To the BATMOBILE

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

muuuuuuuuuse.

Nearly a full day has passed since the Muse concert ended but the withdrawal symptoms are still obvious. Constant trembling, breaking out into cold sweat, foaming at the mouth and the unhealthy tendency to break out into my very own disastrous cover of "Stockholm Syndrome" complete with guitar riffs crudely constructed with my mouth (a la "waomaowaomaoniwniwniw"). One can't help oneself though. They were after all, awesome.

With bodies flying everywhere as people attempted (poorly) at bodysurfing and sweaty men heaving their bodies in my direction (rarely an enjoyable experience), it would've appeared to be a grotesque version of Cirque de Solei had the ever efferverscent Muse not been performing. To say it was worth the $90-something ticket price, having my feet flattened by a literally - bouncing - 120kg man, my white-ish Puma Suede's blackened beyond recognition, having my face kicked in by the flying foot of a screaming (from adrenaline and partly due to the fact myself and other nearby frustrated fans sporting footprints on our faces had unceremoniously dumped him on the floor) lunatic, totting around an umbrella (something I thought was an incredibly sensible thing to do, judging by the weather as of late but was soon labelled a poof) and teenage girls rubbing their sweaty bodies on me (something I could get used to, to be honest), would be the understatement of the year.

While I would just as much like to go through the minute by minute synopsis of the proceedings of the concert and the songlist, but having just spent four hours after school been immersed in my school's drama club culture on my inaugural day at the 'Independent Stage', and more or less exhausted the amount of bracketted comments I'm entitled to (even for a personal, unofficial piece of internet blog garbage), I'll slowly retire myself to bed where I'll weep myself gently to sleep, pining out loud for the comfort of... Muse.

TO THE BATMOBILE!

posted by butler at 9:30 pm
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Wednesday, January 03, 2007

more ravings...

With barely 5 hours to I have to awake for my inaugural day into IB (fast becoming alot less appealing than it was 4 months ago - to be touched on later), and my pulse still racing (for no reason whatsoever other than the fact my sleep cycle has been severely messed around with), things are starting to look grim particularly for my mother who has the arduous and unenviable task of waking me in the morning. Nevermind sleeping pills, I'm starting to suspect tranquilizers are needed to put me to sleep...

(Not so brief interlude as I enjoy my spicy sardine toast sandwich and a slice of Lo-Fat Cheesedale, and after being assigned to print about a million pdf files in the ever-dreaded double-sided page format format, I return at 1.34am, feeling sufficiently tired and having about 4 hours of blissful sleep before I'm to be awaken)

While I'm still busy strugging to find the right words for the emotions I'm feeling for my orientations (us Superheroes naturally come across as aloof, being all homo-superior and all, and the maintaining-a-secret-identity bit doesn't make us the best companions for ice-breaking activities.), I'm starting to wonder of IB was really the right choice at all in comparison to the lure of RJC or god-forbid ACJC... All is not well within the vast (and often underused) mind of Butlerman...

If there is any consolation, the miniscule amount of females present in my batch of IB year 1's would contain a ravishing beauty who would fall for my roguish charms (which admittedly have yet to manifest) - the odds aren't great, but I'm willing to use any expense of hair wax and cologne to achieve this. Though a body suit and plastic surgery may come in handy...

TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 12:18 am
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