Dance

I've done it. I've gotten myself hooked on another song -- Poison by Groove Coverage. Heck, their other songs are just as catchy, Moonlight Shadow, She and In The End. The piano ballad remixes just seem to bring out the flavour of the vocals more, enhancing her strength while smoothening her edgy accent.

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Pinot Noir, please.
That was good wine.
That was strong wine.
That was good strong wine.

And we laughed. We've been like this for a while now, haven't we? Always into these rich, temporary indulgences; always unforgiving about the lingering memories of details that seem to last forever? Our poetry, if I may call it that, probably flows most readily through our habit of paraphrasing. I paraphrase to find a more appropriate description as well as savour the original. What do you parphrase for? For that matter, why do we converse? Especially when we both understand (and know so well) that so much can be said without the weighty committment of words.

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This must be the best 30th of July I've ever had. Not only did I manage to (finally) get that wine-and-cheese outing, I got to discover several interesting aspects of several people. While I might have been focused on "self-discovery" at one point of my life, this era is just all about "re-discovery".

I was happy last night. I am happy now.


JKLM

Release

When was the last time you found yourself in a car, speeding (@ 60kmph) down Lim Chu Kang Road with the windows down and the stereo up, hollering your lungs out to Leaving Town with 2 buddies? Never? Well, that's my excuse of a birthday celebration. Simple, raw and loud -- just like the synergy between the 3 of us.

"We'll countdown to your birthday, dude." Sure thing man... It'd be a first.

3

So we stood at the end of Lim Chu Kang Road, staring over a rickety jetty into the inky divide. "That's Malaysia, over there." Cas said. "Do you think someone could actually swim over to M'sia?" Ben inquired with all the wide-eyed child-like curiosity he could muster. Riiiiiiight. "Dude...," came the reply from Cas, an obvious answer reflected in his stare. We laughed.

2

I love the smell of a wood fire.
"Yeah man... I miss those times when we used to sit around a bonfire."
Yeah man, it's been... what... 5 years? 5 years since our last willing outdoor experience. 10 years of scouting, man. Some habits just die hard. Feel the itch to be out there again...
"Say, we should really just pack out bags and head out for an overnight stay on Ubin again. You know, old school style -- we'll bring along all the gear and start a fire under the stars, look for the well and have another drink of well water..."
Hahaha... It's been so long since we last did that. That's a good idea. I still remember how excited I used to be when it came to packing for these camps.
"How about National Day? You know, the night before that?"
Cool...

Poor Ben -- didn't seem too fond or too familiar with any of this. Experience can sometimes be the most selfish thing in the world, when you finally find someone you can relate to, the rest of the world just doesn't seem to matter anymore. Just for that little while, at least.

"Let's all go for it, then." Ben acknowledged. Thanks, man.

1

No birthday cake, no candles, no wishes, no song. Just the 3 of us in an unbelievably posh steakhouse -- all because we didn't wanna wait 45 mins for a place in Brewerks. But then, we'd never have gotten the same quiet / ambience as the steak house on Clark Quay. $60 a person bought us some real formal service, rounds of fresh bread, 10 oz steaks, calamari and fillo prawns. Our impatience brought us the space for some catching up with each other. Our ignorance brought a smile to the waiter. Our youth made us think it was all worthwhile.

So we're all 23 now. Well, we'd all be by the end of the month. Frankly, I don't feel anymore different being 22 than 23. Heck, I don't think I'd noticed if I turned 30! Perhaps I've stopped looking inwards to compare myself with what's outside; in our generation of externally-derived beauty and purposes, perhaps I've learnt to stand still and just watch life for a while. Maybe that's why some things don't surprise me anymore. Maybe that's why I feel a lil old, a lil worn, a lil expired sometimes.

Maybe that's why I was surprised that You could have put a little dance in my heart and coax my soul to groove again, cos it's been a while. Dance with me, and teach me to live again. Bring on the music!

