kingdomformydonkey

EMAILER_FABLE

2006-08-26T11:46:00.001+08:00

EMAILER_FABLE
Originally uploaded by kingdomformydonkey.

Flickr

2006-08-26T11:46:00.000+08:00

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

I've moved!

2006-02-12T18:19:00.000+08:00

Holy cow! It had been a year since I last posted anything!
Anyway, here's the new web-blog http://kingdomformydonkey.blogsome.com.

I'm not adding more posts onto blogspot, so do bookmark my blogsome one instead.

Cheers!

Serene

Earl's Queen English?

2005-02-16T00:46:00.000+08:00

Thought I should just post this email correspondence Ida and I had some time
ago... pretty hilarious.

--- Serene wrote:

How many ppl can go for the boating trip tmw? I'm having second thoughts..
May not be going for lesson. Can I still join you?? It's ok if only a limited
number can attend.

--- Ida replied:

Hey you, which planet you living on? (grinz) It's not tomorrow. It's on 15
July next week Thursday. Still wanna go? ...

--- Serene wrote:

Let me introduce myself... I'm from the planet earth - the one parallel to
your world, on the other side, distanced by the black hole. It's a lot more
peaceful here, as we don't have an obnoxious ruler called George Bush. We're
not into bushy business. Oh yes, we have cable here that's how we learnt about
the misfortunate events on your planet. the hottest show right now is a
reality-tv programme called 'Mind your BUSH'... It's about George Bush and his
secret love affair with Amaso, an exotic woman of western and
middle-eastern heritage working in the white house. Often, she takes on a
secret identity of her own outside the grand senate... You can invert her name
to get her moniker. She takes her secret role outside the states.

We are also a week + 2 days ahead our parallel cousin earth, which explains
the confusion in the previous mail. The fact stated, this email was typed and
sent out a week + 2 days ago, your time. Unfortunately, I can't make it to
your planet within a week + 2days for the 15th. Despite the great advancement
of technology, we are still 10 years away from materialising the 'lightyears-travel-bullet-zooobot-retro-cushion-love-van'
to reach your planet within 5 mins. Do understand that we are after all,
gazillions light-years away. Having said that, I'm so having an opening on the
15th. Been writing loads of crap... Because of the difference of gravitational
force here in my planet, we've developed another pair of arms... Which explain
the long blogs and emails.

PS> I have a bf in my planet. His name is Tobey Maguire, and he's a spider.
Inter-marriages are encouraged here.

Behold,

Serene

--- Ida replied:

tI tsum eb etiuq hguot rof uoy ot etirw morf eht rehto edis fo eht
tenalp.Os m'I gnitirw ni ruoy egaugnal...

s'ti a ytip neht...enna-yraM si gninnioj su. tI dluow eb taerg ot hctac pu
htiw reh. uoY gniog rof s'thginot noitibihxe?

sreehC

ADI

--- Serene wrote:

Actually, we are trained to read and write like people on your planet.
Nonetheless, if you're comfortable with my native language called the 'Earl's
Queen English':

Pretty merry Marry finds joy to jump onto the wagon? Fancy me too... Poor
duckling could not find no water on surface. The moon longs a donkey time for
his sun. Night mist till you wake? Suppose me to swim much latter. .....

There's another scripture from my planet which is by now, obsolete. It's
called the 'hiero-delok-grapy'.

Otn iggon rfo eth ioenbxitih dyoat. woh uotab uyo? 'mI tegeinm lod apl Prtee
ratel.

Eat beans and die,

Serene

Travelblog: Looking for Jackie Chan

2005-01-28T01:18:00.000+08:00

Warning – Hong Kong is not for shoe-gazers. Bustling cities, heavy neon signages, dynamically slim and compact boxes called apartments and kongfu fighting, are not to be ignored.

...Well,there wasn’t any kongfu fighting in the streets but the presence of the ever iconic Jackie Chan is constant!

The scenes you see from the movies, that’s for real. The stunts are real, Jackie Chan’s real and alive, and the streets of Hong Kong are FOR REAL. It does have its side effects; it felt as if the places you’ve been to, Jackie Chan was just there before you. Have I missed Jackie Chan?

Perhaps I did after all, flew to Hong Kong looking for Jackie Chan.

With a population of 6.7 million, Hong Kong is unarguably one of the more populated countries around. Try finding Wally within the crowd; Jackie Chan could be around the corner.

Take a stroll down Avenue of Stars, you’d most probably come across numerous figurines and posters of Jackie Chan. Sorry, still no Jackie Chan. Despite his no-show, the stream is constantly packed with the locals, maids (on Sundays and
Public Holidays), and tourists. I can’t see why not, since there are strings of restaurants and souvenir shoplets everywhere.

No tourists should miss The Peak. Sure, it’s just a shopping mall on the
mountain but it is one of the few convenient places one can get to for a fantastic view of Hong Kong. Alas, it was too foggy to see anything while I was there… I’m sure Jackie Chan won’t want to waste the trip up there too.

Seeking some actions? Head towards the Big Buddha at Lantau Island. Those stairs to enlightenment would definitely cheer the restless ones. The famous Po Lin Monastery is also there at the foot of the towering Buddha statue, which is the biggest seated bronze Buddha in the world. Unlike the cities you see, Lantau Island is tranquil, fresh and closer to nature. Time seems to have ceased while making the journey there. Loosely populated, there are only a few strings of residency visible in this island. Do look out for a hostel named Far View Inn (if I haven’t got the name wrong, nonetheless, it is something along this line), it is a definite must-stay for travellers seeking quiet reverie. Of course, I won’t expect to spot Jackie Chan doing his stunts there…

The Hong Kong Tourism Board would have already got Jackie Chan to promote Stanley Market. Paintings, cheongsams, bags, jewels, anything of Chinese motifs are all available here. A major flea market… this is the place to do your souvenirs hunting. Take your time wondering off to little pathways should you have enough of those tourists patronising agenda. The sidewalks are the uncommon
attractions.

A van full of TVB crews cruising along the streets of Lan Kwai Fong. Jackie
Chan? Not really, not today. This area is better known for its night life among the expatriates. Without a doubt, this is also a popular scene out of many TV drama series and Jackie Chan’s movies. Besides trying to get spotted by some TV producers or movie directors to be the next superstar, there’s really NOTHING interesting going on there… unless pub-hopping is your kind of thing.

Transportation is excellent in Hong Kong. Mass Transit Railway, service buses, meter taxis, ferries are some of the very efficient and common form of public transport among most tourists. Equally fast but also a better way of getting to know the locals are by taking the mini buses and trams, which can sometimes prove to be a challenge.

Enough of the touristy introduction of Hong Kong with promotion of Jackie Chan (still, Lantau Island is without promotion, the place I’d want to visit again). To see Hong Kong is to mingle with the locals. I don’t usually enjoy shopping, however, entering the market of Mong Kok, communication is all about bargaining… in Cantonese. I just have to be part of it… my bargaining skills sucked and so did my limited Cantonese but that is the real flavour… a little gestures, warm smiles, and trivial chit chats with the venders are NOT scripted in rules of high-life shopping or business driven shawl promoters.

The cities aren’t for toddlers. My hostel is situated at the heart of Causeway Bay, which is the ultimate shopping paradise. For me, it was just scary. Shops after shops, after shops, after shops, are people, people, and more people. Regardless of time and day, there are constantly people shopping in schools. It gave me a terrible headache. Never felt such urgency to get out of a place before. It’s hard to find a quiet spot one can retrieve to… it makes one wonder don’t these people have to work? Aren’t they tired after work? Aren’t they bored of shopping? If shopping is your sanctuary, I bet you would comprehend where they are rushing/shopping to next.

Exchanging ideas and feedbacks from other travellers is always intriguing… that
can take you a step ahead of your itinerary. It’s always warm to chat with the housekeepers and hostel owners too.

Eat what the locals eat. Dim sum is surely one of the immediate items that come to mind. However, we’re not talking about high tea in a quiet and well-decorated Chinese restaurant patronised by young Hong Kongers and tourists – we’re talking about noisy, messy, a little dirty, lots of attitude, patronised by older folks, Hong Kong tea house off Hollywood Road. Waiters are either rude or nonchalant, you have to hang around to get a seat for yourself in absolute chaos, rush out to get your dim sum before someone else does, English speaking? Forget it, nobody’s giving a
hood about you when you can’t communicate in Cantonese. BUT HEY, who’s complaining when the food are of ambrosia quality??! Thanks to Eugene, whom I met there, showed me just what Hong Kong is made of.

There’s more to Hong Kong than just shopping and tasting exotic cuisines. The riches come from the people, their culture and tradition, habits, and attitude. Get to know Hong Kong through the local perspectives. Then maybe, you might spot Jackie
Chan.

Click here to view MY perspective.

Images are not to be extracted without
permission.

