Dear Blog, please don't complain that I am just planting wrinkles on your face. You already have your own worries, I know. And I have my own mistress. Let's call it even?
on the first day
lost in a crackle of flames,
a circle of rainbow*, bow
to a few lumps of brown mud
floating like the year passed,
almost forgotten to be flushed.
*"A crackle of flames, A Circle of Rainbow" - Selected poems from Mohamed Latiff Mohamed
P.S.: What is the value of the past, after digestion that is, when it is the present that matters?
I almost gave up writing. In response in an online forum which triggers memories of struggle and self-doubts, I re-write my past (literally) and fortify my determination. Just enjoy playing with words, I wrote, playing with words.
I am beginning to wonder: where did it all go wrong? My words twist into themselves and fall flat. Tied limbs of tongue carry no punch, or kick. I can't help myself. Again, I am but a pure shadow of myself. Literarily. There is no searching light. Only blindness. In mind's eye.
The ship named Confidence sinks, hitting some icebergs near the promised land of poets. Perhaps, but perhaps, I am the outsider, never belong.
It seems like a long time since my last post. A few things in mind, apart from the normal stuff like fellatio, and more fellatio, of course.
On my reading front, I am savouring some of Alvin Pang's poems from"Other Things and Other Poems" and having some good laughs at Yann Martel's at times roaringly humorous "Life of Pi".
In the End
(an epitaph)
the things we love give back
our names. One handed me a
plain stone to carve into something
better. Another returned the long
lost user guide to my left brain.
Someone passed a slip of paper,
my inscrutable handwriting
on one side, and on the other
in bright colours, the words
"I Want It All". Others brought
flowers - irises, daffodiles,
the soft unpeeled heart of a rose.
None of the clothes fit any longer.
I put aside the books I'd read,
and hadn't read, they took flight
as endless stairs, circling
beyond my years. But I loved
most of all the quiet Sundays, when fingers of rain
would write themselves
on the clear page of my window,
dying to tell me their stories.
- Alvin Pang
I must have mentioned before how a poem is like a words puzzle to me. The poet would put a mass of simple words together - some are of the most unlikely matches - and a new meaning, most original, is born. Poetry is all about figurative writing or speech, depending on how you see it - I have to constantly remind myself of this while reading.
Just attended "The Guinness Arthur's Day Concert" despite not being a drinker, but doubt anyone has been banned from the concert for not being there to celebrate such a special day. But Paul Wong was awesome. I mean really, really awesome:
Alright, now for the juicy portion: now, now, I am really, really disappointed in you as the star witness for the prosecution, Ms Cecilia Sue. Those SMS that you claimed to have sent by mistake have done you in, really. I think you are going down with your "lover", after going down on him. Oh, of course, you know who I am talking about
I was at the newly opened "The Star Vista" this afternoon for a simple dinner with KL. We decided on "Owl Café". The refreshment and food served were alright and at a reasonable price, and our talks about recent happenings in our little lives came fast and furious. Before long, dark fell and it was time to go - the Liverpool versus Manchester United was calling - when I asked for the "check". Or so I thought I said. The young student-waitress was like going "what?", so I repeated myself. Yet again, she returned a puzzled look. That was when KL interjected:"Bill. The bill, please." One hand cupping her dropping jaw of laughs, the waitress trotted off. Oops.
P.S.: Note to me: this is Singapore and I am a true-blue Singaporean male, we don't say "check" when asking for the bill in restaurants, or any places, in fact. We are taught the Queen's English in school, in case you wonder. No, I wasn't showing off my language command. But look where it got me into.
Sometimes, the most unfortunate way to treat a person is to take it that he or she doesn't even exist. Take this guy, Mr Chris Reed. He complained that local cabbies are the worst lot, and questioned, for example, 'why does the "change shift" sign give taxi drivers the right not to pick people up?' Say, which part of "change shift" does he not understand? I can't understand how he can't empathise with a taxi hirer or relief rushing to a meeting point to hand over his cab on time. His "main gripe is that cab drivers here do not know their way around the city". I say, look around you, and at the street directory online, you will realise soon enough that though Singapore is a small place, roads are often changing and new buildings spring up of nowhere. Having said that, in all my years of living here, I've seldom met a caddy who doesn't know his way; the rare occasion is when the cabby is new, which is again, understandable. Blame the taxi company then, if you want, not the cabby, for letting him learn on the job. I say, most probably a cabby would have asked Mr Chris for his preferred route, if only to avoid being accused of taking a longer one. And I've myself once accused a new cabby for doing so, only to realise later that I had asked him to take me to Building A, when in my mind I had expected him to drop me at Building B, which in my experience most cabbies will, and is at a road opposite Building A.
