A while ago we went to the local bird park [which would be The Jurong Bird Park, yo] - alright so that while was three years ago and a while after I first got my DSLR. So three years later the only impetus to go there again [other than a dear visiting friend] was to flex my metaphorical cameraific muscles [and literal arm muscles, I guess] and hone my ability to use a new telezoom lens and a monopod.

I think on the overall I have improved [I'd better have], but the only reason why I [and Jun] paid the price of admission was because I expressed horror at the prices and my dad sed "GO TEST OUT YOUR LENS ANYWAY" so I did. Subsequently I struggled with it at both the Bird Park and the Zoo, horribly, but my later increased expertise netted me the ability to take probably some of the most important photos of my life so I'm quite pleased with how things worked out. As it is, I got a few fun shots at the Bird Park, which explains why there are 30.5 pictures under cut.



( My primary impetus is to catch up in my flickr chronologically. )

And that's all! I ran out of space, several times, most distressingly before the Lory Loft [which was where I'd taken the most shots the last time] where all the cute fat little birds were. Live and learn; too cheap to solve it. ::sheepish::

( - though I probably shall not exclaim as I die - )

- "oh willow, LoudTwitter, tit willow."
[stereophilic twittery.]

IT'S JUN'S [silencestation] BIRTHDAY
BE NICE OKAY?
PLEASE?

TO HELP ME WITH MY OVERWHELMING GUILT OF LATE ANNOUNCEMENTS? D'8

It's been a while. I did not dream of her, but I did think it should be somewhat like this [10 minute but uh takes a while a while to load] short film:

( this short film that I filmed. )

I just heard someone else's draft for his monologue.

1. I can't believe he started with "Let me introduce myself - I am Lucifer, fallen angel."
2. I can't believe he started with that instead of "Please allow me to introduce myself - I'm a man of wealth and taste."
3. I can't believe he said "I am Lucifer, fallen angel."

Why lah, boy.

EDIT: No mystery here folks; just a really crappy monologue.

Tell me tell me my flist darlings, are you experiencing blathering incompetence today?

There seems to be an inordinate sort of spike in blathering incompetence today; in the last hour I've only spent it: 1. pointing out to my Operations Management group that a maritime port company is not going to handle your freight and ground logistics, 2. assuaging the headless chickeny fears of my Finance classmates that you do NOT have to scream at other group members to "HURRY UP WE HAVE TO FINISH" if they themselves write "it's due next Sunday!!!" in the same email, 3. trying to articulate my agonised disbelief in feedback at how suddenly stupid our lovely webhost's support is.

Is it (Inter)National Blathering Incompetence Day? Are they trying to explode the minds of us rational folk? Did I miss something while I was trying to master a monologue to no avail?

If you have experienced blathering incompetence today, tell me so we can all agonise together and so that a string of agreeing 'wtf's will follow to assure you that there are people who are not so blatheringly incompetent.

And also declare today as the day of blathering incompetence as a warning.
I fear maybe a year.

[I'm not sure whether to declare the 8th or 9th of November as Blathering Imcompetence Day. OH GOD THEY'VE GOT ME TOO]

When we talked and it cemented that stifling hatred I have for certain members of mankind I (formerly) tried to deny; it reduced me to breathless mad agony, an angry idiot gasping and gaping for justice and something to settle the ever-consuming embers of miserable rage that lash out at my being whenever my mind even so much flickers past the thought of it. It is so expansive that I can't even describe it right after the stupid amounts of analogies and metaphors I've just put up there.

My current problem is now, and very much now that I can't quite make the words in my performance seem burgeoningly painful. I've repeated it for a good 15 minutes into a mirror but it still sounds atrociously hollow. Not even what set me off the last time tore away this apathy; I think I've lost the total capacity to feel in this aspect and I don't regret it, but the lady is gonna see right through me.

M: Why is this Powerpoint f***ing 8MB? It's 8 times the size of the Excel application it's about. It's f***ing 8MB!
J: That really bothers me, for some reason.
M: You know what's f***ing wrong with these people? Powerpoint is supposed to be a tool, not a - it's - it's like having a horse. You ride that horse around. That's how Powerpoint is supposed to be. But they use Powerpoint like you tell that goddamn horse to ride off into the distance by itself, bring a gun, fire the gun, kill a man - or bring him back dead or alive. But you know what's gonna happen? You're just going to have a heavily decorated horse, bullet belt strapped all over, come back groaning under all that weight - and he hasn't killed the man. Why? That's because -
J: [grim] That's because he can't hold a gun.
M: Yeah! Well.

Er.


Yeah.

HEY GUYS LOOK
REMEMBER THIS?
WELL NOW IT'S BEEN COCKBLOCKED!
Because we all used MAGIC.

( - though I probably shall not exclaim as I die - )

- "oh willow, LoudTwitter, tit willow."
[stereophilic twittery.]