Nature's wrath

2005-01-10T02:01:00.000+08:00

There are those who prayed, there are those who wept, there are those who are
still coming to terms, there are those who are helping to ease the pain and
there are who avoid reading or watching the news all together because it is
simply too depressing.

Adjectives such as tranquil, paradise made on earth, serene, beautiful, which
are used to describe some of these tsunami hit areas deemed as mere ironic
reality check.

A magnitude of 9.0 earthquake resulted in utter devastation of an epitome
proportion. No one can stay oblivious, especially not at this time. Mixed
reactions are vehement throughout the world, as generous donations pour in
ceaselessly and volunteers step up to put their expertise, if not strength
into good use.

So please, do what you can to help.

Introducing Chack and George the dead Oranda

2004-11-05T02:16:00.000+08:00

So much of the depressing news of the outcome for the election... let's have something 'refreshing' for this entry.

Introducing Chack and George the dead Oranda. It's something I just came out with, on the spark of spontaneous thoughts. The title of this series (yes! more to come) has not been settled yet... depending on how the story ends.

Disclaimer: In any events should the characters and events occur in similiarity, past, present, and future, this is purely coincidental. Names of characters are of no reference to anyone dead or alive, or even yet to be born. Matters are honestly fictional. Should you had occured similiar situation, please visit your nearest bomoh (Malay for witch doctor).

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chack and George the dead Oranda

Chack is different from the other kids. ‘A miracle child’ some might say… Indeed, Chack was born with a slit on his back exposing much of his spine. Biologically, Chack wouldn’t have made it at birth… well he didn’t, technically speaking.

Chack’s grieving parents then decided to keep this unfortunate ‘new-born’ with them forever not only in memory, but also in sight. It’s tough to get each day going, for his parents were miserably poor. Out of a television advertisement, Chack’s mom came across a brand less preserved pickles said to take the town by storm. Sticking to its minimalist concept, the brand less preserved pickles can only be identified by its slogan – “TO preserve, TO serve, TO digest”. And to say, it’s the cheapest one can find in the supermarket.

Back to keeping Chack ‘alive’, his parents who can only afford the cheapest preserved pickles, then stuffed Chack into the medium-sized pickle jar. You see, they were so poor that it was the only given solution and sanity to stuff Chack into a newly bought pickle jar, and with its content still intact.

To everyone’s surprise, Chack astoundingly revived only after 3 weeks of preservation. His parents properly didn’t see it coming, but the fact that through the process of fermentation and pasteurization of the preserved pickles, bacteria were destroyed during the preservation. In addition to the refrigeration in combination with acidification, the cold temperature and vinegar served as the primary element in keeping bacterial spores dormant. Eureka! The slit exposing Chack’s spine was healed as the bacteria were deactivated and little by little, the slit became smaller, and eventually left no scar on Chack’s back!

Instantly, Chack was the talk of the town, he was like a celebrity… people in the town begun to refer him as the ‘pickle boy’, ‘Chack-A-Pickle’, ‘boy wonder in jar’, ‘MUMMY’s boy’, and ‘fermented prick’. These aren’t flattering monikers, but it served enough for Chack’s parents to receive charity donations from foundations and individuals from the city far far away.

Today, Chack is a healthy 8-year-old and goes to school just like the rest of the kids in town. Alas, due to his ‘birth’ in the jar, his body had developed an in-grown limb that became a joint to the jar. Chack has no legs, only pickle jar that is attached to his torso. He is not immobile as he uses his hands to get him places and doing things what usual kids cannot do. Literally, Chack is the boy born out of a jar.

He stinks like a dead pickle, but his parents loves his morbid scent. In the eyes of his parents, Chack is no different from the kids in school.

Author's note: Chack WILL later have a dead Oranda as pet, named George. Haven't not thought of how, why and when yet... watch this spot for the next unfortuante tales of Chack and George the dead Oranda!

2004-11-04T15:39:00.000+08:00

Mr & Mrs Bush

An idiot who ruled the world.

2004-11-02T23:55:00.000+08:00

I'm feeling a little uneasy today. It's 2 November, we all know that America
decides today if the world fights on for a real cause or for nothing at all.

Sure, life goes on after the election... Alas, should life be that easy, most
of us won't be suffering from unruly circumstances and consequences. By the end
of this day, the world, not just America, will take a drastic turn should Bush's
presidency be a thing of the past.

Something's wrong with the world today... one good example is the war in
Iraq. Whist Kerry's policies sounds promising and sincere, the President's empty
promises to fight against terrorism and debased myth of 'weapon of mass
destruction' had veered strategy to absurdity.

Can John Kerry lead a team to overcome terrorism? Now, that's a concern for
sure... and the fact is we have not a clue. Well let's take a look at Bush. You
think he's doing a good job?

This is John Kerry. His painful lessons learnt during his war experiences and
being an activist have carved an impressionistic principle. Kerry wants to set
complexities to feasible equations and build alliances.

This is George W. Bush. Runs his country like a business. Still struggling
behind daddy's shadow. Uninspired, irrational, and basically daddy's brat.

Let's hope that Kerry will get the support his needs, to lead, to strike, to
protect, to vocalise. Keep your fingers crossed!!

TravelBlog: Malaysia, Truly Asia. Chapter 2

2004-10-28T01:19:00.000+08:00

The advantage of staying in Singapore is that one can take frequent trips up to Malaysia even at a restricted budget.

Yes, yes, you'd know by now my rant: Malaysia - truly Asia. This time round, we travelled to the south-eastern part of the homogeneous country over the weekend. It's amazing that each time you go to Malaysia, you would experience a different culture and a contrasting social pace in different states of the country... even though it's homogeneous.

Click on image for a larger view

We've planned a very short road trip over the weekend. Definitely, just two days are not sufficient to explore even the city by itself. Nonetheless, the 4 fantastic travellers set off in bus 160 from Kranji MRT station to get across the causeway. If you're lucky - not being consumed by the heavy traffic and Singaporeans driving luxury cars queuing up to get CHEAP CHEAP bargains in JB, it would take at least 45mins to get across...

The best way of getting about is by car (if you're taking an off-beaten track). Car rentals are relatively affordable in Johor Bahru. For about RM276, you can drive away with a PROTON automatic car within the next 24 hours. However, do be careful that if you were to slightly exceed 24hrs, that's considered 48hrs' rental. Although AVIS Car Rental at the Tropical Inn Hotel (Jalan Gereja, within walking distance from the causeway) costs more than the other available private car rentals, it's definitely more reliable.

First stop was Johor Lama. Sadly, upon driving for about 30km from Johor Bahru, we discovered the site to be vacant - no sight of the palace at all. Apparently, Johor Lama(also know as the Old Johor) is a quiet village, it used to be a royal-seat of the Johor Sultanate after the fall of Malacca. Invasions of the Europeans - a dispute with the Portuguese overturned the cordial relationship to a raid... Johor Lama was destroyed or rather, burned to soil by the Portuguese in 1587. Nothing was left even the artilleries were destroyed, which explained the bareness we witnessed. Naturally, Johor Lama declined and the capital moved to the present Johor Bahru.

Unsatisfied, we set off for yet another historical site - Tanjung Pengelih. One can take a ferry from Changi in Singapore to Tangung Pengelih over a matter of 45 minutes. Once you're there, you can see that it is a common stop for many paddling cyclists... panting. It is also a link for most Singaporeans to affordable seafood at Sungai Rengit. To get to the once British Operation Centre, one would have to take a little hike just outside the ferry terminal. Get prepared to sweat... buckets. Do not expect a recreational trail path -
there isn't any (perhaps we weren't hiking along the right tracks to begin with!). This fort is reputed to have comprehensive facilities such as a small hospital, barracks, bungalows, underground cable system, firing field, and even badminton and basketball courts! Only the Brits thought of leisure during WWII. Of course, the courts were long gone by now. What we saw were lots of pillboxes, barracks (or it seems), water filter, and a sealed underground tunnel.

We deserved good lunch. Like the crowd, we headed to Sungai Rengit for seafood. Sa mbal kangkong, stir-fried squid, 'combo' omelette, and buttered prawns deserve a standing ovation!

After the sumptuous meal, we were off to Desaru in search of accommodation. Desaru, a popular beach resort is a favourite spot for holiday-makers both local and foreign... its casuarinas trees-lined beach and clean water has made many aquatic sports such as snorkeling, fishing, boating, and canoeing possible... NOT. We drove to-and-fro, no ideal accommodation in sight - you know it when commercialism takes over especially when you see hotels which look like bloody Disneyland. And almost all resorts and hotels were vacant, even the receptionists and security guards were nowhere in sight. Talking about being in a twilight zone, this must be it!

Later did we realise that it was Ramadan... boo-hoo.

