Thursday, 16 January 2014

Moon Rabbitch


illustration by Royce Tan T.G. (The Great)


When the moon disappears from the sky, we know that it has been eaten.
Because on the moon, there lives a creature with long sock-like ears, huge padded feet, as cute as a bunny.
BUT, this adorable sack traps a dark soul and is called ... the RABBITCH
(*A terrifying creature created when a bunny voodoo doll was used to trap that spirit in The Ring's horror video... I digress, ehem.)

The Rabbitch is trapped on the Moon with no body and no food.
The Rabbitch is always hungry and she is always angry.
Angry enough to eat rocks; and she does.
Piece by piece, She eats the moon in 28 days.
Her bite marks are craters, her crumbs are comets.

The Rabbitch has done this over and over again for eons.
Perceivable only as the Moonshadow.
Every once in a while, she gets powerful enough to eat the sun, which they call a Solar Eclipse.
The Chinese characters for Lunar eclipse are = 月食Yuè shí


月= Moon
食= Food/Eat

When the moon is full you can see the Rabbitch'es shadow with a good telescope.



Over time humans have collected proof of her existence.


Now you know why the moon gets eaten every month.
Appreciate the Moonlight, before it is consumed anew.

Learn more about Japanese Moon Rabbit Legends on the WIKI : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moon_rabbit

Thursday, 26 December 2013

Royce's Dawn of the 21st century Report- Christmas 2013 Dear Future.

Dear Future,

It is Christmas 2013 and I am reporting from the 21st century.

In the globalised times, A crashing of culture has yielded a very aggressive lifestyle.
I have just returned from the city centre, Bukit Bintang and it's shopping centers.

Huge signboards of neon tubes glare whilst even brighter headlights flare at bypassers.
The streets are crowded to dangerous levels and the transport system undergoes city-wide remodeling, putting every citizen's life in peril.

I was on the monorail, and the train was so late that the escalator became congested, and when people got to the top, they could no longer step off, then it seemed like a factory of humans about to get meat-grounded... falling backward and getting 'chunked' on the spiky steps.

People screamed and then everyone spread out on the platform.

No one died. Many psychologically disturbed.

I  looked at the hot and bothered faces of the people. There was general concern.
We are a long way from mastering any efficient mass transport system that can be safely implemented with convenience.


The malls were full of shoppers, everyone spending illogical amounts because the gifting tradition has huge corporates pumping advertisers, marketing and research teams to do so.

Digital gadget prices are dropping faster, and accessories diversifying, with an all time high consumer affectation for it.







Friday, 23 August 2013

Prompted Writing: Tell a story set in a place where the landscape reworks itself nightly.



Working Title: When All Was One

0.1. One. Many. Humongous. INFINITE.^1000

Our existence expanded from the smallest of pinprick of vibration into a massive cataclysm of exploding energy.

The blossom of energy thrust itself forward at the speed of light and left a stream called Time.

The next few seconds, we were One no longer, but disintegrated into many impossible divisions, with such force that we are still expanding as you are reading this.

In those first billion nights, our universe was but a swirling mess of  cross-elemental marriages between Protons and Electrons, turning us into unions called Hydrogen.

It was always night then, for we were the stars.
We had only the consciousness that we prefer to stick together than not, and so, clusters of our Hydrogens gathered and exploded in constant Hydrogen bombs (which was a form of copulation).

Each night was a dance of creation and destruction, and to us back then, each night was a billion years.
Then suddenly the dance...changed. We created unions called Helium, then more complex unions came from our reshuffling.

EONS.

We have mastered the dance of creation and destruction. We gathered in such masses, and with such closeness, that we were called the planets

Gigantic clouds that danced to destruction pressed against themselves so tightly that they tore through the stream of time, falling into a sucking black abyss.

Other Clouds danced to creation, releasing massive waves of energy which formed the light of our universe.

The most basic of our dances is called Gravity. The pulling together. We find similarity, direct and complimentary, and attempt to regather in the semblance of our past One-ness.

Warning: Over doing Gravity will cause everyone to trip on each other and implode into a Black Hole or fall outwards to trip on all surrounding Clouds and spill their essence as a Supernova.

Our Music is Electromagnetic, a system that governs our steps at every level, pushing, flowing, repelling...it compels our motion.

