Today marks a very special day: where i will begin writing the next chapter of The Green Jacket: Masquerades( actually, just the next part. The first chapter will be complete in probably a weeks time.) and thats not all. Todays the day where I face a new stage in my life: ADULTHOOD. In other words, national service! I shall look forward with ardour fitting that of a patriot( yeah rite) and a man willing to face the world( only with a large army behind me, and preferrably around me as well). Hopefully, i wont disappoint my all those things that matter most to me.
For those people taking ur A level results, namely Chitra, Faizal, Sheema, and the rest of the world, good luck, god bless, and may ur futures be filled with long days and pleasant nights. Cos hopefully, ill get my damn diploma too. : )
And the Green Jacket walks again.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
A tribute to a Great man
Sometimes its bad. And this is as bad as it can get. I put my hands together in salute, and prayer, and i hope God gives this brave man a chance to return to action. I cant say i know how it feels to have a broken leg. But to a footballer, breaking a leg is like losing hands for a tennis player, losing the dick as a man-whore or even losing the brain for a chess player. Its bad. really bad. Poor Smudger.Well be here. Those fans who hated you for your cross Pennines switch are lying when they say they don't care about your current plight. We all love you, Smithy. You gave your heart and soul for Leeds, and we will never forget.
Respect? look at the blurred faces of the two managers in the background. See the concern on their faces.
Courage? "Alan has immense courage and he was showing it when he went to block the free-kick. It made the whole day doubly disappointing for us."-club captain Gary Neville.
Sense of humour? "When I looked down the leg was lying one way and my ankle was pointing towards Hong Kong - so I knew I was in serious trouble." (he can still joke at a time like this?)
Our Love? "Even though Alan was a little bit delirious as he was coming off, he was able to recognise that not just United fans, but a lot of Liverpool fans, were giving him a round of applause." - Smith's agent Mr Alex Black.
We love smudger. Get well soon, and youll be back terrorising players everywhere. God speed.
news.. News..news
heya all.. i noe there are people out there awaiting the next part of me epic.. har har.. but due to time constraints( ie: mugging, housework, dallying with a certain person, winning eleven 9 and basic sloth) i wont be able to continue the story till mayhap next month. So ilyas will have to wait a while longer. It seems my life will take precedent right about now. : )
Take care all. And as before, i apologise for any spelling errors that have occured within the hallowed confines of this blog. It is rather "unpolite" I did not mention this before, but i have to show "character" and come forward with this info.
Cheers.
Take care all. And as before, i apologise for any spelling errors that have occured within the hallowed confines of this blog. It is rather "unpolite" I did not mention this before, but i have to show "character" and come forward with this info.
Cheers.
Monday, February 06, 2006
first part of chapter 1
Heres the first part. im seriously victimising the poor boy arent i? haha.. dis is soooo fun.. apologies for any spelling errors, grammatical errors or any weird visualisations. Its still in its basic form. Enjoy!
Proposed Chapter 1
Dr Mormon of St Albert's Junior College was not incredibly impressed when Mrs Lee barged into his office during his morning coffee. In fact, he was peeved. He had his reading glasses on, the thick framed ones Mrs Mormon had insisted he purchase when his eye-sight became problematic. After all, he was sixty-two this coming March, and at that age he would expect to at least have his daily ritual of hot coffee his wife would make every morning in a silver thermos flask. She would bundle along a copy of the Maine Daily, knowing how her husband loves his news. Thus he would start his day, fifteen minutes of peace, filled with the pleasant aroma of arabica beans, and news that was hot of the shelve. But here was the peace breaker, a crow of a teacher who appeared to be manhandling a student into his office. He glanced up, just once, and you could almost feel the hot flash of irritation those dark brown eyes radiated.
" Principal, this boy is late!" Mrs Lee screeched. She had on her horribly pink glasses, which barely concealed the beady eyes beneath, and rested on a nose that would not seem so out of place on a pit bull. Her thin, severe lips were pursed in a sneer, and she had her arms crossed on her bright fashion-destroying pink cardigan, her feet tapping impatiently beneath her ankle length brown skirt. Quite a showing, thought the amused doctor, going back to the blaring headlines of " MAN FOUND HEADLESS IN ALLEY: Police follow leads". And it was only a quarter-past nine, on the very first day of the new term. Yes, quite a showing, even for this particular teacher.
