bing chen de laksa ding gua gua.

I'm over at 906 again. I'm waiting to apply for a PR here. But sometimes it's a little hard. Deathbyninefloor can be quite threatening.

But it's also fun, because sometimes even at 3am (or perhaps, because it's 3am) we are still capable of cracking up at insidious jokes. Like horseracing and Penang Laksa. Yes I know you don't understand. No you're not meant to understand. Yes it's okay if you don't.

There's still plenty of good causes for ang tiong. Like earlymorningmatches tomorrow and day after. I am nervous. I don't really want to be ang tiong that early. I'm counting down the days. But I'm beginning to think it makes no difference really. At the end of the day accounts have to be settled. And closure.

Crunchy Nut cereal is not on sale. You may wonder why I feel the need to write that down. That's because I am slightly hungry. And also because I'm practicing automatism - the art of improvised and automatic writing. That's right. It's all part of the Surrealistic movement. If you still don't understand, don't worry because neither do I. The subject is proving harder than I expected, and I'm still trying to figure out where to draw the line between sophisticated thinking and utter crock of nonsense. But that's art for you.

Dong has started his makeyourselfathome speech, which means it's time for me to head for the couch. Also because it's 4am and I have a 9.30am Creative Writing class. Honourable Dong and Honourable Jingyi show much honourable hospitality. Nevertheless, I will curse them both that the last thought on their minds before they drift off...

...will be that chant...


P.S.: Yes, it's an inside joke. No, it's okay if you don't get it. It's just the winds of change.


* poot *