watch a movie called "time and tide" by Tsui Hark, shamefully stylish, an unmerciful masterpiece
I Have No Idea What I'm Talking About

Bought the new System of a Down and Slipknot, I'm really impressed with System. Slipknot, however, I don't know. Still very good, but really unlike the sound of the old album. The singer seems to be really into that 80s echoing chorus thing - in some songs. Ultimately though, I think I'm talking shit. I have to say that it's fresh though, I'm listening to it on winamp, cuz my stereos' frequencies are all fucked up, I'm not sure how to maximum bass enjoyment. Like I dunno what the two surround sound settings do to the frequencies.

So I went to Singapore today, to check with a clinic if I had begun having symptoms for glaucoma (which I don't have). Tomorrow is my third last day working at the Actors Studio Academy, it was a fun run. I don't want to say anything else. Speaking of which, I haven't been on time for work for the past two weeks.

"ultimately, I think I'm talking shit" I think will be the new name for my website.
posted by Tshiung Han See at 19:05

So I'll get down to write a manifesto soon, because you either have one or you don't. There's no two ways around having manifestos. It means guideline, or plan for action. Either of the two, I choose to interpret as something "about me" for the people who come to this site and read all the stuff I have to say. Also I think I need to start indexing the poems, for the sake of keeping track of them. I'm really curious who visits my page, how many people, Tripod doesn't have a way to find out.

But then again, it might be the case that too many people look at my page... and they don't respond to what they read (ie: email me, write in the guestbook), or not enough people look at my page (ie: 1 person per 2 days, I don't know wha'ts a low page hit, doesn't matter actually). Ho hum. I've become more ovary, no that's not the word... overt, yes. It's quite a change, my vocal chords don't snag, the environment doesn't purposely conjure up loud noises to drown out my voice, and my throat doesn't instantly flood with voice disrupting fluids when I deliberately try to say something. In fact, it was all in my head. Which is not strange as the next person's fading eyesight or corn toes.

laminate your lives, children.
posted by Tshiung Han See at 13:51

Ok, so the essays are coming along as scheduled, as in getting done in a very short period of time (the deadlines Aug 28). I'm working At the Actors Studio as an Administrator for the Academy arm of the company which is enlightening. No more do I ponder what to do with my early afternoons, scratching my skin in confusion. For those just joining in, I have excema.

I feel alot more productive these days, although I haven't sat down and decided what to do with that productivity. The essay remain a constant threat. Dinner needs to be tackled now, I talk weird. But I will talk later.
posted by Tshiung Han See at 12:54

The second edition in my really really bad rap writing showcase

shivered timbre by Han

that's wak yo,
not being a mak yo,
but cut some slak yo,

and milk me a cak-tus, (what's the plan batman?)
though it sure doesn't attract us,
this apparatus falls apart like a sickness,

sequins. I'm eaten from the brain, from the belly, in.
Taken,
then blend
and frat-scatter proto matter alabatter madder hatter bladder grabber badder rapper caucasian skin

from the attention milking brings,
can't count these absent things

are pretty low key,
on the QT,
seven carat concubines and a PARA-13,
wristed obsequious
bombastic twisting and leaking.
It's a thumb-fisting,
obscene kissing lurid scene
missing from Marilyn's eyes.

Those brown like sugar, ready to caramelize.
posted by Tshiung Han See at 17:57

7-car stud by han

A taken felon doesn't have the opportunity to learn the lesson that he's learnt.
Brush fires take casualties only when someone severely is burnt
you gotta take the bad with the good
and take the mad with the lewd, but no one thinks about the loss of what is suitably intelligent food.
We surround ourselves with all that we like,
and this DIS S C E N tices ourselves to the
difference between a Jew and a Kike.
Mad cows frown from the pastures and laugh at our cash-filled asses,
my dog is around though I can't stand the bitch
my laws are: Don't complain, itch!
unwritten pressures are lessons not easily learnt.
I'm gonna be pretentious now and show you my second-degree burn.
shalt not
open a can of oyster pot sauce like a million other pot heads in a motivation cross inside,
crouched.
My boss says less when he's on a roller coaster ride. It's his loss.
My ways are not as funny as the shoulder of the most tidy life.

Comments: Yeah, I'm gonna work on this later
posted by Tshiung Han See at 19:09

What I think about the graphic novel Will Eisner's New York , The Big City. It's a good expression of the captured uniqueness (people) that cities represent in general. How walls built for privacy and shelter also exude exclusion and a sense of dividedness. How that feeling of isolation leaks into our minds and we build up walls against anything alien even though we encounter hundreds of different personalities by just walking down the street. But at careless places the sum total of the population; all the social classes, the different races, males, females - they all begin to show through, with for instance a letter of rejection from a lady to her lover; she cannot carry on the liaison as she's engaged to marry someone else (it was purely physical), a band that plays in different locations and then plays different music; like playing as the Pearly Buzzards in front of a university or as the Freaky Flakes in the red light district. It makes me want to visit New York.
posted by Tshiung Han See at 18:19

another rhyming exercise by han

coarseness ingrained in stone. A likeness never ones own. written in the unwritten laws of

satellite moans in barely seperated tones - resists no split - divergance from the norm from the cold hard form of the loaded code come forth from lateral angles. My tones have barely begun to get tangled; my arrangements are in illogical strands; and my kindness certainly never came from my hands.
posted by Tshiung Han See at 02:39