of memoirs and musings

What Supra and me made for this year's Christmas tree ornaments

the reason for Christmas

Sometimes I wonder why we chose to highlight our differences rather than celebrate what we have in common. We were more alike than we were different and we understood each other more than we would admit to. Instead, we claimed our own universes and though they may run parallel, they can no longer converge despite the shared beginnings. It's too tiring to teleport between different worlds and trying to compromise in between and lose myself in the end. All my strength couldn't sustain my hope- that it'd be, no... that you'd be worth it.

I still don't know what I can save you from.

When I leave Singapore, I'm gonna miss Yvonne like crazy. She's the only woman I know besides Mama and Supra who would gladly teach me how to make pizza at midnight while she's baking chocolate chip cookies! We made two scrumptious pizzas with the following toppings:
Top right: Mozzarella, hard-boiled egg slices, prawns & mushrooms
Bottom right: Mozzarella, chicken sausages, pineapple & green olives

Dear God, please bless Ah Tan many folds over... *grin*

She looked at the photo, her eyes searching the image from corner to corner and top to bottom. Her mouth was agape in amazement. She didn't squint her eyes which seemed to sparkle from behind the little pair of glasses. Her arms rested on the sides of the wheelchair. The other younger woman who was pointing at the image knelt beside her and explained more about the photo in front of them. She spoke in Cantonese, slowly and clearly, hands touching the arms of the old lady in the wheelchair. I think she is the old lady's daughter. The old lady nodded and smiled at the explanations.

They went from photo to photo along the sidewalk, slow and steady. Each time, the younger woman will position the old lady in front of the photo and proceed to explain the photograph's story to her. Sometimes she leaned against the wheelchair from behind with her hands resting gently on the old lady's shoulders. At times she whispered into her ear and the old lady will break into a little chuckle. The old lady was always beaming. I love how the photo's spotlight cast a beautiful glow on her face, so beautiful the strings of decorative lights draping the trees around her paled in comparison. I love how gentle, patient and loving the younger lady was with her.

I wanted to take a photo of them among the many photographs but I didn't. The photo is in my mind though, permanently archived in memory like the one of the father in Brussels who waltzed with his baby son in the middle of the Grand Place to an outdoor opera one summer night. Yann Arthus-Bertrand's The Earth from Above is simply amazing... earth from among however, stole my heart and mesmerized me in its warmth all night long.

I'll be home for Christmas :)

Yvonne felt that the skies over Kent Ridge this evening looked like hell's portal had opened up and the ghouls are out. Dusk was fast giving way to night. I thought the overcast clouds and the fiery hues were like dragon's breath. The dragon had swallowed up the sun. Poor dragon. We stood staring at the view for a while. The breeze was warm and the trees below rustled excitedly. It was magnificent...

They remind me at times of Simon and Garfunkel and I love the following biography on their website: poignant, unassuming and funny.

Late nights by the window.

THE PLACE: If you walk for a good half hour southwards from the centre of Norway's second largest town, Bergen, you might be lucky to find the house where the Kings of Convenience story all started. It is an old, white house, the ground floor is owned by Erlend Øye's father, a psychiatrist, the second floor is owned by Erlend's mother, an acknowledged art painter. No, they do not live together anymore. In the second floor there are some panorama windows, from which you can see some storey-buildings, a small football field, a main road with heavy traffic, and, in the middle of everything, a squeezed-in small lake where ducks sometimes swim in summer. In early winter the lake would be perfect for skating, if it wasn't for the fact that the lakes never freeze properly in Bergen. The ice will never be safe.

THE SOUND: Anyhow, it was in the old, white house, on the bench just by the windows, that Erlend and Eirik for the first time hit these thoughtful mellow sound: the quiet guitar harmonies and substantial lyrics that later would become their trademark as acknowledged songwriters. Together with their friends in the Norwegian-singing and a never really seriously-taken band Skog, they would brew a mug of tea, and try to bring answers to all these fundamental questions: What would happen if they paid for a parking space in mid-town for a few hours, having a Saturday morning picnic instead of parking a car? Do girls really come from another planet? And what is the capital city of Bhutan?

