还是听妈妈的话吧 晚点再恋爱吧

Previously he was the geek who founded the Society of Gravitational Studies, but after he had his love spurned by the woman he loved, he turned into a Tonsai Playboy. Like the story of Beauty and the Beast, he thought he had found his Riesenbaby.

Deluded into thinking that he was moving up her Boobtube and Jumping for (her) Jugs, it turned out that she was a Tiger Queen, Baby Gorilla, Elephant and Lion King all rolled into one. That she possessed the blackest of all hearts, a Jai Dum, was hidden from him. By Way of Deception, she was toying with him like a puppet in Asia Shadow Play. No matter if he was the alpha male, the Cara Congreso, her Greed was greater than his Sex Power.

Now a broken man, he can only sit by Cafe Andaman, and look back on old days with Reminiscence. True, he No Have love, and was Cross-Eyed with delirium, but there is no point in throwing a Tantrum. Awash with sorrow, he was engulfed in a Tidal Wave of hurt. April's Fool, the joke is on him.

Sigh.

Love and all her vagaries. Watch as everything crumbles. Escape by acting Blind, Deaf and Dumb. Alas, love is but only merely Arts and Sport.



I set out to write a heartwarming, lovey-dovey story about climbing. How it ended up this way, I don't know. I can only grasp at straws.

Did your pretty face see what he's worth?

Too bad that you couldn't see
See the man that boy could be
There is more than meets the eye
I see the soul that is inside
- Sk8er Boi (2002, Avril Lavigne)

A professor whom I highly respect recounted some stories with the class. He told us about his meandering past and the lessons he learned along the way. Among the many tales, a particular one struck a chord within me. In fact, it rang out with a resounding GONG. It was a story of substance versus style - an issue I'm struggling with.

An experiment was conducted on one of his classes. Wearing singlet, shorts and slippers, he pushed a rickety trolley into class. On the teetering trolley was a plain looking cake, unadorned and unfancied. Lets refer to it as Cake A. Unbeknownst to the students, Cake A was actually baked by the most highly regarded chef in the culinary establishment. In his sloppy attire, the professor walked up the aisles, offering a piece of Cake A to the students. They all politely declined.

He left. He returned shortly after, this time dressed smartly in a crisp attire. Accompanying him were several pretty female waitresses, in charge of pushing the shiny trolley in. This time, the cake was done up differently. Lets refer to it as Cake B. Cake B was displayed prominently as the centrepiece of the gleaming trolley. The package containing Cake B was left casually beside, as if chucked there carelessly. But ah hah, upon closer inspection you notice that it was actually surreptitiously positioned in such a way that the brand of the avant garde cake shop was obvious for all to see. The freshest strawberries were arranged aesthetically across the top, with fine frost icing sprinkled evenly across. Luxurious porcelain plates with the finest stainless-steel wrought cutlery were provided. The waitresses sashayed up the aisles to offer a slice, and this time, nobody refused.

Grinning themselves silly, the students bit into the succulent piece of morsel laid out in front of their eyes. They greedily chomped into it. PUI! They spat the debris out. It tasted of stale eggs and low grade flour! The cream was acrid and bitter, as if whipped out of the sweat and stank scrapped off the walls of ancient dungeons. The stringy yellow patterns swirling across the sides now looked suspiciously like someone's spit. The juicy-looking strawberries were actually choke full of pungent preservatives. The icing sugar that previously looked so inviting turned out to be sickeningly sweet. To add insult to injury, the make up on the waitresses started to cake off (pardon the pun), revealing the flaws they painstakingly tried to hide, strangely reminiscent of the way preservatives were utilized to deceive the students into thinking the rotten strawberries fresh! Your desires are elevated up to the highest pinnacle, but there is no fulfillment. You're left high and dry!