"Good morning Mrs Lee," said he, his eyes still scanning the news written by the esteemed Jimmy Luis. " Would you care for some coffee?"
The heaving teacher looked scandalised. " I'd rather not," she sniffed, looking down her nose." I do have a class to attend to."
That statement was a thrown gauntlet, and the old man was taken aback at the woman's audacity. He decided he would not take such blatant disrespect, the insinuation that his fifteen minutes was time wasted shirking his job. But screaming with fury was not his style. Subtlety was his forte, so instead, he fixed the woman with an incredulous stare and sipped more coffee with a loud slurp to further infuriate her.
"You say you don't have time for coffee, yet you bring a student into my office at a quarter past nine on the first day of the new term? This boy seems to be a first year at that." He switched his gaze to the hapless victim. He was clad in a green sweat jacket, brown pants that probably made him a student of Napier Secondary School, in the North.
" First year, are you boy? Napier Secondary?"
The boy nodded somewhat forlornly, his face set in a submissive mask. Dr Mormon nodded, and and turned his attention back to his newspaper with an exaggerated sigh.
"Alright, Ill talk to him," he said. The curt dismissal had an immediate effect. Mrs Lee, who was obviously hoping he would take the cane to the boy immediately and practice his forarm swings, started to open and close her mouth like she was chewing a very tough piece of meat.He knew her type. They took 'sparing the cane' (this, of course, bastardised from that classic saying about spoiling the child. Sheepish smile from the story-teller) to whole new levels, and if they had their way, teachers would be dragging around canes the length of his arm to enforce discipline in the ranks. But it was still his school. His ranks. He stretched the silence, waiting patiently for the explosion that was bound to arrive, pretending to read whilst studying her from the corner of his eyes.
With a spluttering, mumbling, whispering, red-turning face, the old crow struggled to compose herself and come up with a quick comeback that was witty and wouldn't make her look like a fool. She finally had one(a full five seconds, mused the old principal), drew a breath to voice out her point in no uncertain terms, and was gleefully interrupted by the old codger, who was faster to the draw. He looked up, with nary a smile on his face, and said, " Don't you have a class to attend to, my dear Mrs Lee?"
When the door had slammed shut, the old man chuckled to himself(good riddance!), and settled down to continue his reading. He was taking his third sip when he remembered the boy who was still quietly watching the floor, probably counting the tiles in the room or counting dustmites, even. He put down his coffee, and cleared his throat. No reply. He took the time to study the boy. About 5 foot 2, with wide expressive eyes, thick eyebrows(a sign of power that, he thought, fingering his own) that tapered naturally, a small yet proud nose and hair that was longer than school regulations. He had on a pale green jacket over his Napier uniform, the soft material stretching over thin but wide shoulders and his pale face was still fixed upon the floor. This was boring. He preferred his students to be terrified in his presence. Time to set that point right.
"Whats your name, boy?" he asked gruffly. The boy was jolted by the coarse, phlegm-in-the-throat voice. He licked his lips, head now lower than before, and mumbled something unintelligible. At another prompt, louder this time with a hint of warning thrown in for good measure, the boy spoke up, his voice a soothing tenor. " Ilyas, sir."
Dr Mormon nodded, took out a cigarette pack of reds and his zippo lighter from the right drawer, opened the window beside his desk, with drew a small electric fan from the cabinet behind him and turned it on with its blades pointing out the window. He lit his cigarette and took a hard drag.
" Tell me, Ian, " he emphasied the name, knowing full well it was wrong and enjoying theway the boy was squirming, delibrating in whether to correct his superior or not. "Why were you late today?" said Dr Mormon, and blew smoke at the fan with abandon. The boy, now starting to sweat, had decided that the principal could call him Olly the Elephant man if he wanted to. He swallowed audibly. The smoke fairly flew out the window as the fan did its work, the smoke dispersing as it left the building.
Silence. "Well? Don't test me boy."
The boy's head was so low his chin was on his chest. He looked as if he had a sumo wrestler sitting on the nape of his neck(which is quite painful, by the way) " I woke up late, sir."
