We've been dear friends since the days of Baden-Powell, campfires and hiking trips. We used to have long boil-porridge telephone conversations with his mom and mine nagging in the background. We'd chat about our schools, cars, friends, BGR and relished comparing the smarts of our respective siblings, our exam scores and 1119 tuition essay remarks. It was during one of those regular chats on the phone after school that the topic first came about. I think we were discussing about our ideal life partners or something close.
Mervin: Hey, hey let's make a bet, an agreement!
Me: What's that?
Mervin: If someday when we are both old, say 40 years old lah huh... and we can't find anyone...
Me: Uh huh...
Mervin: Let's get married. You and I.
Me: Whhhhhhhattt?
Mervin: Yeah, why not right? We get along damn fine. We are good friends. Rather than be lonely for the rest of our lives, we can complement each other well and make a great partnership.
Me: ... *cricket calls and bullfrog mating sounds*
Mervin: So, on or not? Don't you think it's a great idea?
Me: SIAO!! How can u bet on something like that? Anyway, 40!! So old lah wei!!
Mervin: Ok, 35 then? Just nice.
Me: *explodes in a cackle of laughter* That's just utterly sampat!
That's as much as I can remember. Ahh... 17-years old and we thought being lonely at 35 sounded like a death sentence. Almost ten years on today, I burst out laughing when the subject was brought up again and I had to remind him that this is the second time he's proposing such an agreement. We were talking about ending up in the UK this year- me to study, him to work, both chasing our respective dreams. "Now or never" is our mantra. He suddenly suggested the idea of getting married to each other over there so that he can get a work permit, and he'll help me cover part of my tuition fees if I make the admission without the full scholarship- an ideal win-win situation, sort of.
Well, except that he has a girlfriend, she's in UK too and I'm Catholic. Catholics don't get married on paper or for any other reason than a lifelong commitment et cetera et cetera et cetera... besides, I want to marry for love and only once if possible. Heh... He then told me to get married earlier because him being unmarried at 35 sounds pretty much the norm. I grinned and told him that this year and the next have more pressing matters awaiting us than my marriage and with that, we both laughed and got back to work.
Mervin: Hey, hey let's make a bet, an agreement!
Me: What's that?
Mervin: If someday when we are both old, say 40 years old lah huh... and we can't find anyone...
Me: Uh huh...
Mervin: Let's get married. You and I.
Me: Whhhhhhhattt?
Mervin: Yeah, why not right? We get along damn fine. We are good friends. Rather than be lonely for the rest of our lives, we can complement each other well and make a great partnership.
Me: ... *cricket calls and bullfrog mating sounds*
Mervin: So, on or not? Don't you think it's a great idea?
Me: SIAO!! How can u bet on something like that? Anyway, 40!! So old lah wei!!
Mervin: Ok, 35 then? Just nice.
Me: *explodes in a cackle of laughter* That's just utterly sampat!
That's as much as I can remember. Ahh... 17-years old and we thought being lonely at 35 sounded like a death sentence. Almost ten years on today, I burst out laughing when the subject was brought up again and I had to remind him that this is the second time he's proposing such an agreement. We were talking about ending up in the UK this year- me to study, him to work, both chasing our respective dreams. "Now or never" is our mantra. He suddenly suggested the idea of getting married to each other over there so that he can get a work permit, and he'll help me cover part of my tuition fees if I make the admission without the full scholarship- an ideal win-win situation, sort of.
Well, except that he has a girlfriend, she's in UK too and I'm Catholic. Catholics don't get married on paper or for any other reason than a lifelong commitment et cetera et cetera et cetera... besides, I want to marry for love and only once if possible. Heh... He then told me to get married earlier because him being unmarried at 35 sounds pretty much the norm. I grinned and told him that this year and the next have more pressing matters awaiting us than my marriage and with that, we both laughed and got back to work.
Finally, I've found the fedora I've been longing for since espying one while attending La Fête de la Musique '04 in Paris. This one's actually cream-coloured and not made out of felt nor suede which I guess is good for wear in our tropical weather! I'm not sure of the material but it's light and "breathable" with a nice weave pattern. I can't help but think that there won't be many reasons to wear one except on a night out clubbin', a hat themed party or a nice arts gig, but silly longings are better off fulfilled, right? If not, as they say... kempunan nanti, ha!
lil' girl and chrysanthemums
Armenian Street looks beautiful in the sunny morning. Conviction had caught up with me and courage came along as I went with taxi stories. It's ten to ten and my heart raced as though it will pump its last when the long hand touches twelve. Oh well, at least it didn't fail me in the train on the way here. I sat on a curb in the almost empty carpark and stared at the paper that's beginning to look very much like cabbage leaves in my hands. A yellow taxi pulled up and the driver asked me for directions to the Battle Box as two sweaty Caucasian passengers stared at me from within. Hmmm... a taxi; a fortuitous omen I hope. O Uncle, please give me your blessings today. I need to catch up with a dream detoured three years ago...
You write and then erase.
Write and erase.
Think. Write. Erase.
Tears well up and you fight them all back.
You purse your lips and sink into the shadows.
You stare into the lamp till you're almost blind.
Close. Open. Black circle. Close.
In the darkness you remember.
In the darkness you surrender.
In the darkness you curl, cramp and cough.
Phlegm as stubborn as memories.
For in the light, you would prefer to forget.
Write and erase.
Think. Write. Erase.
Tears well up and you fight them all back.
You purse your lips and sink into the shadows.
You stare into the lamp till you're almost blind.
Close. Open. Black circle. Close.
In the darkness you remember.
In the darkness you surrender.
In the darkness you curl, cramp and cough.
Phlegm as stubborn as memories.
For in the light, you would prefer to forget.
There is a simple kind of happiness describable only by a goofy grin when munching on Mama's delicious chocolate chip cookies and having coffee on a sunny afternoon; in a kitchen that no longer looks like a kedai dobi gone wrong...
The thing about being a person who's mostly happy-go-lucky is that the world in general (except that special group of people that you call kindred and beloved ones) sees you less of a human. They perceive you as a bubbling box of sunshine with no rights to days of gloom. When you're in the doldrums, you're expected to cheer up at a change of a song or when the wind next changes its direction. Gosh, even TV characters are expected to have depth i.e. not a 1D caricature. People on TV may serve to make you laugh and have a great time but hey, if you can switch channels or turn off the set when you don't like what you see, why can't you just let me be?
I am nobody's kai xin guo, tickle-me-Elmo, court jester or daily Bizarro.
What's that about which me that you prefer again?
Damn. That is just so salah.
Go find yourself a kawaii standee somewhere and be merry.
I am nobody's kai xin guo, tickle-me-Elmo, court jester or daily Bizarro.
What's that about which me that you prefer again?
Damn. That is just so salah.
Go find yourself a kawaii standee somewhere and be merry.
There are some people you meet, some moments experienced, and some things or places seen that description by words alone can do no justice. When that happens, I am thankful for photography that allows me to preserve what the memories may lose with the progression of age and time. These and all else, I weave into a narrative of being, a definition of existing.
Where does so much water come from?
Some tyro out there must have been singing some deadly karaoke all night long without realising his/her superpower to command the rain by singing. Elsewhere, some criminal idiot of a girl must be gloating over her newly stolen Nokia 7610 among other stuff in my handbag that she lifted. I am very tempted to wish her a heart broken many times over and arthritic fingers for the rest of her life... but no, karma, babe... karma will seek justice for me.