Thankfully, the trip did not end in vain. We managed to find a little chalet resort with decent beach. For RM250, you can rent a standard double (2 bedrooms) hut for over the weekend. It was dead empty at the Desaru Holiday Chalet we thought it was an ideal place should one needs to write a novel... Little did we know, later into the night, that we had non-discreet nocturnal neighbours made of loud techno trash, tribal markings (dragon tattoos)and super-doper modified automobiles. No novelists in progress. Their music and car engines kept some of us entertained till 7am.

Outside Desaru is a remote town called Bandar Penawar. It was supposed to be a 15-minute drive out. But it was so remote it took us more 30 minutes before we can recognize civilisation through a string of gleaming festive lights.

Dinning in Bandar Penawar is likewise, a remote experience. Food was wonderful, and what amazed us was the built-in karaoke station in the diner. Highly decorated, it is not for the faint-hearted - the station is completed with a disco ball. Seems like mak-rock lives once again.

Last stop was Kota Tinggi waterfall. Again, the urge for some to squeeze a tourism factor had developed the natural surrounding to a resort. Packed with noisy families and disoriented youths, the eagerness to see the waterfall simply drowned.

It would be a real waste as we see more serious commercialism
taking over in rural areas of Malaysia.. Kota Tinggi waterfall is a good example. I am disappointed because this was my second visit to the waterfall within 5 months and changes are visible. Let's just hope that some things are untamable.

To view road trip photos click here.

Man Mistakenly Cuts Off Penis, Dog Eats It

2004-10-06T11:10:00.000+08:00

Received this in the mailbox from Ida...

Really, just what men think about in the morning? Bet they won't thinking at all! I'm more concerned about the dog... hope there is no food poisoning involved.

Man Mistakenly Cuts Off Penis, Dog Eats It

Mon Oct 4,10:41 AM ET Oddly Enough - Reuters

BUCHAREST (Reuters) - A elderly Romanian man mistook his penis for a chicken's neck, cut it off and his dog rushed up and ate it, the state Rompres news agency said Monday.

It said 67 year-old Constantin Mocanu, from a village near the southeastern town of Galati, rushed out into his yard in his underwear to kill a noisy chicken keeping him awake at night.

"I confused it with the chicken's neck," Mocanu, who was admitted to the emergency hospital in Galati, was quoted as saying. "I cut it ... and the dog rushed and ate it."

Doctors said the man, who was brought in by an ambulance bleeding heavily, was now out of danger.

Insane on the left Brain - Randoming the mind

2004-09-30T19:26:00.000+08:00

withered flowers

mother mary

wild child

shir ee

ben harper

cardio arrest

silence

barking dog

empty paper cup

men

christmas trees

pine trees

witches

religion

hungry

dinner

with ida

now

but have to w a i t

sounds

hossan leong

i can bloody hear him from my office

casualty

i can still hear him

annoyed

damn

floating balloons

flying infants

cookies made of babies

mooncake babies

steps

shoes

sirens

8:40pm

vinegar

wine

red

cocoa cola

thrist

withered men

a friend's boyfriend

wild heart

holy

withered weeds

Tim the driver

2004-09-21T02:04:00.000+08:00

All boos received. Yes, I haven't been blogging for quite awhile. Was waltzing to and fro the state of being idling mad and actually just being busy.

Despite the lack of discipline to blog, I have lots of materials in mind... such as the cab ride I took to work the other day. Have you ever met any cabbies that are... hmm... effeminate? So I had booked for a cab (I was miserably late for work), and the cabbie (should we just call him Tim?) welcomed me into the cab with a chirpy morning greeting.. so I thought that was nice.

With a light smile that couldn't grow wide enough (must be the BOTOX I had the previous night... I could only produce a minimum facial movement...), I greeted Tim in the same manner and said what has become a routine "1st Sarkies Road, please. It's along Bukit Timah Road, go by CTE, it's just behind Newton Circus".

With an utter gentle voice, and sultry too, Tim immediately replied, "Ooh... Alliance Française, isss it?" Perfect pronunciation of Alliance Française.. first time I've ever heard from any cabbies. But Tim said it so well that I mistaken my goose bumps as a bad stomach ache .. and Tim said in such gentleness, like a smooth operator... especially how he stressed on the last 2 words - "is it", reduced me down to nothing except for a hopeless woman who needs to revise on her etiquette.

Tim adjusted his sitting posture gracefully and tighten his leather gloves (pretty kinky, if you ask me) as he was going to take off. If he had his shades on him and a safety cap, this is probably how he'd look.

But I have to say, Tim is one heck of a driver. Despite his
soft-spoken mannerism, Tim drives like a macho macho man! He waltz in and out of lanes like he had constructed the expressway himself!! The best thing was that he wasn't a reckless one. The journey to work was fast and smooth... like I was taking a ride on a hovercraft.

Reached work place within 6 mins (inclusive of the morning traffic, mind you!). Certainly impressive! I was thinking Tim needs a pad on the shoulder man! Someone needs to tell him how macho he drives! Of course, those puppy eyes melt my heart right away... the only words that came out of my mouth was "smooth driving there... thanks, I really enjoyed my ride... a good way to start off my morning." No power house adjectives.

Dear readers, if you chanced upon Tim's cab, do say 'hi' for me.

The Sexy Killer

2004-08-22T02:44:00.000+08:00

Dirty little girl! I hate to admit that, but I watched pornographic film some days ago.

Before you start dissing me again, yes... every adult watches pornographic films and there is no real reason as to why men (mostly) make that into one of the main courses in their diet. No, people, no. I didn't have the motive of getting a pathetic HIGH. The intention of watching The Sexy Killer at The Arts House is to have a better glimpse of 'if heroes were women' precept in the Hong Kong movie industry of the 70s.

Of course, it is of not big a deal to pick a R(A) movie for a movie buff's usual weekend entertainment. Alas, Sexy Killer isn't what you'd call an artistic film.. it's one of those you see lonely old men patronising at some obscure cineplexes, such as the one in Chinatown. Dingy.

... there are only 5 audience in the auditorium that hold about 80 seats. Hmm... I wonder why.

The protagonist of The Sexy Killer (1976) is a heroine who pledges to destroy all involved drug syndicates in Hong Kong. Such vehemence came about after her ill-disciplined younger sister turned to drugs and alleging raped by one of the syndicates.

Many a times, some scenes are highly iconic in lights of feminism and over-spilling propagandistic slogans such as "I HATE drugs!!" that simply too cheesy at the end of the day.

Sure, this nurse in white by day transform herself to a sultry hooker by night, would do anything to infiltrate this illegal system... even if it means fighting the men, topless. Indeed, she goes around killing men half naked. This woman single-handedly killed the major syndicates in Hong Kong... how impressive is that??!! Perhaps they were too distracted?? That's mine guess.

Is she insane? Is the love for her "ashward" sister drive her to act in such a manner? Or is it her cunning-intellectual-wimp-sponsored-by-the-drug-lord-and-took-three-bullets-to-die-socialite boyfriend's insincere righteousness that gave her the wrong impression?

Nothing makes real sense... the sex scenes and naked women are the main element in the movie. Watching in utter disbelief, my companions and I were screaming "this is porn!!" in our minds. The empowering sex scenes and naked bodies have overwrite the so-called 'artistic' values of the film... which makes one think - what are they showing films of this genre here?

Perhaps we dwell too much on its art context. As Ida has put it - it takes 3 bullets to kill an intellectual.

Interesting experience... I managed to take a picture during the running, we had great laughs too. Going to watch another porno this coming Friday, would definitely take more obscene pictures of the film.

Dolls?

2004-08-20T23:42:00.000+08:00

Kudos to software programmers! Remember those paper dolls we
used to play with? Candy Dolls takes a step further. Of course, I enjoy the
treat... and you may find these figures rather familiar... happy guessing!!!

Weekend Retreat

2004-08-18T03:47:00.000+08:00

As the slogan goes "Malaysia, Truly Asia", it is with all honesty. No, I have yet traveled to all states in Malaysia... but the every few places I had set my eager foot on in this part of South-East Asia have truly proved to be an unique blend of diverse heritage, of the old and the new, and an evident of commercialism in the landscape of mother nature, all fitting into a harmonious tone.

Of course, I'm not bringing this up for nothing... O all you people know me too well. For those who had been trying to contact me over the weekend, well this would probably solve the mystery to Serene's greatest Houdini moments.

The eureka of such things as wheels to the indigenous bridge-building technique of evolution had allowed my most-needed weekend getaway to Kuala Lumpur for approximately 5½ hours on a "super VIP" coach not feeling exactly 'very important' nor being blessed with superb gifts.

First of all, the idea is NOT to travel from a city to be in another. Haunting for the cheapest bargain isn't my cup of tea, really. The outskirts of KL has definitely much more in-store for the city dwellers who thirst for indulgence of the act of escapism every now and then.

