| Rating: | ★★★★★ |
| Category: | Movies |
| Genre: | Other |
Tuesday, 30 October 2007
Saturday, 27 October 2007
My Favorite Color
| Rating: | ★★★★★ |
| Category: | Other |
I always thought I have this thing with purple. But purple is such a queer color!
When I was in secondary school, a girl and I made a secret date at the darkest staircase in school. We planned to feel each other up and probably should hormones insist, fuck the living shit out of one another. As I was spineless as always, I chicken out the last minute. Now whenever I think about that incident, I always think about two other things. One is to slap myself on the face for my cowardice and the other, the color purple.
I guess since that girl, I had subconsciously relate the color to sex. Not just any sex, but unrequited sexual pension.
This morning, I realised that I can be so turned on by the color.
No kidding.
Eleven years from now, when Martians enslaved us by poisoning the Earth with radioactive invasion, thus making us all sterile. I would probably be unleashed in a Colosseum with thousands of martini drinking Martians. I would be fighting the enslaved Neptunians dressed in purple who will fend me from raping them in blind fury and color lust.
We Used To Have A Purpose
| Rating: | ★ |
| Category: | Other |
Just got off from the worst night shift I ever had.
It was fucked.
Never thought this business was all about hurting them.
To save them, we had to forcefully plunge, defile and rape their dazed and confused souls of once pristine and pure into bruised carnage of venom.
To hurt something so pure eventually blackens our own souls to a point of no return.
Actually it were all of no big matters, unfortunately I was too much of a chickenhead to understand the bigger picture.
I can tell you what happened. But why would I want to do that? To myself again?
All I want to do now is to hit the shower and jump straight to bed. Away with the debris in my head and the smudges upon my breath and hopefully sleep a dreamless slumber.
Sunday, 21 October 2007
Comic Bush & Sosie at White House Correspondants Dinner 2/2
part1 : http://youtube.com/watch?v=96m1g2Pdkvo
part2: http://youtube.com/watch?v=1yZNK96NRow
sry for the audio delay...
Saturday, 20 October 2007
Friday, 19 October 2007
Kaiser Chiefs - Everyday I Love You Less And Less
Kaiser Chiefs video for Everyday I Love You Less And Less.
Saturday, 13 October 2007
MTP - Village At The Edge Of Forever
There was no road to Chaoyangpo Village.There was an initial plan to build one through, but clashing with the local development of a railway track and several corruptions among the developers, there won't be a road to Chaoyangpo Village after all.
The dirt track were dampen with bubbling soil and it made our little car bumped in agony. We passed some grey washed out abandoned factories and buildings. We passed tractors and lands of yellow crops. We seen the morning sun and inhaled the thickness of the cold in the air.
'The first one to the left.' Directed HL in Fenyang dialect I sometimes heard when she was conversing with her mother over the long distance call while in Singapore.
The taxi rolled into the Chaoyangpo village through the tracks of splintering rocks and cracks of dirt flying passing the windshield. We saw a brown mutt yelping away by the first one to the left.
HL's dog. Dan-zi.
I was introduced to Dan-zi as the cutest dog in the world. Her world. I had only knew Dan-zi in photographs.
Dan-zi's yelping alerted a woman who came out in grey sweater and a woollen pants from the first house to the left.
HL's mother. She wore a ponytail and had eyes so small that when she smiled her eyes disappeared.
I was introduced to her mother as her favorite person in the world. Her world. I had only knew her mother in photographs.
A man strolled out of the first house to the left and joined his wife and his beloved mutt.
HL's father. He was wearing black shirt and pants and had hair jetting up from the hind of his head as if he had just woke up. I had only knew her father in photographs.
The sun was barely up as we unloaded our baggage from the taxi and I braced myself to meet her parents whom I had knew so long through our conversations and photographs. It was surreal to have them pop into my radar of reality. I could only cover my distraction by shaking their hands.
