Dear diary,

Feeling out of sorts lately. The weather's bad, the haze isn't making things better; in fact, this is the first time I heard bloody Singapore having forest fires. Still, my poisoned lungs are the least of my concerns for now.

My right temple's throbbing. Bad things always seem to rush you all at once. It's like there's this underground society-for-misfortunes where all these ugly karmic imps gather in dank caverns on a particular day and conspire round a green ghostly flame on their next pathetic victims of affliction. Bi-monthly I might add.

Now I feel like I'm walking around with a big fat sign on my back that says "Torment me". So my head's still throbbing. So I'm still feeling out of sorts. A potent combination of aridity, four fleshy durians along Upper Serangoon road and nasty pranks that the ugly karmic imps have conjured upon me.

Then there's this last minute attachment tomorrow. In this weather. With the killer haze. And all the bloody Singaporean forest fires. On Tekong. Along with the karmic imps clinging onto my back pockets. And yes, that headache too.

Ouch.