Wednesday, April 07, 2010
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
Urban Soul
The Urban Soul. Always restless and wandering. Desires creativity and inspiration; craves freedom and spaces. Seeks out remnants of delights in the everyday and finds solace and excitement in pockets of urban. Deplores banality and repetition. Love its antithesis.
The soul bares it all
The dark soul
Dreams are written down big
Like two paws. Aesthetic Repetition for the mundane.
It's the colours, stupid!
Finding hidden inspiration
Boxes
To transform, be transformed.
Quivering Shimmers
Grey Matter, but no matter
Slice through the bread
Be somebody.
Songs for the girls we never dated. You need a few HMV music stores, man.
Urban soul needs nourishment too
Open for heart-to-heart talk, but make appointment please
The soul bares it all
The dark soul
Dreams are written down big
Like two paws. Aesthetic Repetition for the mundane.
It's the colours, stupid!
Finding hidden inspiration
Boxes
To transform, be transformed.
Quivering Shimmers
Grey Matter, but no matter
Slice through the bread
Be somebody.
Songs for the girls we never dated. You need a few HMV music stores, man.
Urban soul needs nourishment too
Open for heart-to-heart talk, but make appointment please
Monday, April 05, 2010
the CATCHER in the TRAIN
"Sorry...I can't help but notice you are reading Catcher in the Rye."
My concentration in reading was suddenly cut off by a youthful female voice from my side. I looked up and was greeted by the face of a young lady. She looks like she's around 20 years old. She spoke rather apologetically, as though conscious of and worried that her unexpected interruption would be met with rebuke and unfriendliness.
Having got my attention now, she continued in her timid but firm voice: "Did you get it from a local bookstore somewhere?"
I was a little thrown off the course but was able to grasp her question and give a reply.
"Oh, i got it from Kino."
And that was it. She promptly thanked me before turning to the other side. As quickly as she had stunned me with the question, she had disappeared back to her original position, probably embarrassed at having accosted a complete stranger in the train. I couldn't concentrate after that and was started to make some speculations.
Given the very English way that she spoke and her interest in a rather literary piece of work at her young age, I guessed she is probably a literature student. Yet I remained rather half convinced because I thought a literature student must surely be acquainted with local bookstores than to ask that question. She could even have asked her fellow lit friends or borrowed the book from the school library.
I reckoned she must have been looking for the book for a long time but to no avail. If not, what could have made her summon the courage to interrupt a stranger standing in the train? Her body was completely slanted to the side after she thanked me, such that there's no way we could have made any further eye contact. Two stations later, she alighted the train, and I quickly forgot about the incident and returned to my book.
She was clearly interested in the book only, not the reader.
I bought The Catcher in the Rye only a week ago. It's a classic and very entertaining read. Embarrassingly, it was the writer's recent death that provided the catalyst for me to start reading it. Like a few other books, Catcher in the Rye has always been around and featured in the bookstores as one of those literary classics. I tend to avoid these mass-publicised books, preferring to start on them later.
Then came news of the writer's passing on. I read the papers and for the first time got acquainted with the writer and the novel that brought him fame. I knew I had to read the book and would enjoy it. I was proven right. Reading the novel, I found myself smiling, if not laughing, often, as though I am reading part of myself in some of the situations described. It's quite a gem really. I only regret that I didn't get started on it earlier.
Excerpt:
My concentration in reading was suddenly cut off by a youthful female voice from my side. I looked up and was greeted by the face of a young lady. She looks like she's around 20 years old. She spoke rather apologetically, as though conscious of and worried that her unexpected interruption would be met with rebuke and unfriendliness.
Having got my attention now, she continued in her timid but firm voice: "Did you get it from a local bookstore somewhere?"
I was a little thrown off the course but was able to grasp her question and give a reply.
"Oh, i got it from Kino."
And that was it. She promptly thanked me before turning to the other side. As quickly as she had stunned me with the question, she had disappeared back to her original position, probably embarrassed at having accosted a complete stranger in the train. I couldn't concentrate after that and was started to make some speculations.
Given the very English way that she spoke and her interest in a rather literary piece of work at her young age, I guessed she is probably a literature student. Yet I remained rather half convinced because I thought a literature student must surely be acquainted with local bookstores than to ask that question. She could even have asked her fellow lit friends or borrowed the book from the school library.
I reckoned she must have been looking for the book for a long time but to no avail. If not, what could have made her summon the courage to interrupt a stranger standing in the train? Her body was completely slanted to the side after she thanked me, such that there's no way we could have made any further eye contact. Two stations later, she alighted the train, and I quickly forgot about the incident and returned to my book.
