That Glimmer Of Hope

A couple of weeks back I met up with Leon and some of his colleuges at Timbre for drinks. Leon told me that they will be wherever Fatt and Pamela play as often as they can because they really like to listen to 'their music'. I won't go into the whole cover-original issue which all musicians face at one point or another - especially in Singapore, but on a finer point that can actually be quite soothing to the musician's soul.

After drinking myself to my last dollar and managing to get a ride back in one of Leon's collegue's car, I found myself squeezing in the back seat with another of Leon's collegues, Pamela and Fatt. It wasn't the first time that I'd shared a ride back with musicians but for the first time it actually dawned on me: why was this paying customer (and Timbre's not the cheapest place around) actually willing to send the musicians back home even though their destinations were not what one would call 'on the way'. Just to paint a clearer picture, it was past 2 in the morning on a working day, everyone had a few beers too many and there was the office at which we had to show our faces at at 8.30 the next morning. And yet nothing else ran through my mind other than the question.... why???

It was only yesterday when I was walking around with (surprise, surprise) my mum at Orchard Road that I realised why some people actually take the trouble to get to know pub musicians, buy drinks for them, remember their birthdays and yes, send them home after work. After the musicians' work that is. It is because pub musicians and singers are not just an analog version of a CD player nor are they live versions of people's favourite songs; they sit up there on stage not to prostitute themselves by singing songs that weren't written by themselves but to belt out songs that their audiences love to hear - songs that audiences can relate to because they are familiar and because they have been picked out by the latter as 'relevant'.

Danny Loong once told an aspiring 16 year old boy - and these were his exact words, "People are depressed. Every single one of them out in the audience sipping on that beer, whiskey or coke has got problems in their lives. We're here to tell them, 'Hey, life doesn't suck!'. We're here to let them know that they're not alone."

I don't think there could be a more accurate description of the role a musician plays. Just as jesters used satire and witty humour to give rulers their much needed wake up call to reality, pub singers and musicians deliver funky songs that cheer us city-dwellers up as well as melacholic songs that let us know that we're not alone in whatever sorrows we may have.

And in those few short sets that they play... there is always a glimmer of hope.

Rootless Tree

What i want from you is empty your head
They say be true, don't stain your bed
We do what we need to be free and it leans on me
Like a rootless tree

What i want from us is learn to let go
We fake a fuss and fracture the times
We go blindwhen we've needed to see
And it leans on me like a rootless...

So fuck you, fuck you, fuck you and all we've been through
I said leave it, leave it, leave it
It's nothing to you and if you hate me, hate me, hate me
Then hate me so good that you can let me out
Let me out of this hell when you're around
Let me out let me out, let me out of this hell when you're around
Let me out, let me out..

What i want from this is learn to let go
No not of you, of all that's been told
Killers reinvent and believe
And this leans on melike a rootless...

So fuck you, fuck you, fuck you and all we've been through
I said leave it, leave it, leave it, it's nothing to you
And if you hate me, hate me , hate me,
Then hate me so good that you can let me out , let me out, let me out
Let me out of this hell when you're around
Let me out...

And fuck you, fuck you, i love you and all we've been through
I said leave it it's nothing to you and if you hate me
Then hate me so good that you can let me out let me out...
It's hell when you're around

-Damien Rice

Hurricane

Lying awake thinking of ways back then
How it would be different
The story you told was never the one
I wrote for me; it isn't the same
Will I be the same

You fell from grace into my arms
Because of you I stayed around
I didn't count on things to go my way again
But were those just games

I can't explain the changes in your eyes
You're just my hurricane

Promises made faded away in time
Now it is so different
You never returned
Vanished from here
Without a trace
Was it in vain
Could I be the same

There was a memory of a place
It took me in on one embrace
I never thought the sun would shine again
Now are those just games

I can't explain the changes in your eyes
You're just my hurricane

When you said we were through
Was it me, was it you
Now I can't face the truth
This is me, it's not you
There's nothing wrong with us
It's just me I can't trust
So why'd you wanna stay today?

Lying awake thinking of ways back then
now it is so different

You fell from grace into my arms
Because of you I stayed around
I didn't count on things to go my way again
Now were those just games
I can't explain the changes in your eyes
You're just my hurricane

My only hurricane

-Jack & Rai

Vulnerable

I've slept sweet the past few nights, especially since I had so much fun on Friday night.

It's nice to sit in a pub sipping on beer with amazing company, listening to live music without thinking about how far I can go in music.

It's nice to wake up at 9 am after 4 hours of sleep and yet feel energised and fresh. Things like that don't happen to me all the time (or rather, I don't let them happen).

It's all been very nice for me. Till last night's dream.

I called her up and told her I wanted to see her. That I wanted to give the both of us another shot. She agreed to meet me and when I saw her face, the problems just came back again - how she couldn't look me in the eye for more than a few seconds without switching her focus to some guy who's passing by; how she would regard everything I say as nonsense; how something sweet to me seems nonsensical to her (if I had written a song for her she would have chuckled while giving the 'what-the-hell' look before saying "so sweet" most sacarstically); how it felt to know that no matter what I did, it would never ever be enough for her.

