Goodnight and Stories

She's an old lady 86 years old. When she was a new bride in her early 20's, she was left with her toddlers and infants by her husband. She never did see him again. Undaunted, she brought up her family singlehandedly, never remarrying. She knew where her dog of a husband was, but she refused to have anything to do with him again. In her aging years, she got senile and perpetually hungry. All this in the care of loving children and grandchildren.

So when she died yesterday, it had to be after dinner. It had to be when her children were in Malaysia. It had to be a month after her own husband died. It had to be anti-climactic, just when everyone least expected it. Now, thats a woman. Goodnight.


soon, she too will go up in flames.

ello vee ee

hon lyn, second of the gang to die this year. of course, the love club commemorates the occasion in the way we know best - low on efficiency, high on spirit. thats how we had ended up going out thrice to not buy a present, waiting a whole day for someone who doesnt turn up, and also driving all the way up the island at 1am.

and it doesnt matter, because, hon lyn, you're 21 now and you deserve something mega; you see, thats how much we love you. and at least you gave us prata and veggie chips.

A Room With A View

Separated with his partner, Olle comes to Singapore on his way back from the mines in Indonesia. He seems to be coping well, so well in fact, that he starts to enjoy my company very much. Throw in a room with a view and he's really, really, enjoying himself.

singapore, alive

there are the moments when you sit down in exasperation and frustration at sink-ah-po. and then there are times when you realise, really, that sink-ah-po is a state of mind, as real as it can be externalised. and thats exactly what the love club did today.

today we went camping at sembawang beach, we had our usual, um, logistical and motivational problems. an hour after meeting at yishun mrt station, we were in mag's home snacking on biscuits, contemplating if we should just scrap our plans and go for dinner.

of course that was not an option - we would never be able to swallow that. so we set off, five intrepid amateurs, for our little adventure. the goal in mind was to relive our obs, when we camped at sembawang as part of the three day sea expedition. of course we say "relive" with a little creative licence. no more 5bx, no need to flatten cans to recycle, no sentry, and best of all, yes illegal fireworks.






so somewhere in between stuffing our faces, playing touch rug, laughing ourselves shitfaced, getting frightened by the dark sea and taking in the sunrise, it did feel for a moment like we were 17 again, except that there would be no school on monday.

You, Are In Bad Shape

Well at least thats what a 1986 Jakarta SEA Games bodybuilding gold medallist says. But honestly, between working like a dog every day, and, uh, sleeping and eating, i find it very difficult to work out as much as i'd like to. This being the gap year, there're heaps of things I want to do, some of which I'm doing or have done, but still, the list is long and time is rapidly running out. Well, actually, most of all my feet are itching again and I'm aching to get on the road again. And this time, I'm afraid because maybe I'll never be able to settle down after all. Maybe I have a little too much velocity.

我也是新加坡公民

已經太舊沒這個樣子操筆了。應該有五年了吧。自上次對峙汎寫了那封信之後，就停止跟他交往，也停止以這縻熟悉的語文表達出心裡面的話。不過，三月剛和他交談的我，也該是時候要回屬于我的那份。一直以來對朋友講華語都敢到很害臊，到底是為甚縻，自己現在才了解。

從十五歲開始，就對中學感到很厭倦。討厭在新加坡生活亦討厭這裡的人。心裡是這縻想，但不自覺的是，自己的心肺肝腎都是刻著新加坡這三個字。在濱海藝術中心剛看完了annabel chong的自傳，現在就完全了解了。雖然人能脫離這個小島，心卻不能把這島國置在身外。

這裡的每一個小細結都已是生活中的大部份，爸爸吻這媽媽的樣子，跟小販老伯伯叫東西吃，或者是求胜心切的態度。幸好在離開之前嶺悟，因為若是毫無自覺就投入陌的環境，可能就像她一樣，走下不回頭的路

grace kelly crimes

like a hollywod princess, a european legend of elegance and dignity, the changi chapel invited us in with her whitewashed walls and bright cheery courtyard. we enter unsuspectingly for another run-of-the-mill war museum (LP Singapore has a boxed text titled "Do mention the war."), and the beginning few parts did little to convince us otherwise. Call me a sucker if you wil, but the next parts soon got me choking back a crest inside my chest. there was something deeply moving about the stories of comrades surviving the prison camps together with good humour and good luck. decades later, they'd meet again in entirely different circumstances, their fates irreversibly diverged. a few more years later, they'd pass on and then their children would visit and pen such devastating notes of gratitude, nostalgia and admiration. and herein, perhaps, lies the appeal of this museum. it's so understated and comes from behind to throw it's message over your eyes, instead of hitting you over the head with it; translating the camaraderie and fraternity of these brave men and women into modern-day sentences.




In other news, i tied a knot on a cherry stem using my tongue.

Where are you from? The press?

The much-awaited Khatib Bongsu hike takes place today after morning gym. Ahmad and I, plus Eamon. We set off with a homecooked lunch in our bags, binoculars too, with no map, and just a general sense of direction. And well, it isnt too hard to find. The hike begins fairly easy enough as we slip pass the "security" at the beginning of the track. Just ten minutes into the walk and we lose sight of the last HDB block. Birds are singing somewhere behind the leaves of the tree, so we never get to see them. What we do see are massive bird's nests and bird's nest ferns (after a little debate). There's also a scoring system for spotting cool stuff, naming it gives you bonus points. So there're papaya and coconut trees, tapioca and banana plants, a snake, running streams and empty mangrove ponds. We pass by the first obstacle, contractors putting up the "shoot at sight" sign, by waving them away. Dithering a little bit and stopping every five seconds to peer at things, the sky turns overcast and starts to piss down (hence the lack of pictures). The ponds begin to fill up as we trudge along through puddles of water, Ahmad with his brolly, Eamon in his jacket, and I in my, uh, trash bag. Rain aside and an hour and a half into our little hike, we meet our last and final obstacle in the form of A Civil Servant. Dressed in his statutory board-issued office gear and driving his trusty Toyota (prolly from years of toiling behind his desk), he scrambles to us in his leather shoes, avoiding puddles, screaming, "Where are you from?"