One could easily take a 40-minute drive up to Pahang's Lentang Forest Recreational Park from KL to enjoy the fresh breeze and a little hike up to the waterfall. Quite a handful of nature-loving folks and school children on excursion camp out there as well ...

Old towns never fail to intrigue me... Karak offers the charm of a forgotten little town and durian tarts. I don't know how most of you out there feel about durians, but one thing I can say is that their tarts are heavenly! Accordingly to our very kind weekend tour-guide, this is where the authentic durian tarts came about. In fact, most products from this little kopi shop are made from durian.. it is where I was first introduced to the durian bomb as well. Of durian fillings, the durian bomb (I believe) is fried to a golden brown crisp, which makes it very crunchy. Absolute taste of durian, definitely, but one bomb is enough to get me splattered to a bloodshed scene.. it was simply too much for the tropical climate.

To balance out the nature over-ride, we winded up in a laid-back cafe, just a 5 minutes drive from where we were sheltered for the weekend (Mont Kiara). If memory serves me right, it was Souled Out Cafe/Pub.

A few hours before we headed back to Singapore, Bu Kut Teh was beckoning us. Ah Sang Bu Kut Teh serves very tender meat and stock wasn't too salty or too bland. For RM8.50 per person, a meal is provided - bu kut tek in claypot with a set of Chinese tea. I can't remember the street name... it's either Route 16 or 22... or perhaps none of these is right. I'm beginning to believe that I have a slight degree of dyslexia. Or do you call that dyscalculia? Do fill me up with jargons... those are fine. I seem to have a problem remembering numbers... and I CANNOT count to save a decent life! Ermmm.. what? The square of 3 is??? My inability to count deserves a separated blog entry (soon). ANYWAY, it was a shame that we didn't get to meet Ah Sang.

That was a fruitful weekend.

CATIN DA CLOSET!

2004-08-11T01:09:00.000+08:00

Introducing the ultimate companion ...

CATIN DA CLOSET

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Fruits that make you sick

2004-08-10T15:48:00.000+08:00

So. Our dear accountant is missing in action again. Is she ill? Or did she have had too much to eat again?

Which would it be this time?

Barley?

What kind of fruits can make one so sick instantly? Well i know durians can be too heaty for the body...

Waxing on your cake

2004-08-10T01:54:00.000+08:00

First of all, I should begin this entry by wishing Singapore a merry 39th birthday. Don't mean to displease you, but we didn't put up the flag to celebrate your birthday this year. Now, don't throw your tantrum by refusing my displaced patriotism, I've saved enough candles for the rainy days.

---------------------

So what have YOU been doing on the nation's birthday? Well me, I've been fairly good enough a citizen to stay off the National Stadium from a most-likely stampede after the big birthday bash. Instead, I caught Brit Film Fest's documentary Aileen - The Life & Death of a Serial Killer at Great World City. Almost threw up while watching... no, not because of the gruesome scenes... coz there aren't any. But that bloody fella holding on to an equipment called the video camera, simply cannot keep still!

Enough of side-tracking...

Extravagant jingoism. Running down the street yelling "I LOVE SINGAPORE" does not explain my relationship with my country. And how is a subtle voter any lesser to being a rightful 'citizen' in this country? We don't have to be told how to be patriotic and surely, the desire to step out of the country for a fresh take on life doesn't make one an ungrateful little bastard.

There are moments that remind us just how bonded we are to home. From having kaya toast and kopi O on a lazy morning to taking a cab with a multi-linguistic driver can inject the very fragments of our lives to a cohesive understanding.

Not so long ago, during lunch time, I came across a group of school boys crowding around a provisional shop. One boy was lamenting how he bruised himself during physical education and the other boy suggested that his mother won't be pleased seeing his injury. Spontaneously, but I don't know just how the boys came out with this: "Aiyo, you poor thing, sayang!" And each of them were petting him on the head -- foreseeing the reaction of 'poor thing's mother, complete with a bibik accent. I have not met their mothers, not even knowing their names, I bare say they sounded like their mothers, if not, grannies.

Moment like this warms the heart, and constantly telling us that we're home.

That Curry Flavour

2004-08-01T02:56:00.000+08:00

Yet another Saturday afternoon watching Bollywood films on Vasantham Central.

Dancing, singing, swinging, spinning and basically merry-making is the main focus of all Bollywood productions.

Never a dull moment.

Think about it, these films allow all sort of genres to co-exist. A blend of romance, tragedy, comedy, thriller, action, and much more all in one has definitely hit the big screen not only in India alone, but also in Hollywood and BBC.

You reckon it's bopping about the trees/bushes, rolling down the hill with an erotic rhythm and a bed-ridden mother who can still sing her lungs out before she dies?

My dear readers, Bollywood has evolved. Films are better choreographed, the lead actors are no longer fat and ragged-looking (nonetheless, there are always exception such as Amitabh Bachchan!!), scenarios have advanced from 'the sound of music' hill top to some modern discotheques. With bigger budgets now that Bollywood is hitting hard on the mainstream movie consumptions, do expect several synchronised-dancing elephants.

Despite the improvements in terms of aesthetics, audio impact needs desperate keep-up. Fighting scenes are as always, cringing. Synthetic punches, weak flying kicks sounding almost like that previous punch, and shattering blow of window panes that only lasts for 2 seconds, are literally a slap in the face.

Throw in the punches... some might find these films to be out-of-this-world, however, they do deal with existing issues though somewhat whimsical. After all, most of what we do are an imitation to life - battle with the stigmatism of social classes, political conflicts, and religious crossings. Bollywood constantly induces awareness to the movie goers and in foreign lands.

Bootiful(Beautiful) and undertanning (entertaining), full of the exotic Asian curry flavour. It is also a target for fun-loving satires -- nonetheless, distinctly Bollywood. Goodness Gracious Me!, a BBC TV production remains as one of my all-time favourite shows. These comedians poke sense into the confused identity of being British-born-Indians, and have a satirical approach towards stereotypes and Indian motiffs. It is also a reflection of colonisation upon an independent race and its rich culture.

I'll dance in my sari... if I own one.

*Fortunately, only a few poor souls witnessed my 'dance of seduction' (from Goodness Gracious Me!) on the dance floor...*

Lychee over DOSE

2004-07-27T02:41:00.000+08:00

What is the best way to getaway with a long medical leave? Chicken pox? Foot & Mouth? Extraction of wisdom teeth (I had a month's worth of MC.. after having all 4 extracted at one time)? A broken arm? Missing limbs? Or perhaps claims of inheriting a terminal chronic disease?

C'mon. You can churn out better excuses.

Take my colleague for example. She has gone for an astounding 2 1/2 weeks medical leave. Even our salary has been delayed for her unfortunate medical well-being (she's our accountant, and our ONLY accountant).

Y-Jean and I gathered that she must be suffering from indigestive discomfit caused by the major delight of the absence of our director who has gone back for the summer holiday. And indeed, she claims to be suffering from an over dosage of lychees.

Lychee over-doze. Yes. Lychee. No kidding. Yes, I'm saying that this woman had too many lychees.

Tell me, who in the world can top our accountant?

My constipated Karma (no pun intended, but that's the name of my cat) is recovering at a superb speed compared to her 2 1/2 weeks from lychee over dose.

Bewilded by her condition, my mind couldn't cease but to ponder the diet she follows. Perhaps she had these for the entire day to get her *almost there -

Lychee Syrup

Lychee Black Tea

Lychee Can

And followed by...

Lychee Juice

Dried Whole Lychees

And used other products such as -

Luscious Lychee Glycerin Soap

I do hope this is just a lame attempt to excuse herself from work and tabulating our salaries. If not, I'd really like to know how is it possible to get such an over dose and where are the lychees from... so I can get some for myself should I be desperate for a 2 1/2 weeks break.

No teh-tarek at S11

2004-07-20T02:22:00.001+08:00

Passed by S11 Kopitam at Stamford Road several weeks before and couldn't believe what I saw... yes it's happening.. the infamous coffee shop has been stripped to bare. Dark and no sight of activity was a little hard to gesture as the area was constantly lit with famished night outers, cabbies, young musicians, mak-rockers and the list of diversity goes on.

Today, it's just vacant, bare. So bare that it looks naked, so obscene. In Singapore, changes like these take place at all time - the old giving way to the new - a common sight in a small country whose obsession for the term 'upgrading' has gone out of hand.

Just my fingers alone cannot count how many years has S11 been filling up our famished stomachs and thirst-soared throats. ...Ok, perhaps the food weren't that good and over-priced. But we can't deny that it was a meeting point for most of us. It was a place full with memories... and who can forget that mister transvestite at the beverage vender? Let's just call him Mr. Twinkle shall we? He has been at this job at the kopitam for a really long time... from flat chests to eye-popping silicones: definitely the attraction and feature of S-11.

