22 September 2008
12:26 AM
This space has been a place to hold the words for a very, very long time.
Sometimes I wonder what there’s left to say; despite any insights into this life, it still has that abstract quality that betrays the strangeness of life itself.
I get the sense that even if every scrap of life was saved here, thrown into a huge mould of words and then carefully recorded to extract all possible happiness and meaning, it would not add up to Life. There will always be, and have always been, that space between Life and the words of Life. So when I reread my lines, there is something that seems missing.
Yet, write, I must. It is in time's gripping moment, compelled by the slippery seconds that, if unrecorded, is not unlived, only unremembered. Memory is, after all, not a location; it is a relation between Past and Present. Even if I cannot do that relation any grand justice, I can make peace with it, at least.
Every story I’ve told about myself has only ever been in the past tense, a thought that goes backwards from where I stand now. I have ceased being the actor in the story, now a spectator who views my own life at a distance. In peace, curiosity, fascination.
So I grasp at it, at Life, which I wrap strongly with words, and place soundly, boldly onto my page. This is the contribution - to make no mistake, no skeletons of my Now, my hopes of soon-to-be. To go doggedly on, and leave Thens where they belong. Here, on these pages, in these times.
This is my final entry. I move forward, without the eagerness of the kid I was, with a bit of muted resignation. Life cannot be allocated into cubby-holes; life is messy. The quiet shouts louder than it should, and king Canute holds up his hand in vain.
This Sunday comes, not charging forward like I thought it would, but soundlessly stealing up. I make the effort to throw up to the air all assumptions, recycled opinions so tirelessly wielded for my personal protection.
I leave letters to home, duffel up the odd mix of ambition and reality, and pack it up on a plane. A plane to a place of cold.
Because after all, if you get far enough away, you’ll be closer to
finding home*.
14 September 2008
1:57 PM
September 14 2008
SQ 0322.
Arthur Yap
10 September 2008
3:03 PM
So I just checked my email, and tadaa..
it's here! They finally did a new revamp!
No more trying to talk myself into getting the stunted one bro has.
(: this is great.
"the iPod nano rocks like never before"
09 September 2008
11:20 PM
I was just reading a recent Time Briefing, about the zeitgeist of the moment Anwar; they were quoting from a man of authority, a "Southeast Asia expert".
And I thought how there are SEA experts, China-marketing experts, but never really of European Experts or American experts, expert in America, expert of france.
We may still be alien after all.
07 September 2008
1:16 PM
Japanese feasts with my family
always make me think;
as if the answers to laughter and farewell lie in sashimi and soy sauce.
I keep thinking that if the plates get stacked any higher they'll collapse
like the tower of Babel, but they never do.
And I will wonder if i am actually relieved or regretful.
People count down, and count down again.
almost as if their depleting numbers could measure
the depth or width or volumetric reality of
the apprehension.
Being
Engulfed by a big wave of Reminiscence that seems to be
appropriate for the occasion of leaving.
"How does a square peg fit into a round space."
Why should it try?
we will weep because we cannot estimate the imbalance between
the finality of goodbye and the briefness of the last moment.
desai says.
n she will be right. it is not the first time i've sent someone off.
but i never fail to tear
(while trying not to oversentimentalise)
it is because the future is always catching up; and it leaves me out of breath,
literally
to find that yesterday is, was so far away.
04 September 2008
10:46 AM
I know people want me to upload the pics on fb but I've gotten a little tired of getting on it, so it's here instead. Good days gone by:
Drinking // chocolate // jazz
at Harry's
Ian's toxic drink.
Dark choc blend (:
Caleb's choc cognac was very good. He drank the whole pot and was game for more :o
kin and his mass of hair - no korean superstar for him.
sam's new haircut! (:
caleb "my darling oxford son" playing violin with his dad.
OUT WITH JERR and VERNIE (:
This was really nice, shopping around bugis with 2 ladies in pretty dresses, while I lugged around 3kg worth of jeans to find a good place for alterations (vernie found a place with wicked prices.) It's uncanny how both sam and jerr had wonderful long locks before going under the scissors, and they look more chic as a result!
Happy belated birthday Jerrine!!
I really hope we get to crash vernie's classes, or at least check out the wonderful deals at nus arts: according to vern, MAC products when for less than half-price? Too bad we missed the bazaar!
For the next few days I'll be circumventing orchard to wrap up my buys (my pay has come in!). I also received the shock of my life when the ministry finally credited my allowances for a whole year. I shall go buy a condo or something to celebrate. Which also means I can finally start buying things from Zara's iwannagohome furniture collection, instead of wistfully circling the place every once in a while. The artificial flowers there are pretty, and a decent 10% discount off a $10 stalk of daisy for me mum is even better.
at Harry's
Ian's toxic drink. 
Dark choc blend (: 
Caleb's choc cognac was very good. He drank the whole pot and was game for more :o
sam's new haircut! (: 