0

Happy Birthday, Ben & Cas. Buddies.



JKLM

Addicted

I must have developed quite a taste for obsession. Well, it's not qutie the act of being obsessed about something or someone, but rather an exquisite cocktail of delight and apprehension that overpowers your system when you know you're hooked.

I admit, with all honesty, I am addicted to MSN. Days without it just seem too long.

Addicted to the internet too. Although I don't clock record-breaking surf mileage, the internet has now become such an essential / central part of my life and I just can't seem to stay away from it. Phantom friends and digital buddies are beginning to seem more human by the minute... While just about every academic institution is digitalising our education through modular requirements.

I'm probably addicted to pain (ah, yes... the classic one). I have a theory that irony makes the world go round; that because humans constantly strive to exist, therefore they flirt with pain. There's more to this theory, but I'll save it for Pandora. Every so often, against better judgement and knowledge, I still go and dive headlong into an emotional blackhole. Sometimes I think I'm psycho like this... The struggle to stay in control as well as to fight your way out is simply rewarding beyond comparison.

Could you therefore conclude that I'm addicted to the notion of myself? I guess you could say that of me. Woah... deep. It just scares me to know, admit and understand this. How about you?

Could I therefore also suggest that I'm addicted to the idea of You? Well, given that I may not know You well enough with the amount of time and resources on-hand, I think that I'd simply have to extrapolate and form certain impressions based on what I already know or have observed -- therefore the use of "the idea of You". Random pictures, answers, thoughts, black, white, grey and feelings -- all go to make up the wonderful collage of You. To say the least, You fascinate me. Beyond this, I'm unsure what else I can/should see of You -- perhaps it's because I'm not able to, perhaps I'm just well... addicted to the idea of You!

I'm probably also addicted to blogging. Look at all this rubbish! I should be put away somewhere safe, and far away from influencing anyone for all this nonsense I write. I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell -- I know right now you can tell.

But stay a while and maybe then you'll see a different side of me.



JKLM

Happy!!

Wait... this blog was supposed to be reserved for the happy stuff!

Now where'd they go?

I think that while my intention was to force myself to delay (and hopefully reverse) my transformation to Darth-asthma-Vader, Anakin seems to have picked up a new habit.

I used to remark that poetry is simply tragic beauty at its finest. Why indeed, would a person take to a bunch of rhyming verses (or non-rhyming, depending on your preferred genre), unless it means something? And what better emotion to leave a mark than pain, loss and its other heindonistic cousins. Who the heck remembers a happy poem?

Anyhow, I think instead of helping myself to develop a distinction between my black and whites, I seem to have begun taking courses in colouring the grey. Would you classify my writings thus far as happy? Well... like Y, I'd say that it's "tragic beauty". So grey and full of flavour, yet resembling neither of its components...

Here we go again... : p


JKLM

Feelings (1)

There's a unique feeling that sweeps over me whenever I hear Diana-man-killer-Krall's "S'wonderful". It's a bit like a very sensual audio massage... Her crooning just eases my mind and tickles my fantasies. Next stop, lala-land.

It's strange that there's a consistently recurring image that comes to mind with that song: a flowly ballroom skirt, a confident smile, a strong hand and intense eyes. In a split-second, I see L and myself entwined once more in our innocence, waltzing to each other while complementing the humm of a cello. Pay no mind to the music -- we were made for the moment.

And a moment it was; as gracefully as this image had strut into my mind, with a flutter of giggles and velvet, it is gone again.

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

I'm a die-hard romantic. Was, am and probably will be for a while. The way it's been going for me though, just makes me feel like a sucker for pain. Which is quite true, if you think of it in anoher light.

Strong images and their harem of feelings seldom leave me unconquered. They frequent find opportunities to recurr by tagging themselves to significant / common events. This theory leads me to wonder if I'm actually just a walking-self-fulfilling-prophecy; if you believe in choice, then I guess you'll get what I mean.

