YuaNWA : Dustbin Dude is happy! says:
pimples are a bacterial infection of the sweat gland
YuaNWA : Dustbin Dude is happy! says:
they occur when dirt gets in the glands or there is an excessive build up of oil in it
YuaNWA : Dustbin Dude is happy! says:
so to prevent pimple, surgically remove all sweat glands and release heat by panting like a god
YuaNWA : Dustbin Dude is happy! says:
i mean dog
Yup. One year older again and nothing much to show for it.
Thanks to all the people who remembered, it was touching to receive greetings from people you thought would not remember.
Captured what I felt about the film perfectly. I admit it, I cried during the film, specifically when the shopkeeper relieved his wife of her suffering.
Review
In another of our many expeditions in seach of the culturally noteworthy, The High Levels took to the cinema today to catch the new Eric Khoo film. In customary High Level fashion, we barely got to the cinema on time, what with The Heat getting detained by respective winsome ladies at the ticketing booth and popcorn counter, who suddenly found themselves perspiring profusely for no reason. Word had it that there was going to be some girl on girl action in the film. And if there was to be, the public may be certain that The High Levels would be there digest it from the intellectual and artistic perspective.
Be With Me was not a very good film in the way that Top Gun was a good film. There was no sex, no good music to hum along to, and no explosions captured in jaw-dropping slow-motion. The narrative fleshed out the lives of five or six (we forget) different individuals, and attempted to intertwine them in a way reminiscent of Paul Thomas Anderson's Magnolia. One or two threads could have been dispensed with altogether. The love between the lesbian couple was, as Rockson would have put it, 'a bit extra'. The film tried to pull one within the emotional intensity of the relationship by inserting lovely little piano/violin duets at critical courtship moments. Yet the outcome of that relationship (as well as its emotional impact) on the audience was dulled, outweighed, and completely trivialised but the other narrative threads. Still, it must be said (we insist) that both actresses photograph splendidly.
Yet aside from the aforementioned technicality, Be With Me is an extraordinary film about loneliness and suffering; on love and its absence. It limps along, then suddenly, and without warning, goes and breaks your heart. Several of the scenes commanded unspeakable emotional power, reducing The High Levels to sustained bouts of restrained weeping, as well as all manner of uncivilised snivelling. The old shopkeeper put in a Masterclass performace, establishing himself as the emotional pivot of the film. It is from him that the meaning of the film emanates, and it is for him that all tears are shed. The scene in the shophouse where he imagines seeing/not seeing his dead wife had tRYATHLETE closing his eyes in the theater's darkness, unwilling to take any more punishment. The point where the audience observes their hands clasp over her mouth as he plants a desolate kiss on her forehead, sent the entire HL crew into visible and audible convulsions. By the time he wept in the blind and deaf woman's arms, the entire cinema was wracked with grief (save for the few who found the blind and deaf woman's speech amusing, and the same people who found the foiled suicide of the jilted lesbian hilarious).
The values of the film, in its evocation of human dignity, courage, estrangement and love left the High Levels humbled. It painstakingly strips away all that is material, forcing us to look at humanity at its most fundamental levels of naked emotion. The film takes us to a place where the meaning of love embeds itself within watercress soup and steamed rice; where love finds itself destroyed, and in turn destroys those who loved through grief. A place where all that remains of love is its remembrance. It is a place where people eat only in order that they may go on loving.
You have it on good authority. Be With Me is the moment of local cinema.
The Hong Kong Unicycle Hockey team is coming over to Singapore for a friendly match with, you guess it, us, the Singapore Unicyclist.
It's on the 25 September 2005. 10:30am. Singapore Polytechnic Hockey Court, just beside the stadium. So if anyone is free, do come down to support us. Entrance is free. :P
EDIT: It's been changed to 10:30 instead of 11am.
The army is where boys become men, and hell week is where men become frogmen. Or so says the Naval Diving Unit (NDU).
It's where one goes through one week of physical and mental exertions with sleep deprevation thrown in for good measure.
They say it's the toughest thing that a human can go through without actually going through hell.
I beg to differ, I'm going through day 1 of my own personal hell week now.
How so? It's the mid-term break for NUS now. Some people like to think of it as a "holiday", especially those naive freshmen. Well, after 2 years in university, one tends to know better. The start of mid-term break signals the start of 1 week of sleep deprevation, mental and physical tourture!
You attend project meetings all day and then at night, you sit in front of your workdesk, rushing more reports and projects and tutorials and catching up with lectures. All the way till the middle of the night. Falling into a fitful sleep, you dream of books and lecture notes chasing you, only to wake in a flurry of flying notes that you have thrown. Morning bekons and the cycle starts all over again.
I'm only in day 1 and it feels like an both an eternity and an instant.
How am I too survive?
* looks around for moral support *
Well the time of the year where I celebrate wearing my first suit is coming again and hence I have decided to compile a wishlist *hint*hint*
I'll add it to the sidebar soon.
Wishlist:
Since only one person commented for the poll of whether to retake my IPPT, I have decided to declare it null and void on the grounds that the person who posted the comment was of an unsound mind at the momment of typing.
Also taking a cue from a friend, I would like to say something about what you don't hear during lectures.
Lecturer: "And so from here you will see that it is so..."
Hundreds of students scream silently: "FU*K! BUT I DON'T SEE IT!"
This is for you.
I however admit I'm a pussy and I played this is bright day light with the sound turned to minimum. Bah.
The most expensive 4 cm in my to date. $100 to be exact.
Why?
It was the difference between Silver and Pass in my IPPT test.
Results as follows:
Score Pts
Sit Up 40 5
Broad Jump 221cm 2 <--------This bloody station. I needed 225cm for silver.
Chin Up 8 3
Shuttle Run 9.7s 5
2.4km 11.33min 3
You get $200 for Silver and $100 for pass. Because of that bloody station I'm $100 poorer. Considering whether I should go take it another time and try to get silver. Is the extra $100 worth it?
Answers on the back of IPPT result slips.
Results of comments so far:
Yes - 1
No - 0
Will update as more people who can be bothered to comment, comment.
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