Reflections

Red Mirror, Red Cab, Red Light. GO!

Driving anywhere near or in town these few days is an absolute nightmare, made worse by the fact that most drivers have no idea how to drive in the wet. Maybe the driving schools should have a special lesson on driving in the rain. Tomorrow I leave for my 9D India Trip. After 3 weeks of resting, the shoulder still feels sore at some angles. After 3 weeks of resting, I still feel sore about having to cancel on Iran. Although the original plan was to just visit Delhi, Agra and Jaipur, I now am more excited about our side excursion to Kashmir. I've always been a sucker for words and I think its appropriate to end off with this little passage.

"At the entrance to the Shalimar Garden, beside the sumptuous lake bobbing with boats that resemble an eager audience waiting impatiently for the show to begin, beneath the whispering chinars and the gossiping poplar trees and in the silent eternal presence of the uncaring mountains, who were preoccupied by the gigantic effort of very slowly pushing themselves higher and higher into the virginal sky..."
~Shalimar the Clown, Salman Rushdie

Angelic

A snippet of the Tan family Christmas Tree.

Although I am home for Christmas this year, I somehow feel detached. The last Christmas seemed merrier. The last Birthday was happier. And in spite of all that has happened, I still think that I am happier away from home; that my happiest memorie are of times spent far away from our little island.
The build up to this christmas was spent rushing to town getting the obligatory christmas presents, being swallowed and churned out by stores and malls but not before being sucked dry of liquidity. All along Orchard Road, the bodies of shopping centres secrete through their porous shop windows the scent of illusionary happiness and promised merry times. If only happiness was that cheap. Thousands scurry forth like worker ants, in search of the prefect gift to please that perfect someone, hoping that that perfect someone is doing the same and that you are that perfect someone's perfect recepient. To love in anticipation of being loved. To give generously in the hopes of receiving well. And as the masses surge forth in the spirit of buying to present generously, courtesy and decency are shoved aside or shoved along as the masses shove towards their primal objective.
Please don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to bah-humbug-bugger-off christmas. In fact, on the eve of Christmas, I am hoping that tomorrow will be a ball. Yes, under all this griping and moaning I am still a human being. Albeit one that seems to relish in negativity. Of course those part philosopher, part fortune cookie types out there would say that one should always look on the bright side of life. But it is always the other side that makes life miserable, so shouldn't one pay some attention to it every once in a while?
Anyway, back to the opening paragraph, I somehow think that distance makes a big difference in terms of how we perceive things. I know that this theory of mine is somehow linked to the "forbbiden fruit tastes best" theory but due to a lack of intelletual willpower at the moment, I shall not delve into it. Like I've said before, things seem so much better when they're not part of your close surroundings. And maybe that is why I missed my family more last year. And that is why I truly understood the meaning of christmas last year. How easily one forgets the most important lessons of life.
Oh yes, Merry Christmas everyone.

窗口

我知道你我都没有错
只是忘了怎么退后
信誓旦旦给了承诺
却被时间扑了空

Jalan Kayu Redux

The Jeremys, reunited at long last.

For the 2nd night running I find myself back at Jalan Kayu, at the same table and quite possibly in the same chair. It was a strange feeling, almost deja vu-ish. Anyway, Welcome back Mr Ho. What a shame there won't be a Ho's Christmas party this year. I just realised that it has been 1.5 years since we last met. It seems so long, but not so long ago.

Whiskie

Mr Egg Whisk.

Picked up Mr Egg Whisk from Kitchen Culture yesterday. The Nordic/Germanic style Kitchen mock ups were really cool. Functional and cool. Its been raining since yesterday and I have decided to stay in to finish up yet another Rushdie book. It is the 19th of December. Just 6 more days to Christmas and already 21 days of vacation. I've spent the last 21 days accomplishing nothing except reading and waiting for the shoulder to recover. I am begining to wonder if I have some form of addiction to reading. Compulsive reading, chain reading, read me up as opposed to shoot me up. Oh well. Why don't I ever get addicted to cooler stuff, like maybe life?

Deh Sert

The white dessert at sunset.

Starmovies is showing the whole Starwars collection starting from today. What a way to ease into the new year. Watching Episode One just now made me realised how similar Tatooine is to the White Dessert. I love the serenity of the dessert. I also like the fact that there is so much more hidden beneath the surface. What you see isn't always what you get.

Arbeit

Hard at work, even after dark.

Bronson had a little celebration at his office/studio this evening to mark the first anniversary of his design company. The office/studio is in a 60s industrial building, surrounded by shophouses that have been converted into small factories and workshops, the whole area felt more like JB than Singapore. But I like the raw vibe. I also like high ceilings and white walls.

Christmas Cheer

Have a Starbucks Christmas.