Dr Mormon took another drag. He had noticed the dark rings beneath the boy's eyes before, and he half believed the story already. The boy seems harmless enough though, so Dr Mormon decided to do his job educating them, like the school board paid him to do, and lighten up on the "gestapo crap", as Keanu Reeves so succinctly put it in 'The Matrix'. Like the proverbial apple a day, Dr Mormon was a man who believed in preventative measures.A lecture maybe? Something that would keep the little scoundrel away from his warm coffee and hot news. He sipped his coffee and made a face at how fast it was cooling. Damn first years.
"Son, do you know why youre here?" There was no answer. It seemed the boy took it as a rhetorical question it was meant to be.
"You are here because you broke school rules. You are late!" At this the aged doctor stood up and came to the front of the table, and plumped his behind beside the picture of his wife, and looked down at the silent boy, who still had that sumo on his neck.
"I agree, that you are here today, on the first day, of your first year, your first time in these hallowed halls even, but there are no excuses for your punctuality. Or lack thereof!" he narrowed his eyes.
"Classes start at half past eight, not nine. You cannot just come waltzing in at any time that suits you, and expect us to welcome you with open arms. Who do you take yourself for, the Maine Idol? That mincing, girl looking teenage boy who sings like a female and joyously wears make-up? You teenagers and your idols! With him around, we'll have a generation of pansies skipping about!"
He paused for effect, and took a deep breath. He almost felt sorry for the boy. Though only a little. He'd pay the little johnny for ruining his fifteen minutes.
He snatched the paper from behind him and dangled in directly infront of the boy's eyes, forcing him to look up. The screaming headlines flashed. "Look, boy! See all this crimes? These Murders?" he poked at the headline with a tobacco stained finger. Ilyas blinked, quickly. The view away from the linoleum was infinitely worse.
"Well, theyre probably fools like you who start off by coming late for school. Then they get smart, and start lying, and then some good old petty theft. Then they go on to robbery, assault and finally they graduate to full-blown MURDER!" The boy was riping nicely, and so the happy principal turned the screw.
" The police are going to sort them out. The Republic of Maine has the best police force in the world! President Da Silva has pledged to us Mainites that he would clean up the streets," he pointed at a photograph on his wall of a handsome clean-shaven, tanned man with a shining smile, a proud nose and intelligent eyes with the plaque beneath it reading 'the eleventh president of the Republic of Maine, MR Jonathan da Silva'.
" I voted for him your know." Dr Mormon said, beaming. "He will clean up this country. And those murderers, who have started out like you, a bunch of no good late comers, will havefront row seats to firing squad: The Movie! BOOM!" he slammed his palm on the table and laughed with maniacle glee as the boy jumped up five feet and landed on his chair with a ploop and airplane wheels for eyes.
He gave the boy his best Ive-got-my-eyes-on-you look. "You going to MURDER someone boy?"
Ilyas shook his head so hard his head was bound to fall off if he went any faster. His hands were gripping the chairs arm rest, leaving finger marks indented into the upholstry.
"Good! Because if you did," he growled low in his throat and thrust his face into the boys. " I'll be there to catch you. Now go back to class. The next time, you consider breaking another rule, ill be there, watching you."
He pointed at the door. "Now get read of that stupid jacket and the next time I see you walking around with that long hair Ill chop your ears off! Get to class!"
Dr Mormon watched in amusement as the boy yessired and scrambled to remove his jacket along with his presence. He tripped over the chair, righted it, dropped his jacket, picked it up, still mumbling yessirs and immediatleys. He got to the door, opened it on the second try and got one foot out the door just as Dr Mormon barked his name.
"Ian!"(and so Ilyas became Ian to the jolly old principal.)The boy turned slowly, afraid of more hairdryer treatment, the hand holding the door knob trembling slightly.
"Welcome to St Alberts."
As the door slammed shut, Dr Mormon chuckled to himself.
Damn first years.
