The Truth

The short, stout man looked straight into my eyes.
Critical, should call your father,
now, today, tomorrow.

I entrusted my face with the chore of maintaining
a calmness, a serenity.
My mind was roiling around a shallow pond
that which contained a drop of the most malicious poison.

Nothing escapes from the truth,

I left this poem in the air,
as my cellphone burbled out a warbly girl pop ringtone.
I was licking the chocolate off a stick…
I picked up the cell, and the silence on the other end…

I lept up in my semi-pajamas, for I was naked waist down,
pulled on my jeans and grabbed my sandals, for the shoes would have taken up seconds,
I ran out the door, forgetting to close the barn door.
I stumbled into the lift, and tapped my foot as the doors closed, the plunge took hold.
The taxi was only seconds behind me and bless the driver for being at the right place/right time.
The call came as I rounded a corner.
She didn’t have to say anything, I was almost sure looking at the caller Id. And when she said “Its confirmed”. I didn’t believe it.

It was as simple as that. I couldn’t believe it, I didn’t believe it. And even now, having seen her… How can I believe it? She is the Grand old dame. THE only dame left! And there wrapped up in the modern interpretation of the Mummy.

The End.

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In Concert: Rachael Yamagata

Ah Rachael. Beautiful purveyor of mildly sad, “wrist slitting” music. I cannot help but be in awe of her capabilities. To be able to lead a Singer’s lifestyle and still be really quite cool. The concert on a whole had its highs and lows. I throughly enjoyed her older songs from her album Happenstance, and I thought the slightly Rock-ier sound whilst in concert suited the atmosphere, as her album versions tended to be more mellow and more subtle, whilst the big hall needed bigger sounds to fill it. However, one particular moment will stick with me, it was her finale, Reason Why , Ms. Yamagata seemed to have jolted the tempo mildly with this rendition but it fitted the atmosphere of the hall. Everyone seemed mildly amped, and even I could feel the blood rushing at many moments during the concert. I think Reason Why is the quinessential Yamagata song and was alittle disappointed that she did not open the concert with it. Nevertheless, Worn Me Down, Letter Read and Be Be My Love was beautiful, slightly edgier than I remember in her album and honestly did Rachael really need any more edge? This is a really really a mild criticism. I mean who am I to criticise, I guess I just like the mildly melancholic, “wrist-slittin'” Yamagata more.

The after concert however is what I will truly remember. I rushed out to the other side of the Esp, ignoring the mild thump of my ankle, and joined the typically Singaporean queue to get albums signed. Some god above blessed me with foresight and I lugged my plastic album all the way there, and after what seemed like an eternity, I was up there with Rachael, she was quite possibly the most friendly artiste possible. Telling me about her experience playing the piano for The O.C. and leaving me throughly star-struck. As you can see from below, I’m smiling like I’m mildly retarded, but that is because at that moment I didn’t have full control of any of my faculties. I had rehearsed this line in my head, I think it was ” Hi Rachael, I am a huge fan, and have been since your appearance on The O.C.” I think I must have babbled a lot, and she must have been throughly scared by this HUGE guy. Lol ah well, live and learn. Ultimately this was an incredible concert for me, and its gonna be hard to forget for a while.

Me and Rachael! LMAOMGzzzz
My Pride and Joy

Thanks, Rachael!

Updates from All Over.

Somehow, it has been difficult for me to blog out for the past few days. Weeks even. Its almost as if there is a disconnect, between the writer me, and the me that makes decisions. Its almost painful for me, to be away from my writing for so long. I will attempt to make intelligent writings here for the public to appreciate here…

Kudos to Wan Jin, JHKL and Sandy for constantly checking back to my blog. And giving me a reason to go on writing. If not for you girls, I may be losing my ability to write coherently and consistently.