I had painful experiences with Mr. Twinkle. He was never nice to me. Once, I had made an order of teh-tarek. Immediately, he halted whatever he was doing and stared coldly into my face and with a snappish tone, "Eeh? You think what? You think is this a prata shop is it?? You want teh-tarek you don't come here ah..." Pointing at a direction with wrist excessive injection of silicone, Mr. Twinkle went on: "Go get your teh-tarek at Bencoolen Street ahh!"

Totally uncalled-for... What have I done or said to deserve such unkind cruelty? I mean, there was a queue behind me, for goodness' sake! Despite the injustice, I composed my flabbergasted thoughts to something notably light-hearted "Oh...
then I'd just have tea with milk... without tarek (awkward smile)" Mr. Twinkle was not impressed. Mr. Twinkle had this absolutely scornfulness on his face and demanded "$3.20 lah!" (that was for everything else that I've ordered). And so I walked away with my drinks feeling really perplexed. Like the rest of the time while trying to order anything from Mr. Twinkle there after.

Not so long ago, Ida and I were on the road when we saw... guess what? Mr. Twinkle crossing the road... Bubbled with utter uncontrollable disdain, I urged Ida to run him over with the car. Unfortunately, for some reasons, Mr. Twinkle sensed my deadly intention and stared straight through the windscreen. We froze and had to stop at the traffic right in front of him for Mr. Twinkle to cross the road.

Darn. I wouldn't have think twice about running him down.

No sight of Mr. Twinkle whenever I passed by the area nowadays. Looking at the vacant space reminds me of Mr. Twinkle and his unfavourable remarks. Kinda missed it actually ;p

Soap Operas for the Soul

2004-07-10T03:33:00.000+08:00

"Like sand through the hourglass... so are the days of our live."

Let's be honest here, some of us DO watch soap operas. Stop
giving excuses of not having any other better shows on TV... I reckon we would
do something more constructive if we choose to. ... unless Dr Evil straps
you down and glue your eye lids open - in hopes to destroy the world by
eliminating all human races with the power of soap operas. This way, all human
kind would cringe to death and there will be not a single soul left!!!

Just what is it that entice all these poor souls to something so atrocious?
Is it the night hour? Is it the soft-porn element it tickles?? Or is it the
family issues it complicate??? The triggering point for me is the fact that it
irritates me so. So much so I watch it to see how far this irritation can
stretch. It's impossible to not notice the bad acting, boring and recycled
plots, cringing scripts, and its DUH~ (can't replace it with any other words)
issues. Beats me, really. Each time I had wanted to batter myself to a good coma
with the remote control... but to no avail. I survived and carried on watching
the next day. A vicious cycle.

I reckon the longest running English soap opera on this entire planet is Days
of our Lives. The late night TV schedule is dominated by this soap. And has
always been. Not only that, the programmers find joy to repeat the previous
episode every single day... and on certain days, they show a miserable 3-hour
running rather than the already hard-to-get-pass 1 hour. Days of our Lives has
definitely invaded our lives -- at least on our television
addiction. A simple calculation says it all:

1 weekday (1 hour); 1 weekend (3 hours); x2 for repeats telecast

[(5 x 1) + (2 x 3)]2 = 22 hrs per week

[22 x 4]12 = 1056 hrs per year

As far as I can remember the show has been running since the 80s. Let say
1985.

Therefore, (2004 - 1985) x 1056 = 20064 hrs

Days of our Lives has been running for 20064 hours in the past 19
years of our lives.

That's a lot of time, if you ask me. And this number is not stagnant. Doubt
they are taking this off their programme schedule.

It's incredible how this show is always dealing with the same issues that are
never resolved for like 10 years, same villain who got caught then escaped, and
caught, and escaped again... it just goes on. If one were to miss the show for a
good 5 years, it's easy to catch up... within an episode. Coz NOTHING CHANGES AND NO BLOODY PROGRESSION!

So the question goes back to why are we watching it? Why do we even bother to
leave the TV on when it comes on?

Beats me.

Super-human qualities

2004-07-07T01:15:00.000+08:00

PPppoooOoWW!!!

wWWhhAAammM!!!

KkkAaaabBAAAaaNNGG!!

A little action needed in the METROPOLIS!!

Imagine how bizarre to witness Batman alongside with sidekick boy Robin crusading down a busy street, a shopping mall filled-to-the-brim with rich tai-tais, a football pitch in midst of a match, or challenging taxi drivers to a race on the CTE highway. Nonetheless, superheroes can't help but to be special in our hearts - a fantasy not just only in a boy's world...but also down to that damsel in distress.

These superheroes have definitely come a long way... they have kept us flabbergasted as kids, awed during the adolescent years, tamed through early years of rebellion and continue to intrigue as we grow older.

My first baby tooth gave way to the new, tasting the sweet mouth-watering watermelon at its first breath... it all happened while watching
THE INCREDIBLE HULK on TV with half a watermelon as comfort food/snack... missed half of the episode looking for my tooth instead. And who can forget the over worn Batman and Spiderman t-shirts (does Scooby Doo count??), still running amok
in the house with our favourite superheroes and also on our brief shorts? Chinese lessons became interesting when Elangovan lent his latest issues of Spiderman and X-MEN comics to me... as a keeper. He didn't wish to get distracted in his fav. lesson, hence I had the honour to slip the comics into one of the text books. Perhaps it wasn't a great idea to use the text book as
the facade after all... I mean, my Chinese teacher must had been wondering what made those loosely composed text books that enticing!

Men in tights to the rescue! It's all about the alter-ego: Clark Kent is Superman, Peter Parker is Spiderman, and tele-tubies combine to form Barney. Confusing as it may sound, situations get them in tight spots - how
we ever wish it'd possible to shed our mundane cosmopolitan clowns' wear and into our signature costumes in a phone booth (in Singapore, the little corner we have for the payphone is good enough), evaporate mysteriously in midst of work,
or even spit silk webs onto the school bullies.

My brother had wanted to be a turtle. A ninja turtle. A teenaged one to be precise. Positive alternative to radioactivity. Today, he is green alright. He has been granted... in the army. Enough chemicals had
penetrated his brain. Mom had bought him 4 tortoises and he named them accordingly - Raphael, Michelangelo, Leonardo, and Donatello. These ain't no painters. We're talking about turtle power here. What idiot.

Even up till this day, dreams of discovering that inner strength display the super human quality in us, and hopes of being leaped away by our fav. superheroes into the sky over the towering metropolis reflect how social injustice can affect our lives. We are, after all, our own heroes and we have ourselves as victims to rescue.

So tell me, what kind of superhero would you want to be, with what mighty power/s you have and your ultimate weaknesses. Have a symbol and costume to complete the transformation. Finally, tell me your superhero moniker!!

PS> Yes, I've caught Spiderman 2 ... TWICE! So in love with Tobey Maguire! Now this guy is CUTE! It feels like a high school crash altogether! **weak in the knees**

*For those in Singapore, do make a date with the second part of 'Comic Books: Superheroes Unmasked', next Monday, 10pm, on Arts Central.

Can't think but still Blogging...

2004-07-03T01:39:00.000+08:00

What a day it has been... I'm totally zombified. This is partialy due to the 5% spring cleaning at work, which I had avoided since last November. It was tough, but glad that I've finally done it.

Most intriguing to unveil the kind of stuff (loads of rubbish, mainly) what my predecessor has left behind:

- 1 foldable blue umbrella,

- 20 AO-sized OLD French movies posters, all tucked in a small drawer
with 6-8 folds (amazingly!),

- Another 16 A2-sized OLD French moives posters,

- 3 dozens of photographs, 2/3 of them are the SAME,

- 1 cloth hanger,

- 1 Tin Tin ring-folder,

- 6 boxes of punch tapes, which are obsolete since the early 90s, and

- 3 adhesive tapes that no longer stick. Must have been there for more than 3 years... even the packaging has yellowed.

This got me thinking... what kind of mambo jumbo I left in ELG? It was rare to see the surface of my desk while working there (... nothing much has changed tho'. The mess has teleported to my current space), everyone got used to the messy sight at my corner... post-its, papers meant for recycling, papers for documentation, papers for the permanent collection, just papers everywhere. The ladies in ELG, by odd coincidences have a major junk collection at our working space (or at least during the time i was there). In contrast, the guys kept their area unhealthly clean. Nothing in sight. Absolutely nothing. It freaked me out sometimes while waltzing pass their territories. Perhaps it's just me, clean desks make me uneasy.

A CD album was placed hidden somewhere in my drawer before leaving ELG. It was something I bought on impulse, something I;ve not heard before and insisted to be a little MORE adventurous, then bought it without any prejudice.

Well, not really... on the cover, it stated producer Dave Matthews. I reckon it wouldn't be THAT fallacious.