Apparently, physical contact was kept to neat minimal in Chaoyangpo. Their handshakes were loose and hasty. It was not of poor courtesy as I learnt when I was introduced to the rest of the villages in days to come. They often greeted each other with just a simple nod and departed from one another saying, 'Ha Lai Ba!' Which in Fenyang dialect meant, 'To drop by/come onto to my house for a visit when you are free.' To adapt to that no touching gesture, I would raise my palm and say Hi while tossing a sheepishly grin and an occasional wink whenever I was introduced to the villagers. To that, they had thought this was how Singaporeans had greeted each other and they would mimic that effect to make me feel welcome.
After all. I was Chaoyangpo Village's very first foreigner as I was told by HL's father. Chaoyangpo Village was so remote, deeply tucked in the mountains that people usually exit the place to find work in the major towns and the cities. That probably explained why I didn't see much youngsters in their prime staying around the village but instead it was populated with elderly and tiny kids.
Releasing the loose hand grip, HL's father Mr Yang helped us carried the loads of baggage into the first one on the left.
The exterior of the house were made of dark bricks like a fortress with great metal red doors bolted with metal and iron.
We entered into the walkway with gardens assorted with different greens at each side. There was an apple tree right smack in the center of the courtyard.
We went around the apple tree as HL wanted to show me the infamous toilet. it was surrounded by a brick wall of the height of a child and then simply just a hole to defecate over with. We then entered through the kitchen which had a large flat stove that could only be cooked by burning coal beneath it and a large jar of water for all usage on the left and a tiny gas stove by the right hand.
A large mahjong table laid smack in the center of the kitchen. The mahjong table had cost a small fortune; it was electrical and could 'wash' the tiles and popped them up in ready assembly with a touch of a button. The dices also spun in automation inside a glass dome and the table could congratulate the winner in an electronic voice.
As our journey was overbearing, Mr Yang gestured for us to clean our faces while Mdm Yang poured steaming hot water from a great red flask into a basin. It was very welcoming especially it was getting so much colder since we had arrived in Chaoyangpo Village. We then went through the living room where there was a great green bed by the window and a couch in front of a television on a cabinet.
The green bed had no mattress was called a 'Kang' as they could burn coal beneath it for warmth in winter. On the green 'Kang' laid the family cat. I often heard stories about how the family cat often bitch slapped Dan-zi when he tried to bully her children. And so the old puss won the rights to mellow at whichever places she damned pleased, be it couch, the bed or inside the covers with HL while the dog remained on the floor.
After the living room was a small hall where it was pretty much for storing stuff. There was an old motorbike in a corner and two large cabinets on the other side. While one kept clothes, the other stored snacks and consumables like mooncakes and dried fruits.
They brought me at last into the bedroom where another 'Kang' was by the window and another small bed by the wall.
I would be sleeping in this room with Mr Yang while HL will share the 'Kang' in the living room with her mother. I quickly picked to sleep on the bed by the wall as not to impose on my host.
They had prepared breakfast and gestured us to the kitchen where they hooked up a wooden plate over the mahjong table, spread across a red cloth and served breakfast. I randomly and innocently picked a seat facing the exit and HL nudged me to change as she whispered to me that that was reserved for the head of the household. I quickly attempted to change my seat but Mr Yang forbidden me to do so. In half gestures and half spoken Mandarin, he explained that since I was the guest, I should sit there.
When we were settled, we had eight dishes in front of us. Chicken. I liked to eat chicken and literally have chicken in every meal and so HL made a deliberate effort in telling them. And more chicken dishes on the table. Pork, steamed buns, very cold noddle strips and veggies that were not found in Singapore. Mr Yang then motioned if I would like to drink. Despite HL's protests, I decided not to act coy and nodded. In my game, I had decide that since I do not smoke, then I must drink to show my manliness. Mr Yang brought out two glasses and asked me how much I could drink.
