I just had the most fun in the world climbing into a boot and hiding there. It was hot and it turned pink whenever the brake lights are on. I could just imagine myself as some vagrant tripping on marijuana while listening to Pink Floyd. Talk about perspective. There's nothing like being in the back of a car. It also reminds one of Uma Thurman trying to bust out of her grave.
Alas, other fun experiences include sitting on the car roof as it was driving off, and hanging on to it subsequently. I am Jackie Chan! It's the kind of stupid, lousy thing you do just because you're young. And feel like being young and laughing your head off hahaha.
I must have sex in the car one day.
Climbing out of the boot when you reach our destination is also another "what the fuck" moment. Observe the priceless faces of the passers by as you climb out of your boot sweaty and bothered.
Light a cigarette and wind down the windows, flick it out the window. We are young, restless vagrants for a night! And tomorrow, back to our futures.
P/S I also fed some cats last night!
10/23/2004
10/06/2004
Back from Bali. I doubt I'm really going to write about it, trying to find a nice site to put up pictures with captions which I guess would say it most. I did take a picture of the sunset.
On a lesser note, mood isn't too fantastic. One of those where you feel that you're floating about and everyone is floating away, there's no wall to push off and inter gravitational forces are too minimal and the moon is drifting to outer space.
I'll never be able to reduce everything in my life to one or two things at this rate. Anyhow, the less you care about it, the better.
Everything's fine!
To that day
On a lesser note, mood isn't too fantastic. One of those where you feel that you're floating about and everyone is floating away, there's no wall to push off and inter gravitational forces are too minimal and the moon is drifting to outer space.
I'll never be able to reduce everything in my life to one or two things at this rate. Anyhow, the less you care about it, the better.
Everything's fine!
To that day
9/15/2004
Sorry I'm finding this fun
Un jour on se rencontrera
One day, you'll see
We'll meet
some place, anywhere
led by coincidence
We'll look at each other
and smile
and hand in hand
through the roads we shall go
Time passes, too quickly
the night will hide us well
our hearts, like two little thieves
And we'll come upon a dark place
where the cobblestones will be gentle to our gray souls
there'll be a ball,
albeit poor and banal
under a misty sky
of melancholy.
A blind man will play
his pipe organ
the melody in the air will be for us
full of grace, full of beauty
Then I'll ask you to dance
take your waist
We'll dance quietly
far from the maddening crowd
We'll dance, love, my eyes deep in yours
towards the end of the world
towards the depth of the night
Un jour on se rencontrera
One day, you'll see
We'll meet
some place, anywhere
led by coincidence
We'll look at each other
and smile
and hand in hand
through the roads we shall go
Time passes, too quickly
the night will hide us well
our hearts, like two little thieves
And we'll come upon a dark place
where the cobblestones will be gentle to our gray souls
there'll be a ball,
albeit poor and banal
under a misty sky
of melancholy.
A blind man will play
his pipe organ
the melody in the air will be for us
full of grace, full of beauty
Then I'll ask you to dance
take your waist
We'll dance quietly
far from the maddening crowd
We'll dance, love, my eyes deep in yours
towards the end of the world
towards the depth of the night
9/13/2004
Maintenant je sais
Okay managed to translate the lyrics from the French, not entirely literally though, just probably what it means. Please help.
It's by Jean Gabin... nice French crooner
"When I was young, the height of 3 apples
I spoke confidently, to be a man
I said, "I know, I know, I know"
It was the first time, it was spring
And when I had my eighteen years
I said "I know, there you go, this time, I know"
And now, the days, they return to me
I look at the earth, where I took a hundred steps
And I still don't know how it turns
For around 25 years old I knew it all
love, the roses, the high life
Damn right, love had made everything turn
Fortunately all my lovers
had not eaten all my bread
in the prime of my life
Still I learnt
What did I learn? It's held in three-quarter time words
The day when someone loves you
It's beautiful
I cannot put it better
It's beautiful
Me, who's in the autumn of my life
One forgets so many nights of sadness
but never a morning of tenderness
All my youth, I wanted to say
"I know."
Only, the more I sought the less I knew
As 60 blows strike on the clock
I'm still at the window, looking, asking myself
Now, I know, but one never knows!
Life, love, friends, money, roses
One never knows the noise nor the colour of anything
This is all I know, but that I know well."
Okay managed to translate the lyrics from the French, not entirely literally though, just probably what it means. Please help.
It's by Jean Gabin... nice French crooner
"When I was young, the height of 3 apples
I spoke confidently, to be a man
I said, "I know, I know, I know"
It was the first time, it was spring
And when I had my eighteen years
I said "I know, there you go, this time, I know"
And now, the days, they return to me
I look at the earth, where I took a hundred steps
And I still don't know how it turns
For around 25 years old I knew it all
love, the roses, the high life
Damn right, love had made everything turn
Fortunately all my lovers
had not eaten all my bread
in the prime of my life
Still I learnt
What did I learn? It's held in three-quarter time words
The day when someone loves you
It's beautiful
I cannot put it better
It's beautiful
Me, who's in the autumn of my life
One forgets so many nights of sadness
but never a morning of tenderness
All my youth, I wanted to say
"I know."
Only, the more I sought the less I knew
As 60 blows strike on the clock
I'm still at the window, looking, asking myself
Now, I know, but one never knows!
Life, love, friends, money, roses
One never knows the noise nor the colour of anything
This is all I know, but that I know well."
9/03/2004
laws, rules and regulations can be irritatingly frustrating. just ask clarence. it's a bloody hassle, but i don't know. that's what comes of trying to be all comprehensive and complete.
conducting summary trial tmrw. should be a quick affair. all nice easy light sentences commuted into fines. but it's really a bitch trying to be nice about it after all you're wasting their time. you may think well they're wrong so it's all right to waste their time. well. but really. for transactional offences.
the law's really there to scare you. i can see how it's noble, when you try to find this regulation to charge him under so really there's less harm done. but on the contrary, sob's want to fine the worst possible thing to nail you with. so good, it's adversarial. and so many shades of grey.
little niggly things, little niggly things.
conducting summary trial tmrw. should be a quick affair. all nice easy light sentences commuted into fines. but it's really a bitch trying to be nice about it after all you're wasting their time. you may think well they're wrong so it's all right to waste their time. well. but really. for transactional offences.
the law's really there to scare you. i can see how it's noble, when you try to find this regulation to charge him under so really there's less harm done. but on the contrary, sob's want to fine the worst possible thing to nail you with. so good, it's adversarial. and so many shades of grey.
little niggly things, little niggly things.
8/30/2004
I saw a morbidly obese person today gorging on ice-cream at McDonalds. Urgh. He isn't even trying. I've nothing against obesity, but I'm just saying what I felt, probably like the guy in Seven who wanted to kill the personification of gluttony.
I can't always be Mr Friendly, even at work. To my friends, at least, nowadays, I'm trying to be happy, although I may strike you as slightly insane, like sometimes I say things I don't really mean anymore, but just cause they're interesting and it's easier to say them than not. But I guess in the company of the rest I'm still reserved and I better not say some crazy shit lest they misunderstand.