Finally, Our gathering was called Mass. clusters of us so tightly gripped that we formed a one...not quite the One we used to be, but at least partially fulfilling our desire to unite.

And there is one of our largest mass, a Galaxy, milky swirls of glitter parading down the streams of time.
Night was our state for we are the stars.
In our dance, the light shall ever blaze as the glory that was once One.




Saturday, 17 August 2013

Ashton Kutcher told me to be sexy - Teen Choice Awards 2013 acceptance speech



Screenstar Ashton Kutcher, practical joker host of MTV Punk'D, reveals his real name is actually 'Chris' and Ashton is really his middle name.
He accepted a Teen Choice award but surprised the audience with his unconventional speech.
With the poise of a public orator, Ashton got 'real' and talked about things a teenager really needs to know.

It feels like Ashton is finally done with the cougar hunger games and is moving on strong.
I love the simplicity and arrangement of his points.
1. Opportunity
2. Be Sexy
3. Living Life

Sunday, 9 June 2013

Writings of a Modern Dramatic

Count this the writings of a modern dramatic.


Our words. are getting transient...

I've spent my life studying something so immaterial. knowledge.

my hands yearn to form something, to grasp and to hold on to"

I've always thought humans are designed to be clumsy. Yet in that clumsiness, dance comes forth. action, poise, sensuality.

I master streams of knowledge. passing them on to the descendants of future.
I am taught to know many things. An insane babble of 'voices' are shouting at me and through me.
I am shown the limits of starlight and yet I am earthbound, rooted into the ground.

On Other Thoughts

I am captive to my clicks, and I am watched by invisible eyes of the ephemeral web.
my own sight is robbed, staring at the screen that shows me a million distractions.
My existence is summed in this whirring hum of statistical numbers


Thursday, 6 June 2013

I WANT: To Be Adept in the Art of Writing.

I WANT: to be adept at writing.


I WANT: to start finish a fiction novel based on the drama of my family tree's history.


I WANT: to create sculptures of a very interesting material that can capture the imagination.


I WANT: to create lots of really good, self edited, hi quality videos, in a few buttons.


I WANT: to make how-to guides on specific ways to take advantage of the internet through piracy 'data-sharing'

Desires to Delay

I WANT: a world that has no such thing as a login, but we are all already constantly connected to the internet.


I DO: ?




This is my attempt at Strange writing.. it's not the flowery words of creative writing, it is meant to be an uncomfortable glance at my desires. It's the loud desire that carries a soft, sketchy description, to show how easy it is to WANT, but how few of us dare to visualise it. And only ? of us do it.

EloquenceAcademy.com

Sunday, 2 June 2013

What Does It Mean To Be Different.

What Does It MeaN To Be DiffeRRent?

IT is suggesting Smoeihitng else.

In is giving the Odd One Out~'

And the twilly-toves. and the momeraths,~ Outgrabe.


What lies in the conscious minds

our memories doth it play. with silver spines and golden wines

How pretty a soft display.


I sha|| do this as an ode
to the oddest of arts/

The disconnects,
The monotones.
The chromium sound of google chrome.


In da Gadda Da Vida baby~

Wednesday, 3 April 2013

How The Snail Got Its Shell




How The Snail Got Its Shell

This story begins during the dawn of time, when snails had no shells. As a species, their soft sluggish bodies were vulnerable to the elements.


The bees built their hives and the ants built their nest in great networked tunnels; but the snails had no arms or legs to lift and carry, leaving them unable to build their own homes.

Determined and hopeful, one snail left his family and went in search for a house of his own. Shimmery trails marked his slow journey, under the scorching sun and through the stormy rain, tentacles stuck out stretched vigorously forward as if pulled by some magnetic force, his ultimate dream... a home.

Many moons went by, and this snail crawled its way over great forests and trees, leaving his family far behind. With immense patience, he finally reached the edge of the world where Mother Nature herself bathed in the oceans.

The snail approached her and asked: "Oh Great Mother, I have traveled a long, long way in search of a home, but every beautiful place I found seemed empty and lifeless because I am alone. I understand now that a home is more than just a place to live in; it is a place where your heart is. I miss my family greatly, because my heart is with them."