And about cabs that do take "card" accepting only cash, honestly, how often does that happen? Haven't heard of Seven-Eleven store's Nets machine being down? I think I have encountered the latter more often. Alright, I've to admit that I don't take cab that often, but I have been living in Singapore for thirty over years, while Mr Chris has been here all of three years. Now, that ought to count in my favour.
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Recently, after the National Day's public holiday, back at the office, some colleagues from another section were commenting aloud how LKY looked so "handsome", "glowingly healthy" (yes, those were their exact words), even "more so than his junior". Honestly, I almost puked secretly. Not that I have anything against LKY - there must be good reasons for his staying power in our political arena, no matter how you look at it, specially considering how politic really is dirty business. So when I happened to be wearing a blue shirt today, and some of them burst out alleging that I am a supporter of the Workers' Party, I jokingly refuted by saying, "No. I am actually a supporter of Nicole Seah". When some of them asked:"She is from which party huh?", I took a clumsy pause before replying, as it wasn't even in my mind. After whispering among themselves, they realised that she is notorious for her beauty and youth as a politician, took the drift and sneered in mock contempt at me, "a lusty uncle".
P.S.: I once called you-know-who a "cunning old fox" before this colleague who is something of a fanatic, and she gave me a death glare which I'd never forget.
Decided on watching 《春嬌與志明》 (Love in a Buff) at the last minute. Right after it, my friend said that it is better than part 1. I think it is a classic contemporary love story that most men could relate to. Though it is far from being a epic-sized movie like "The Avengers", curt ambition, relying on a good script and the chemistry between the actors to make the movie work instead with minimum special effect (if there is even any), it left me a deeper impression. More than just the humour (almost Stephan Chow-esque), and there are brilliant scenes of emotional exchanges (yes, at times, the most emotional scenes are the most comical) between the two lead actors that really had me in stitches, it is the small details that make a big difference, or rather the "surprises" or "驚喜" (or small miracles, in my context) in everyday ordinary life, which Ann Hui has spoken about while making "A Simple Life", that make it a standout - thumbs up for Asian movie. The clip is shown at the end of the movie, but I guess it will only make more sense after you have watched the movie. Still, it gives a good laugh.
Will start my post with a poem by a certain Mr Gan See Siong (presumably male, judging from his below piece) from the Moving Words collection (a great initiative by NAC and SMRT!)
You Need Me
"You like to enter me in the wee hours of morning That part of yours in protective sheath And go romping with me Three to four times a week.
A gentle man you are not For without warning you would spread me wide To accommodate the full extent of you.
You strapped me up With those dexterous fingers So close I can see your grim determination The even rise and fall of your chest.
And just like that You would head me Down the pleasure road Growing all hot and hard in me.
If only you knew how I long for these sessions, They are the reason why I even exist," said the pair of running shoes.
---------
As a matter of fact, it's not lost on me that I need her, more than she me. You see, I have been out of action, or rather not "romping", for the past 3 weeks due to persistent flu, cough, fever followed by giddy spells, to much extend that my GP has no idea what's causing my calamitous failing of health and recommended the hospital. Initial diagnosis suggested ear infection. On retrospection, I narrowed two possible events that may have started the chain, which I rather not elaborate further than to add that one has something to do with a loud crack in the sky during a nice walk at Punggol waterway followed by a cold, soaked body and a few good fishermen.
The good news is I have now recovered sufficiently for a short 15 minutes run against the advice of the hospital pending my next appointment.
On another front, the subject everyone is talking about (presumably so, judging by the readers' letters to Strait's Time).
In my opinion, perhaps, certain functions in our small tiny dot may not be suitable for privatisation. Public transport being one of them due to the small size of our population and land: a small gitch would be a big disaster (lucky, no life was lost). And for the same reason, privatisation in this instance does not promote competition.
