Sunday, July 11
12:36 am

till my guilty soul be shriven

you know, the longer i put this off, the more pressure there is on me to explain where the hell i've been the past few months. bad, bad blogger! frankly, without the awesome pressure of something i'd much rather not be doing that is also due in, oh, three minutes? i find it difficult to churn out the crap.

heaven knows i've tried, but most almost-entries thus far read something like "busy having a life now, bugger off and get one of your own". a rough approximate, but you get the gist.

nutshell time, and lest you're labouring under the mistaken impression that i'm doing this for myself, let me just step in right here and say, this is all for you. you you you! yes, you, and even you, you-who-forgot-my-birthday. long suffering sighs abound.

see the pretty bike? of course you don't, because i don't have pictures of it yet. but just so you know, i have a bike. and if one more person tells me it's yellow, my head will spin around and explode, and the bike will be undeniably red. it's cream. vintage vespas are never yellow (except in cases of extreme bad taste). so, that's my bike, and that's me on the bike. there will be pictures - of one or the other, i don't know - because pictures are oases in word droughts like these.

if you see me on the roads, feel free to wave a cheery hello. i may, however, take you as one of the many overly friendly male bikers that seem to rear their frequently ugly heads whenever a chick on two motorized wheels comes along. no fear! i've come up with a brilliant solution. we'll have a code phrase, just like in the movies! so, if you see me at a stoplight, or crouched in horror over an injured pedestrian, come up to me and go, "the cagéd whale hums by night" (yes, complete with accented 'e' or it won't count and you'll just be another random lunatic spouting off about hummingwhales), and i'll know it's you!

or just rely on the fact that we've known each other for years now and ignore the whole 'me on a bike, power of the internet' thing, whatever.

i had this whole spiel on the terror that is the singaporean buffet table planned out in my head, but i seem to have lost my momentum/raging fury. no matter, i'm sure dinner at brazil will rekindle the flame (italicised for my law mates, together with a number of broad hints along the lines of "genting? uh, arthur?").

seeing as how this nutshell is rapidly becoming a post-frat-beer party heap, i'll be cutting you off now. expect much deluging come the start of term.