Not much to be worried about. Just perhaps that dad's being all worrisome about future studies and stuff, always wanting perfection, but I just wanna settle down and know what I'm going to do. And other than that I guess my enthusiasm isn't expected to last the whole year, I probably need some time away to charge my batteries. I think I shall be disconsolate and disappointed for now, because people let me down. Oh you silly people. Why don't you all just love me.
I can't always be Mr Friendly, even at work. To my friends, at least, nowadays, I'm trying to be happy, although I may strike you as slightly insane, like sometimes I say things I don't really mean anymore, but just cause they're interesting and it's easier to say them than not. But I guess in the company of the rest I'm still reserved and I better not say some crazy shit lest they misunderstand.
Not much to be worried about. Just perhaps that dad's being all worrisome about future studies and stuff, always wanting perfection, but I just wanna settle down and know what I'm going to do. And other than that I guess my enthusiasm isn't expected to last the whole year, I probably need some time away to charge my batteries. I think I shall be disconsolate and disappointed for now, because people let me down. Oh you silly people. Why don't you all just love me.
8/29/2004
Right now if I had my way I'd be able to populate my mind with lots of wonderful inimitable stories which would take on a life of their own.
Unfortunately, I can sense myself snaking down to some dull quotidium. And I'm currently pretty anxious I guess about the future and everything and I guess, from time to time, I have to wind down my spring.
It would be wonderful if one could will oneself into chirpiness but it doesn't always happen, there are days when you wake up and you don't feel like brushing your teeth.
Seeing the pretty people who used to play so long ago! Will we ever be the students so in love with literature or poetry or just carrying that next line. Think there's a lot of work to be done now.
Unfortunately, I can sense myself snaking down to some dull quotidium. And I'm currently pretty anxious I guess about the future and everything and I guess, from time to time, I have to wind down my spring.
It would be wonderful if one could will oneself into chirpiness but it doesn't always happen, there are days when you wake up and you don't feel like brushing your teeth.
Seeing the pretty people who used to play so long ago! Will we ever be the students so in love with literature or poetry or just carrying that next line. Think there's a lot of work to be done now.
8/24/2004
It hurts me sometimes when I'm not the person people want me to be.
In general I'd like to be. No matter how much cathartic relief it affords me, saying "fuck it" is just that, "fuck it." I won't pack my bags and fucking fly to Australia and start a farm there.
Logically speaking, there isn't anything wrong with just fucking it. It would probably overstate my importance to the world, that if I decide to laze around and do nothing, that it would cause people around me a great sense of loss. Sure, parents will be disappointed. They'll get over it, and they'll love you anyway. Maybe they'll even love you more.
I'll be honest. Your feedback matters. It hurts when I'm rated 1 on a scale of 1 - 5, where 1 is unsatisfactory and 5 is very good. Is it better than if you shaded 3's all the way? I don't know. Any feedback/comments? I'd follow it. In some ways, I judge myself by other people's standards. I'm always helping other people rate myself. I mean, if you criticize my character, of course I'm not going to change in front you straightaway, lest you feel that berating my character gets you somewhere, but deep down gosh I'm just bloody ruined and I wanna change, albeit slowly, because I don't know I just don't lurch from side to side.
There are some things I will never be. I think I realise that more acutely now. Like if I'm a quiet person, that can change. It's merely a change in quality, and requires probably that bit more energy. Can be done. Not enough initiative. Okay, work harder, can be done. Insufficient eye for detail. Can be done, of course with limits to the way my mind has been trained to operate.
Be more aggressive. Well. Let's see. Okay. I'm no pacifist. If you raped my sister I would shoot you. Okay even if I don't really hate you I would still shoot you under some circumstances.
I see it in me sometimes. When playing soccer, I guess I hate to lose and I tend to get really pissed off in games. And if I'm in game mode and I need to do something then well I do it.
It's when the reality between game and life is blurred. The notion that life is a game, that we must compete and win. Gosh, I'm not saying that I'm all Mr. Take - It - Easy, Mr. Oh I don't Really Give a Fuck, Mr Cool, Mr Natural. I'm just saying that in a cut-throat world, I may not survive. If you put me in a communist world, where eveyrhting was subsumed to one ultimate aim, I would probably be quite a good bureaucrat. They may probably give me a few medals to appreciate my contributions to the Fatherland.
But it's when it comes to proving I'm better. I can't do that. I can't write an essay selling myself to save the world. Take my blog. Show it to any prospective employer. It'll be like oh shit this pussy wimp can't even take care of himself. Sometimes I wonder what life would be if I didn't read so much.
I've been so sold into dignity and human worth and blah blah that I no longer believe it matters to prove you're better than the next person. To tell the truth I don't really like competition in real life, how it makes some people behave. I'm just turned off sometimes. But I mean who likes feeling lousier than others. The trick is to win right? But I can't shed this BHB thing about winning, and I think maybe it's too much shit in the bible about rich people going to hell and last going first that I have a mentality so last is ok?, underdog is ok?, and I pay less attention the the fact that maybe winning really matters in this wortld? That you get the girl if you have a bigger cock or you don't curse so much. And if you loved her more.
Am I fucking wrong or what? Cause if I'm misguided tell me. I really just feel like turning into a big fat fucker who doesn't really care how you feel. But I'm just saying it. I'll never be it. You can't fucking fight 19 years of naivety. I just feel like I've got cum in my eye (though I'd really like to know how that feels, but it just sounds so wicked ain't it.) I think I'll reserve that phrase to sub "too much of a good thing". You're so fucking stim that you cum in your eye. yeah haha. cursing makes me feel macho and less androgynous. oh yeah feel my muscles. my biceps. i need to rut now. where's my damn heifer.
In general I'd like to be. No matter how much cathartic relief it affords me, saying "fuck it" is just that, "fuck it." I won't pack my bags and fucking fly to Australia and start a farm there.
Logically speaking, there isn't anything wrong with just fucking it. It would probably overstate my importance to the world, that if I decide to laze around and do nothing, that it would cause people around me a great sense of loss. Sure, parents will be disappointed. They'll get over it, and they'll love you anyway. Maybe they'll even love you more.
I'll be honest. Your feedback matters. It hurts when I'm rated 1 on a scale of 1 - 5, where 1 is unsatisfactory and 5 is very good. Is it better than if you shaded 3's all the way? I don't know. Any feedback/comments? I'd follow it. In some ways, I judge myself by other people's standards. I'm always helping other people rate myself. I mean, if you criticize my character, of course I'm not going to change in front you straightaway, lest you feel that berating my character gets you somewhere, but deep down gosh I'm just bloody ruined and I wanna change, albeit slowly, because I don't know I just don't lurch from side to side.
There are some things I will never be. I think I realise that more acutely now. Like if I'm a quiet person, that can change. It's merely a change in quality, and requires probably that bit more energy. Can be done. Not enough initiative. Okay, work harder, can be done. Insufficient eye for detail. Can be done, of course with limits to the way my mind has been trained to operate.
Be more aggressive. Well. Let's see. Okay. I'm no pacifist. If you raped my sister I would shoot you. Okay even if I don't really hate you I would still shoot you under some circumstances.
I see it in me sometimes. When playing soccer, I guess I hate to lose and I tend to get really pissed off in games. And if I'm in game mode and I need to do something then well I do it.