I have long heard about the wickedness of Chinese wines and the idea of drinking so early in the day was kinda freaking me out. It's seven thirty for crying out loud. I pointed out half a glass will do. My Yang peered at me as if he had something to say. He poured half a glass for me and a full glass for himself. We sat down and he began to tell me stuff in Fenyang dialect. I looked to HL and she translated that it was customary to pour a full glass for wine and half a cup for tea. I smiled faintly and tried the wine. My tongue burned at once. The drink was so strong that I couldn't even swallowed the mouthful. But to leave it stinging inside orifices was much worse an ordeal, I gulped down that mouthful and just kept coughing. It was then I realised HL was glaring at me. She whispered that I should raised my glass to her father when I drink it.
Having meals in Chaoyangpo Village was a battle for me. While in Singapore, my mother usually just whipped three dishes in the early afternoon and would went to work. The entire family just reheat the dishes over and over again throughout the day. At Chaoyangpo, each meal consisted eight to twelve dishes. Corn, more veggies, bean spouts, more chicken, slated fishes, dumplings, dumpling soup, porridge, Chinese pancakes, etc. Then I learnt that one would have to raise his glass for a small toast as if asking for permission to drink or to inform them that I gonna down this sucker. On another hand, if one person started to drink after his toast, the rest must follow suit. They drank every meal, at every excuse and kept pouring like there's no tomorrow.
I found out that each bottle had caused RMB9, which is only one dollar something in Singapore. If alcohol cost that little in Singapore, I would probably drink at every meal and every excuse and kept a mountain of them at the back of the house too. HL was weary too at mealtimes, she had to nudge me here and there, kicking me under the table to finish the dishes, to talk her father, to put food in their bowls, to talk to her mother, to raise a toast and to stop kicking her back when she had kicked me.
Life in Chaoyangpo Village was uber sedentary. We went to bed every night at ten and wake up at seven in the morning where I would brush my teeth by the apple tree to get ready for breakfast. Which after we would either do some chores around the house or played mahjong. Then lunch time where I could continue to drink more alcohol and after sit around the television stupefied. Dinner would soon follow where the dog and the cat would circle us like flurry sharks for pieces of food. After dinner we usually just get ready for bed. There's not much to do in Chaoyangpo and of course we were trapped in the autumn rain.
The night when we arrived was mid-autumn festival and I was trying hard to introduce to her family and friends on how we had celebrated mooncake festival in Singapore. We lit up lanterns, eat mooncakes, set up candles all around public property which probably always catch fire and burned roaches under the void decks. Folks in Chaoyangpo Village did otherwise, they gathered for a reunion dinner and lighted up fire crackers. We didn't as a short shower had appeared in the afternoon and so after dinner HL and I just sat on the tiniest stools on the corridor and admired the full autumn moon in her glory.
We talked under the moonlight, with the springy leaves from the apple tree rustling above, in a village tucked in the mountains, away from society and the hay noises. That memory was precious and will forever treasured.
The next day we woke up to the autumn rain which would not stop for four straight days. Any moment you peeked outside the shades, it would be raining buckets. It became so biting cold that we had four pieces of clothes on and kept making hot chinese tea to keep us warm. On any good day, the rain and the free time of course would meant cuddling sessions, but instead we were two goody good school children with maximal supervision and always kept a virginal distance apart. We didn't even dare to hold hands.
When the rain have gotten smaller, we brought out our umbrella and wore our thick boots and coats to venture out around Chaoyangpo. We had went to her uncles' homes which in one, I had the opportunity to converse with a true blue communist. With HL's translation back and forth, we discussed about exploitation and corruption. We also went to the neighbours' houses which had doted HL so much when she was younger. There was this old man, frail in the knees and jolly like the sun. We talked about this medical condition and advised him how and when he should take the multiple combination of his medications.
We went around the mountain to see flocks of yellow sheeps, the weaving of quiet mountains hidden in the distant mist and visited the farmers hard at work in the morning fields.