The professor was grinning too. He was indulging in a slice of Cake A: the cake nobody fancied. When cut opened, the aroma of freshest fruits wafted across the air. Sure the outside looked boring and mundane, but inside yielded a hypnotic concoction of the most extravagant ingredients, sourced from the most exotic corners of the world. Upon sinking your teeth in, your taste buds explode in exaltation. With each bite springs forth more delights, as if the symphony of musical flavours dancing across the caverns of your mouth. You can taste a hint of literature, you can revel in a dash of poetry; you understand arcane history, you appreciate current affairs; you are held spellbound by pristine geography, you are thoroughly astounded by financial wizardry. The intellectual leanings gleaned from your books has freed you from the flippant pursuits of the material world. You are satiated! What a balanced flavour! The whole experience is all too gratifying. You had stuck to your choice of a rough, unembellished stone and after some polishing, is eventually rewarded with a rare, sparkling gem. Pitiable that this concept continues to elude some people.

To the question of whether style or substance, I think I've already found the answer in an earlier blog post.. "..forceful reasoning on its own is insufficient. Only when weaved together with tactful persuasion, then can it create lasting impact." Those who fall prey to the glittery, illusionary world of style and style only, probably aren't worth your time anyway.

Round 5.. FIGHT!

Only after scanning through my previous entries, did I realise that I've been to Krabi 5 times now. Can be considered a veteran already? I started writing a generic entry, detailing accomplishments and experiences, in much the same way as done previously. After some consideration I scrapped that writing style. All too often I've looked inside myself for the answers. Perhaps part of that truth lies concealed in the experiences of others as well. To my friends, I salute you and humbly submit this post in honour of the lessons you've taught me.

To Mr Lwee Jia Wei
You are not called the 'psyche monster' for nothing. You have a precious gift, one to stir, to influence. You inspire while aspiring, rousing others around you to climb harder. Your boyish enthusiasm at jumping on routes several levels above your current ability, screaming your way up the problem, brings back fond memories of myself some years back. May your self belief never waver. And don't stop looking for that one hardest move.

















To Mr Aaron Ng
I've walked a little bit of the way with you on your journey of Tantrum. To say the route is tough is an understatement. I know, I've tried. I've watched you get repeatedly shut down by the route, despite your best efforts. Yet, you share beta without hesitation with new aspirants. You've engram-ed the moves so perfectly that your redpoint attempts have become mesmerizing to watch. A maelstrom of speed and precision. I really wish for you to send that route soon. Surpass the negativity of anxiety, frustrations, exasperation, depression. You are greater than that.

To Mr Winfred Goh
When you finished ASP first, I was so happy for you. I could feel your elation, I could sense your relief. I know, I trekked there with you everyday, belaying you on your attempts, watching you painstakingly work out the beta. We got shut out by the weather, by the rising tides, by diminishing supply of fingertip skin. But you've already made up your mind. The route must go. And the body will follow. The obsession has sunk in and pressure was mounting. You can even easily recall the number of moves - 23 hand and 35 feet movements. Following your successful send, I somehow managed to clip the chains too. You thoughtfully lowered me unhurriedly to the ground, as if letting me soak up that intoxicating sweetness. You extended your hand with a firm handshake, I took it up and returned it with heartfelt gratitude. Task accomplished. Between 2 men on a mission, nothing more needs to be said.















To Mr Hwa Soong Yi
11 routes over 2 days was only possible because of you. The second day was especially trying, what with five 30m grade 7 routes. That adds up to about 150m of hard climbing! Your willingness to trek to the toughest crags, to belay off dodgy ledges, to free solo routes with insanely high first bolts, to exploit cheeky hands-free positions, is nothing short of amazing. There was something in the Captain America movie about waiting for the right partner. I'm lucky you came along (on crutches hobbling down the beach no less) But no backside poking please. I went up GillesNoLimits on Cat Wall, expelling old demons in the process. Previously I was so intimidated by the route. But this time, with your encouragement, I've surpassed that irrational fear. Bro, hard multi-pitches next?

*The author is not as talented as his friends. Since he cannot crank down hard like they can, he resigns to being a scribe, writing down their remarkable stories, for all to read.