It's when the reality between game and life is blurred. The notion that life is a game, that we must compete and win. Gosh, I'm not saying that I'm all Mr. Take - It - Easy, Mr. Oh I don't Really Give a Fuck, Mr Cool, Mr Natural. I'm just saying that in a cut-throat world, I may not survive. If you put me in a communist world, where eveyrhting was subsumed to one ultimate aim, I would probably be quite a good bureaucrat. They may probably give me a few medals to appreciate my contributions to the Fatherland.
But it's when it comes to proving I'm better. I can't do that. I can't write an essay selling myself to save the world. Take my blog. Show it to any prospective employer. It'll be like oh shit this pussy wimp can't even take care of himself. Sometimes I wonder what life would be if I didn't read so much.
I've been so sold into dignity and human worth and blah blah that I no longer believe it matters to prove you're better than the next person. To tell the truth I don't really like competition in real life, how it makes some people behave. I'm just turned off sometimes. But I mean who likes feeling lousier than others. The trick is to win right? But I can't shed this BHB thing about winning, and I think maybe it's too much shit in the bible about rich people going to hell and last going first that I have a mentality so last is ok?, underdog is ok?, and I pay less attention the the fact that maybe winning really matters in this wortld? That you get the girl if you have a bigger cock or you don't curse so much. And if you loved her more.
Am I fucking wrong or what? Cause if I'm misguided tell me. I really just feel like turning into a big fat fucker who doesn't really care how you feel. But I'm just saying it. I'll never be it. You can't fucking fight 19 years of naivety. I just feel like I've got cum in my eye (though I'd really like to know how that feels, but it just sounds so wicked ain't it.) I think I'll reserve that phrase to sub "too much of a good thing". You're so fucking stim that you cum in your eye. yeah haha. cursing makes me feel macho and less androgynous. oh yeah feel my muscles. my biceps. i need to rut now. where's my damn heifer.
8/14/2004
Bali: the reckoning
Okay. it's $358 for 4D/4N at Legian express, a 23 room budget hotel in Legian, near the shopping district. Air-conditioning, set in 0.25 hectares of Balinese gardens, and with pool and massage facilities. Rooms come in cottage style. Go look it up. 10 mins from Kuta Beach
$393 for 4D/4N at Legian Paradiso, slightly better facilities and closer to the beach.
Airport tax about $60. Package includes half day tour to Ubud and return airport transfer
Flight on Wed night 1930, return on Sunday evening about 1800.
Will be borrowing Lonely Planet: Bali from a friend, so can plan which places to go too.
Okay. so following flight dates are available:
8th Sep ( A bit rush)
15th Sep (Still a bit rush)
22nd Sep
29th Sep
6th October
13th October
20th October
27th October
If you go too late in October the rains start to come and that's not fun.
Need to confirm 1. who's going, 2. when everyone's free. any questions, ask. a lot of details, i can't type everything here.
must act fast. tickets and rooms limited.
Okay. it's $358 for 4D/4N at Legian express, a 23 room budget hotel in Legian, near the shopping district. Air-conditioning, set in 0.25 hectares of Balinese gardens, and with pool and massage facilities. Rooms come in cottage style. Go look it up. 10 mins from Kuta Beach
$393 for 4D/4N at Legian Paradiso, slightly better facilities and closer to the beach.
Airport tax about $60. Package includes half day tour to Ubud and return airport transfer
Flight on Wed night 1930, return on Sunday evening about 1800.
Will be borrowing Lonely Planet: Bali from a friend, so can plan which places to go too.
Okay. so following flight dates are available:
8th Sep ( A bit rush)
15th Sep (Still a bit rush)
22nd Sep
29th Sep
6th October
13th October
20th October
27th October
If you go too late in October the rains start to come and that's not fun.
Need to confirm 1. who's going, 2. when everyone's free. any questions, ask. a lot of details, i can't type everything here.
must act fast. tickets and rooms limited.
8/13/2004
Complainte de la butte
La lune trop bl�me
Pose un diad�me
Sur tes cheveux roux
La lune trop rousse
De gloire �clabousse
Ton jupon plein d'trous
La lune trop p�le
Caresse l'opale
De tes yeux blas�s
Princesse de la rue
Soit la bienvenue
Dans mon coeur bless�
The stairways up to la butte can make the wretched sigh
While windmill wings of the moulins shelter you and I
Ma p'tite mandigote
Je sens ta menotte
Qui cherche ma main
Je sens ta poitrine
Et ta taille fine
J'oublie mon chagrin
Je sens sur tes l�vres
Une odeur de fi�vre
De gosse mal nourri
Et sous ta caresse
Je sens une ivresse
Qui m'an�antit
The stairways up to la butte can make the wretched sigh
While windmill wings of the moulins shelter you and I
Mais voil� qu'il trotte
La lune se flotte
La princesse aussi
La la la la la La la la la la Mon r�ve �vanoui
Les escaliers de la butte sont durs aux mis�reux
Les ailes des moulins prot�gent les amoureux
performed by Rufus Wainwright
quite sad today lah. boo hoo. don't know why. cause the song just ended. follow this by "Across the Universe" and you're fucked. it kills me every time.
hasn't been a bad day by any standard, good, productive day at work, and nice to finally get back into the camp groove of things. also saw hok him for the 1st time in a few months and he's so cheerful and loud! but he destroyed his knee meniscus so I guess no more conducting of range for him. and can't run with him for AHM. Okay I guess I can get through this pretty well, this year has been pretty good so far.
but what do i do? i go home and listen to a song about pretty princesses bathed in moonlight, drenched in desire and destroyed dreams. not that it affects me. it's so stupid and sentimental. okay i guess i'm not sad. whee!
La lune trop bl�me
Pose un diad�me
Sur tes cheveux roux
La lune trop rousse
De gloire �clabousse
Ton jupon plein d'trous
La lune trop p�le
Caresse l'opale
De tes yeux blas�s
Princesse de la rue
Soit la bienvenue
Dans mon coeur bless�
The stairways up to la butte can make the wretched sigh
While windmill wings of the moulins shelter you and I
Ma p'tite mandigote
Je sens ta menotte
Qui cherche ma main
Je sens ta poitrine
Et ta taille fine
J'oublie mon chagrin
Je sens sur tes l�vres
Une odeur de fi�vre
De gosse mal nourri
Et sous ta caresse
Je sens une ivresse
Qui m'an�antit
The stairways up to la butte can make the wretched sigh
While windmill wings of the moulins shelter you and I
Mais voil� qu'il trotte
La lune se flotte
La princesse aussi
La la la la la La la la la la Mon r�ve �vanoui
Les escaliers de la butte sont durs aux mis�reux
Les ailes des moulins prot�gent les amoureux
performed by Rufus Wainwright
quite sad today lah. boo hoo. don't know why. cause the song just ended. follow this by "Across the Universe" and you're fucked. it kills me every time.
hasn't been a bad day by any standard, good, productive day at work, and nice to finally get back into the camp groove of things. also saw hok him for the 1st time in a few months and he's so cheerful and loud! but he destroyed his knee meniscus so I guess no more conducting of range for him. and can't run with him for AHM. Okay I guess I can get through this pretty well, this year has been pretty good so far.
but what do i do? i go home and listen to a song about pretty princesses bathed in moonlight, drenched in desire and destroyed dreams. not that it affects me. it's so stupid and sentimental. okay i guess i'm not sad. whee!
