To the BATMOBILE

Thursday, December 29, 2005

censorship strikes again!

I must apologise profusely for the last statement in my previous entry, before the men in white coats of the Censorship Board of Singapore comes and drags me away to a secret underground labrynth they use to house human experiments (the secret is out!). Well not really, but just in case a girl reads it and slaps me across the face. Unseemly of Butlerman to do such a thing! To compensate for such a disgrace, I'd... plonk down the lyrics of one of my favourite songs...

(note: The whole teenage angst lyrics thing going on doesn't really apply. It does have a nice tune though...)

Blind - Lifehouse

I was young but I wasn't naive
I watched helpless as he turned around to leave
and still I have the pain I have to carry
a past so deep that even you could not bury if you tried

after all this time
I never thought we'd be here
never thought we'd be here
when my love for you was blind
but I couldn't make you see it
couldn't make you see it
that I loved you more than you'll ever know
a part of me died when I let you go

I would fall asleep
only in hopes of dreaming
that everything would be like is was before
but nights like this it seems are slowly fleeting
they disappear as reality is crashing to the floor

after all this time
I never thought we'd be here
never thought we'd be here
when my love for you was blind
but I couldn't make you see it
couldn't make you see it
that I loved you more than you'll ever know
a part of me died when I let you go

after all this time
would you ever wanna leave it
maybe you could not believe it
that my love for you was blind
but I couldn't make you see it
couldn't make you see it
that I loved you more than you will ever know
a part of me died when I let you go
and I loved you more than you'll ever know
a part of me dies when I let you go

Female fans - read, listen and be appeased. Guys, do not mock my attempts at displaying the deep side of me, it's buried somewhere inside the cold heart of stone* that beats in my chest, I'm quite sure..

*coupled with a Chest of Steel(tm), it stops any bullets. Recommended for any budding Superhero.

TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 1:02 am
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Tuesday, December 27, 2005

tis the season to do much folly...

Heavy beats revetabrate around the room. Hissing sounds.. sound as steam slowly fills the room. You cough (and ten years later, develop lung cancer and die a slow painful death. Don't smoke!). Suddenly trumpets blare, and the smoke parts to reveal a majestic silhouette, his cape billowing behind him by the combined effort of the air conditioner and every female's sudden exhalation. The next day you wake up, and have a really bad hangover. You knew you shouldn't have drunk so much, you hallucinating drunken fool, you.

This was more or less the scenario I hoped to achieve last night at somebody's Boxing Day Special (note: there was nothing remotely special, apart from the fact it was a bit small and the DJ was particularly bad) house party. Though admittedly the people I met at the party (whom I really didn't expect to mean kind of deflated the pompous Superhero bluster. The talons are long and ever-reaching... (Names shall not be mentioned... well not in public. You have been warned however.)

While I do feel the least bit of bastard-ness (my endless reservoir of vocabulary dried out. My bad) by not talking to some of them, after all... I'll think of an excuse when it hits me. My sincerest apologies! Unfortunately enough I doubt they'd be reading this. Can't say it'll contribute to any sleepless nights though.

On a totally unrelated and extremely gross note, have you ever wondered why sex is spelled entirely with your left hand? Neither have I. Not till I found out. But I'm sure guys would know why.

TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 8:03 pm
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Sunday, December 25, 2005

even it is just for a few days...

It is sometimes said whatever you say in the past may come back and haunt you. It was also mentioned once or twice that I happen to look quite hot. One of these bears more truth than the other, and its not exactly the one I'd prefer...

The above statement however does not (thankfully so) refer to my previous post of my C-grade horror experience in Thailand (in which case, if it did, I'd probably be dead - a scenario which I'm quite sure will bring at least some measure of festive cheer to some...), instead I refer to what I believe was the post before that. You know, the one which I mentioned where I was not going to blog anymore et cetera et cetera et cetera...

While celebrities often claim to retire and thus stage a comeback, an example being Cher who seems to have an annual farewell tour followed swiftly by a comeback tour sporting a new nose/upper lip. Hell I even know a girl who does the same to her boyfriend(s), which brings about a myriad of possibilities in terms of making bets among my friends for entertainments sake.

To summarize several paragraphs more of beating 'round the bush - I don't think anybody reads my worthless dribble anymore, so much so to the point that my dear (well, up till then!) friend mentioned he was one of the three people who read my last post... (Author's note: Its well known that less than 10 people visit this page on a weekly basis but still - only I get the satisfaction of making fun of theBatmobile's lack of viewership. It gives me that much satisfaction. Yes. That much.)

On a slightly more festive note, merry christmas all (who chance upon this blog. The rest of you shall suffer in hell)!
TO THE BATMOBILE

(My blog title of course, comes from Snow Patrol's "Run"... Such a sweet song...
I'll sing it one last time for you
Then we really have to go
You've been the only thing that's right
In all I've done

And I can barely look at you
But every single time I do
I know we'll make it anywhere
Away from here

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

Louder louder
And we'll run for our lives
I can hardly speak I understand
Why you can't raise your voice to say

To think I might not see those eyes
Makes it so hard not to cry
And as we say our long goodbye
I nearly do

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

Louder louder
And we'll run for our lives
I can hardly speak I understand
Why you can't raise your voice to say

Slower slower
We don't have time for that
All I want is to find an easier way
To get out of our little heads

Have heart my dear
We're bound to be afraid
Even if it's just for a few days
Making up for all this mess

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear)

posted by butler at 8:57 pm
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Wednesday, December 21, 2005

curses!