They say that NS kills off your brain cells, I am now certain it is true. I’m pretty sure that if I didn’t continue studying or reading in anyway, I’d be completely be unable to keep up with coursework during Uni. I’m thinking of taking a course at APMI Kaplan in Starhub centre. Specifically the Creative Writing one. Will go find some material about it…

Its so expensive to do a SAT prep course. As in a REAL prep course. Prinston Rev. has a 699, 399 and 99 usd bunch. The 99 one is hardly different from the one offered on the College Board site. But the 399 one actually looks pretty good. Hmm.. will see how it goes.

Lets see, I’m planning on visiting the SMU, and NUS campuses tomorrow. NUS one is the one near my house, and SMU is in town. And then maybe go to the IT show later on. I’ll see how my day goes…

Shoutout to Jocelyn. Who really is taking incredible care of me… even though its over the Internet. but somehow it feels good to have someone mother you. However virtual that mothering really is.

For those of you who haven’t already noticed, American television is actually getting smarter. Examples of which include Studio 60, 30 Rock, Grey’s Anatomy, House, and to a smaller extent Desperate Housewives and Lost. People on those shows actually act in a way that normal people should act, and don’t have ridiculous back stories like oh I don’t know Chinese-Singaporean Harvard MBA scholar, looking for a companion and MIRACULOUSLY falls in love with some SURPRISE small town girl, WHO IS invariably the same stereotypically sassy girl with an attitude. and makes him wanna chase her to the end of the world. There is possibly the evil villian, who is pure evil and makes the girl feel like down right poo and naturally the MBA dude will win the day coz HEY a Masters in Biz Admin will get you any/everything!

And when its not stereotypically the same storyline, its an import, like how many Ugly Betty rip offs, and how many conversions of Jap/Korean concepts have there been already. Sigh.

Is it because there’s a lack of something or other. I don’t think so, there seem to be plenty of innovative and intelligent people in Singapore. I just cannot wrap my head around it. People seem to love criticizing the Singaporean TV scene, but the question I wanna ask is, Why shouldn’t it already be better? The talent IS available, I mean we have Hossan Leong, we have Gurmit, *although he does have his cornier moments*, and PLENTY of theatre folk to choose from. Why isn’t the Singapore TV scene any better. Where’s the Channel 8 equivalent of the OC? Where is the Singapore created game show, that’s locally conceptualised and actually good to watch? The recent The Arena in Singapore’s Channel 5 is an example of a truly good piece of programming, though Mr Adrian Pang does need to work on his mildly affected speaking manner, not to say that I’m NOT affected in the way I speak, I just think its a distraction and we already have enough of those secondary students trying to be CNN Newsreaders thank you very much.

Mr. Ps visit to Singapore was truly WhirlWind. But I’m glad we did manage to catch up and have a burnt spaghetti… I’m glad he’s coming to visit again! Hehe get to bask in the light of intelligent conversation.

I must introduce the two shining lights of fabulousness to my dear Mr P. I’m sure they’ll love him and vice versa.

Alors, I think I will end this post here. Hope I get to go to the IT show tmr!!!

Earth

The quake in Sumatra has taken lives.
Regretful.

The shockwaves, we felt in Singapore,
we felt our buildings shake,
our houses quiver,
at the event that happened far away.

Some other country.
Ripples.
Send money scrambling into hiding places.
From Highs of 3000s,
disappointing lows.

It is not related. But still. They are happening together. The cascade… The cascade…
What is. Next.

Fear. of the unknown. Fear….. FEAR!

Water

The beat beat . beat
And you hear the rhythms of mother,
She is her own mistress,
and she spank yo ass if you notty.

I cut through the gently falling,
heavens, they touch my skin, urging me,
faster, faster, your clothes, they are wet,
I feel reborn, but no, hardly, I’m still grimy from my day’s,
work work. Just mildly refreshed… Still need a shower.

In my hand, two hangers, one pair of British India trousers,
another red shirt, in a plastic bag. and holding it, by the seam…
So it won’t get wet. Afterall, you don’t get something dry cleaned,
and then get it wet…

I am dog like, I taste salt. Its my sweat… highly diluted.
There’s a slightly oily texture, Hm. Need to wash my face.
I am different now.
I have source material for another poem.