Strange looks are exchanged. Me, "Uh.. nowhere in particular."



"Did you take any pictures? Are you from the press?"

No, NO!"



He tells us to turn back and even tells us to walk carefully, lest we fall and our insurance companies sue him for making us walk back in Stormy Weather. Born-and-bred Singaporeans, we accept his as yet unproven authority and make our way out without challenging him (Eamon is too wet and tired to bother). Emerging from the wilderness, we go to the park gazebo for the lunch, eating on the floor with our hands, much to the bemusement of Yishun primary school children passing by. So, while the Singapore Troubadours suffer a moral setback at the hands of the Civil Service, Australian Backpacker Eamon gets a right instructive introduction to Singapore 'Burbs, Wildlife and Government.



And.. we go to the NS40 exhibition at Orchar Road, where we get to wield rifles in the middle of the city. Uniquely Singapore! Nothing is disallowed, every is just yet to be allowed.

歷史的塵埃

人說北方的狼族　會在寒風起　站在城門外
穿著腐蝕的鐵衣　呼喚城門外　眼中含著淚

Sometime after the 30th lap, I realise that the method of letting my mind wander to forget the fatigue is working too well. I will be 25 when I graduate. In German English, that is not very nice!

1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7

Salsa class again after so long! Ahmad comes along, and we're confident that there'll be girls for us to dance with. And there are, pretty girls, shy girls, good dancing girls, bad dancing girls, old girls and fat girls. Just as well, there are girls. We're talking about our ex-girlfriends as we wait for my Dad at Bugis. He wants to buy a wedding anniversary present for his old girl (my Mum. now I can say I've been out shopping with my Dad before). This might not sound very gay, but I'd really like to meet a nice girl soon! Matchmakers welcome, thank you very much.

Shit and Piss

An interview at InnCrowd, where we discuss literally the prospect of me cleaning shit, piss and vomitus. Shopping for a new bike at Sungei Road. Except the sellers look like tricky ex-cons so I think I might need some back up to even ask for the price. To Botanic Gardens for the Gala Pyjama Party, with chaat items in hand for a picnic. Sitting on the grass as the sun sets, the ground gets a little wet as it becomes cooler. With a book, food, water and all the time in the world, there was nothing to tell me I wasnt in King's Park or the Royal Botanic Gardens as I drifted in and out of sleep while waiting for "Music and Lyrics" to start playing. We're on the road again!

Public Transport in Singapore

So the government wants to get more people out of their cars and onto buses and trains. They've done ERP, COE, transport rationalisation, upgraded service standards, sent out new trains and buses but still it's not enough. Well, I'm not sure how many people think like me, but I might have a very good suggestion. You see, the reason I drive when possible is so that I dont have to meet Ah Bengs blasting horrid cheena techno songs on their mega-blaster mobiles, crazy aunties pushing you aside to get that seat, smelly Dunman High kids on the way home and stupid underaged couples making out near the doors. So, if people without civic-mindedness were booted off the trains and buses by our under-utilised transit security staff, perhaps more people would start boarding and stop driving. And, ooh, perhaps even public executions by the rifle-wielding SOC and army dudes. Thats good economic sense (I think).

Reve

Kampong Glam, by night, strolling along with a map in my hand feeling every bit the traveller, except my car is parked near Masjid Sultan. Encik Zach is there, and so is Hazin with his fiancee. The streets have a certain charm, nameless, dimly lit and calm. It feels like nothing can change tonight.

Who Do You Call?

Jan, Jac and I go to a place where we can "walk and eat", namely Katong. It's a sweltering day, and a second outside aircon is a second too many. Jan and I are singing the Ghostbusters theme while Jac keeps snapping pictures. To the city to toss the ball around, and then more aircon. It is too hot to do anything at all!

Saying goodbye to them, Azi and Vik show me around their BTC, which was the reason why I would've taken up NUS Law's offer. The arches and the quadrangles are a beaut, but I decided I wasnt missing enough. I pick up Jie Ming on the way to Jun Ren's house, where instead of being the awkward meeting I thought it'd have been, we were all at ease and talked cock all the way to eight. Looking back to the past few days, I wonder at how unnecessarily nervous and anxious about so many things. Maybe if I learnt to lighten up a little, then my bowels would be better!

Ten!

The Dutch come today while there are two parties to attend at night. Kevin is late for the Sheffield reception at Shangri-La but neither of us really care, so we stroll in, underdressed, at stuff our faces. It is certain, I do not wish to go there. The Sunday Fool's party is later at night too, since Mr. B is going away. As the guests go home, we all come out to play. There's too much food, alcohol in abundance, bad music, one bicycle and no rules. So we're all kinda pissed off our tits, even if only for the fact that there're absolutely no guests to pander too. As people start to pass out (from tiredness or drink), vomit or run away, I make my way out at four in the morning. Mot is there, and with my face on his soft neck as we hug, maybe I didnt want to leave. Maybe I was smashed.