" Principal, this boy is late!" Mrs Lee screeched. She had on her horribly pink glasses, which barely concealed the beady eyes beneath, and rested on a nose that would not seem so out of place on a pit bull. Her thin, severe lips were pursed in a sneer, and she had her arms crossed on her bright fashion-destroying pink cardigan, her feet tapping impatiently beneath her ankle length brown skirt. Quite a showing, thought the amused doctor, going back to the blaring headlines of " MAN FOUND HEADLESS IN ALLEY: Police follow leads". And it was only a quarter-past nine, on the very first day of the new term. Yes, quite a showing, even for this particular teacher.
"Good morning Mrs Lee," said he, his eyes still scanning the news written by the esteemed Jimmy Luis. " Would you care for some coffee?"
The heaving teacher looked scandalised. " I'd rather not," she sniffed, looking down her nose." I do have a class to attend to."
That statement was a thrown gauntlet, and the old man was taken aback at the woman's audacity. He decided he would not take such blatant disrespect, the insinuation that his fifteen minutes was time wasted shirking his job. But screaming with fury was not his style. Subtlety was his forte, so instead, he fixed the woman with an incredulous stare and sipped more coffee with a loud slurp to further infuriate her.
"You say you don't have time for coffee, yet you bring a student into my office at a quarter past nine on the first day of the new term? This boy seems to be a first year at that." He switched his gaze to the hapless victim. He was clad in a green sweat jacket, brown pants that probably made him a student of Napier Secondary School, in the North.
" First year, are you boy? Napier Secondary?"
The boy nodded somewhat forlornly, his face set in a submissive mask. Dr Mormon nodded, and and turned his attention back to his newspaper with an exaggerated sigh.
"Alright, Ill talk to him," he said. The curt dismissal had an immediate effect. Mrs Lee, who was obviously hoping he would take the cane to the boy immediately and practice his forarm swings, started to open and close her mouth like she was chewing a very tough piece of meat.He knew her type. They took 'sparing the cane' (this, of course, bastardised from that classic saying about spoiling the child. Sheepish smile from the story-teller) to whole new levels, and if they had their way, teachers would be dragging around canes the length of his arm to enforce discipline in the ranks. But it was still his school. His ranks. He stretched the silence, waiting patiently for the explosion that was bound to arrive, pretending to read whilst studying her from the corner of his eyes.
With a spluttering, mumbling, whispering, red-turning face, the old crow struggled to compose herself and come up with a quick comeback that was witty and wouldn't make her look like a fool. She finally had one(a full five seconds, mused the old principal), drew a breath to voice out her point in no uncertain terms, and was gleefully interrupted by the old codger, who was faster to the draw. He looked up, with nary a smile on his face, and said, " Don't you have a class to attend to, my dear Mrs Lee?"
When the door had slammed shut, the old man chuckled to himself(good riddance!), and settled down to continue his reading. He was taking his third sip when he remembered the boy who was still quietly watching the floor, probably counting the tiles in the room or counting dustmites, even. He put down his coffee, and cleared his throat. No reply. He took the time to study the boy. About 5 foot 2, with wide expressive eyes, thick eyebrows(a sign of power that, he thought, fingering his own) that tapered naturally, a small yet proud nose and hair that was longer than school regulations. He had on a pale green jacket over his Napier uniform, the soft material stretching over thin but wide shoulders and his pale face was still fixed upon the floor. This was boring. He preferred his students to be terrified in his presence. Time to set that point right.
"Whats your name, boy?" he asked gruffly. The boy was jolted by the coarse, phlegm-in-the-throat voice. He licked his lips, head now lower than before, and mumbled something unintelligible. At another prompt, louder this time with a hint of warning thrown in for good measure, the boy spoke up, his voice a soothing tenor. " Ilyas, sir."
Dr Mormon nodded, took out a cigarette pack of reds and his zippo lighter from the right drawer, opened the window beside his desk, with drew a small electric fan from the cabinet behind him and turned it on with its blades pointing out the window. He lit his cigarette and took a hard drag.
" Tell me, Ian, " he emphasied the name, knowing full well it was wrong and enjoying theway the boy was squirming, delibrating in whether to correct his superior or not. "Why were you late today?" said Dr Mormon, and blew smoke at the fan with abandon. The boy, now starting to sweat, had decided that the principal could call him Olly the Elephant man if he wanted to. He swallowed audibly. The smoke fairly flew out the window as the fan did its work, the smoke dispersing as it left the building.