She was clearly interested in the book only, not the reader.
I bought The Catcher in the Rye only a week ago. It's a classic and very entertaining read. Embarrassingly, it was the writer's recent death that provided the catalyst for me to start reading it. Like a few other books, Catcher in the Rye has always been around and featured in the bookstores as one of those literary classics. I tend to avoid these mass-publicised books, preferring to start on them later.
Then came news of the writer's passing on. I read the papers and for the first time got acquainted with the writer and the novel that brought him fame. I knew I had to read the book and would enjoy it. I was proven right. Reading the novel, I found myself smiling, if not laughing, often, as though I am reading part of myself in some of the situations described. It's quite a gem really. I only regret that I didn't get started on it earlier.
Excerpt:
"Anyway, it took me about half hour to find out where they all worked and all in Seattle. They all worked in the same insurance office. I asked them if they liked it, but do you think you could get an intelligent answer out of those three dopes? I thought the two ugly ones, Marty and Laverne, were sisters, but they got very insulted when I asked them. You could tell neither one of them wanted to look like the other one, and you couldn't blame them, but it was very amusing anyway.
"I danced with them all - the whole three of them - one at a time. The one ugly one, Laverne, wasn't too bad a dancer, but the other one, old Marty, was murder. Old Marty was like dragging the Statue of Liberty around the floor. The only way I could even half enjoy myself dragging her around was if I amused myself a little. So I told her I just saw Gary Cooper, the movie star, on the other side of the floor.
"Where?" she asked me - excited as hell. "Where?"
"Aw, you just missed him. He just went out. Why didn't you look when I told you?"
Sunday, April 04, 2010
Yesterday once more #1: 传 统
看到杂货店的玩具让我冋想起许多回忆。这些简单玲珑的玩具并非是什么贵品,但它们可是许多儿童所梦想的好伙伴。
曾几何时,你我不也是这些儿童,追求着同样的梦想吗?
怀旧的经典唱片
Where parents and in-laws buy the necessary items for newly-weds
天长地久,百年好合. [It helps that the colourful shirt caught my attention.]
婚姻物品
饱经沧桑
八下的景观
seletar, seletar
While the guys are either overseas for holidays or preoccupied with family obligations this weekend, I thought I could do with a little secret training to boost my fitness. But alas, I woke up to an ominously grey sky in the morning, and knew better than to take any chances. So I promptly went back to sleep.
Not long after - I was in the morning semi-sleeping state - it started pouring outside, and when I say pouring, I really mean pouring: it's like water poured continuously out of a bucket, except that the number of buckets is what you need to cover the entire horizon. So my sleeping in was perfectly justified.
But I am disappointed, to say the least. The whole week, I had been looking forward to Sunday. I had planned to take a slow ride to Lower Seletar Reservoir, which is the vicinity of the Seletar Airbase. It's a lovely place, and if i get there early enough, it would have been a very nice ride with a view of the reservoir. And Jalan Kayu is nearby, beckoning with roti prata. Instead of all this, the space here would have been filled with pictures of the long road to seletar, the quiet surrounds of the reservoir. Unfortunately, things didn't turn out that way.
Till the next time!
Not long after - I was in the morning semi-sleeping state - it started pouring outside, and when I say pouring, I really mean pouring: it's like water poured continuously out of a bucket, except that the number of buckets is what you need to cover the entire horizon. So my sleeping in was perfectly justified.
But I am disappointed, to say the least. The whole week, I had been looking forward to Sunday. I had planned to take a slow ride to Lower Seletar Reservoir, which is the vicinity of the Seletar Airbase. It's a lovely place, and if i get there early enough, it would have been a very nice ride with a view of the reservoir. And Jalan Kayu is nearby, beckoning with roti prata. Instead of all this, the space here would have been filled with pictures of the long road to seletar, the quiet surrounds of the reservoir. Unfortunately, things didn't turn out that way.
Till the next time!
Saturday, April 03, 2010
it's sunday tomorrow
For once I just feel so glad and relieved that tomorrow is Sunday and not a working day. Yesterday was a public holiday, so it kind of felt like with the passing of today, it would be back to work tomorrow. Thank goodness it's not.
I feel so tired from today's trip. As evening came and I was on my way home, the thought that the weekend hasn't ended, that tomorrow's Sunday, struck me quite randomly, and I just heaved a sigh of relief. For the working man, a free day is just so, so precious.