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Needless to say, I'm at odds with myself on the very sensual pieces of music that sit within my laptop. The monsters around my dark corners still lurk somewhere... waiting for the trigger to jump.

Don't believe in monsters? Ah well, some feelings are just hard to ignore.



JKLM

The SMS...

I think this could the new title of a horror movie. Forget "The Ring" or "House On Haunted Hill" -- "The SMS" is gauranteed to have you peeing in your pants, sweating where you sit. I guess the show should start like this:

The lights are on and it's a quiet sunday evening for the lead. Then his phone beeps. To his horror, the message reads: you think you can hide forever? i don't think so... and the lights cut, and a blood-curdling scream rips through the cinema. At this point, I think it'd be great if the cinema could have a device that could make everyone's phone beep too, but with a blank message.

Ok, maybe not.

But hey, I did receive an SMS like that once. Considering the circumstances it was sent under, I would most definitely prefer NOT to repeat it again. It's an experience I'd prefer to keep tucked away neatly under my belt and away in a corner of my mind. Forget about the lessons I learnt? Hardly, they'd hunt me down and push their way back into the mind ever so often just far enough to remind me.

Speaking of past experiences, have you ever come across someone who you could affectionately call: the one that got away? I had the fortune of getting to know someone like that, once upon a time.

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On this particular quiet Sunday evening, I got an SMS invitation from a JKF to attend a birthday dinner. It was for J, whose birthday was arriving in a few days. "His class would be there. So will L. Will you be going?", read his message. I sighed.

You see, a long time ago, when I was still bespectacled, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.... ok, maybe not THAT long ago. But I was still bespectacled then... My conversion to Darth-fuzzball-Vader hadn't been complete.

Anyway, there was Ms. L. A fine figure of perfection from my days of hormone imbalance and strange impulses. It had been a while since I last saw her and her lingering image in my mind was but a blurry reflection of someone else I knew. I had the incredible fortune of going through a recent "I'm sorry, but it's not you, it's me. You see, it's all my....", and was scrambling to find a date for an upcoming dinner-and-dance. Needless to say, life's divine sense of humour found us at the D&D, as dates. Rather shy ones, if I may add.

YES, I CAN BE SHY.... buggers, you all... I know what you're thinking...

It was the weeks that followed -- the late night conversations, the mambo jumbo and the little things, that cumulated in the inevitable kiss in some secluded corner of Ritz Carlton Millenia on a Saturday night. Our little hurrican stormed on for a few months, each passionate meeting raising the bar from the previous. I could have sworn that while she confesses to enjoy trashy romance novels, we were close to living one of them chapters out at that moment.

NO WE DID NOT... dammit.

In all my naive and well-intentioned youthfulness, I thought that we would last forever. I believed that she was perfect in my eyes, and that no distance or burden was too great, not for her. And indeed she frequently proved herself to be -- her gentleness mixed gracefully with her strength of character like the ballerina that she was. Her presence just seemed to intoxicate me each time; you know, one of those moments when all you can do is smile like an idiot?

Perhaps the greatest feeling I had whenever I was with her was to be overwhelmed by the very essence of her being. Her acceptance of me had been seduced and subdued me beyong my imagination. And I had given myself in to her as though I had known no other. My craving for acceptance and my search for a place the darkness in me can call home lept at this chance of having someone to resolve it all...

And then it happened. The whirlwind hit land and the winds had the disperse. All that storm and fury had to stop, to give way to another phenomenon -- an overcast, dank and sustained rain. Typhoon L had ceased, just as soon as the storm warnings had gathered and the winds were picking up speed. The storm was raging in me, still, furious as ever.