The cold fact is that the populace has no alternative here - if you need to go somewhere, you will have to take the bus or train, otherwise pay more for taxi, but considering the recent hike? - and hence is at SMRT's mercy. And stop comparing SMRT to London tube: our rail simply isn't as complex or long; their system has been built over a long time and can afford alternative routes, we just remained trapped in the system. Having said that, I am sure that no public transport system (owned by the public, funded by tax payers' money) would have allowed passengers to be left in airless darkness, not knowing when the ordeal will end.
Alas! All are but to no avail, SMRT and SBS are just "contracted" to operate and maintain the train system etc. LTA is the owner of the infrastructure bulit using taxpayers' money! So I guess in the meantime, I will just have to bring a hammer to work in case the MRT window needs breaking...
SMRT's Ms Saw is looking more and more like the scapegoat...she might as well grow a beard...
Happy going back to work tomorrow...with a hammer, that is...
Dear fellow-voters of Singapore General Election 2011,
My utmost concern goes out to you during this stressful period of time. Of course, you would not need any reminder that on 7 May, your tiny piece of paper (I am hoping the Poll Card is not too big; imagine the trees killed.) will carry the weight of the next five years. At times, I've found the onslaught of the media – suddenly the “News at 5” has no world news worthy of report - and the Internet – now, this is to me, a most untrustworthy medium, or is it ? - overwhelming. Other times, I was nauseating over Pierre Png's on-the-hour solemn television appearances showcasing his acting chops gathered from Channel 8 drama series. Finally, after days of torment, I have to let my hair down. And sprouting jokes about the election becomes the order of the day at the office for me – though some of my colleagues wouldn't agree, having been sucked into a hellish what-if-the-ruling-party-lost apocalyptic mood. So, my heart goes out to you voters, especially those from the hotly contested Aljunied GRC – really, no political party with the people's interest at heart should put you through this, and the ruling party is not absolved from blame either. So much so that I have decided to come out with something for the voters from Aljunied on polling day: a box of coins. Yes, you read me right the first time: I will be at the polling station with a box of coins. Call it head to vote for PAP; call it tail to vote for WP. Or vice versa. Whichever. You flick the coin, you decide. And you even get to keep it.
I am preparing for a full-scale heart-attack, or a mild stroke at least on 7 May 2011. Good luck and rest well!
Regards mrdes
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Extras:
One count:
Friend A: “So, have you decided who to vote?”
Friend B: “Of course...Nicole Seah! Only one problem...I am not from Marine Parade Constituency leh.”
Friend A scratches head.
P.S.: Don't tell me you don't know who is Nicole Seah - especially if you already know Tin Pei Ling.
Two count:
My favourite punch line: “...if you look at Hougang yourself, Hougang is not a slum.", by WP secretary-general Low Thia Khian, the driver-slapping co-driver.
Imagine if - and I'm just saying it hypothetically - he wins at Aljunied, he would, with teary eyes, shout to his supporters: "Hougang is not a slum! Hougang is not a slum!" And the crowd would go wild.
Now, if you haven't, at any point of time, laughed while reading this post, I think you should see your doctor for voter-stress. Go now. Save yourself. Before 7 May.
Enough is enough.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Was reading temasekreview, the reservoir of evil, in the Singapore context that is.
I See Evil
So much wrong in this world I'd rather not know the tail or head of which, or whose power or greed corrupts and taints this place in my head I see.
So let me be free of witches, bitches, and all who teaches the way evil works lacking mercy, alive and kicking all those innocents in their faces covered in spittle.
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Makes one feel he'd rather not live on this little island - so much dirt swept under the carpet. Really.
At the end of my day at office, I had a casual chit-chat with a female colleague while reading a Chinese-language newspaper. There was a photo of Stephanie Sun on it, and my rather jovial colleague out of the blue remarked that she looked like the popular Singaporean singer. Without much hesitation, I rebutted:"No, of course, you don't look like her!" A brief lull was followed by my adulation:"Well, you definitely are prettier than her!"