Here's cheers to Sunday tomorrow!
I feel so tired from today's trip. As evening came and I was on my way home, the thought that the weekend hasn't ended, that tomorrow's Sunday, struck me quite randomly, and I just heaved a sigh of relief. For the working man, a free day is just so, so precious.
Here's cheers to Sunday tomorrow!
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Sunday, 28th March
I love my Sunday mornings: the feel of cool morning breeze in my face; the still silent streets that are taking their time to get cracking; the friendly sky peeking above; and the gentle, luxuriant rays spreading across the earth.
It's all so lovely and is the perfect way to be reminded of the beauty of mornings.
Sunshine flooding the field
Classified Road
Bikers' Territory
I love these hanging colourful triangular flags - they always evoke a positive and carnival feel.
Im drawn to such quaint single-storey old buildings. Pity this is out of bounds.
It's all so lovely and is the perfect way to be reminded of the beauty of mornings.
Sunshine flooding the field
Classified Road
Bikers' Territory
I love these hanging colourful triangular flags - they always evoke a positive and carnival feel.
Im drawn to such quaint single-storey old buildings. Pity this is out of bounds.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Perfect Sunday
I couldn't ask for a more perfect Sunday. An excellent weather for a morning ride. Then the perfect storm to snuggle in bed. And like the day before, the rain retreated come evening, leaving behind a trail of wet debris but cool air. Lovely.
No words could describe how gorgeous the scene was. The fields were shimmering under the flood of soft golden sunlight that illuminated the entire area.
I often marvel at how taking a few steps forward or backwards or shifting one's position, could give a different kind of pleasure simply from seeing things from another angle. The most inanimate things can lend aesthetic pleasure if one can appreciate them.
Three lines across
Beauty from ground to top
.JPG)
Reflections after downpour
A street lamp and its tree pal stand against the last light
No words could describe how gorgeous the scene was. The fields were shimmering under the flood of soft golden sunlight that illuminated the entire area.
I often marvel at how taking a few steps forward or backwards or shifting one's position, could give a different kind of pleasure simply from seeing things from another angle. The most inanimate things can lend aesthetic pleasure if one can appreciate them.
Three lines across
Beauty from ground to top
Reflections after downpour
A street lamp and its tree pal stand against the last light
Saturday, March 20, 2010
After the saturday rain
On my way home this evening, instead of heading straight home after I got off the train, I decided to walk over to the park. A few minutes ago, I was standing in the train, feeling tired and hoping to get home as quickly as I could. But then I looked out the window and saw the blue sky passing imperceptibly by as the train was pulling into the station. It was carrying the remnants of the undischarged rain, light grey clouds that were floating slowly in the same direction, as though dreary from the rain battle that had gone on for the whole day. There was something alluring about the scene, which is probably the sense of tranquility evoked by the after-rain evening.
My spirits were as light as my steps as I crossed the road, stepped on the grass and moved to the edge of the lake. Parts of the ground were still wet from the day's rain, while a gentle breeze refreshened my tired body. Then finally, I got an unobstructed view of the sky. Though it didn't seem as magnificent as it did when I saw it on the train, it now has moving water beneath and distant concrete outcrops to complement its silent symphony.
More than half an hour later and as the sky was fast darkening, I turned back and started towards home. I put on my earphones, tuned in to the radio searching for a station that hopefully was playing some music that matched my mood. A chinese song caught my ears - a pretty old song - and right after it came another nice song whose name I don't know though I've heard the song before and like it - it has a very upbeat tune. As I walked through the carpark flanked by two towering HDB blocks, I turned back to look behind me occasionally. The sky has not turned completely dark, but there was nearly no presence of people around. All was quiet and the only sound I could hear was the music playing from my MP3.
And so this was my evening, and I just want to say it was quiet and wonderful.
My spirits were as light as my steps as I crossed the road, stepped on the grass and moved to the edge of the lake. Parts of the ground were still wet from the day's rain, while a gentle breeze refreshened my tired body. Then finally, I got an unobstructed view of the sky. Though it didn't seem as magnificent as it did when I saw it on the train, it now has moving water beneath and distant concrete outcrops to complement its silent symphony.
More than half an hour later and as the sky was fast darkening, I turned back and started towards home. I put on my earphones, tuned in to the radio searching for a station that hopefully was playing some music that matched my mood. A chinese song caught my ears - a pretty old song - and right after it came another nice song whose name I don't know though I've heard the song before and like it - it has a very upbeat tune. As I walked through the carpark flanked by two towering HDB blocks, I turned back to look behind me occasionally. The sky has not turned completely dark, but there was nearly no presence of people around. All was quiet and the only sound I could hear was the music playing from my MP3.