8/11/2004
Information on Bali
Sources:
http://www.lonelyplanet.com/destinations/south_east_asia/bali/
http://www.euroasiaholidays.com.sg/
www.priceline.com.sg
http://www.australianairlines.com.au/aahome.html
Hi, to all looking for information on the trip to Bali. Bali is a wonderful sunny tropical island set in the Sea of Java. Our plan is to getaway there for 4 days, 3 nights. Date of departure is either 1st or 8th September(at night). The reason tickets are cheap is because its a night flight. It may make more sense to leave in the day but that means we have to fly SQ or Garuda which will be much more expensive than the extra night. And at least we can start the next day fresh. Please raise objections now, so I can find another date if too many people can't make it. It's over the weekend, so shouldn't be a prob. Please comment using the comment function=p.
Currently the deal I have is $328/pax. We get a 2.5 star hotel(not bad really) and easy access to beaches and places in Kuta Beach, the most happening part of Bali. For 3 star add $30/pax, and 4 star add $40/pax. Rooms are twin share. Flight will be by Australian Airlines, departing on Wednesday, Friday and Sunday nights. It is a full-service airline with meals (not a budget airline) but slightly cheaper than Singapore Airlines/Garuda, because you cannot play video games on board, and I think they don't give you free playing cards. Still, it's only about a 2 hr flight, so shouldn't matter. It's a spinoff from Qantas actually.
Departure is on Wed night and return on Sun night, so it's actually 4D/4N. Free & easy.
Depart 1915, Arrival 2145(2045 Indon time)
Don't really wanna plan a detailed itinerary yet. Here's a preview of what you can do. We can rent our own car, about 200,000 Rp a day, or about 30-40 bucks for a nice jeep, that can fit a lot of people. Petrol is like water to Indonesians, and Indonesians have a lot of water, so don't worry about that.
Stuff to do:
1. Beach bumming
2. Watersports. Learn to surf. (Nusa Dua, Kuta Beach)
3. Laze around in hotel
4. Clubbing in Kuta
5. Traditonal Balinese massage
6. Check out Indonesian way of life.
7. Shopping in Denpasar
8. Half-day cultural tour of Ubud
9. Trip to North of Island to check out volcanic caldera and beautiful padi fields to take photos.
10. Watch the sun set at Hindu temple of Tanah Lot.
11. Try to find hot Indonesian girlfriend.
I will update this list as I talk to more people and find out more about what Bali is like.
Basically, Dutch sailors looking for spice in the East Indies found this island, and they decided what the hell, let's quit our jobs and they stayed there for a long time. So. Who wants to go? Also planning to go recce some more tour agencies this Sat, so whoever's interested can come along. So far tour agencies can get better prices than priceline.com.sg because they purchase in bulk. Please comment!
Sources:
http://www.lonelyplanet.com/destinations/south_east_asia/bali/
http://www.euroasiaholidays.com.sg/
www.priceline.com.sg
http://www.australianairlines.com.au/aahome.html
Hi, to all looking for information on the trip to Bali. Bali is a wonderful sunny tropical island set in the Sea of Java. Our plan is to getaway there for 4 days, 3 nights. Date of departure is either 1st or 8th September(at night). The reason tickets are cheap is because its a night flight. It may make more sense to leave in the day but that means we have to fly SQ or Garuda which will be much more expensive than the extra night. And at least we can start the next day fresh. Please raise objections now, so I can find another date if too many people can't make it. It's over the weekend, so shouldn't be a prob. Please comment using the comment function=p.
Currently the deal I have is $328/pax. We get a 2.5 star hotel(not bad really) and easy access to beaches and places in Kuta Beach, the most happening part of Bali. For 3 star add $30/pax, and 4 star add $40/pax. Rooms are twin share. Flight will be by Australian Airlines, departing on Wednesday, Friday and Sunday nights. It is a full-service airline with meals (not a budget airline) but slightly cheaper than Singapore Airlines/Garuda, because you cannot play video games on board, and I think they don't give you free playing cards. Still, it's only about a 2 hr flight, so shouldn't matter. It's a spinoff from Qantas actually.
Departure is on Wed night and return on Sun night, so it's actually 4D/4N. Free & easy.
Depart 1915, Arrival 2145(2045 Indon time)
Don't really wanna plan a detailed itinerary yet. Here's a preview of what you can do. We can rent our own car, about 200,000 Rp a day, or about 30-40 bucks for a nice jeep, that can fit a lot of people. Petrol is like water to Indonesians, and Indonesians have a lot of water, so don't worry about that.
Stuff to do:
1. Beach bumming
2. Watersports. Learn to surf. (Nusa Dua, Kuta Beach)
3. Laze around in hotel
4. Clubbing in Kuta
5. Traditonal Balinese massage
6. Check out Indonesian way of life.
7. Shopping in Denpasar
8. Half-day cultural tour of Ubud
9. Trip to North of Island to check out volcanic caldera and beautiful padi fields to take photos.
10. Watch the sun set at Hindu temple of Tanah Lot.
11. Try to find hot Indonesian girlfriend.
I will update this list as I talk to more people and find out more about what Bali is like.
Basically, Dutch sailors looking for spice in the East Indies found this island, and they decided what the hell, let's quit our jobs and they stayed there for a long time. So. Who wants to go? Also planning to go recce some more tour agencies this Sat, so whoever's interested can come along. So far tour agencies can get better prices than priceline.com.sg because they purchase in bulk. Please comment!
For the second consecutive day, I've woken up to an empty house, without a need to get up, shake my eyes, prep myself for another day. Sit up, turn off the air-conditioning, wait for life to flow into my aching back and limbs again. I must have slept with the whole world in my dreams. And there's no one beside me. Hmm well what was I expecting. Finished Norwegian Wood last night.
Almost have forgotten how to live like this. When was the last meaningless holiday I had. I hope someone humours me with lunch.
Almost have forgotten how to live like this. When was the last meaningless holiday I had. I hope someone humours me with lunch.
8/10/2004
This is good shit.
" Midori and I wandered around for a while. She said she wanted to climb a tree, but unfortunately there were no climbable trees in Shinjuku, and the Shinjuku Imperial Gardens were closing.
'Too bad', said Midori. 'I love climbing trees.'"
more good shit.
"I can't just walk ip to anyone and say, 'When you wank tonight, will you please think of me for a second? It's because I think of you as a friend that I'm asking'. "
(Midori & Watanabe have just finished a porn movie)
"That was fun," said Midori. "Let's try it again sometime."
"They just keep doing the same things," I said.
"Well what else can they do? We all just keep doing the same things."
She had a point there.
Outside again, Midori said she wanted to climb a tree.
"There aren't any trees around here," I said. "And even if there were, you're too wobbly to be trying anything."
"You're always too damned sensible. You ruin everything! I'm drunk cause I wanna be drunk. What's wrong with that? And even if I am drunk, I still wanna climb a tree. Shit, I'm gonna climb to the top of a great, big, tall tree and I'm gonna pee over everyone!"
"You wouldn't happen to need the toilet would you?"
"Yup."