Just then a desciption hit me, one of tragic beauty. Could you imagine yourself in the times of the ancient Greeks? In my humble toga and slippers, I knelt on the hearless marble floor, hands on the feel of the most beautiful thing I had ever seen... A statue. I might have worshipped her, this marble goddess. She accepted all my offerings, remained flawless and pure through the changes, returned my touch with a permanent smile that was somehow genuine. But she will no longer hear my songs, my calls or my wails anymore. They have become echos through the halls, like stones thrown into a valley -- pointless and destined for nothingness. Just as gracefully as her marble touch used to warm my heart, they now swiftly burn my skin with their coldness. And I become swifly aware of just how cold and hard she has become.

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

Until today this statue still stands somewhere in my courtyard, a reminder of the folly of my youth, the innocence of youthful longings. Still cold to the touch, it is nonetheless beautiful. Whenever I pass, I still stop and stare.

Can't help it... I'm still at a loss of words whenever I pass.

And so, I haven't found it in my capacity to reply that SMS. "hmmm... If you have a problem, I understand", came the reply. Thanks, my friend. But it'd take a while for me to make up my mind.


JKLM

YIN

Ah.... The long awaited sequel. YIN was supposed to be lighter of this duo-entry. But it never made its was beyond the drawing boards after the birth of YANG. Looks like this space could only accomodate one whine at a time.

Anyway, I finally sat down for my first movie in... what... 6 months? First there was World War 3 in my backyard, then there was Vesak Day, and Exams, Thailand, work, camps and ah, yes, the ICT. Holy shit... has it already be 6 months? I swear, I should be thrown into jail for this excuse-of-a-lifestyle I lead.

Fantastic Four was the title. Popcorn-ed Floor was my own drama. The show was quite good, actually; a pretty good print-to-screen of the famous Marvel Comic series. I wonder when they'll do a version of the othe Marvel superheroes, like Iron Man and Captain America. Well, not that I'm a huge fan, but I guess it'd just be interesting.

Now, about the popsorn-ed floor... There was this interesting World of Warcraft popcorn-and-drink snack pack that I was encouraged to acquire before the movie. Okok... they were nice people, anyway. Haven't had popcorn in months! This time, I was determined to chew away the entire movie, at the risk of annoying my neighbours -- I didn't care, I was going to get my salty-and-sweets. All over you if I have to. And then, just after the first 6 minutes of the movie, I did the most wonderful act of sharing my popcorn with the goddam floor. So there I was enjoying what I could of my third of sweet-and-salty, while rocking and rolling to the wonderful irk of popcorn in my footwear. !@%!@#%*^*

Well, considering this as my first weekend out after a 2-week ICT, peppered with the ever-disastrous job at the Airport... It was pretty good.

Don't bother me, You... I've had enough of your bombs... For now.

In-Camp-Training was rather enjoyable, actually. Well, at least I had expected much worse. My guys got on with me and everyone else surprisingly well. And I must say that I was quite surprised that this ICT turned out (for the better, of course) to be more a gathering of friends and memories, than a mandatory state-issued-paperwork-or-jail duty. I enjoyed myself more during these two weeks with my gruby soldiers than during my year of service with the active unit. It just feels different, as if we're all more relaxed about regulations and decided to ease up on the formalities. Perhaps we had finally reached and understanding.

Gonna drop the dot here for now... When I've got a lil more strength, time and humour, I'll fill up on the rest of the details for ICT. Gotta go catch a laugh... Humour is in short supply these days, especially with certain people.

Anyway... I'm still wondering if I should whoop the arse of this dude who crossed me for about a year. I'm generally fine with people taking things on their own terms -- heck, my brother is a perfect example, but he just comes across as irresponsible at times. And when the dude finally pulled the plug on his appointment.... well, I don't know. He DID help us out a bit for our main event. Quite a bit, if I do say... But I guess it's sufficient to say that it should have been expected of any responsible individual to see to the fulfilment of his agreement, in spite of changes.


JKLM

The God of Small Victories

I recently rediscovered the joys of milo -- mixed with coffee, that is. If anything were to give you a rush, this one's got my endorsement. Talk about a sugar-high.