To my unpleasantly shocked listening tolerance, it was BAD. REALLY BAD. So BAD that I can't remember the title. So BAD that I can't possible find another adjective useful. So BAD that there is absolutely no form of genre to describe the kind of music i unfortunately 'discovered'. And what are the chances the producer shares the same name with THE Dave Matthews.

How disgusting.

The next day, after the misfortunate humiliation i set upon myself, dear colleagues of mine sampled it. And of coz, THEY FLIPPED. Not because it is 'pleasant', but because they enjoyed the amusement. They said they felt sorry for me. I do too.

And so, I hid it in the drawer hoping some newbie would eventually possess it.

Several months into the new job, came a package posted and attentioned to me. A suspicious one. That's right, dear Ida has kindly return the CD to me, with a note saying, "And you think you can run away from me?!?! Muhahaha!!!"

This is a jinx.

Feeling a little mischievious, I posted the CD back to ELG but attentioned it to Phil. Used the same tactic, and left his a tiny note:

"Dear Sir, you are the only lucky contestant for the 'You-know-what' competition. As a winner, you are receiving this prize kindly sponsored by the 'You-know-who' organisation. Congratulations and enjoy your prize. Signing off, 'You-know-why'."

A day later, came a phone call and on the other end of the line, someone muttered "You TWIT.". Obviously, he was refering to me... him being uncle Phil went on, "I know it's you lah... think you very smart is it? think you can get away with this is it? I know you're the twit of the 'you-know-what'."

Drowned in desperation, came "How do know KNOW??!"

Apparently, some numbwit had stamped our company's name on the post. "And I CAN recognise YOUR hand-writing!"

This is like a double whammy. ...despite the effort. *sucks*

Nonetheless, there's always a sliver lining. Phil agreed to chuck it in some dungeon rather than picking it up from him. How kind the man is, don't you think? :P

This is a mighty long post for someone who is highly zombified.

Do you speak my language?

2004-07-01T00:32:00.000+08:00

"Bonjour, comment ca va?"

"bOnJOur... ca va BIEN! Merci!"

"Comment tu t'appelles?"
"Je suis .... , quelle est ta nationalite?"

"Je suis .... , quelle est ta profession?"
"Je suis ... , tu habite ou?"

"J'habite ... "

.... .... awkward silence .... ....

"AU REVOIR!"

"AU REVOIR!!!"

Sounds like a good riddance to me. Those were the only four sentences at my first day of a 3-hour French lesson today. *weird sense of deja vu* You'd find yourself slightly more than ridiculous veering around each corner introducing yourself again and again among 11 other Frenchies wannabe. Thank goodness there were only 11!! Can you imagine if there were 20 of us?? Horrors.

But really, most of the time the only thing you hear are "je swish... ahh... swish... swish... ehh..." and *cough. Well the coughing part came from amateurs like us trying to pronounce the "r"s and most found it hard to silence the "h"s.

Credits given to that intensively 'stimulating' 3 hours, we managed to utter those sentences less atrocious than foreigners trying to speak a foreign native language, trying to not not sound too alien but still sounding foreign. Huh?

My previous lesson, however, was pale in comparison to today's session. Don't get me wrong, I mean, I had a really lovely time with my classmates... but 19 of them? The classroom could have easily been transformed to a pasar malum ... worse.. with irksome gossipy aunties.

The structure of both lessons were about the same, cept' the one I had in the past was more grilling (not necessarily appetising). Hhaha.. yea, a bad joke... I know. Anyway, there was this working-class lady I had as lesson partner one day. Tall, matured, and well-mannered in appearance was how I'd have described her... unfortunately, tables turned right after the lesson.

We were having a conversation session and all questions asked and corresponds were similar to what we had learnt so far. She was supposed to ask me 'what is your name', which goes quelle est votre nom?. I SWEAR it sounded like she uttered something in Japanese! I was so dazed that it was impossible to wack a reply out of me.

"Huh?" was the only thing I could vocalised. And so she repeated herself (dear readers, it's choreographed, I knew what she was asking but was way too dazed), this time, I went "HUH?!?!" with brows almost meeting each other for the first time. And so she went again, KAe-Lay-VO-TONO??? Still sounding like an amazed Japanese with her dessert.. she could have almost applaused "Oi Shii!!!" displaying her utmost indulgence with eyes wide open. How cute. I was thinking she could draw out her HELLO KITTY phone pouch anytime now, and be graced with confettis of sakura flowers. By this time, my very kind classmates were helping me out.

To my well-suppressed horror (my fear of having to converse with Miss Sakura again), we had to present a dialogue but with a bit of role changing. For example, you can say whichever country you're from, alter your name, so on and so forth. So Miss Sakura introduced herself as .... guess what... Yukiko (meaning Snow Child) from Japan!!! Am I hallucinating? Is there a dragger I see before me?!?!

Afterwards, the entire class sounded Japanese to me. Perhaps it was just moi but think it's impossible to go on with a class of mixed identities.

I honestly think Miss Sakura has enrolled to a wrong language school.

Email Warfare

2004-06-30T16:55:00.000+08:00

Yes Yes... procrastation is sipping its way through again. Like that 8 out of 10 times, I'm doing things OTHER than work... this includes the highly-additive-when-you're-not-that-busy blogging business.

Perhaps it's just me ranting again: you know how irriating it can be when you know there's someone out there watching your minute steps... especially scrutinising your emails?

For example (let's just call the author T):

Just a week ago, an email flyer was sent out announcing a particular event at work. It states:

Prior to the posting.. it was a shame that I missed a particular word out. Soon after, an email came from T saying:

Serene,

masturbation is spelt with a U not an E (as in the sample image sent out to this mailing list... under 'tantric mast_rbation'. It seems to be a common spelling mistake amongst singaporeans.

I think its ok to be cheeky but if the artist wants to make such a point, he should be able to SPELL!

http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=masturbation

Regards, T

Having to protect my artist, I replied:

Dear T,

Thanks for your email.

Indeed, the word 'masturbation' is formally spelt with a 'u'. However, it is very common that most people, not just Singaporeans spell it with an 'e'. Despite this little hiccup, I reckon it proves more than a error in spelling in the English language. As you've pointed out (in your opinion that's the common mistake Singaporeans make) the mis-spelling of the word serves to be (in this case) the root of culture and identity, esp. when dealing with issues such as cultural vs. self censorship as this exhibition display.

Nonetheless, I appreciate your feedback and discussion. Should you have more questions, do feel free to email me.

Congratulations on your opening this Thursday, I will try to make it.

Best, Serene

Soon after:

Dear Serene,

good response! ;)

Maybe it was a sweeping generalisation I must admit; it was in fact very fresh in my mind, as my (Singaporean) friend was in fact using the term in her writings and hence I joined the dots by sheer deduction, and alas, I came to such a conclusion.

That said, I do wonder however on the tendency of different nationalities on spelling the word... e.g., I might expect a Japanese national to write in phonetic terms: mastArbation; while I would admit that the same error (as done in the case of the Singaporean) would likely be repeated by people from the USA who tend to slur and confound the 'UR' for 'ER'. When it comes to
the French, I am quite sure that they would not make this mistake, as there is quite an emphasis on the 'U' phoneme, which therefore renders it highly unlikely to commit such 'faux-pas'.

So upon some reflection, I must concur with you that the mispelling of the word may indeed not be directly related to Singapore's cultural identity. One may go so far to say that it is more likely a reflection of the influence of surrounding cultures such as USA and Australia.

I must also in hindsight reconsider my generalisation as it is a poor reflection on the large number of people in this great country that actually can spell...

Therefore the question really is, did your artist go to such depths in contemplating the meaning of the Singaporean cultural identity or are they simply trying to be sensationalist on a more superficial level? I would tend to think you are being rather kind and forgiving in your suggested rationale expressed to me on behalf of your artist(e)...

Regards, T

Unforunately, I was too buzy that week to embark on this email warfare. But another email was sent out to clarify certain things and he seized his chance:

Is the last minute change also a reflection of Singapore's cultural identity where last minute changes are the norm? ;)

Sorry couldn't help this one...

Will you drop by at my exhibition tomorrow? Bring only interesting friends that either have something to say or are really good looking.

hehe

regards, T

And the final reply from me:

Thanks for your email, T. Well, should I then say that men don't usually read their emails thoroughly a sweeping comment?

Field for clarification: there isn't any last minute change, or changes in fact. Yesterday's email was sent out solely to highlight the opening date for the exhibition is 25th, which this coming Friday. Reason for this is because I've received some calls from people who thought 23rd was the opening. Is it a habit for men to see and not read?

>Is the last minute change also a reflection of Singapore's cultural identity where last minute changes are the norm? ;)

Is that a reflection of the national's cultural identity? Is it a norm? I reckon that depends on the nature of the job... e.g. events, festival management, etc. Last min changes may reflect negatively on a person/company. But if its for the better, it shows flexibility and creativity to a certain degree. Of course, constant changes can be frustrating. I always thought that working culture in Singapore only 'play-by-the-book'...