" Midori and I wandered around for a while. She said she wanted to climb a tree, but unfortunately there were no climbable trees in Shinjuku, and the Shinjuku Imperial Gardens were closing.
'Too bad', said Midori. 'I love climbing trees.'"
more good shit.
"I can't just walk ip to anyone and say, 'When you wank tonight, will you please think of me for a second? It's because I think of you as a friend that I'm asking'. "
(Midori & Watanabe have just finished a porn movie)
"That was fun," said Midori. "Let's try it again sometime."
"They just keep doing the same things," I said.
"Well what else can they do? We all just keep doing the same things."
She had a point there.
Outside again, Midori said she wanted to climb a tree.
"There aren't any trees around here," I said. "And even if there were, you're too wobbly to be trying anything."
"You're always too damned sensible. You ruin everything! I'm drunk cause I wanna be drunk. What's wrong with that? And even if I am drunk, I still wanna climb a tree. Shit, I'm gonna climb to the top of a great, big, tall tree and I'm gonna pee over everyone!"
"You wouldn't happen to need the toilet would you?"
"Yup."
Maintenant je sais
Now you can post comments. I guess I got sick of the old plain look. It was nice, it has served me well, but it has to make way for progress.
It was National Day yesterday, and I guess it was the climax of all the hard work for a lot of people. Of course, looking at it from the general public's point of view, we've come to expect a few things, such as a pull-out supplement from The Straits Times & the basic programme of the parade, and live telecasts, and Singapore Idol. Oh wait. That's new.
It was moving, to see the wonderful reception accorded to our outgoing PM and of course the tributes flow in. He's not horribly charismatic, it's like, ok, i'm going. Bye.
I mean parades. Geez. But the day it goes away, I guess it'll be missed. As with most taken for granted traditions, there'll be a certain bit of nostalgia if it every goes away. Personally, after all the build up, I wasn't feeling especially enthusiastic or patriotic yesterday, compared to earlier rehearsals.
It may not be horribly exciting to be a Singaporean, especially when no issues really divide or polarise us. We're still a stratified society, but basically we're all stuck on this island, so there's less divisiveness especially since we're taught to be united in order to be nimble and agile.
Contrast this to what is increasingly a more divided America. Fahrenheit 9/11, by Mr Michael Moore, is a 2 hour long campaign ad. It looks unlikely that any of the candidates are going to have the same sort of cross-party reach that Mr Reagan and Mr Clinton possessed. Both were exceedingly charming (easier to get things done, we're suckers for charm), and Mr Kerry is not. Mr Bush is slightly more endearing, but doesn't come across as very intelligent.
Mr Reagan proved what was right about the Republicans. Simple world view, achieving stated national security aims. I disagree however, that the end of the Cold War can be attributed to him. It was also a remarkable act of foresight by Mr Gorbachev to start liberalising the U.S.S.R so maybe Mr Reagan got too much credit for simply spending more money on arms than Soviet Russia. Okay. He cut taxes and liberalised the economy. Sound economic policy, but bad for the current account. Mr Clinton got that right. America in good shape.
Much is made about the CIA supplying Osama in the first place and how America tries to meddle with everyone. I thought, okay, war in Iraq is stupid, but maybe there is reason to believe Bush and Blair did it with a sincere heart. It's in the motive. If the Republicans are just a bunch of corrupt cronies, and say stupid things, I hate them. If they sincerely believed in getting rid of Saddam, and they do it in the best way possible, fine. But some of the things they do in the name of the 'war on terror' are just lame.
I believe in the political right. Although they have stupid thoughts on religion and stuff (imho), yet they ensure liberalism doesn't lean too much to the left, producing a nice centrist feel to the government. A bit of national security, a bit of welfare, and a bit of laissez faire. Moderation is good. Very W. Somerset Maugham
I like to believe I see things in shades. Pretty, not so pretty, average. Look beyond the veneer. Look at both sides. That's who I would like to be. I like pretty shiny things, but I like old things, symbolism. That bit of hope I guess is that you could love anything as long as it was unique. The trick is to find that bit of uniqueness, which for some people you can dig out pretty quickly, but for others it takes a lifetime of living.
I'd like to believe that I can choose not to apply standards to friends, which probably indicates a lack of standards on my part. Is that true? I guess I'm not much of a sticker for rules, but the fact is that I follow a lot of them. Wear my seat belt, don't piss people off, be generally nice and not grab things that don't belong to you. But really. Maybe I believe too much in personal rights. So it's okay if you're into ketamine or sleeping with women, I love you anyway.
Now you can post comments. I guess I got sick of the old plain look. It was nice, it has served me well, but it has to make way for progress.
It was National Day yesterday, and I guess it was the climax of all the hard work for a lot of people. Of course, looking at it from the general public's point of view, we've come to expect a few things, such as a pull-out supplement from The Straits Times & the basic programme of the parade, and live telecasts, and Singapore Idol. Oh wait. That's new.
It was moving, to see the wonderful reception accorded to our outgoing PM and of course the tributes flow in. He's not horribly charismatic, it's like, ok, i'm going. Bye.
I mean parades. Geez. But the day it goes away, I guess it'll be missed. As with most taken for granted traditions, there'll be a certain bit of nostalgia if it every goes away. Personally, after all the build up, I wasn't feeling especially enthusiastic or patriotic yesterday, compared to earlier rehearsals.
It may not be horribly exciting to be a Singaporean, especially when no issues really divide or polarise us. We're still a stratified society, but basically we're all stuck on this island, so there's less divisiveness especially since we're taught to be united in order to be nimble and agile.
Contrast this to what is increasingly a more divided America. Fahrenheit 9/11, by Mr Michael Moore, is a 2 hour long campaign ad. It looks unlikely that any of the candidates are going to have the same sort of cross-party reach that Mr Reagan and Mr Clinton possessed. Both were exceedingly charming (easier to get things done, we're suckers for charm), and Mr Kerry is not. Mr Bush is slightly more endearing, but doesn't come across as very intelligent.
Mr Reagan proved what was right about the Republicans. Simple world view, achieving stated national security aims. I disagree however, that the end of the Cold War can be attributed to him. It was also a remarkable act of foresight by Mr Gorbachev to start liberalising the U.S.S.R so maybe Mr Reagan got too much credit for simply spending more money on arms than Soviet Russia. Okay. He cut taxes and liberalised the economy. Sound economic policy, but bad for the current account. Mr Clinton got that right. America in good shape.
Much is made about the CIA supplying Osama in the first place and how America tries to meddle with everyone. I thought, okay, war in Iraq is stupid, but maybe there is reason to believe Bush and Blair did it with a sincere heart. It's in the motive. If the Republicans are just a bunch of corrupt cronies, and say stupid things, I hate them. If they sincerely believed in getting rid of Saddam, and they do it in the best way possible, fine. But some of the things they do in the name of the 'war on terror' are just lame.
I believe in the political right. Although they have stupid thoughts on religion and stuff (imho), yet they ensure liberalism doesn't lean too much to the left, producing a nice centrist feel to the government. A bit of national security, a bit of welfare, and a bit of laissez faire. Moderation is good. Very W. Somerset Maugham
I like to believe I see things in shades. Pretty, not so pretty, average. Look beyond the veneer. Look at both sides. That's who I would like to be. I like pretty shiny things, but I like old things, symbolism. That bit of hope I guess is that you could love anything as long as it was unique. The trick is to find that bit of uniqueness, which for some people you can dig out pretty quickly, but for others it takes a lifetime of living.