So here I am feeling nostalgic on a Sunday afternoon in my office. It was probably during one of my first scouts camp in Sec 1 that I learnt of this cocktail for minors. Being all of my 13 years, bright-eyed (though be-spectacled) and bushy tailed, I was eager to try anything and discover the world through my new-found brethern of crusaders. Scouts had quite a reputation back in my school -- pyromaniacs, sadists, odd-balls (trust me, we were probably the ones with the oddest), campers etc... and, ah yes, the dancers.

We used to dance in scouts. It was one of our undeclared yet official hobbies. Touted as a sure-fire way of bagging them chicks at campfires, we the embassadors of testosterone were only too eager to get our hands on the tricks of the trade. And we went to such pains to make sure that we got it right. Afternoons spent sweating it out between a blaring hi-fi and a one-way mirror in the students' lounge, bruised knees, sprained ankles and dirty buttocks. Ah... the smell of teen spirit. And on the night of our performance at the campfires, we were ninjas, and our kung-fu was strong. No matter how bright the lights got, or how bad others thought we had performed, we were superstars and had earned our 15 minutes of eternal fame.

That's almost 10 years ago... Still things don't seem to have changed much. When I met up with the peep-squeeks over the weekend for a Charity Walkathon, they were still the mis-fits uttering smart-alec comments, corny jokes and imitations of Russel Peters. "Be a man; do the right thing," echoed through a (thankfully) deserted waterfront theatre at Marina City Park. I should have felt embarrassed to have these kids act this way around me... But somehow, I was an annoying little scout again that night. We were all one and the same here in Marina City Park, camping out under that stars, anticipating the prep work that lay ahead for the Charity Walk the next morning.

It was the most wonderful of feelings falling asleep to the chirp of restless kids and the cries of crickets. I guess I just missed my friends, having them close to share the good and bad times as we grew up and eventually away from each other. Just as I closed my eyes, I could almost feel life moving on by me, from the colourful inadequacies of my youthful brothers-in-scouting to the aged mangled mess that is me, and up to the stars, to where it all begins again.

I don't think I'll ever grow old, not at this rate. I just feel terribly old, that's all.


JKLM

Attachment

He who binds to himself to Joy,
Does the winged life destroy;
He who kisses the Joy as it flies,
Lives in Eternity’s sunrise.

~~WILLIAM BLAKE

Attachment is a strange and enigmatic thing. It seems to manifest itself in many many forms, reflecting insecurities and preying on our weaknesses. So says the cynic in me. I just think that it's strange how we can repetitively perform certain tasks daily to the extent that we may no longer be aware, yet they can be the most unimportant things in life. I mean, if it's important, shouldn't we be doing it more often?

Hmmm....

Seems like my mind is still suffering the after-effects of a long workweek and a completed charity walk. :) It's been a while since I last camped out in the open and spent some time interacting with my fellow scouting brothers. I'm glad that we had this opportunity to render some help to the Autism Resource Centre, Pathlight Special School and Rainbow Centre -- all for a simple walkathon to raise funds for autistic children.

There was a strange familiarity in the air of that Saturday morning. Felt just like the ones I used to spend with my Scout Unit back in my school days.


JKLM

I Am A Sotong

I must be a sotong...

making record number of unforced errors in the calculations for my HR job... jia lat... causing so much inconvenience for my accountant. Well, at least I'm getting the hang of it all on my own.

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I guess I've finally decided to reinstate a "less" personal blog. Yes, there is a backdoor to Pandora's box. In Sotong Mike lies the key.

This blog will be spanking-white, irritatingly joyous and inconceivably sensible.

No kiiding. I'm sure I'll piss you off with my good humour and incredibly happy thoughts.

Hang in there, kids. Stay tuned for more Adventures of Sotong Mike! *Or was that supposed to be June Kiat?*


JKLM