Touched by the words of the snail, Mother Nature smiled and rose from the ocean, a host of hermit crabs in colourful shells came out of the waves behind her, each with another empty shell in its claws.

Mother Nature blessed the Snail: "Oh sweet-hearted snail, you have learnt a great lesson of mine, something often taken for granted. The truth that home is where the heart is."

From that day forth, each snail was blessed with their own home on their backs to live with their families, right in the lush beauty of nature. To this day, they will rejoice in Mother Nature's rain to celebrate the gift of home and family.


Saturday, 23 March 2013

Those Eyes of Blue Skies

Those Eyes of Blue Skies  


Light refracted in those clear blue eyes, seemingly to capture the exact hue of patchy cerulean sky above our heads. Those pair of lash-framed pools smiled, fleeting hints of secret knowledge danced in its depths. They seem to be focused on something in the distance and then back at my own deep brown irises, smiling right into the core of me. Transmuted into an old and familiar ache that begins to thump...thump...thump, somewhere much lower than where my heart should be, and simultaneously in my throat as well.


I held his gaze a moment more than I dared. Mentally chastising myself, I tear my sight away to find sudden interest in the floor. Side by side, two pairs of footsteps walking down a busy street, indistinguishable from the cadence of city-dwellers going about their lives, only separated by my own  mental bubble of 'Us'.


A fleeting taste of disgust creeps inside my throat.

'Weak.'

The thought came unbidden. A statement. It just felt like I shouldn't be so weak from a simple look! Do I not have any sense left in my head? Has all my past experiences not thought me anything?

He stops by the cold grey marble tables at the cafe, just as the light of day faded. With a twinkle in his now darker blue eyes, he announced that he will get us both Chai Lattes. I smiled, nodded and I kept my shroud of mystery as tightly as I could, betraying nothing in my expression.

The quicksands of time had robbed us of 2 years and it was the last day that I could still see him face to face. I stared at his back, scanned his leather jacket, willing a hole to sear through it as he waited in line. Perhaps if my wishes began to come true, I could wish us together...

I held the brown corrugated cup in my hands; Steam wafted in the air; a busker sat across the street strumming his guitar and a breeze blew twirling leaves onto the ground.

We were talking and I wanted to hold him like that in my head forever. Spirited, smiling...warm...

"Hey?" he asked.

His voice broke through my reverie.

"Hmm? Oh sorry, you were saying?"

I smiled gently to reassure him. He probably knew what was going on in my head, but tried to cheer me up anyway.

He was always trying to get me to see the brighter side of things... and I even saw it sometimes... but only through his eyes.

I absentmindedly tugged on my left earlobe again. A tell-tale habit of mine when I felt insecure. I took a deep sip, felt my heart climb up my throat again and said :

"I'm going to miss you."

yet the unsaid words hung in my mind.

{[ I still love you ]}

We locked eyes for a moment, the briefest moment; but to my bared soul, it was a silent eternity, sinking into the depths of those eyes...

************

My lids swept open and my pupils dilated in shadow-streaked darkness. (Inhale.)

A dream of a memory, one year past.

It had seemed so real, but leaked away as soon as I tried desperately to grasp it. Like slipping quicksand through fingers, only the sensation is left when you close your palms.

364 days and a quarter make up one year, but a year means very little when you've left your heart to drown in someone else's eyes. I regain an empty calm, staring out the barred windows into the abandoned night.

Awaiting the dawn to paint the skies, the color of his eyes.

Thursday, 21 February 2013

TG = Tiong Ghim = The Great

This is my Superego talking or perhaps I am brushing up against a Muse of inspiration.
I realize that the human population has just gone digital and the power of the internet to preserve our thoughts and ideas till almost forever puts me in awe.

In the context of time, I have to consider that in a few hundred years from now, someone might be collecting information on the idiosyncrasies of the 'old internet' and can still stumble across my blog long after I'm dead.

By then, Neo-english would be a complicated blend of digital references, but they will probably have advanced translators to interpret my words.

I have decided to add the initials T.G. to my name when I write because it signifies my heritage = Tiong Ghim.