And so this was my evening, and I just want to say it was quiet and wonderful.
Friday, March 19, 2010
The Big Screen - 9 years on
You know these days, a wedding dinner is never complete without a photo slideshow of the wedding couple. It's as cliched as it can be, but I guess the purpose is to share the bliss of the couple's journey with guests, to share where they started their couplehood and how they have come so far. It's supposed to lend a warm and personal touch, a love story told through pictures.
Most friends I know aren't too sentimental about this, and not a few even had their friends do the slideshow for them. I often wonder if the couple gave some thought to the photos that were selected for the slideshow though. For they have to select a few choice photos to cover their entire life thus far, from pre-birth (that is, their parents!) to birth to toddler to school to army to university to - the list goes on. Yet there's only time and space for that many photos to be shown. Would they care to choose something memorable or signifcant, something that captures a part of their life journey before they now turn into someone's husband or wife? (It is noteworthy that all photo slideshows start with the groom, then followed by the bride - how typical of our paternalistic tradition!)
Truth be told, the only times when I enjoyed viewing such slideshows are at the wedding dinners of close friends. That's because I feel a closer connection, naturally.
Last year, I was at Cal's wedding dinner. The lights dimmed, the slideshow began to play. I was expecting the usual, to see a toddler grow to a young man to the transformed husband of somebody today. What I did not expect was to see a photo of Cal, Ts and me come up on screen. It was totally unexpected, and I didn't know if I was surprised or touched. It was silly because I didn't think C thought of anything about the photo. In fact, it's probably randomly selected. This much about C I know.
Nevertheless, I was struck by the photo. It was taken nearly 10 years ago, at a time when we were trouble free (compared to now) and clowning around like nobody's business. Our hair was long - mine was highlighted even - and we wore clothes that no self-respecting youth of today would be spotted in in public. It was also a time before we own mobile phones or digital cameras, before we learnt to drive, much less own a car. We were waiting for enlistment and had lots of time to kill.
But more than all this, that was a photo that bears proof of the friendship we once shared, before we each went our very different way, until today when one of us was going to embark on another different stage in life.
I have nearly forgotten about the photo - until it appeared on the big screen, right before nearly 400 guests. It caught me there.
Most friends I know aren't too sentimental about this, and not a few even had their friends do the slideshow for them. I often wonder if the couple gave some thought to the photos that were selected for the slideshow though. For they have to select a few choice photos to cover their entire life thus far, from pre-birth (that is, their parents!) to birth to toddler to school to army to university to - the list goes on. Yet there's only time and space for that many photos to be shown. Would they care to choose something memorable or signifcant, something that captures a part of their life journey before they now turn into someone's husband or wife? (It is noteworthy that all photo slideshows start with the groom, then followed by the bride - how typical of our paternalistic tradition!)
Truth be told, the only times when I enjoyed viewing such slideshows are at the wedding dinners of close friends. That's because I feel a closer connection, naturally.
Last year, I was at Cal's wedding dinner. The lights dimmed, the slideshow began to play. I was expecting the usual, to see a toddler grow to a young man to the transformed husband of somebody today. What I did not expect was to see a photo of Cal, Ts and me come up on screen. It was totally unexpected, and I didn't know if I was surprised or touched. It was silly because I didn't think C thought of anything about the photo. In fact, it's probably randomly selected. This much about C I know.
Nevertheless, I was struck by the photo. It was taken nearly 10 years ago, at a time when we were trouble free (compared to now) and clowning around like nobody's business. Our hair was long - mine was highlighted even - and we wore clothes that no self-respecting youth of today would be spotted in in public. It was also a time before we own mobile phones or digital cameras, before we learnt to drive, much less own a car. We were waiting for enlistment and had lots of time to kill.
But more than all this, that was a photo that bears proof of the friendship we once shared, before we each went our very different way, until today when one of us was going to embark on another different stage in life.
I have nearly forgotten about the photo - until it appeared on the big screen, right before nearly 400 guests. It caught me there.
Space & Solitude #1: Colours of Nostalgia
Does nostalgia have colours?
A brooding Chinese lady in Cheongsam (fanning herself with a paper fan, the high slit of her cheongsam revealing her fair slender leg) seated at the side would complete this picture.
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