P.S.: Now, this colleague of my used to remind me of a certain gorgeous Korean actress. But then, with changes of seasons, and detriments of wind and rain, even the most beautiful flower has lost much of its luster. Alas, the cruelty of nature!
Now, good food, I think most of them are such sins, containing totally unhealthy ingredients. I had salty egg crabs - pardon my poor translation from chinese - for dinner with some colleagues, and to me, they tasted heavenly. But again, such sin! Then we go around kidding ourselves to put in the extra amount of exercise in compensation that never materialises.
The handphone was buzzing, in the classic tone of days long gone that seemed to shatter the earth. The manager from the other branch finally reached her cubicle and exclaimed aloud to no one in particular amid the infuriating ringing:"I thought I have the vibrator on..."
Vibrator? Haha...vibrator? Get the joke?
How come nobody is laughing?
Now, I'm just being plain crude. And this must be the lamest of my lame jokes. Note: Vi"bra*tor\, n. One that vibrates, or causes vibration or oscillation of any kind (ie. not necessarily for sexual stimulation). Hence, nothing wrong with what she said. Just that in my language, it'd sound better (or more polite) in an office environment with "I thought I have it on silent mode?"
I am really in no mood for humour tonight. I was writing a "comical" piece about my experience with sexual harassment at the office when I suddenly stopped and deleted whatever I wrote. Funny how life turns out. I'd always thought myself as a joker, yet end up as sulky face. Though deep down, I always know I was never really funny, just lame. Then again, what is the purpose of a joke, if only to provoke a little laugh. If not from others, at least from ourselves. Yes, I laugh at my own crappy jokes
As the day at the office ended, most of my colleagues were rushing off to catch their transport. PW, a female co-worker close to forty of age I think, who sat near the door, was still hard at work, though we knew there wasn't much to do. So I asked, "So why aren't you going?" "Why?", she replied, half in doubt of what I was getting at. Holding up my copy of TODAY, I pointed to some pictures of women in only their lingerie, and quipped: "To the 'Big Bra Sales', of course!" She only laughed and protested in jest with cries of "sexual harassment!"
I have no idea, even now, did she truly understand my inference.
Now, is that lame or what? Or really sexual harassment at work? (pun accidental, really.)
Let the truth be told.
P.S.: I scanned through some of my old posts, and it was obvious that most of them which readers left comments with had something to do with humour. I guess we all look for some read to wind down or for pleasure at the end of a hard day.
I thought of joining YAWN. Y-A-W-N, short for "Your Actions We Need", a local men rights group. Then I had a glimpse of its agenda through one of its pioneering member: "Most of these abuses come in form of men being denied of various things by their partner, including but not limited to, sex, one night stand, own salary, watching soccer, magic shows." Incidently, he is a magician. I smelled conspiracy. Then, the founder, Dr Lim proclaimed: "We welcome all to join us in our brotherly journey. Membership is free as long as you know how to play golf." Hey, is he looking for golf buddies or what? But I don't play golf, man!
Gosh, there goes my free one year’s subscription of Playboy magazine!
No, I am not panicking about H1N1, and I don't wish to be a flu hoax (as in bomb hoax) either. Yet, it only takes an almost immediate, small life example to expose the vulnerability in this belief.
While I read the report on the latest development of H1N1, a lady was reading a Chinese novel at an adjacent table at McDonald's, when she started sniffing, coughing and then sneezing into a tissue, easily catching my attention. And the first words that leaped into my mind were: "For god's sake, why don't you just stay in bed at home!" Miraculously, she was up and going in a wind, as if having read my thoughts. And I actually felt guilty.
On the other hand, at the office yesterday, we were giving one of our colleagues a hard time for going for a short overseas trip over the long weekend. Of course, all was in the name of fun, and I somehow coined the verb "overswine", when I highlighted how we were peppering our jokes with swines. Say, when was the last time swines were in the news?
You know what, about the Aware saga, either way, I feel that the old guard have to go. If they are really promoting lesbianism, they must be doing a bad job, for nobody in my office knows about their activities in this area - or they are faking ignorance. One guy even said that he didn't know about the existence of Aware until now. All in all, there are many positives in this saga, I like to think. Now, we - Singaporeans are self-centered people who live in their own little world - are more aware of Aware.
