Time

Time is an elusive concept. The sand that trickles down the hour glass is forever in two minds; it does not know whether to quickly succumb to gravity and fall to become another particle of the past, or to delay the process and cling onto the present. It is cruel. It prefers the earth when we are elated. It favours the sky when we are in despair. It is omnipotent. We cannot escape its influence.

I am no exception.

As a prisoner confined within the indestructible walls of the tempered hour glass, I am perpetually endeavouring to catch the modicums of sand falling from the heavens and make futile attempts at casting them back from whence they came, only to delay the inevitable. Needless to say, this is an aimless endeavour. But I am convinced that we are all eternally fighting against the ticking hand of the clock, like Bart Simpson trying to reverse the flow of toilet water in that famous episode where he takes a trip to Down Under. Such is life.

In a nutshell, I won't be able to update this blog as frequently as I would like to given time constraints. But hey, made you think! ACT IV coming soon.

Late Night Conversations

It is 1 a.m. Your body is urging you to succumb to sweet repose; chemicals are manifesting in your brain, lulling your senses and weighing you down, but you resist, because gossip awaits. I am no scientist, but I theorise that the semi-conscious trance induced by weariness, is a catalyst for revealing one's deepest secrets.

I am what you call a 'veteran' of late night conversations. I enjoy partaking in them. I do not enjoying waking up the following morning with the knowledge that I have revealed too much of what I have vowed to keep inside. I am not alone in my detestation for the repercussions of such conversations. I am sure that my friend, who shall remain nameless, is infuriated over his confession a few nights prior, thinking: "Fuck. Why did I tell everyone I shaved my pubes?"

As a consequence of musing over this (as a wanker no less), on a hot summer's day, I decided to write a play (because normal people do such things) that would serve as a glorified abstract of my experiences. The following is a preview:

“Late Night Conversations”
By Sunny Jong

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

JOHN SURRY

CADOR CARDEAUX

CALVIN YASUTOMI

CLANCY JAMAL

WALT ANDERSON

THE SCENES OF THE PLAY

ACT I. “I Think She Likes You”

ACT II. “Winging It”

ACT III. “The Truth”

ACT IV. “Pick One”

Terrible. I know. A draft has been written for the first act. I will post a new entry for each act that I complete, so stay tuned...or if you prefer, don't stay in tune. Dickhead.