It also signifies my aspiration to hopefully be amongst the ranks of The Greats.
You know, like:

Catherine The Great, Alexander The Great, Ashoka The Great... and more = http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_people_known_as_The_Great



The price of that title is surely heavy though. I am scared of the commitment and sacrifice it takes to earn the title. Those who with the honorific were great conquerors or rulers.

Power & Influence are very seductive abilities. Being one of the greats requires one to earn and then maintain their reputation. Most have rewritten history in their favor, awarding themselves with the title.

There is a poetic beauty to be remembered as :Mother Teresa, Joan of Arc, Sir Arthur Pendragon.
Each name and title paints a mythical figure of awe.

I desire such a legacy yet struggle with what that says about my ego.
Doing a good thing to be remembered and doing a good thing to feel good are 2 different intentions.


Perhaps I need to concentrate on being a great individual first and a great community member before I tackle Great legendary figure. Just...great...

Wednesday, 20 February 2013

Depression, Anxiety and Panic Attacks


Who says depression, anxiety and panic attacks are mental weaknesses?

Depression is the ability to spread out intense pain over long periods of time. 
Anxiety is the ability to care about a lot of stuff in a short period of time. 
Panic attacks is the ability to deal with fears one at a time.

by Royce Tan TG

Saving Fish From Drowning.

I heard of this Chinese saying that Amy Tan (on Ted.com) was explaining: "Saving Fish From Drowning."

She claims this old saying is from the Buddhist fishermen of ancient China. They felt bad for killing living beings for their livelihood, because according to their faith, fishes are just reincarnated human souls with bad karma.

To comfort themselves, these fishermen found the 'silver lining' to their 'dark cloud' with the saying: "We are simply 'Saving Fish From Drowning'...unfortunately, the fish dies in the process. "


I think it is a very sticky-in-the-mind quote because it's like an oxymoron but sounds like ironic poetry, yet the background story and context changes it from funny to steep deep.

Your opinion of the saying in relation to the story of these fishermen would cause you to reconsider your moral compass, your preconceptions of human vs nature, and then struggle with emotion and logic - "To sympathize with the working class or to defend fishes' rights?"

As with every quote I collect and internalize, I had an existential crisis and started asking questions like:
"Is it ok to kill animals for a living?"

"Is fishing a natural skill we evolved with, like Kingfishers?"

"Are humans a type of evolved fish?"

"If Humans are evolved, then why are we the ones endangering the whole planet."

"Killing seems wrong from human's perspective, yet hunter and prey are aspects of nature. Is killing to eat ok?"

***Mental Tangle***



The best part about the story is that this simple saying was the solution to their guilt. They didn't have to change anything they did, simply the way they saw things.

My problems are problems because I get into a mental tangle of negativity, juggling question after question when a simple mind shift might be the solution.

I see:
"Malaysian roads is a hellish battle of metal and honking. Drivers give you the finger, cuts your lane and then criticizes your mother. There are also occasional pothole minefields, flash floods, chain accidents and sudden motorbike gangs."

I positive paint:
"If I can drive in Malaysia, I can drive anywhere. Drivers think about my mother more than I do. Flash Pothole Minefield Flood is my new favourite driving reality game, like Grand Theft Auto, but real.


I see:
"Poor healthcare and waived human rights."

I paint:
"They know we can't afford Rich healthcare and when there is less human rights, it stands to reason that there should be less human wrongs as well.


I see:
"Racial discrimination and prejudice."

I paint:
"A lot of people are really good at racial profiling and simply giving their feedback on other cultures. People are probably saving a lot of time using prejudice, like court trials, judgement can be a slow process."


The lesson here is that having a positive view needs creative thinking, unconventional ideas and maybe even ironic poetry.

It's not a question of being right or wrong, it's more a question of how to see things different, how to find the silver lining of your own mind-cloud. That silver lining saves fish from drowning, it also saves people from drowning.

Wednesday, 30 January 2013

Failure To Launch (short fiction)

It's been a year since I've failed my mission. not a mission to Mars, but just as important and challenging.

Sometimes lifting yourself off the ground can feel as difficult and as risky as a space shuttle launch. It's been little over a year since my failure to launch and I am still stuck here. I sit in my spacesuit of dreams most of the time now. I dream of being amongst the stars, a celestial held in reverence by all tongues.