I'd like to believe that I can choose not to apply standards to friends, which probably indicates a lack of standards on my part. Is that true? I guess I'm not much of a sticker for rules, but the fact is that I follow a lot of them. Wear my seat belt, don't piss people off, be generally nice and not grab things that don't belong to you. But really. Maybe I believe too much in personal rights. So it's okay if you're into ketamine or sleeping with women, I love you anyway.
8/09/2004
National Day Special
Post more!
The last few months have went by in a flash, working late nights, settling stuff and added workload thanks to the National Day Parade. The cliched picture is of course a night cityscape or the interior of a club with the slow-sync turned on and long exposure. Little yellow fireflies.
All the things I do. Learn French. Want to do. Go to Bali, or some wide open expanse of land like Siberia. Learn other languages, communicate with other cultures so I can understand why they're so pathetically poor why we make so much money. Maybe like the damn dutch sailors who discovered Bali, it was like fuck spice, lets stay here forever and never go back.
I'm growing into adulthood. Driving cars, listening to Cai Qin in the middle of the night. Being my dad, because probably, my dad's memories are part mine. My memory of dad is dad 30ish, 40ish. It's still a little early to be using whatever he has taught me in deeds and action.
Spread roots, and be grateful to the soil. Follow a philosophy of life which I think is right but is of course imperfect, but perfecting it would kill me. Be honest and free.
It would be a gratification if you had a chick who could wank you off instead. Like oh, needs, and let's get it over with, it's just you wanting to cum.
And being that loner guy, saves you the trouble of dealing with envy and stuff. Oh wait, kill envy. That's why.
I'm tired. Tomorrow: Politics and Nationalism. Redemption for stuff which didn't really make much sense but just needed to go through the motions of writing weird undecipherable stuff on blog. I'm glad you wasted your time.
Post more!
The last few months have went by in a flash, working late nights, settling stuff and added workload thanks to the National Day Parade. The cliched picture is of course a night cityscape or the interior of a club with the slow-sync turned on and long exposure. Little yellow fireflies.
All the things I do. Learn French. Want to do. Go to Bali, or some wide open expanse of land like Siberia. Learn other languages, communicate with other cultures so I can understand why they're so pathetically poor why we make so much money. Maybe like the damn dutch sailors who discovered Bali, it was like fuck spice, lets stay here forever and never go back.
I'm growing into adulthood. Driving cars, listening to Cai Qin in the middle of the night. Being my dad, because probably, my dad's memories are part mine. My memory of dad is dad 30ish, 40ish. It's still a little early to be using whatever he has taught me in deeds and action.
Spread roots, and be grateful to the soil. Follow a philosophy of life which I think is right but is of course imperfect, but perfecting it would kill me. Be honest and free.
It would be a gratification if you had a chick who could wank you off instead. Like oh, needs, and let's get it over with, it's just you wanting to cum.
And being that loner guy, saves you the trouble of dealing with envy and stuff. Oh wait, kill envy. That's why.
I'm tired. Tomorrow: Politics and Nationalism. Redemption for stuff which didn't really make much sense but just needed to go through the motions of writing weird undecipherable stuff on blog. I'm glad you wasted your time.
"Two drifters, off to see the world
There's such a lot of world to see.
We're after the same rainbow's end
Waiting round the bend
My Huckleberry friend
Moon river and me"
Moon river, off Breakfast at Tiffany's. Before how gorgeous and elegant Audrey Hepburn appears steals the topic of conversation, we must divert unfailingly back to the point.
Two can be such a lonely number. It's not just about two couples in love. But knowing someone, who knows some certain aspect of you, can be an overwhelmingly lonely thing. If no one ever knew you for who you are, you could attribute it perhaps to the general unfairness of the world, or a certain tragedy we all must face. But knowing someone who knows you, at one moment, that moment can be rather lonely one when you realise 6 billion other people fade into oblivion, and that the world isn't that unfair after all, yet one other is all you have. But that's just romanticising it. Was just thinking about it when me and my boss were frustrated at the National Stadium on Saturday, and thinking that only we could feel each others pain. That's rubbish of course.
"There are place I'll remember all my life
Though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone, and some remain.
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends I can still recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life, I'll love you more."
McCartney was the more sensible beatle. Life soon settles into its regular dose of familiarity. Quotidian rituals exercise their rightful role, to remind us that we have to work, play, achieve certain set goals and objectives. Coffee symbolises a lack of time. Put aside all these ragged thought-to-death thoughts, so one can truly function in hope and in want.
Nostalgia rushes in like a void when one is empty. Life wants to be filled, with purpose, with addresses, with lovers, with breakfast, lunch and dinner, with work and fax machines and Apple computers.
Are we hip and cool? Are we 90's chic? Are we the children of the revolution? What is our generation looking for? Do we go pack-hunting for purpose in life, or are we all too damn selfish anyway that we'll get our fix anyway we can?
Across the universe from here, there's some neighbourly divine being way too far out of reach. The problem is, my home's a little too comfortable. Ages 19 & 20 are important ages in maturity. I'm a late bloomer. Best not to ruin myself. We all live in a yellow submarine. I'm hopefully still the same.
There's such a lot of world to see.
We're after the same rainbow's end
Waiting round the bend
My Huckleberry friend
Moon river and me"
Moon river, off Breakfast at Tiffany's. Before how gorgeous and elegant Audrey Hepburn appears steals the topic of conversation, we must divert unfailingly back to the point.
Two can be such a lonely number. It's not just about two couples in love. But knowing someone, who knows some certain aspect of you, can be an overwhelmingly lonely thing. If no one ever knew you for who you are, you could attribute it perhaps to the general unfairness of the world, or a certain tragedy we all must face. But knowing someone who knows you, at one moment, that moment can be rather lonely one when you realise 6 billion other people fade into oblivion, and that the world isn't that unfair after all, yet one other is all you have. But that's just romanticising it. Was just thinking about it when me and my boss were frustrated at the National Stadium on Saturday, and thinking that only we could feel each others pain. That's rubbish of course.
"There are place I'll remember all my life
Though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone, and some remain.
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends I can still recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life, I'll love you more."
McCartney was the more sensible beatle. Life soon settles into its regular dose of familiarity. Quotidian rituals exercise their rightful role, to remind us that we have to work, play, achieve certain set goals and objectives. Coffee symbolises a lack of time. Put aside all these ragged thought-to-death thoughts, so one can truly function in hope and in want.
Nostalgia rushes in like a void when one is empty. Life wants to be filled, with purpose, with addresses, with lovers, with breakfast, lunch and dinner, with work and fax machines and Apple computers.
Are we hip and cool? Are we 90's chic? Are we the children of the revolution? What is our generation looking for? Do we go pack-hunting for purpose in life, or are we all too damn selfish anyway that we'll get our fix anyway we can?
Across the universe from here, there's some neighbourly divine being way too far out of reach. The problem is, my home's a little too comfortable. Ages 19 & 20 are important ages in maturity. I'm a late bloomer. Best not to ruin myself. We all live in a yellow submarine. I'm hopefully still the same.
