YouTube - Four Eyed Monsters - Entire 71 minute Film - (1 week only)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k8rRFFi_stY
Catch it before it's gone!

Specially for frens like Darren, Doopz, Jeniong, Vikas & Lianchye..

The Story Of The Landlord's Daughter And The Poor Man's Son

* I thereby lay claim to this story so that no one could be blamed for how bad it was.

Once upon a time.

Here we go.

Once upon a time, there was an unpopular landlord's daughter. Spoilt by her wealthy father who owned the most lands in the province, she was wilful and abominable to be around. She adored attention, but couldn't seem to seek them in proper manners.

She would break a rabbit's leg just so she could heal it back to life for everyone to see.

She would hurt herself so that she would see her maids punished and gained satisfaction from her father's fawning and worrying.

As a result, the landlord's daughter grew up to be a very lonely person.

The landlord himself was nary a decent character himself. He would con the peasants' hard earned money and often work them to death. So one fucking fine day, some of the more disgruntled peasants decided that they had no more to lose, and hatched a plan to kidnap the landlord's daughter for ransom and raped her to death.

Their plan was foiled by Tooka, a poor man's son. For he was righteous and saved the landlord's daughter, delivering her out of harm's way, and becoming the province's hero. The landlord's daughter was utterly smitten by her shinning knight in the armor and swore that she would marry Tooka.

Now, Tooka's heart already belonged to his fiance. And so the landlord's daughter started to spread lies around the province, accusing the fiance's fidelity. The rumors didn't achieve far as Tooka's love was steadfast to even hear a word of it

Tooka's mother then grew sick with Tuberculosis which was a poor man's disease in that era and reaped many peasants' lives. The landlord's daughter took Tooka's family into her rich residence, entrusting his ill mother under the care of the best physicians. That went on for half a year, in which the landlord's daughter spent every waking hours courting Tooka with gifts and affections.

For six months, Tooka and his fiance was apart.

However, Tooka was never stirred and only promised to work harder to repay this debt.

That angered the landlord's daughter and made her even more determined to possess Tooka's love.

One day, in private she challenged Tooka's fiance to prove her love by drinking poisonous wine. The fiance died, proving her eternal love for Tooka. Upon mourning, Tooka cried himself blind.

Before his fiance was even properly buried, Tooka was imprisoned in the landlord's residence. And the day of burial, the landlord's daughter forced marriage upon Tooka with the threat of his parents lives. Tooka never spoke a single word again.

To prevent Tooka from escaping, she locked Tooka with tight claws of iron chains and was happy that she had Tooka. She visited Tooka like a pet in his dungeon twice a day. Years went by and unknowingly to all, the locks she had for Tooka was too tight and Tooka's legs grew gangrene and had to be amputated.

Tooka's parents could no longer bear the sight of their child suffering, yet they did not have the power to release him from the bond of his wretched marriage, they did what merciful parents would have do to protect their children.

That night, Tooka's parents sneaked into the dungeon to murder Tooka.

Alas, the landlord's daughter was there and very furious with the folks for trying to take away her only love. In Tooka's presence, she threaten to kill his parents if Tooka still wouldn't say a word to her,

Consumed by her anger, the landlord's daughter killed Tooka's parents even he opened his mouth, pleading for them.

Tooka crawled over his parents' bodies and felt around.

When he felt it, he smiled.

A smile in over seven years.

For he found his father's knife. The very knife he was going to be murdered with.

Tooka craved out his heart, threw it to the landlord's daughter and died reuniting with his loved ones in another world.

The landlord's daughter remained bitterly lonely for the rest of her life.

Conversation To No One

It's easier to fall in love with the idea of someone in love with you, then actually with the person itself.

Three stories of six escalators streamed past each other in mechanical silence. They each carried the absence of flesh and memories. Quiet rotatory of metal hums and the air-conditioning most obvious in void of crowd.

Twelve hours later, I was the only one left behind.

The sick house remained gravely silent.

Occasionally someone coughed and that's that.

That's the problem with holidays, hospitals were almost a taboo.

And then more sounds. I guessed when one's tired, details can be very attractive. The world compressed into illogical preceptive of space and sound. Traffic squashing, street lamps flashing and shapes of speed can be comfortably suffocating.

Thank you, I would like some starlight in my coffee.