Silence. "Well? Don't test me boy."
The boy's head was so low his chin was on his chest. He looked as if he had a sumo wrestler sitting on the nape of his neck(which is quite painful, by the way) " I woke up late, sir."
Dr Mormon took another drag. He had noticed the dark rings beneath the boy's eyes before, and he half believed the story already. The boy seems harmless enough though, so Dr Mormon decided to do his job educating them, like the school board paid him to do, and lighten up on the "gestapo crap", as Keanu Reeves so succinctly put it in 'The Matrix'. Like the proverbial apple a day, Dr Mormon was a man who believed in preventative measures.A lecture maybe? Something that would keep the little scoundrel away from his warm coffee and hot news. He sipped his coffee and made a face at how fast it was cooling. Damn first years.
"Son, do you know why youre here?" There was no answer. It seemed the boy took it as a rhetorical question it was meant to be.
"You are here because you broke school rules. You are late!" At this the aged doctor stood up and came to the front of the table, and plumped his behind beside the picture of his wife, and looked down at the silent boy, who still had that sumo on his neck.
"I agree, that you are here today, on the first day, of your first year, your first time in these hallowed halls even, but there are no excuses for your punctuality. Or lack thereof!" he narrowed his eyes.
"Classes start at half past eight, not nine. You cannot just come waltzing in at any time that suits you, and expect us to welcome you with open arms. Who do you take yourself for, the Maine Idol? That mincing, girl looking teenage boy who sings like a female and joyously wears make-up? You teenagers and your idols! With him around, we'll have a generation of pansies skipping about!"
He paused for effect, and took a deep breath. He almost felt sorry for the boy. Though only a little. He'd pay the little johnny for ruining his fifteen minutes.
He snatched the paper from behind him and dangled in directly infront of the boy's eyes, forcing him to look up. The screaming headlines flashed. "Look, boy! See all this crimes? These Murders?" he poked at the headline with a tobacco stained finger. Ilyas blinked, quickly. The view away from the linoleum was infinitely worse.
"Well, theyre probably fools like you who start off by coming late for school. Then they get smart, and start lying, and then some good old petty theft. Then they go on to robbery, assault and finally they graduate to full-blown MURDER!" The boy was riping nicely, and so the happy principal turned the screw.
" The police are going to sort them out. The Republic of Maine has the best police force in the world! President Da Silva has pledged to us Mainites that he would clean up the streets," he pointed at a photograph on his wall of a handsome clean-shaven, tanned man with a shining smile, a proud nose and intelligent eyes with the plaque beneath it reading 'the eleventh president of the Republic of Maine, MR Jonathan da Silva'.
" I voted for him your know." Dr Mormon said, beaming. "He will clean up this country. And those murderers, who have started out like you, a bunch of no good late comers, will havefront row seats to firing squad: The Movie! BOOM!" he slammed his palm on the table and laughed with maniacle glee as the boy jumped up five feet and landed on his chair with a ploop and airplane wheels for eyes.
He gave the boy his best Ive-got-my-eyes-on-you look. "You going to MURDER someone boy?"
Ilyas shook his head so hard his head was bound to fall off if he went any faster. His hands were gripping the chairs arm rest, leaving finger marks indented into the upholstry.
"Good! Because if you did," he growled low in his throat and thrust his face into the boys. " I'll be there to catch you. Now go back to class. The next time, you consider breaking another rule, ill be there, watching you."
He pointed at the door. "Now get read of that stupid jacket and the next time I see you walking around with that long hair Ill chop your ears off! Get to class!"
Dr Mormon watched in amusement as the boy yessired and scrambled to remove his jacket along with his presence. He tripped over the chair, righted it, dropped his jacket, picked it up, still mumbling yessirs and immediatleys. He got to the door, opened it on the second try and got one foot out the door just as Dr Mormon barked his name.
"Ian!"(and so Ilyas became Ian to the jolly old principal.)The boy turned slowly, afraid of more hairdryer treatment, the hand holding the door knob trembling slightly.
"Welcome to St Alberts."
As the door slammed shut, Dr Mormon chuckled to himself.
Damn first years.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)