7/30/2004
"Half of what I say is meaningless
But I say it just to reach you Julia"
Just helped to clear out my mom's place today. One last look at #03-16, and 11 years of eye-treatment. It goes in cycles of 11 years, 82-93 at Orchard Plaza, and 93-04 at Lucky Plaza. There goes dusty lenses, cardboard boxes of saline, a ladder and other concomitant rubbish.
Won't have excuses to eat River Valley Nasi Lemak and probably I'll only ever visit Lucky Plaza again rarely for pool at Mambo or something. Okay.
But I say it just to reach you Julia"
Just helped to clear out my mom's place today. One last look at #03-16, and 11 years of eye-treatment. It goes in cycles of 11 years, 82-93 at Orchard Plaza, and 93-04 at Lucky Plaza. There goes dusty lenses, cardboard boxes of saline, a ladder and other concomitant rubbish.
Won't have excuses to eat River Valley Nasi Lemak and probably I'll only ever visit Lucky Plaza again rarely for pool at Mambo or something. Okay.
7/29/2004
Motor Cars, Handle Bars
Bicycles for Two
Broken Hearted Jubilee
Parachutes, Army Boots
Sleeping Bags for Two
Sentimental Jamboree
Buy Buy
Says the Sign in the Shop Window
Why Why
Says the Junk the Yard
Candlesticks, Building Bricks
Something Old and New
Memories for You and Me
Buy Buy
Says the Sign in the Shop Window
Why Why
Says the Junk in the Yard
That's Junk, by the Beatles. Before I come to that.
My cousin is in love. It's the only thing that could have gotten me to damn write on this blog again. It's not the most shocking, nor the most significant thing that could have happened in all this time. But it created a certain mood, a 'sentimental jamboree' if you would.
I guess it was an effusive sort of ebullience, wrought by the sheer happiness of someone else. Usually when other people are too happy, it sort of scares you, or even makes you feel sick and jealous, but I guess this was someone I knew, and there was a sense of sincerity of emotion associated with all of it.
Joy, tempered by tinges of anxiety and fear. When it happens to someone else, I guess unabashedly it's so much easier to comment about it, no guilt about self-indulgence or self-pity and it was just so uplifting to hear the words of someone who well believes in what they say.
About how she was so sure yet unsure about the whole thing. The quiet self assurance, knowing that yes, it was probably her he liked more of the two, but even then, would you take the risk? The meeting. The anxieties about the future yet foretold. And yes the anxieties about being continents apart, about being of a different social class, about not being good enough, and about how lucky god made her feel.
In the context of me having a stiff neck and a bad past couple of days, in the context of my previously loudmouthed in private yet really pretty quiet in public cousin, and the serendipity and unexpectedness of the whoel situation.
So much food for thought. Do people actually do worry about being from the same social class? Hmm yes of course, this world and generation is still quite conservative, especially for Indonesian Chinese. Of course, its a different world, and one could really break free of conventions and everything for love but a great deal many people actually factor in their parents thoughts and considerations in everything and watching them juggle all these potentially stressful thoughts in the midst of what must be happiness, its just like watching something you could believe in. The worst fears haven't happened, and do pray that they won't.
It's like watching what could be my future. Stop, look around, and think again. Why then, Junk?
it just made me feel so optimistic and rosy about the hazy thing called love again. I'm no emotional wreck, or sentimental fob, I guess, no matter how much sad songs and films try to convince me otherwise. Deep down, I am perhaps a legitimate, clear thinker, with a tendency to cling to childish habits to think that I somehow am sublimate from this world from time to time with certain special traits in this ethereal one. Yet I know, with much certainty, that many people feel much more than I do or reason better than I do.
With this tricky thing called mortality, and the vagueness of an afterlife(in these days at least), we're all compelled to make the best we can of this life, improve ourselves, for our sakes, for our loves ones, as we grow up, start to be repsonsible, earn enough money, make little gestures of kindness. If we didn't already do these things in childhood on a consistent enough basis, the rigour of adult, mature thinking will ensure you do.
That's my future. I guess I want to be a dependable guy and everything. I also want to be the quasi-enigmatic silent rebel who smokes marijuana and cigarettes from time to time, doesn't drink, and doesn't really enjoy loud social pursuits and maybe can write a book or two. Be moderately successful and vote Socialist. And practise these little beliefs in real life.
And it's Junk. I'm enamoured with little histories, simply because they present themselves in nice completed versions for you to tell stories with. Photos, stories, letters of commemoration. Even doing little commemorative efforts for things like NDP and school. It doesn't damn matter sometimes, who reads this shit, and all the photos are the same when you look at them too many times. But it's the first time you read. That's when you get bashed over the head, like the SARS coffee table book (what irony, we can drink coffee now) which is really a good commemorative efforts. At least save it from floating away into the ocean and being caught in a fishing rod of a boy on the other side of the world.
It's Junk. It's reality. It's not knowing whether the girl I love will ever know why Elia Kazan fell out with Arthur Miller over Marilyn Monroe, not knowing if my attempts at understanding will ever penetrate the myths, songs and stories she heard as a child, in some foreign family. It's the happiness of obscurity and the acceptance of insecurity, which as an individual, one can never tolerate. It is the individual which expects perfection of itself.
It's packaging. Not slick hair or nice clothes packaging. Bubble wrap or cardboard? I like bubble wrap because I love hearing the sound being popped and if I give that much joy to people, it's good. It's slightly bad for the environment and it hurts to be popped.
Buy, buy. I could turn this into a relentless tirade against capitalism but I know it's sensible.
Why why, why try ask the Junk? You never have to do anything or buy anything again. You could fashion a life out of all the junk you have here. But it'll never be enough for you. Or at least, I want to have more junk when i'm 85.
Bicycles for Two
Broken Hearted Jubilee
Parachutes, Army Boots
Sleeping Bags for Two
Sentimental Jamboree
Buy Buy
Says the Sign in the Shop Window
Why Why
Says the Junk the Yard
Candlesticks, Building Bricks
Something Old and New
Memories for You and Me
Buy Buy
Says the Sign in the Shop Window
Why Why
Says the Junk in the Yard
That's Junk, by the Beatles. Before I come to that.
My cousin is in love. It's the only thing that could have gotten me to damn write on this blog again. It's not the most shocking, nor the most significant thing that could have happened in all this time. But it created a certain mood, a 'sentimental jamboree' if you would.
I guess it was an effusive sort of ebullience, wrought by the sheer happiness of someone else. Usually when other people are too happy, it sort of scares you, or even makes you feel sick and jealous, but I guess this was someone I knew, and there was a sense of sincerity of emotion associated with all of it.
Joy, tempered by tinges of anxiety and fear. When it happens to someone else, I guess unabashedly it's so much easier to comment about it, no guilt about self-indulgence or self-pity and it was just so uplifting to hear the words of someone who well believes in what they say.
About how she was so sure yet unsure about the whole thing. The quiet self assurance, knowing that yes, it was probably her he liked more of the two, but even then, would you take the risk? The meeting. The anxieties about the future yet foretold. And yes the anxieties about being continents apart, about being of a different social class, about not being good enough, and about how lucky god made her feel.