As the tea grew cold and the hours late, they would find their guitars jamming their way on endless musical journeys, including instruments such as plastic flutes from the local toystore, the neighbour's old souvenir balalaika and clarinets stolen from long gone school orchestra. Rumours have it that there still exists some tapes with recordings from these sessions. They are extremely exclusive.

THE BOY WITH THE FUNNY GLASSES: Erlend was a famous person in Bergen even before he ever stood on a stage. Regarding school and studies he was always really lazy. But he had (and has) a stunning ability of remembering the strangest details from books, magazines, tv-shows and magazines. he also knows every capital city in every country on earth. In sum this gives him a general knowledge that makes him win Trivial Pursuit games every time he participates. As the strange, constantly poor and yet self-esteemed singer, bassist and main songwriter in Skog, he soon became an outsider in the small and exclusive gang of loudplaying musicians in Bergen in the early nineties. Many rock 'n roll dudes never really understood the musical ambitions of Skog, maybe because the members of the band at that time weren't that clever musicians. Anyhow a small fanclub came to every concert. Today they can claim to be visionaries. They saw what would come.

KARATE KID WITH A SOFT VOICE: As a teenager Eirik was a very talented climber. He also practised karate. Today he is taking care of his body by bouldering (climbing on small stones or low walls) and practising Yoga. He is reading books about how Goethe explained the being of colours and how to interpret dreams according to Jung. There is somehow quality in almost every aspect of Eirik's life. The only exception would be that his '66-model Beetle not always starts as it should. In the Skog era, Eirik didn't sing at all. He didn't know he could. He is the kind of person that will never claim that he is capable of something before he knows for sure that he is. But one day, Eirik and the rest of the band found out that his voice was actually not that bad at all, and on the latest Skog recording, a cover-version of the song "Eternal" on a Norwegian tribute-cd dedicated to the band Joy Division, he was actually the lead singer.

THE FORMING OF A DUO: Everything comes to an end. As the members of Skog went in all directions, Erlend became the "funny guitarist" in the London-based Norwegian band Peachfuzz, which performed at the"In the City" festival in Glasgow in 1997. Eirik started his psychology studies. The drummer, who is the author of this very story, got a job as a journalist. The guitarist became a coffee-shop founder and an IT-student, and is now the webmaster at this site. Every time Erlend came home from London, the two of them would sit in the window in the old, white house playing. The stepped one level from the endless jam stadium, and started producing songs where their two voices and guitars fulfilled their common potential. As Eirik moved to East Greenstead just outside London to attend an antroposophical college, they could start composing songs on a more regular basis. They established the name Kings of Convenience, as they found it really convenient to be two people with two acoustic guitars. And of course that they like the state of convenience in general.

THE SIGNATURE: With a tape of fourtrack recordings the job became increasingly easy for Erlend, who started visiting a lot of record labels to get that contract he had been dreaming for since he left school at the age of eighteen. The Frenchmen at Source records were the first ones to really hear a commercial potential in the quiet songs from the duo. They got signed. Erlend could cash in the loan that he'd taken to survive the latest years. Eirik could quit the studies. They could concentrate on doing what they do best:

Spending late nights by the window, in the old, white house, or in Eirik's brand new apartment, drinking tea, making songs that make the world stop and listen.

Written and produced by Anders Waage Nilsen,
Edited by Øystein Gjærder Bruvik

"One day at school, when I was fourteen, I made up my mind to be a writer. It was the first major decision I'd made, the first time I was aware of having a whole life and not just a succession of days. To my surprise, this decision affected everything. I seemed suddenly to have gained direction, volition; the various annoyance of the present were less weighty when there was a future pulling me on. I could detach myself from the life around because I had a plan of escape. At the same time, the present did matter, for the future would be built out of the present. There was both urgency and relief."

It's the way you looked at me
with eyes so tender it makes me
pause in breath or speech,
stealing glances when you thought
I didn't look your way
It's the way you have yet to call my name
though I holler yours from afar
It's the way you spoke to me
assured and composed yet
so shy it made me blush
It's the way you tilt your head over mine
as we whispered in hushed tones,
a closeness that felt second nature
So close yet so far
It's the way your smile catches mine
that breaks the heartache of your gaze
Strangers by default,
acquaintances by chance
Will you remember me?
I wonder but not hope
Your tender ways
My tender heart
Intertwined.