Some say that I won't reach beyond, the sky is The limit; statistically, things are not in my favor. I should just plant my feet on solid ground, grow roots, settle down...settle.

My own motto: 'Don't settle for less than your personal best.'

I stare at the Full Moon. The Sun is steadfast but the Moon, the moon, she fills and fades with rhythm, an ancient cycle ruling over human consciousness.

There is something so much larger out there, yet undiscovered and unknown to the minds of men.

I've heard: "The human mind is a way for the Universe to contemplate itself."

The gift of awareness can contemplate things so much bigger than us, so much older and transcendent.

The big question still hangs: "What are we here for?"

Perhaps our function is not in our form but in the way we form. Alone, we are physically pitiful and our newborns would die quickly, when we form a family, we are connecting energy. The larger our web of connections, the more empowered we feel.

Our innate desire makes us explore, expand and evolve.

My mission is what failed to launch, not my dreams.
My dreams are like the moon. I may not see it today but it does not mean it's not there. The unseen moon still exerts its pull on the tide, its pull on me.
My hope is like the sun, there is light even on the darkest mornings.
My passion is like the sparkling stars above, ignited and seen long after it has passed.

Sunday, 27 January 2013

I love It - Icona Pop


That perfect song for a perfect "I don't care" mood.


My Secret Lair

I understand a lair to be this dark secret room where one might plot against the whole world or a particular superhero. I do not know if I will be sharing the ambitions of those who actually use lairs, but I definitely would like one.

The way secret lairs have been typically described, tend to be in poor and lousy conditions. Probably trying to link dirt to evil as god is to cleanliness. Yet I think a person who can devote all their time into a personal space that is furthermore kept secret, would not allow it to fall to dusty disuse.

If I had a lair...

It would be underground, hidden next to a secret garden route to provide cover when I enter my secret base. The entrance shall have to be connected to several locations at the same time via Space wormhole technology. This is in case I feel like eating KFC and Pizza at the Same Time.

My secret lair has a stylish salon as the greeting hall in case someone accidentally drops into my lair from one of the constantly connected locations. This would also serve as the preparation room before entering the proper lair. This gives the reveal an extra dose of awesome.

You walk along the entrance of black mother pearl lined with intricate veins of gold in a graphic representation of goldfishes swimming. The skylight is a visual programming to give the impression of night time in the rainforest falls. There's some digital spray mists for a realistic experience.

Your hands wave across an image that illustrates the Haiku of the day, and then Florence and The Machine plays so that you may contemplate the beautiful poetry, all whilst the circular black and gold image of earth that you are standing on begins to rotate into the next section of the wall. You are engulfed in the dark.

Mood lighting softly glows on the ceiling and the spray mists surrounds you again while rainforest birds serenade, and you do not realize that the mist is actually antibacterial spray. Just another amazingly smart idea of mine to avoid insulting other human beings. I highly recommend this method to all airline personnel that spray canned disinfectant at their customers whilst they are held captive in your cabin.

Back to my lair...

Like the crack of dawn, light creeps into your elevator and the scent of germanium, lavender and rose accompany you as you step out of the elevator. A large pillar in the center is the first thing to catch your attention because it is a humongous aquarium of tropical fish, jellyfish and my sashimi reserve included.

The interior feels like you've entered into a movie set of a few fantastical locations. The kitchen has a central island that could accomodate a chef staff of 20, in case I need people to reheat my KFC. I bring your attention to the sides of the island have been redesigned into a tiki bar called The Island, and the concept of it is that there are mini people who live on my kitchen island as a real Island, like Hawaii for example. Therefore my alcohol bottles will be redesigned into classy little bottle shaped high-rise-huts. The little island alcoholics will live in them.

We both take out the bottles and begin drinking to get the little islanders inside, out. By the time we've got them out, we were so drunk that the healthbot I have lying around began attending to us, but you threw up on it and it malfunctioned. You blacked out and I have to leave you in KFC through my connected wormhole entrance that seals off as soon as I leave you there. There is a personalized Royce chocolate in your pocket to keep you from going hungry.

I continue to enjoy construction on my secret lair.
You wake up drunk in KFC. You want to post your experience up on facebook but you don't remember the details.

Ladies and gentlemen, THAT is how you keep your lair secret.

The End.