In the context of me having a stiff neck and a bad past couple of days, in the context of my previously loudmouthed in private yet really pretty quiet in public cousin, and the serendipity and unexpectedness of the whoel situation.
So much food for thought. Do people actually do worry about being from the same social class? Hmm yes of course, this world and generation is still quite conservative, especially for Indonesian Chinese. Of course, its a different world, and one could really break free of conventions and everything for love but a great deal many people actually factor in their parents thoughts and considerations in everything and watching them juggle all these potentially stressful thoughts in the midst of what must be happiness, its just like watching something you could believe in. The worst fears haven't happened, and do pray that they won't.
It's like watching what could be my future. Stop, look around, and think again. Why then, Junk?
it just made me feel so optimistic and rosy about the hazy thing called love again. I'm no emotional wreck, or sentimental fob, I guess, no matter how much sad songs and films try to convince me otherwise. Deep down, I am perhaps a legitimate, clear thinker, with a tendency to cling to childish habits to think that I somehow am sublimate from this world from time to time with certain special traits in this ethereal one. Yet I know, with much certainty, that many people feel much more than I do or reason better than I do.
With this tricky thing called mortality, and the vagueness of an afterlife(in these days at least), we're all compelled to make the best we can of this life, improve ourselves, for our sakes, for our loves ones, as we grow up, start to be repsonsible, earn enough money, make little gestures of kindness. If we didn't already do these things in childhood on a consistent enough basis, the rigour of adult, mature thinking will ensure you do.
That's my future. I guess I want to be a dependable guy and everything. I also want to be the quasi-enigmatic silent rebel who smokes marijuana and cigarettes from time to time, doesn't drink, and doesn't really enjoy loud social pursuits and maybe can write a book or two. Be moderately successful and vote Socialist. And practise these little beliefs in real life.
And it's Junk. I'm enamoured with little histories, simply because they present themselves in nice completed versions for you to tell stories with. Photos, stories, letters of commemoration. Even doing little commemorative efforts for things like NDP and school. It doesn't damn matter sometimes, who reads this shit, and all the photos are the same when you look at them too many times. But it's the first time you read. That's when you get bashed over the head, like the SARS coffee table book (what irony, we can drink coffee now) which is really a good commemorative efforts. At least save it from floating away into the ocean and being caught in a fishing rod of a boy on the other side of the world.
It's Junk. It's reality. It's not knowing whether the girl I love will ever know why Elia Kazan fell out with Arthur Miller over Marilyn Monroe, not knowing if my attempts at understanding will ever penetrate the myths, songs and stories she heard as a child, in some foreign family. It's the happiness of obscurity and the acceptance of insecurity, which as an individual, one can never tolerate. It is the individual which expects perfection of itself.
It's packaging. Not slick hair or nice clothes packaging. Bubble wrap or cardboard? I like bubble wrap because I love hearing the sound being popped and if I give that much joy to people, it's good. It's slightly bad for the environment and it hurts to be popped.
Buy, buy. I could turn this into a relentless tirade against capitalism but I know it's sensible.
Why why, why try ask the Junk? You never have to do anything or buy anything again. You could fashion a life out of all the junk you have here. But it'll never be enough for you. Or at least, I want to have more junk when i'm 85.
7/27/2004
Frustration is one of the hardest qualities to put onto paper. For melancholy, you have a palette of greys and blues, rainy skies, jealousy's green, passion red, purity white, happiness a mix of oranges and yellows.
Frustration is the paper with your tiny handwriting crumpled and thrown into the paper bin.
Frustration is the paper with your tiny handwriting crumpled and thrown into the paper bin.
7/22/2004
Nothing much to contribute today. Just a nice afterword by Camus, on his own work, "L'Etranger". Listen to the argument and see if you agree.
A long time ago, I summed up L'Etranger in a sentence which I realize is extremely paradoxical: 'In our society, any man who doesn't cry at his mother's funeral is liable to be condemned to death.' I simply meant that the hero of this book is condemned because he doesn't play the game. In this sense, he is an outsider to the society in which he lives, wandering on the fringe, on the outskirts of life, solitary and sensual. And for that reason, some readers have been tempted to regard him as a reject. But to get a more accurate picture of his character, or rather one which conforms more closely to the author's intentions, you must ask yourself in what way Meursault doesn't play the game. The answer is simple: he refuses to lie. Lying is not only saying what isn't true. It is also, in fact especially, saying more than is true and, in the case of the human heart, saying more than one feels. We all do it, every day, to make life simpler. But, contrary to appearances, Meursault doesn't want to make life simpler. He says what he is, he refuses to hide his feelings and society immediately feels threatened. For example, he is asked to say that he regrest his crime, in time-honoured fashion. He replies that he feels more annoyance about it than true regret. And it is this nuance that condemns him.
So for me Meursault is not a reject, but a poor and naked man, in love with a sun that leaves no shadows. Far from lacking in all sensibility, he is driven by a tenacious and therefore profound possion, the passion for an absolute and for truth. This truth is as yet a negative one, a truth born of living and feeling, but without which no triumph over the self or over the world will ever be possible.
So one wouldn't be far wrong in seeing L'Etranger as the story of a man, without any heroic pretensions, agrees to die for the truth. I also once said, and again paradoxically, that I tried to make my character represent the only Christ we deserve. It will be understood, after these explanations, that I said it without any intention of blasphemy but simply with the somewhat ironic affection that an artist has a right to feel towards the characters he created."
Spoken like a true goalkeeper. Yes. Veritas. What is truth?
A long time ago, I summed up L'Etranger in a sentence which I realize is extremely paradoxical: 'In our society, any man who doesn't cry at his mother's funeral is liable to be condemned to death.' I simply meant that the hero of this book is condemned because he doesn't play the game. In this sense, he is an outsider to the society in which he lives, wandering on the fringe, on the outskirts of life, solitary and sensual. And for that reason, some readers have been tempted to regard him as a reject. But to get a more accurate picture of his character, or rather one which conforms more closely to the author's intentions, you must ask yourself in what way Meursault doesn't play the game. The answer is simple: he refuses to lie. Lying is not only saying what isn't true. It is also, in fact especially, saying more than is true and, in the case of the human heart, saying more than one feels. We all do it, every day, to make life simpler. But, contrary to appearances, Meursault doesn't want to make life simpler. He says what he is, he refuses to hide his feelings and society immediately feels threatened. For example, he is asked to say that he regrest his crime, in time-honoured fashion. He replies that he feels more annoyance about it than true regret. And it is this nuance that condemns him.
So for me Meursault is not a reject, but a poor and naked man, in love with a sun that leaves no shadows. Far from lacking in all sensibility, he is driven by a tenacious and therefore profound possion, the passion for an absolute and for truth. This truth is as yet a negative one, a truth born of living and feeling, but without which no triumph over the self or over the world will ever be possible.
So one wouldn't be far wrong in seeing L'Etranger as the story of a man, without any heroic pretensions, agrees to die for the truth. I also once said, and again paradoxically, that I tried to make my character represent the only Christ we deserve. It will be understood, after these explanations, that I said it without any intention of blasphemy but simply with the somewhat ironic affection that an artist has a right to feel towards the characters he created."
Spoken like a true goalkeeper. Yes. Veritas. What is truth?
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