The Treaty of Breast-Litovsk

O! How ejaculatory embarrassing!

Today, Sera and I settled ourselves at a table in the library, occupied by Sam Ong, Shiru and Peiyi. Soon enough, after Sam left, Lloyd descended upon us, Clorets a-clanging. And, well, Juzzie has always said that I’m more open about myself than most others — and I’m sure Peiyi now knows Three Embarrassing Things About Daryl Yam:

1. The King of Siam sexually harasses me on sight. I’d just like to say that he is a nice person when he wants to be.
2. I have a deep, deep, deep, deep lust… for Pocky. That McBao business was just a momentary phase.
3. My ears are stuffed with Freudian filters.

What do I mean, Freudian filters? The following snippets of conversation, littered over the course of the past year, should be enough of an explanation.

At the Band Room
BEVAN: Do you want to go downstairs?
DARYL: (not quite believing what I thought Bevan said) Do you want to have sex?

In the canteen
PING: Do you have a jacket?
DARYL: (not quite believing what I thought Ping said) Do you have a vagina?
[... fast forward to yesterday]
PING: (planning The Literature Boys with Sera) I’m just so excited!
DARYL: Heh. Ping. You know what I first heard?
PING: Hmm?
DARYL: I’m so sexcited!

I’m sure there were other instances. But those three are just the most LOL-worthy ones / instances I can still recall. All of them ended with something like this:  -.-

The moment Peiyi learnt of this embarrassing (Word of the Moment!) characteristic of mine, my dear table of friends began to use the word “downstairs” as a euphemism. Ever since Lloyd decided to chant “O! Nightingale!” with that Freudian reading of his, everyone finds it funny to just bang innuendos down my ear-holes.

See, we had been studying in the library, and Sera was hungry for a slice of fruit.

SERA: I’m hungry. I want to go downstairs.
SOMEONE: I’ll follow you.
PEIYI: (bursts out into laughter)
DARYL: (sniggering, facepalming)
SOMEONE: (glaring pointedly at me). Yes. I am going downstairs with Seraphina.
[... returning from the SAC]
DARYL: How was downstairs?
SERA & SOMEONE: (in proud unison) DELICIOUS

The library was closing.

DARYL: We have to pack up and go –
PEIYI: Downstairs!
SOMEONE: Yes. We need to get a room. Downstairs.

Fast-forward to dinner-time, when Everett, Joshua, Kelly, Peiyi and a Random ‘O’-Leveller came back from across the road, bursting into B1-03. Peiyi, handing Shiru her doggy-bagged dinner, exclaimed:

PEIYI: We were talking about Brest — (notices me staring at him, bursts out laughing)
THE ENTIRE CLASSROOM: (catching on, laughing as well)
PEIYI: I meant — Brest-Litovsk! The Treaty of Brest-Litovsk!
DARYL: (highly embarrassed) OKAY OKAY –
JOSHUA: You know, in a History essay, you should probably spell Brest-Litovsk as B-R-E-A-S-T –
SOMEONE: Ahem. “When Lenin signed the Treaty of Breast-Litovsk, he fell into Germany’s boobie trap.”

O! my God.

yam.

Following The Dust And Calling It More

love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places

yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skilfully curled)
all worlds

– E.E. Cummings, ‘Love Is A Place’

.

“Wanting to meet an author because you like his work is like wanting to meet a duck because you like paté.”

– Margaret Atwood

.

“YouTube, Twitter, and Facebook will all combine to create the most pointless website ever: it will be called YOUTWITTFACE! in the Year 3000.”

– Conan O’Brien

.

Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake
and dress them in warm clothes again.
How it was late, and no one could sleep, the horses running
until they forget that they are horses.
It’s not like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere,
it’s more like a song on a policeman’s radio,
how we rolled up the carpet so we could dance, and the days
were bright red, and every time we kissed there was another apple
to slice into pieces.
Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it’s noon, that means
we’re inconsolable.
Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
These, our bodies, possessed by light.
Tell me we’ll never get used to it.

– Richard Siken, ‘Scherazade’

.

“Beware of the lollipop of mediocrity: lick it once and you’ll suck forever.”

– Brian Wilson

*

All this talk about English A1 HL Paper 1, and I’ve just decided to pick out the highlights of scrapofpaper’s first page of posts. That livejournal is a favorite haunt of mine: snippets of Atwood’s acerbic wit and insight are featured every now and then; but a quick glance can tell you that Charles Bukowski aka Lord of Enjambment is loved to bits there. I seriously don’t know why, I have issues with his poetry. They can be a little didactic and overlong, so he’s not for the faint of the weak attention span.

Am currently in the throes of Economics — and Marcel Moring’s In A Dark Wood. It’s a narrative of a Jew who has lost his parents and brother during WWII under the Nazi regime, and how he seeks to cope with the loss, shifting between descriptive and introspective. More interesting is Moring’s innovative use of typography and other visual styles that add further dimensions to the action of the narrative (not to mention, pretty novel and fun for the reader).

I bought it when I went book-shopping with Doug last week. It was a pretty difficult choice, because I also managed to spot new editions of several selected Booker Prize winners (including Paddy!), a couple of interesting Japanese-translated-into-English novels, and an uber-cool edition of Atwood’s uber-cool Lady Oracle.

I want! I want! (Now I know why I’ve been saving up for no apparent reason.)

yam.

…Then She Wrote Out The Biggest Distraction Ever

IS THIS A VERY BAD TIME TO BE HOOKED ON HARRY POTTER SLASH FANFICTION

Oh well. Nothing better than to a) take some time to relax by taking all possible times of relaxation during this supposedly stressful period and compressing it all into one weekend, and b) self-induce a state of panic which will undoubtedly turn one into an IB working machine from henceforth.

Must. Think. Examinations. In. Half. A. Month.

Must. Not. Think. Harry/Draco.

yam.

I Dreamt Of You In A Game Shop, And Rowling Dropped By

In my dreams -e still doth haunt me,
Robed in garments soaked in brine;
How in life I used to hug h–,
Now –e’s dead, and I draw the line.

Oh my darling, oh my darling,
Oh my darling, Cl—–tine,
You were lost and gone forever,
Oh my darling, –

Philippians 3:13-14

Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.