Pretty busy with the exhibition this Friday. Shall try to make my way down to your opening tonight. Alas, it's too early to tell if I have anything to say, and I'm not too sure about the 'bring along good looking friends' part. :)

Cheers,

Serene

Ouch! Think I was too harsh on that... *little horns spurning out of my head*...

He hasn't replied since...

Could Have Died in 1991

2004-06-30T00:12:00.000+08:00

"So, give me yourself, a location, and an embarrassing situation." Dawn said with such nonchalant expression yet enthusiastic tone. This conversation took place just several hours before at Gardens, at our usual hangout place... Let me clarify this, it's our favourite spot but we seldom chill out there together, and when we do, it's with other friends. Thus we should do it more often, yea Dawn?

It's always painful to recall times when you have been simply an embarrassment. Nonetheless, having mentioned that, time flew back when I was merely 11, in a camping trip, somewhere deserted at East Coast. It was a school camp, all primary 5 pupils were to attend unless you were not physically on par with the other kids... remember how our teachers used to say "com-pow-sa-rie (compulsory) hor!".

Being green that I was, that was the first camping trip. And really, it was a game of popularity! A question of being chosen as part of one's tent mate. Naturally, all those teachers' pets formed a tent, the smarty pants with stunning schoolbags formed another, and how can we forget those popular Chinese girls with long black hair, fair complexion, sweetest smiles and appear to have different pretty pretty hairpins each week? That was what we called the 'Chinese girls clan'... totally obnoxious and their fathers would pick them up in luxurious automobiles after school. Complete show-offs. Teachers love their parents more than them.

Glad that I wasn't sharing the same tent with them... then again, I wasn't popular. Boo-hoo-hoo. Already, in pre-school I remember being grouped with the queer, skinny, obese, and the non-Chinese kids (weird times... remember there was this brother-sister twins. Very odd indeed... the brother would repeat whatever the sister says and she would constantly apologise to us for having to bear with her 'stupid' brother and they always argued because she calls him a parrot). So there wasn't a difference there and then... I'd reckon them to be the cool bunch after all.

Day activities could have just killed me there. Could have died in 1991. Cycle of resurrection went on for 3 bloody days.

There seems to be campfire every evening. I fear campfire the most. Believe me, it wasn't the fire... but a bunch of singing and merry-making kids who knew each and every campfire songs and over-enthusiastic teachers trying to get the other kids to participate. I was utterly amused that it seemed all kids knew the lyrics to all the songs, on top of that, they danced to each beat as if it was choreographed! O c'mon, were everyone from the scouts and brownies? All I did was to lip-synch and mimicked each movement, that made a fool hell out of me.

The embarrassing moment came on the last day of the campfire, in midst of merriment, of song and dance. As usual... I was keeping close the previous tactic of mimicking other children.. and mindlessly by then. Just when I thought that I was about to have enough of this, all the other children were staring wide-eyed at me - there I was, lost in thoughts and still mimicking despite all of them have been seated.

The whisperings and giggles surrounded the campfire. With utter humiliation, I'd rather be buried alive.

So to kids who are reading this, memorise all the campfire songs and movements before your next camping trip and save yourself from complete embarrassment.

This is a true-to-life account. It still haunts me up to this day.

Bizarre Bazaar

2004-06-29T17:16:00.000+08:00

DUH~ thanks to Ida, I realised that I've been spelling bizarre as bazaar... not once but twice! How stupid!

Bazaar ≠ Bizarre

Missed work today. Called my boss and reported sick... well close... I couldn't get up :( It's all good tho'. I woke up at about 4:45pm. Had actually wanted to go to the bank!!

Still feeling a little ... ... :(

On with the Journey, Yo-Yo Ma & the Silk Road Ensemble

2004-06-27T02:50:00.000+08:00

It was my first time seeing Yo-Yo Ma performing live and has been on my 'before I die' list for the longest time.

Indeed, the aniticpation was worthwell. Yo-Yo Ma and the Silk Road Ensemble explores the relationship between tradition and innovation in music from the East and West, a rare merge of strangers at the cross road (Silk Road).

Yo-Yo Ma

The maestros have made The Esplanade as one of their journeys... a melting pot where cultures and identities are interwined and shared.

By far, this is the first ever music performance I've encountered that blends both oral and visual story-telling in its process. The narrator tells folktales of the 'Journey to the South' accompanied by the musicians of the Silk Road Ensemble... stories of the Chinese dynasties which I faintly recalled or knew. It is my cultural background which I am not familiar with... thus this performance is an exploration for me as part of this culture and tradition, where place and time are concerned.

Oboe player Jaime Gonzalez and kayagum (Korean zither) player and vocalist Jihyun Kim perform "Tryst" by composer Jaqueline" Jeeyoung Kim at the Silk Road Project Workshop at L'Academie musicale de Villecroze in 2001.
Credit: ©2001Bruno le Hir de Fallois, L'Académie musicale de Villecroze

This performance is not just yet another music performance by Yo-Yo Ma if one would to expect his rendition of Bach's cello suites. This is a world-class performance and developing project, which will continue to explore the whole area of possiblities by understanding and relooking at the Silk Road's historical and cross-cultural diffusions of arts, technologies, and musical traditions.

This is where strangers meet. A journey everyone will take... a worthy journey.

On a lighter note:

Silk Road Ensemble members Shane Shanahan (percussion), Kojiro Umezaki (shakuhachi), Wu Man (pipa), Ben Haggarty (storyteller), and John Bertles (music educator) pictured at the Peabody Essex Mu seum for "Creative Exchanges: Sights and Sounds of the Silk Road."
Credit: ©2003 Marc Teatum

----------------------------------------

And so I was inspired... I'm playing again...

Rock Concert on Disney Land!

2004-06-25T02:28:00.000+08:00

It's always intriguing to watch rock bands performing live, especially international act such as Linkin Park. I must confess that Linkin Park is my least-liked band on the list.. nonetheless, dying for some action and amusement, the few of us decided to give them a go at the Padang.

There were certainly a crowd... and surely feels good to get that youthful vibe again. As one walked through the gates, the whole idea of a rock concert was transformed to a healthy, family oriented Disney 'tra-lala-la' land. Young (not under aged teens), but very young children can been seen almost at all corners. Wonder if parents were aware that it is after all, a rock concert where chaos are supposed to take over. Astounishingly, this is the most orderly and controlled concert ever: no body surfing or marsh pit, children running around like it was disney land, and the only drink served was COCA-COLA! So what happened to all those alcohol? Perhaps they should too have bubble-tea stations around.

Without doubt, Linkin Park had put up a great performance. What was lacking is a group of a more active audience and less kids running around each corner.

Very bazaar indeed...

Had wanted to post more pictures of the stage, but they turn out to be fuzzy... partly because where we were standing, it was pretty tough to see anything to begin with...

Floating Straw

2004-06-21T23:09:00.000+08:00

It's amazing how product-makers take extra care with packaging. For example:

'http://photos1.blogger.com/img/234/1013/320/french%2520cafe.jpg'>

This is a pre-mixed iced coffee from 7Eleven. Nice packing, and comes with various flavours. A short straw is attached to the package and was wondering how should one use it since the length does not match the cup... But astonishingly, it's a floating straw! How clever! As you can tell, this is my first encounter with a floating straw. Utterly amazed :)

Meanwhile in Gotham City:
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When he thinks he's king

2004-06-20T15:20:00.000+08:00

Woke up from a lovely Sunday late morning and enjoyed a good cup of coffee over the daily newspaper... this was what I found when I return to the bedroom...

THE INTRU-DER!

What a QUICHE!

2004-06-16T15:07:00.000+08:00

Darn, cost of mushroom quiche at the cafe here has gone up again! From the already costly $6 to $6.50 and the portion has been reduced! I bet a good 2cm too! What I find really ridiculous is the whole set (salad by-the-side) costs $10.60! I mean, it's just salad... how pricey can it get? Would you pay another 4 bucks for a pathetically ill-portioned salad? Well I know I won't.. esp. when I don't eat my greens! :P

I came across this on MSN website while multi-tasking (so-called slackingly non-progressive):

Definitely tempting... I'm one step closer to my hippie dreams. Melbourne and Paris (well, i would prefer Nice)!!

Zuji has got the best deals without a doubt. Bought my last ticket from them, and was very efficient. However, the only boo-boo was the tele-communication... Dear fellow Singaporeans, do pronounce 'S' loud, clear, and appropriately. If not, your tickets would be mailed to someother places instead of your residential apt. Mine was posted to 'Ferngoon' rather than 'Serangoon'. So mind your Singapore slang ;)

I'm just glad that they didn't mistaken my name as Ferene.

hahaha...

