aww my gawd, i supar hate foto shawp

4 fuckin hours and ive not came up with a single effect. im gonna be screwed. and i lost the thumbdrive that keeps all my files. fuck. im furiouser than that botak guy from fast and furious.

oh, and i found this pic from google image search and its linked to supertouch website, which i think would useful for my contemporary art shit. check out supertouch for art inspiration, they are gonna be BIG. they even gonna have lupe fiasco (one of my fave artist) as one of my co-editor. and NIKE as their main banner sponsor, even though most street and modern visual artists is so against consumerism. i think its gonna be dope. like this crazy french music video.


so today went to glendale park, hillview the previous condo for some shit. and back home, mum wasnt so happy cos the previous conservancy charges bill there was like literally 4 times more ex per month. must be the 25% hike at that time.

so yeah, when i took a cab back home, i saw the clouds spraying pillars of light, like some angel is gonna skydive downwards. it was so white and divine. its so different unlike some crappy photographers that take scenic shots of clouds and shit. i personally think my shot is better and these are taken by a samsung handphone 3.2 megapixel camera without any of those photoshop edited bullshit. i dont know much bout photography. i dont even know what the hell white balance means.
without the grains and crystal of the light. thats my house on the foreground.

the light kinda reminds me of the spurting laser rays like the one in clubs



went for andy moor at zouk on sat. that guy is talented as hell. the way he commands the crowd is autistic man. because phuture is getting lame. i'll get to that later.
jack, ade, me
in forbidden city. ordered safe sex on the beach. which tasted like sex on the beach without sex.

jacks car is the new bmw M3. which is ultra-shiznit-imba-dope-cool.
the door handles are lighted when its at night.
the Meister M-sign on step panel
sports steering. m3 sign at the bottom.

and i just realised that the bigger the rims, the more bumpy it feels in the ass.

so yeah,

the dj last night in PHUTURE sucked. it was first time ever in phuture that i stood a straight hour just standing. i think god hates me. song after song, just happened to be the song that i hated. the song maneater pisses me off the most. and kanye west new song ' love lockdown' sounds like tantric sex. dj's should know better on differentiationg whats best played on headphones and an energetic club. the poor maintenance. the crowd its packed like fuck. like 5 human beings per sq metres and you have courteous peoples just cutting through during the funtimes. like no wonder theres hardly mats seen, because, they have no space to shuffle (or maybe they couldn't afford the entry) and sumhow seems to be perpetually younger and younger. maybe im getting too old, but come on, the chics gets flatter and flatter. flatter than a HDB man. and it just seems that the jc kids and ns guys needs classes on pick up man. i still heard someone breaking into a group chics happily dancing by asking: YAWL WANN SOME DRINKS?? (shows and jiggles jug, smiling like cock)

club tip no.7: never ask a question on first approach.
its a turnoff. you'd sound like a beggar/salesperson.

and finally, it seems to me, that phuture has the highest merlion occurence in singapore nightspot. every time in phuture, i witnessed someone actually vomitting. its like watching an accident u know? like watching someone getting ran over by a car everytime in the same avenue. whats the possiblity of that? yesterday, some guy vomited on the floor, it hit some doode's shoe, the doode went: OMG! omg! chao cheebye! my shoe! my shoe! and ran outside, leaving fading vomit shoeprints. oh, its not a cool okay. vomit puddles stink like fuck. most of the time it smells like a combination of durian, redbull(all the time), sewage, broccoli and catshit. and when that occurs, you hear screams and a ripple effect of pushes away from the vomit spot as people tries to stay away as far as possible in the already crowded club. and after vomit cleanup, the floor has this icky adhesive effect when you step on it..

i'll never go to phuture ever again.
but its pointless, just like new years resolution. and personally i think new years resolutions are total bullshit and meant to broken on new years day just to prove that you have no will power or self control and that your life consists of an endless series of excuses as to why you can't follow through with anything... or is that just me?


moving on.


went to mustafa just now and outside its:
THAIPUSAM! (play indian trumpets.)

yennadei kutty kutty wa wa weil weil.

damn fierce. is that gold swastikas on the pain rack decorations?

and to think tongue piercing was badass, this guy has a metal stick pierced though his cheeks, HORIZONTALLY piercing past the tongue, and exiting out of the other cheek. sibeh fierce leh.

if emo kids were present, they could simply stand in awe, remove all their piercing, get a decent haircut and shop at giordano or this fashion and trade in their boots for some pair of teva sandals.


so like yeah, i was free some day in nafa, i drew on sum free centrefold poster that teenage magazine normally have.

decided to tattoo this dweeb, his name is derrick hoh. thats not fierce at all. how dare you have such name without loooking like a badass.
before, no piercings, no tattoo visible.
(pussy ah lian voice): hi my name is derrick hoh.

after some marker damage.


(after) black earrings, fullsleeve angkong, neck tattoo
(pie kia si beh du lan voice) MY NAME IS DERRICK HOH!

americana-yakuza-mat right sleeve
tribal tattoos (mat accent) pukimak trybel sial.
neck tatts.

speaking of tattoos.
small minah thigh tattoo.


lecturer playing patapon. the pc version.
lame. he was showing us abstract.


that oslo hawt chic shirt. hustla ape dawg.
black mentos
then VIBRANCY@NAFA. and they had the nafa dance club performance, cheering them on a crazyass crowd of 2 persons. they were borderline bad.. free ice cream to spare me the pain.


then in 3D art class.


last week, i documented an adventure in the firing machine. i lived to tell. this is some serious shit.


ooh look, a ceramics electric firing chamber a.k.a. life-sized oven a.k.a. the will burn your shit up machine. must be cool to check out whats inside.



its bigger than a coffin. i can like dance in it. fucking around yeah. im fucking around. wooh so coool im fucking around.



*BAM*!! (slams shut the door). gasp! OH NO! holy shit what the fuck?




(inside view)
aaah fuck.. shiiit. shit!! im stuck inside this gawd damn machine, let me out. lemme out. i owe singtel $243 bucks and i haven't delete the porn in my laptop and the ipod yet! help!




i saw the thousand coils in the gaps glows brighter than a christmas tree, it was searing hot as fuck, my shirt vapourised and then all my hair turned to dust, and i was like wah lao, damn hot sia. shit heats up. everything in the chamber is red.
and then i saw a mahogany corporate desk, and behind it in a black suit was Donald Trump. he was buay song

i was fired



then like after 3 days and shit:











psssst (sound of smoke and steam)












siiiibeh lame