I am fond of my drama group mates because they're all seniors who dislike waste and inefficiency as much as I do. There is, however, one that looks exactly like Asian (Young) George Harrison. Shoulda known from there he was a bit of an oddity, but I was charmed by his guileless affection for the world and positive emotions. In a bid to generate ideas for a short film, he browsed through Facebook videos:

G[eorge]: That's so sweet.
BJ [groupmate]: He's really got this emotional thing going on, huh?
M: Depends. Is it a awesome! sweet or an awwww sweet?
G: ...
M: [looks over] ...it's an awww sweet.
G: [defensively] What's wrong with that?
M: There's nothing wrong with that.
BJ: Yeah man, it's good you like people.

Then it was proven he is odd.

LW [groupmate]: [has just arrived and still attempting to generate alternatives] Okay, so. Maybe - maybe if you guys have any causes? Poverty, etc?
BJ: No man, I thought you'd have some.
LW: [shrugs] Eh, not really - M, you?
M: No - I hate people generally.
LW: You?
G: [instantaneously] Safe sex in South Africa FIFA 2010.
BJ: Say what?
G: No I mean it! You know, all the tourists and stuff going to South Africa and then they have unsafe sex with prostitutes and then end up with STDs.
LW: There he goes again.
M: ...Isn't it their own fault if they go there and a) have sex with prostitutes, b) unprotected?
G: [greviously distressed] But they're just not aware of this! They're actually, really unaware, you know?!


LW: Okay, forget the causes.

( - though I probably shall not exclaim as I die - )

- "oh willow, LoudTwitter, tit willow."
[stereophilic twittery.]

Might anyone on my esteemed flist know a [preferably French] song which is possibly about a (underage) young girl knowing she's really shouldn't be in a bar and that she's going to regret it but not really?

Er, something close?

I'm not a bad person I swear

I mean those french there's bound to be some weird stuff like that right right

GUYS GUYS QUICK
THE ONLY WAY TO REWARD THOM YORKE, DEATH CAB, KILLERS AND ALL FOR SHOWING UP ON THE TWILIGHT: NEW MOON SOUNDTRACK
AND THE BLOKES WHO HIRED THEM TO HIT THEIR DEDICATED CROWD
YOU KNOW IT
IS TO MAGIC IT UP.

( - though I probably shall not exclaim as I die - )

- "oh willow, LoudTwitter, tit willow."
[stereophilic twittery.]

( - though I probably shall not exclaim as I die - )

- "oh willow, LoudTwitter, tit willow."
[stereophilic twittery.]

Having files backed-up and salvaged is a new sensation to me, though these files have been backed up for a couple or more years and in that respect I am a little bit more than lame. Nevertheless, I had some photos that'd never seen the light of day before, and I felt was a bit of a pity because I liked them very much. I'm also attempting to use my flickr like a proper photography collective, so I suppose it was good to dredge them up. Very big image-intensive.

( 1. Azri x3 )

( 2. Miscellaneous )

( 3. Sunsets )

( 4. Vivocity? )

You know how I do. Dance, Prowl - dance!

( 5. Transformers Animated hahahaha )

The end of my break is here! I weep bitter tears. So before I lack the time to write again, would anyone like some random mail to spice up their mailbox? [I'm the Prince of Nigeria?] I shall copy-pasta what I wrote back in May -

In point form:
- I'm offering to send local (Singaporean) advertisement postcards to you. No swap needed, it's just for fun.
- Knowing me I'll prolly write some silly crap on your postcard, so if you'd like more meaningful content in writing, let me know what you want to hear about. My day. My cat. Politics. Whatever.
- If you'd like to get some rando-mail from M, comment with your address. It'll be screened.
- BONUS: It's a crapshoot if it'll be a postage label or some awful local abstract art stamp. Awful as hell, by the way.

Getting stuff in the mail is fun when it's not the bills.

J: Man, I can't believe there's no football. I'm so bored.
M: Yeah, especially since the only football (internationals) is the most boring football ever.
J: I just saw a headline saying "Carrick Knocking on Capello's Door" and now I have "knock knock knocking on Heaven's door..." in my head -
M: ♪ KNOCK KNOCK KNOCKING ON CAPELLO'S DOOR - HEY, HEY, HEY HEY YEAH! KNOCK KNOCK KNOCKING ON CAPELLO'S DOOR ♫
J: ...okay man. Okay.

M: [labelling football DVDs] I can't figure out what the hell this qualif is. Germany against a country I don't recognise the flag of. It says RSA.
J: They look African.
M: Of course they're African!
J: RSA. The....Republic...of...South...Africa.
M: THERE IS NO (team for) REPUBLIC OF SOUTH AFRICA

[Five seconds later, attempting to figure it out from the commentary...]

Commentator: ...Joachim Lowe's Germany, and the World Cup hosts, South Africa.
M: AAAAAAAAGH

[Five seconds later, checking on the internet.]
Wikipedia: RSA. For the Republic of South Africa, see South Africa.
M: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH

[Five seconds later, checking the FIFA website.]
M: [defeated] There really IS the Republic of South Africa.
J: [puts a hand on M's shoulder] Africa is not a country.
M: I KNOW

Combined with my geographically confused ignorance, this was so painfully claw shrimp I can't quite describe.

J: That was fun. Let's do that again.
M: I think I lost about 5 years of my life. No.
J: Hee hee.