Parential Guidance with facts about bloody working life.

2004-06-10T23:42:00.000+08:00

This is where I drag myself to almost every waking morning. Not that I dislike my job or hate the office (in fact, I have a nice little cosy, rather messy space)... i enjoy what i'm doing. However, not when entertaining expatriate tai-tais who have too much money and time to spare. It's incredible how they spend their days mingling around the cafe and hear their little gossips whenever one passes by.

I work in a female dominated environment. It's scary coz my superiors are known to have their moodswings.. well after all, most of us have that. Oh and they love to gossip.. so much so I can hear them from my office and would sometimes capture us to pay attention to their latest gossips and complains! I yearn to be left alone and do my job. Each morning you can hear them yakking all the way, smell the "dragon lady's" aged perfume since, i believe, of the 18 hundreds from a mile away. It's pretty depressing to work actually.

Perhaps i should too introduce you to the DRAGON LADY. "DO NOT step on her toes... you life would be a living hell!" This was her only introduction by the 'others'. It was said that the old dragon of the Merc parked beside the facade has been running amok here for almost 20 years. She's definitely infamous... anyone would know her as 'the woman who constantly yelling in the cafe'. That's fine coz the cafe's hers... it was fine too when she called in the police to arrest one of her customers simply becoz he commented that the food wasn't that good.

So have I stepped on her toe yet? Well i hope not... but i've crossed her path so far... that's fustrating enough. Nonetheless, she can be rather kind when she's in a good mood, which usually is short-lived.

My view from office of an everlasting construction

However Dragon Lady isn't my boss. She's the PA who technically speaking has more say than her own boss. Anyhow, my boss is the one who makes the day gloom despite her chirpy front. She would yell out my name in French (which does not sound that sexy after all) even before she approaches my office... and has the tendency to poke her nose into very single matter.

*All characters are fictional, should there be similar names of the living or dead individuals mentioned in this article, it is purely coincidence... should my boss be reading :)

I NEED COFFEE!

2004-06-09T14:13:00.000+08:00

it's 2:14pm, right after lunch. it's incredible what we allow the things to enter our mouths... in fact, most of what we eat, half of it, we don't know just what the hell it is! We do try out new recipes to spice up the taste bud, however, it's an entirely different thing for lunch. we eat just to drown the morning bitterness working life has left us with.

so i had 'ayam soi', very salty chicken basically (which oddly reminds me of Wayne...hahaha.. his yummy soy sauce chicken of coz!), and had coffee as usual. but today's coffee tasted odd. tasted like banana. very odd indeed. think of having slices of bananas in your coffee.

anyway, i'd reckon my lunch had just killed me. Would someone get me some REAL coffee please???!!

Into Dust

2004-06-09T01:10:00.000+08:00

I could possibly be fading
Or have something more to gain
I could feel myself growing colder
I could feel myself under your fate
Under your fate

Imagine... Eva Cassidy

2004-06-06T02:57:00.000+08:00

Eva Cassidy (1963 - 1996)

I first came across Eva Cassidy's rendition of "Ain't No Sunshine" earlier this year while cruising in the car with my cousin, in a cold Melbourne night. Oddly, this song had been ringing in my ears during my entire trip (coz it was everywhere I go.. simply amazing, twice by Bill Withers and once by a young band called Cut Diamond playing at Finbars in Melbourne)! However, I didn't realise who Eva Cassidy was until much latter.

Coincidentally, Cassidy's voice lingers on while I was taking a ride in a cab to work just several days ago. The radio station had played her cover of The Beatle's "Imagine". Her rendition was compelling and full of inner emotions, had definitely sent shivers down my spine. It was so heartfelt that it brought sprinkles to my eyes. I must say, it was the best cover (or should I say better than The Beatles), by far, I've ever heard.

Sadly, her efforts are posthumous. Cassidy died of skin cancer in 1996, she was only 33. The global music scene has missed Cassidy - recognition only came about 5 years after her death.

A singer, and as well as a visual artist, Cassidy's career is bitter-sweet, and so to her fans all around the world.

"You may say I’m a dreamer,
but I’m not the only one,
I hope some day you'll join us,
and the world will live as one."

Je bouquine, je dévore, j'adore!

2004-06-01T02:31:00.000+08:00

I’ve been seeing this French publication left on the shelf of “50¢! A VENDRE!” (means for sale) ever since the beginning of April at my workplace. The library we have here often display the out-dated books and magazines on cheap sale. Most of the other books have been snapped out, however, this flimsy magazine which reads Je Bouquine (I Read) remains and untouched… or so it seems. Cover is an illustration of dejected looking young girl with her cello (that’s the reason why it caught my attention). It says Je ne joue plus (I do not play anymore) which I latter found out, says pretty much the same for me too.

Je Bouquine is a cultural magazine, illustrating contemporary French novels with tastefully done comic strips. In this issue, Je ne joue plus was written by French novelist Hervé Mestron and illustrated by Pierre Bailly. Music and films also go into the monthly magazine. A great way to learn French literature… after all, it is meant for kids from 10 to 15 years of age.

…Alright…

For almost 6 months now working at the Alliance, I’ve never did step into the library for its supposed reasons; never have I borrowed or purchased a French reading material. So I’ve decided to set my foot in for once – at least for a proper reason. With my weak sounding and extremely limited French did I greet our librarian and of course, big smile to elevate my painfully awkward greeting and the ‘s'il vous plaît's. Basically, I would love to pay for my little soon-to-be procession. With a sweet smile, our librarian offered the magazine as a compliment. Ever though it’s only worth 50¢, her gesture is worth a great impression and a token of encouragement to at least learn to speak proper French. For that, I’m glad that I’ve stepped into the library for its right reasons.

Unfortunately, my proficiency in French is beyond what you would call zero, therefore, for the story Je ne joue plus, I’d have to RE-take French lessons to fathom the entire novel/magazine. This will take awhile…

Akram Khan Company kicks off Singapore Arts Festival 2004

2004-05-31T01:58:00.000+08:00

"ta is for sky, let me tell you a story..."

Ma by Akram Khan Company

A cosmology of dance, storytelling, and music is Akram Khan Company's latest production Ma and its world premiere for the Singapore Arts Festival 2004.

Dance performance is not the usual cup of tea for me (thanks to the unprogressive SDT), nonetheless, Ma was a great experience. Having a soft spot for anything traditional and with a pinch of contemporary or vice-versa, Ma combines the traditional dance form Kathak with self-expressive body movements as its dancing pulses.

Ma is a story of the struggle and conflict of human and nature, inspired by Indian novelist Arundhati Roy's essays on farmers in India evicted from their home land to make way for the effects of globalisation. Storytelling as an art form, Ma is a collaboration of voices as instrument, and the dancers as the storytellers.

However, Ma lacks climax. Viewing as a form of reading and conceptalising, the performance did not grasp its structure of telling a humanistic story, and it is unfortunate that one could plainly divert his/her attention quite easily.

Ma has its full potential, but needs to reinvent and improvise before it hits the road.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

2004-05-29T23:55:00.000+08:00

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep–while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

Edgar Allan Poe

If you're wondering why I'm in refering the film "Eternal Shinshine of the Spotless Mind" to Edgar Allan Poe's "A Dream within a Dream", that's because the film has in fact, connotions to this poem of the coexistence of physical and mental state of mind.

The title of this film by Charlie Kaufman (same guy who gave you Being John Malkovich & Adaption... and these are films you bury with you when death comes knocking!), is in fact a line taken from one of the MANY stanzas in Alexander Pope's "Eloisa and Abelard".

"How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;
Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;
"Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;"
Desires compos'd, affections ever ev'n,
Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heav'n."

Spotless (for short) is a love story, well... at least a twisted love story of lovers 'trying' to erase each other from their memory, but only to realise that they just can't efface someone whom they loved so much... ironically, this realisation came about while the protagonist was comatosed, in reality but not in dreamscape.

Time frames are sliced in this film, like in dreams, there's never a sense of time, space, and action.

"...
I call aloud; it hears not what I say;
I stretch my empty arms; it glides away.
To dream once more I close my willing eyes;
Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise!
...
Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies;
Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise.
I shriek, start up, the same sad prospect find,
And wake to all the griefs I left behind.

...
Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign;
Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine.
Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view!)
Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu!
..."

Staying close to the poem, Spotless has portrayed the eagerness to wake and resentments to reality of error. A definite must watch for at least twice film.

Does this remind you of good-old school days?

2004-05-28T16:51:00.000+08:00

Well, not actually. This was taken in an art gallery, and the desks and chairs, plus the paint-on chalkboard are an art installation. This piece is called 'History Class' by Thai artist, Sutee Kunavichayanont.

NEXT MOVE. Contemporary Art from Thailand @ The Earl Lu Gallery, March 2003