Early in the morning, I'm a yelling oxy-moron without oxy who doesn't understand why cowdung was available so freely.

Tonight's karaoke session was fun. Hoped the rest enjoyed it too. Oh well, judging by how we shouted into the mikes, I suppose they at least found it therapeutic. Am looking forward to our next session!

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Too many sad love songs to sing, too many broken pieces to mend, too many late nights. Too crazy to think coherently, too sane to run away; too many toos in one paragraph.

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I must be too high on the entertainment earlier on that I don't feel much fatigue. Maybe my writing tells you otherwise. My entry will be disjointed. Maybe it is just a self-fulfilling prophecy. I suddenly feel an itch. Mosquito bites. I find one on my leg and another on my arm. Both swelling into welts. Only one feels itchy. The other doesn't. Tries to ignore the itch. I stare at the computer screen. As usual, just you and me. The abcs, the space bar and the backspaces. I type and backspace numerous times but I know I will get to the end of the entry maybe just a little later than I want to.

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Remember I talked about a primary school ex-classmate who always went into the classroom with a smell of dung? As kids, we used to whisper, "Ee, his shoes got cowdung." Realise something wrong with the statement? Not the singlish part but "cowdung". Do you see cows walking freely around in Singapore other than the zoo? So why did we use the word "cowdung". I have no idea. Do you?

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I'm way too late as usual.