Minus my good friend in the photo, this could be anywhere in the world. Global chain stores tend to have that effect. Its like how I get nostalgic about Aarhus when I last visited Ikea, largely due to the similar layout and the familiar musty smell of wood. I suppose in some sense that is comforting but is it also indicative of a loss of local identity?
Anyway, it was great catching up with the unholy trinity from JC days. We should most definately do this more often.

Naturalism

We are made of shadow as well as light, of heat as well as dust.

Daily Update

Lunch at coffee club.

The morning was spent waiting and queuing at the Indian High Commission.The whole experience can only be described as, Incredible. That was followed by lunch with these two at Coffee Club. What an eventful day. Full of hustle and bustle. Updates on the blog have been very sparse, largely because I can't really lift up my bulky DSLR to eye level yet. Besides, after years of photoblogging, I now find a photoless blog entry naked and disturbing. Any movement above 90 degrees on the right shoulder still causes discomfort but who knows, maybe the pain might just disappear tomorrow morning. Ah... ever the optimist.

The Herd

Seperate, yet inseparable.

The rise of the Individual can probably be traced back to the advent of Renaissance Humanism. Where the likes of Descartes preached Cogito ergo sum, I think therefore I am; Individual Thought. But where is that individualism today? I often moan about how modern society is in some ways regressive and perhaps this is one rare occassion where my moaning actually bears some truth. Where is the indivualism today? After surviving the onslaught of communism, we are now instructed en mass by advertising campaigns on what to buy and what is good. Economics rather than passion now dictates how we should be employed, gainfully instead of purposively. Maybe the harsh reality is that the only way humans can progress is through herding. Nevertheless, just for this holiday, I would like to believe otherwise.

Satis

'but it meant more than it said. It meant, when it was given, that whoever had this house, could want nothing else. They must have been easily satisfied in those days, I should think.'
~ Great Expectations

The afternoon was spent at Marc's place where he cooked up a fantastic lunch avec dessert. It has been a while since we last cooked and makan-ed together. In fact, I think the last time we did this was before I left for Denmark. Gosh, where did all that time go? Anyway, good food, good drink and good conversation, just what one needs to lift the spirits. Maybe people these days are still easily satisfied. At least I am, for today.

The Darkness

The darkness seeps through the cracks of life.

I think I've been having a mid life crisis since I was 16, which isn't such a bad thing provided that it doesn't end too soon. Well maybe then it would be for the better, but one can never really be too sure about these things. Up till just a couple of days ago, I was in denial, until I felt the fury flowing through my veins again. I suppose one should rejoice at such a gloomy epiphany for to shrug it off would be to plunge back into the cesspool of deceit from which I had barely crawled out of. The crisis point apparently appears to be the lack of unadultered happiness in my life. The bummer with having a midlife crisis so early is that you simply can't afford the instant cure of a sordid affair or a bright red ferrari. Instead you are forced to take the primitive unevolved route of distilling away all the excess trash till you arrive at the root of the problem. Being placed under house arrest by an over protective mother and having a sore shoulder is the textbook context for such distillation exercises, and so I donned my heavily under utilised thinking cap. I soon realised that the lack of happiness, resulting in the fury, is due to.... nothing. Absolutely nothing. A massive void in my life that like a blackhole, threatens to consume everything within its reach. Yes, even light. This void is probably compounded by my masochistic streak that manifests in a series of activities ranging from seeking out happiness in a doomed relationship to reading Herodotus when I should be in Iran. Now thats the easy part done. The tricky bit of this whole distillation mambojumbo is to find the cure. How does one plug a gaping hole in his life? Of course a ferrari or a mistress would do the trick but as those are squarely out of my reach, I need other alternatives. I suppose this whole mid life crisis phenomenon that is sweeping the globe (believe me, it is, just look at the number of fat balding men driving ferraries these days) is largely attributed to the rapid modernisation of society. When the age of pulse is giving way to the age of tone. When the epoch of analog is giving way to the digital era; the final victory of the numerate over the literate. Maybe that is the cure you say? To detach oneself from this modernised society. To be retrogressive and to spurn the trappings of modern living, of technology, of capitalism. To go back to the age where Advertising was a confidence trick, a cheat, the nototrious enemy of promise. But what will be left of me after all these layers have been removed? The sorry catch-22 predicament of being consumed by a gaping void or being reduced to nothing. Thank god for free will.

2:28

The return journey

The plains once watered by tears and blood are now dry and arid. This land no longer sustains life, not even colour.
Wavering standards are left behind, crossing over the threshold of a rock hardened showdown. Even in a dreamscape, rocks appear as hard as reality suggests. But isn't there more to reality than just mere suggestions? Imagination.
Time accurately measured by moon phase; the old moon is on the wane, easing into a new face, a new cycle. A new epoch. But isn't there more to time than just cycles? Relativity.
The journey has always been one of solitude but alone is not loneliness. This leg is now free of burdens although the shoulders bear new wounds; yet wounds and scars hurt no more for wood feels no pain.
Alas, the catharsis is completed.