There wasn't much pictures for this entry as the camera batteries went dead on my first night in Chaoyangpo. Though Mr Yang went and purchased more batteries but they just went limp dead in my camera. Apparently, my camera preferred a picky diet. It was then revealed that a battery branded 'NanFu' might be a fitter choice. Trapped in the cold autumn rain, we could only scourged within the two grocery stores in the village when the rain had gotten smaller. But all the batteries we have gotten perished the minute they entered my camera. 'NanFu' was rumored for sale only in the town a long distance away from the village. By day three, I was exasperated and requested for HL to enter town soon.
The photojournal of this entry can be found here.
This entry is part two of a four-part travelogue.
Tuesday, 9 October 2007
MTP - I Am The Lightning (Photojournal)
Blog entry for this photojournal:
http://raknax.multiply.com/journal/item/264/MTP_-_I_Am_The_Lightning
Thursday, 4 October 2007
MTP - I Am The Lightning
Tis' a very strange feeling to touch a keyboard again.I'm back. Travel stained, vastly. Light in the head, full of sympathy for myself for needing to go back to work tomorrow. It has been a amazing trip, for an urbanite like me.
Day One was plainly travel. Flew three hours to Hong Kong for a two hour transit. Upon passing through the customs, a mob was heard shouting in unison. Apparently a tour of China folks was struck in the airport, probably transiting too, due to delayed flights. They crawled up to a thick line and patrolled around the airport, yelling in chants demanding that they want to go home. It was almost like a demonstration. This is interesting enough for HuiLing and me as such demonstrations were prohibited in both China and Singapore. Such zest and abundance in expression of personal space and freedom!
Then we realised we are too struck for an extra hour in the airport which according to calculation forced us to cancel our trip to visit HL bestie and to spent a day in Beijing.
People had asked me how I felt about this trip. I just waved them off and grunted that I wasn't supposed to enjoy this trip as meeting the parents and the rest of the family was all about judgement and scrutiny. Furthermore, I wasn't groomed to socialise. I often behave awkwardly around people and reluctant to make contact. To triumph such judgement would require me to be outwardly reaching and jovially geared. Tis' a challenge. Seeing that we need to delay another day to see her parents was somewhat welcoming.
Flew another four hours to Beijing. The most interesting discovery of the day's worth was how much I loved airports. A constellation of nationalities and backgrounds intersecting between seas of plastic waiting seats, colors alternating at each junctions of illuminating signboards overhead and its ever fear clouded meticulously in sterile security. There is a breath of quiet desperation inside the doors that separated us from the metallic monstrous flight birds in ushering the flocks of both weary and eager travellers lost in the vastness of nowhere and everywhere.
I liked how airports reminded me of my ever quest to attempting to dye and cross-stitch stories and characters' lives, intravenous and intertwined into a beautiful mess. The shuffle of feet and trolleys, the fleeting sights of duty-free shops peddling untaxed alcohol, cigars and leather-bags. There is certainly no suspense nor mystery in these places, for it's most intriguing beauty is probably this is the place, that frame where all the magic begins and dies simultaneously.
Found a motel around Beijing airport for RMB235, showered and hit the sacks.
Day Two, we needed to travel by coach to a place interestingly called 公主坟 (Princess Tomb). Two princesses or Ge Ge were buried in the east and the west. Both had died very young. According to the traditional laws back then, married princesses weren't allowed to be buried with their parental cometary nor could they be buried with their in-laws, so a special area had to be located where the princesses could rest forever.
Unlike the confined roads in Singapore, the traffic space in Beijing was wide and plenty of rooms to drive. The mainframe of Beijing traffic spanned out in circles amidst its heart on the map. It had five Ring Roads with the first closer to the central of Beijing and the 5th (Olympic Avenue) encircling ten kilometres away.
Arriving at 公主坟, we bought bus tickets for the night route as the ride would exhaust almost ten hours, so it would be better if we had slept through the journey. We have half a day to kill, so we decided to leave our baggage at the service counter and tried to navigate Beijing public buses to Tiananmen and Gugong.