The train - the promiscuous shack of disinterest. Decibels of atoms pulled along the journey. Pulled along us to drop-zones of deluded destinies. I stripped wide the obituaries on the newspapers and saw that the announcement for obituary bookings would be closed tomorrow. Everyone would be immortal this stroke of midnight?

I like to forget what I've told. A sweet solace in knowing that I won't miss anything when I have missed everything. That's my philosophy of loneliness.

I reached home by evening, the skies hang low and yellow and massive and bitter and unworthy. I drew the curtains and locked my door. And I closed my eyes and buried my heart.

Bite my thumb and watch the moonshine in the groove.

Holidays are so misplaced. They should be on days:

• Baybeats are taking place.
• Whenever days after I'm drunk.
• And days I don't feel like waking up.
  

Sometimes I see a friend. I always enjoy the moment of passing each other with flash in the pan recognition and quicker pretence. Friendship is a shared twisted point of view.

Won't it be nicer if we don't have to try so hard at living it right?

With the neat whiff of antiseptic; the ever grinning bribery of mercy, I regained conscious and found myself back in the sick house.

Hospital is my life.

I don't get it.

Love + Mayhem

I told her bedtime stories.

Because only she would listen to me.

Going on and on.

About something that was never there.

Mostly my bedtime stories were original, but sometimes I would lift fantasy from Neil Gaiman or some lines from my favorite movies.

From Neil Gaiman's Sandman, I told her about the evil writer whom kidnapped The Muse was punished by the Prince Of Stories to suffer the endless flow of ideas. The evil writer had to write all his ideas down on the walls with his blood and slowly dying of imploding madness.

I lifted stories from Gaiman's take on the biblical tales, of how the first wife of Adam was Lilith whom bred demons, the second nameless bride was cast off by Adam because he bore witness of her birth in flesh and bones and lastly Eve whom God had to create in the dark of the night while Adam was asleep so that Adam won't be disgusted by the process.

I told her about Liang's story: A tree in love with a mortal which ended in an innocent tragedy.

And most nights, my stories...

Of a suicidal photographer was mesmerized by the accidental picture he took of a female voyeur. And their lives changed forever.

Of a husband having an affair came home shocked to find out his pregnant wife attempted suicide, killing their unborn in the process. And their desperate love rekindled through redemption and mayhem.

Of two young strangers having robbed of their innocence with one being raped and the other whose dear mother committed suicide in front of him, found solace in each other's sorrow.

Of three friends who found out that they were not real people, but entities living inside my head and had to kill me to prevent me from going crazy.

Or that depressed boy who couldn't die and the iron-cast maiden who couldn't cry.

Ludicrously dark and unsuitable for bedtime?

I couldn't help myself. These were the only versions I could cook up.

It was as if I'm a different kind of werewolf, sniffing at the coming of night and sleepiness, I just had to ask her:

'You wanna to hear a story?'

Though it always ended with the world ending, the characters forever destroyed and ruined. But it was always about love. Between two souls. In its most brutal form.

Love to me, sometimes could only be found by destroying each other. Utterly.

That's why love is real and can only afford to be from triumphing over the bruises from the combined demons that existed between two people.

In The Mood For Love

This entry is about a date we had which contained videos of seemingly a mundane and pointless activity.

If you are patient and interested enough to see how our date went, you can start to load the videos I posted below first. Do it now.

If you are not interested in whatever I have to say, please direct yourself to this more interesting link.


It's been a long long while since we spend some quality time together what with our different schedules. And today we dated somewhere near her area. Seeing that there's Bottle Tree Park which just newly opened, we decided to went for a stroll.

Yes, we like to stroll aimlessly on our dates. Her shyness to express her vocal prowess with my croaked voice to boot void us in KTVs, she doesn't like to drink as much as I do and me, well I don't have enough money to drink either makes pubbing/clubbing a no no. Her love for shopping which is clearly a torture for me to bear allows a little compromise that malls are for special occasions only. Plus, we don't have enough friends to mingle our content with.

That leaves walking around places. Cheap, non-intoxicating, healthy and intimate.

Breathing starlight and invisible mooches of cooling electricity on our skin.

Our take on bouncing, public walls, vulgarity and handphones

Macdonald and Ow~ Ow~

Invisible flowers, mud and moons in Bottle Tree Park

This is the part where we try to stage an act on a romantic encounter at the park, and failed at doing so miserably

Discriminated by the youth of our nation!

Phone = N73