Nothing else makes someone want to blog more than possibly encountering the spirit world, and perhaps even the possibility of being cursed dying a horrible death that wouldn't look out of place in Saw 2. I cite other personal reasons to return to blogging, another being the slim probability that if (if "touch wood" works, I'm all for slamming my hand into the closest wooden object for the next few minutes, at the risk of breaking my wrist) I do succumb to a Thai-horrible-little-girl-curse (to be explained later), perhaps you would too - just so you wouldn't feel left out.

Now I ventured into the musty, dusty depths of Bangkok five days ago, alongside the rugby team as well and as my dear sister and mother (to kick Thai backside and shop backsides off, respectively), and after a semi-eventful flight, where I exchanged stares/smiles with a cute girl on the plane, nothing else worth mentioning happened throughout the following four days, apart from my face getting sandpapered on a rocky pitch by a 120-kilo Thai monster, leaving the middle portion of my beautiful face now marred by scars (fear not my lady fans, it shall only last for a day longer or two).

However on the day before we left Thailand, when we played Vajiravut (Vaji-something anyway) College, as we slowed to a stop to honour some age-old national tune blared out from postively-rotting speakers, I noticed a strange little girl sitting on one of the steps of an old building (note this is an all boys school) swaying side to side like a pendulum to the music. I'm not joking in that she was bordering snakelike. This also marks one of the few times I'm being serious on my blog (actually more than a few but what the hell)... Several painstakingly slow, bladder-leakingly eerie moments later, the match resumed. I never saw her again...

Help?
TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 10:46 pm
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Friday, December 09, 2005

"an indepth report"

While listening to romanian dance music (the very addictive Chicken Little advertisement song, "Dragostea Din Tei") may not exactly be a conducive environment for conjuring enough literary garbage to justify the point of having a blog (a.k.a. I'm not too sure why I bother to mantain having a blog these days as I don't have anything to write about... Oh wait - I hardly ever do anyway), it does however, allow me to opportunity to show of my vastly improving dance skills... And I shall now present to you (with a little techno flourish) -

BUTLERMAN'S INDEPTH GUIDE OF WORST CASE SCENARIOS, which incidently might also come under the different heading of SHIT I'VE GOTTEN MYSELF INTO.

I'm going to let you all in on a little secret. Blogging no longer has the draw nor benefits that I desire anymore. There has been once upon a time, where I gladfully donned the helm, full body spandex and yellow, copyrights-blatantly-infringed-upon, logo of Butlerman to prostitute myself to the masses (hey, who wouldn't)... People cried out for my name in their sleep, and mothers grew increasing restless for their daughter's safety as I shed pounds into a sleeker, more crime-bustingly muscular body (it is, at the very least, a half truth, and all attempts to scorn my efforts slides off me like lubrication - a bad image, but nonetheless true)... Then people posted, replied, and called for medical experts to check on my mental state - and they actually seemed as if it was a pleasure to do so (since when is prodding someone with clinical thermometers, stethoscopes and weirdlyshaped erotica-resembling medical instruments not pleasureable?)...

Now, Butlerman is nothing more than what friends call me, and while it does lift the corners of our mouths (nothing a badly placed treatment of Botox couldn't do), it is apparent that the word is no longer synonymous with anything vaguely heroic or even positive, as I execute mistake after mistake with dire consequences (even on the rugby field, where people once feared and complimented my game, I receive nothing more than a sympathetic pat on my frail back)... The swagger is now a slouch, X-ray vision now nothing more than a couple of eyebags, mortality never seemed so real... The cover of invincibility has been blown, so give Butlerman a kick in the nuts while he's down while you can (god knows some people didn't hesitate... And while my mind begs me to utter her/their dreaded names, it serves me no purpose to do so... I'd rather forget about them or better yet, take it up diplomatically with them - I stress diplomatic).

There is much on my mind, ranging from the death of an OM teamates father (It shames me that I cannot call him my friend, for I know I have not justified being one to him) to the my perpetual pauper state. None of it is pretty, or wholesome (nothing erotic, a fact which may garner a few gasps and raised eyebrows) and it shames me all the more... I enter now into a phase where every superhero/wannabe stows his uniform in an alleyway rubbish bin and walks away, and it gets increasingly obvious that it is time for me to do a little superhuman soul-searching, to rediscover what went wrong where and when (alliteration!), and while it might be easier for me to get run over by a truck and forget all of this, or just delve into a burning house to save a grandmother to gain some false sense of courage and self-worth, I cannot, through sheer lack of courage, and let's face it - it's easier to write it out then do it in reality, and this minor detail I overlooked has been a feature since the very beginning of this blog.

I hope you found some part of this entry vaguely interesting, or at least informative (to demand that you derive some comedy value from this would be presumptious) because I am losing a war I am ill-equipped to fight...

Perhaps for the one final time (I certainly hope not)
TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 11:59 pm
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