Old school grenade!
So we found ourselves with a Beijing map all sticky with Cherry Candy (冰糖葫芦) and our confounded sense of direction, usually good but totally offset at a foreign land. There were several bus stops at a corner of a street and more around the bends. We had to ask around to get on the right bus.
My fascination with Communism started when I couldn't understand why Korea was divided when I had read the news in my Poly years. In those days, Alfred and I were feverish in conversations of Communism. Can Communism work? Can Communism last? Although now we are no longer in speaking terms, we were still fascinated with Communism in our own separate ways. His was in North Korea and mine was with North Vietnam. Singapore had its own battles (the fiercest) against World Communism in its developing years and in fact PAP won its elections with the Malayan Communists backing Lee Kuan Yew, in which he had turned to rid them in Cold Store. Though China had relaxed and lost the spots and traits of its communism in today's world, nevertheless it was breathtaking to visit a land where Mao's red democracy had strike to the veins and hearts of China's earlier generations.
I was so glad I wore my 'Obey' T-shirt for this shot.
After the tour through Tiananmen and Gugong, HL decided to show me the Orchard Road of Beijing - The Shopping Street Of 王府井. The weather was wearing us down as the country's autumn had gotten colder. As we strolled along the wispy crowd of tourists and shopping centers, Beijing was getting dreamier as the evening approached where the sight could not fathom beyond the fog. It was as if the world was flat and we were all walking towards the fall. The air pollution in Beijing contributed largely to the looming haze that devoured the entire skies of clouds and the sun. My nose boogies were black, for crying out loud. According to the news report in Beijing's broadcasting while we were cramped in the evening bus ride back to the bus station, there was apparently an Air Quality Report that indicated the levels of air pollution and its danger posed to mortal health.
My one hand photoshooting's getting acer.
The only church we see in our trip.
In that night, we made it just in time for our ten hour bus ride to her village 朝阳坡村 (Chaoyangpo). The coach was campy and had installed a television overhead which looped loud and crackly 小品 (Skits) and 相声 (Crosstalk) throughout the entire twilight. The coach had stopped every few hours at the petrol stations where we could used the toilets or purchased some ice teas and cup noddles. The coach had also broke down on several occasions, delaying the journey in our fitful sleep perturbed by the howling noises from the television.
Apparently Chaoyangpo village was so remote that there was no road built into it. It appeared that the coach had to dump us at a cross section of the expressway and there, hopefully we could taxi a ride to Chaoyangpo village in the dawning hours then.
With each toilet breaks and each breakdown of the vehicle, we gotten down the bus to stretch our legs to discover that it was growing fiercely colder each stop. I had looked into the dark wildness and felt nothing but anxiety over meeting her folks. Before we came, she was worried about the culture shock that I would be facing. I wondered if drastic adaptation would be required and tried to imagine a world that I could believe in Chaoyangpo village. The biting freeze and the hazy wildness told me nothing.
Rolling my fists as I hacked a chilling cough into them, I pulled up my collar and got back into the bus. It sped red blurry into an oblivion of her mysterious birthright.
Apparently Chaoyangpo village was so remote that there was no road built into it. It appeared that the coach had to dump us at a cross section of the expressway and there, hopefully we could taxi a ride to Chaoyangpo village in the dawning hours then.
With each toilet breaks and each breakdown of the vehicle, we gotten down the bus to stretch our legs to discover that it was growing fiercely colder each stop. I had looked into the dark wildness and felt nothing but anxiety over meeting her folks. Before we came, she was worried about the culture shock that I would be facing. I wondered if drastic adaptation would be required and tried to imagine a world that I could believe in Chaoyangpo village. The biting freeze and the hazy wildness told me nothing.
Rolling my fists as I hacked a chilling cough into them, I pulled up my collar and got back into the bus. It sped red blurry into an oblivion of her mysterious birthright.
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