking job!

Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores, stinking up my day.

Terrorists in fucking training. SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!

Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35.

Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English?

Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin’ and dealin’ and schemin’. Go back where you fucking came from!

Fuck the black-hatted Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds!

Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gekko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for FUCKING LIFE! You think Bush and Cheney didn’t know about that shit?

Give me a fucking break! Tyco! Worldcom!

Fuck the Puerto Ricans. 20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin’ parade in the city. And don’t even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, ’cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good.

Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swinging their, Jason Giambi, Louisville slugger, baseball bats, trying to audition for the Sopranos.

Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermes scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. You’re not fooling anybody, sweetheart!

Fuck the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don’t want to play defense, they take five steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on!

Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust!

Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child’s pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while you’re at it, fuck JC! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in fuckin’ Otisville, J!

Fuck Osama Bin Laden, Al Qaeda, and backward-ass, cave-dwelling, fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fuel fire in hell. You towel headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal Irish ass! Fuck Jacob Elinsky, whining malcontent.

Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend’s ass.

Fuck Naturelle Riviera, I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back, sold me up the river, fucking bitch.

Fuck my father with his endless grief, standing behind that bar sipping on club sodas, selling whisky to firemen, cheering the Bronx bombers.

Fuck this whole city and everyone in it. From the row-houses of Astoria to the penthouses on Park Avenue, from the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho. From the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park slope to the split-levels in Staten Island. Let an earthquake crumble it, let the fires rage, let it burn to fucking ash and then let the waters rise and submerge this whole rat-infested place.

No. No, fuck you, Montgomery Brogan. You had it all, and you threw it away, you dumb fuck!

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Doesnt this whole speech sums up all? Everyone is fucked up. Maybe I should made one too. THat wld be fun.

i hate racism

My life is no more than filling up empty words doc.

:(:( :(:(:(:(:( :(:(:(:(:( :(:(:(:(:( :(:(

Run – Snow Patrol

I'll sing it one last time for you
Then we really have to go
You've been the only thing that's right
In all I've done

And I can barely look at you
But every single time I do
I know we'll make it any where
Away from here

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you can not hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

Louder, Louder
And we'll run for our lives
I can hardly speak I understand
Why you can't raise your voice to say

To think i might not see those eyes
Makes it so hard not to cry
And as we say our long goodbyes
I nearly do

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you can not hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

Louder, Louder
And we'll run for our lives
I can hardly speak I understand
Why you can't raise your voice to say

Slower, slower
We don't have time for that
All I want's to find an easier way
To get out of our little heads

Have heart, my dear
We're bound to be afraid
Even if its just for a few days
Making up for all this mess

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you can not hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

I was wearing my oversized but comfy blue spartan flag vintage tee and my summerish green shorts. I went to potatoes’ office which is on top of changi airport terminal.

A stainless steel spidey-like stairs lead me to a troll of bluish theme office rooms. I got her stuff (somehhow or rather most of them are actually mine) and spill everything all over the stairs.

Suddenly, all the office room doors open and everyone was runnin down the stairs, obviously giving me the feelin that I am, an intruder who even,worse, is blockin their way!

An intelligent looking decnt oliveskin guy with spec questioned  my status but laterwe became frens. we walked out of the buildingand it was a ohmygod beautiful warm and springy lush grassland. with those white little flowers sprinkled all over the green pasture.

i dun rem wad we were talking,but i got all happy at the scenery, andsuddenly i thought of a sunflowers spot that I have been to in the grassland. All smiles i ran ard and ask this group of random ppl (which usually i wun)(the people are random ppl from mysecondary sch., yes , the reality one) for directions.

of cuz they didnt noe wad i was talking abt. but i found it anyway.

thesunflowers were taller than me(not tt i’m very tall)!! itwasjust picture perfect! I remembered i was so engulfed in happiness.

Then, of all things, I woke up.

“SHIT, i dosed off,havent finish my lobbypaper!”

And my itunes is now playing track 1-10 it’s No Artist cuz somehow i didnt capture the  details when i was burning it. but hell no. It’s fantastic!!!!like thebest soundtrack in my itunes.the songs are really old school nice, but i cant rem any of it. but i think it’s a coterie of remix songs.shiettttt.

i’ll asked proud american accented j to decipher for me, cuz the singers are screaming most of the time and i cant catch the words. time to let him impress me. heeheee. he’s still in his slumber, i’ll bring in some salt later. ehhehheheeheh

anyway,i started surfing and landed myself in the met site. gosh, ididntnoe there’s so manyopera genres! and i fig out the genre i love is, lo and behold, EXTREME emotions

“It’s a cliché to think of all opera as emotionally overblown, but many operas do revel in a view of life on the edge. Elements of this extremism (vocal, orchestral, and dramatic) have been present since the early days of opera, but reached their fullest expression in the influential, rough-and-tumble verismo style (real people in highly charged situations) that peaked in Italy a century ago.”

-the met

I was reading happily until i saw “Intro to lobbying ad government relations” scowling at me.

and i got stress

las, this entry.

oh man.ihate this blog

i just typed a long post and it did not reg to the server. damnit. i’m so disappointed over u man. technology issupp to make meprogress not to do the same thing twice. refusing to let u (technology)to controlme. i’m gg to write the same entry again.except, this time in point form! grrrrrr

———————–

1. sad over pol science grades
2. had dinner @ tiramisu, me-fettucine alla marinara, j-chix breast **** parmagiana
3. great fun
4. chocolate
5. brad-shortest date ever!

————————————

1. lantern/mooncake fest(eun wld say) with eun,emu, j
2. most tranquail and peaceful nite ever @ floating walkway with chn lanterns n big candles
3. nice ‘batik’ work eun. pics pls.
4. gorgeous pic ppl
5. nice to end day with a happy note
6. called dad to wish happy bday, happy to hear a tint of joy in his voice
7. happy to hve clothes dryer

 

boo

The day before, I was MSN-ing with my married sister.

She was telling me that she’s planning on getting a —–. Being the practical me, I asked why? She and george just bought a new —- like 2 mths back?

I want a —- of my own, which I dun hve to share, says she.

I immediately change my stance, ahh good thinkin sis.

And I wonder, so. WHydo I have to share mine then?

Maybe things will change next sem.

Jay said that I always try to act like a nice person, actually I’m not. I defended myself that of cuz not. i was just being myself.

And I thought, I just didnt like the consequences of being nice. Like I had this classmate last sem (thank god, she’s not in any of my classes this sem BUT), she was struggling with this essay and I helped her up. Then after, she kept asking me for help and copies of my previous essays. Obviously I felt used. So there. I’m angry at myself for helping her. Not to say that our final assignment got some ‘complications’prolly because it’s too alike. stupedous me lendin her glance thru my work.

And then, the issue of the chemistry prog that i did for my sis(a teacher). Apparently it was so successful that 2 other schools are using it. and now TP is expanding on it. So i asked if my sis is earnin from the concept and animated prog. She said that she’s willing to forsake it for her career climb.

so wad do i get?

prolly jay is right. i dun hve the capacity the be a ‘good’ person.

so now i hope i can exploit myself to do well in my essays. afterall, i perform so well, for others.