Furious at her attitude and behaviour, I let the words "You slut!" escape from my mouth. To my surprise and further fury, she didn't even look at me or look angry. "You know she's a slut," I thought, "Why am I wasting my time here?"

I turned to walk away, not without telling her melodramatically, "If you're not going to say anything, I'm gonna go.. and I won't want to to ever see you after that."

Not surprisingly, she let me go. I felt this deep pain eat me up from inside which throbbed a little harder with every step that I took and I couldn't believe that I had let myself go through all of that again.. after literally vowing never to let someone treat me like that ever - especially her.

The rest of the dream means little more than nothing to me for I ended up throwing my wallet and handphone into a swimming pool and had to dive in to get it.. the pain still etched inside of me. And eventually, I think I began to dream of things I can now no longer recall.

My best friend once said that he would rather have nightmares and scary and sad dreams than nice, sweet ones because no matter what kind of dream it was, you would always wake up at the end. When you wake up from a nightmare, more often than not, a good feeling would come over you and you'd start to thank god that it was just a dream; but when you wake up from a fairytale-like dream, all you want to do is to go back into that wonderland where everything just seem(ed) so perfect.

This morning when I woke up, I felt that something was not right. I began to think through the events of last night but nothing could have sparked off the weird mix of emotions that I was feeling because we were jamming all the way till I went to sleep last night. But there was something that was haunting me that even made me think of calling in sick today - thank goodness I didn't.

It was not until later in the morning when I was looking through my own blog posts about her that I realized that she screwed me over once again - in my dreams this time.

They say that dreams are the manifestation of one's subconscious - things that you think about without even thinking about them. So what this means is that I think of her without even having to think of her.. and this scares me quite a bit.

When someone asked me just last week what my biggest fear in life is, I answered almost without hesitation that it would be the fear that I may never bring myself to put myself out there for someone again. It's a funny question coming from someone that I actually feel vulnerable to for some inexplicable reason; but I can only wonder how long more I can actually let myself live like this cause I really don't know anything anymore.. except that I cannot go on like this forever. I don't want to.

I've said this before and I'll say it again. Leave me the fuck alone.

Here Without You

"I'm here without you baby but you're still on my lonely mind.
I think about you baby and I dream about you all the time."



There are few songs that can evoke so much emotion in me that I could just stop, put everything down and play the memories that still remain of you in my mind.

I need to move on. I sit here right now without you, occassionally drifting in and out of my life and I know that nothing is going to change. Not because I don't want it to. If I had a choice, I would give my entire existence to you just because it felt so right with you. Nothing mattered at all when I was with you. Everything around us, to me, collapsed when we were together and left just the two of us standing in our own little world with no one able to touch us with their distorted images of what a perfect couple is supposed to be.

But distorted they were, and it took me a long time to see that. You never cared about what I was feeling inside, as long as I dressed up the way you wanted; as long as I said the things you wanted to hear; as long as I spoke the way you felt was cool.

You set the rules of our relationship - for me - while you went on to break every single rule. With each time you broke those rules, a part of my heart slowly but surely went down with it, never to be rebuilt again. Now all that it does is to pulsate at regular (or irregular) intervals pumping blood through my veins, transporting oxygen.

I would like to tell the world that I never once said that I hated you. But the truth is, I never dared admit it. I've always believed that love and hate are not opposites, just different sides of each other so admitting that I hated you meant telling everyone including my girlfriend that I was still in love with you. So i tried convincing myself that you never mattered anymore.

Of course, that didn't go down well with the girlfriend. And eventually, it got to me. I was still in love with you and while you kept hinting that letting me go was what hurt the most for you, you still went on from one guy to another.

You changed a lot these years. Though your room still smells the same, you've changed. And while I figure out how and why you could simply let me go if I really meant that much to you, I'm not as strong as you. Most guys aren't.

So I need to move on. Let me go. Just like you did back then, let me go on with my life. I know for a fact that I won't last much longer in this game you choose to play over and over and over again. I'm not a sore loser and in fact I don't have a problem losing games at all. But you know what?

At your game, I choose not to play.

But do I really have a choice, dar?

Leave me the fuck alone. Stop making me mess with my own mind.

"A thousand lies have made me colder and I don't think I can look at this the same.
And when the last one falls, it gets hard but it won't take away my love"

When I'm Gone

There's no place in this world where I'll belong when I'm gone
I won't know the right from the wrong when I'm gone
You won't find me singing on this song when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

I won't feel the flowing of the time when I'm gone
All the pleasures of love will not be mine when I'm gone
My pen won't pour a lyrics line when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

I won't breathe the bracing air when I'm gone
I can't even worry about my cares when I'm gone
Won't be asked to do my share when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

I won't be runnig from the rain when I'm gone
I can't even suffer from the pain when I'm gone
Can't say who's to praise and who's to blame when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

Won't see the golden of the sun when I'm gone
The evenings and the mornings will be one when I'm gone
Can't be singing louder than the guns when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

All my days won't be dances of delight when I'm gone
The sands will be shifting from my sight when I'm gone
Can't add my name into the fight when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

I won't be laughing at the lies when I'm gone
I can't question how or when or why when I'm gone
Can't live proud enough to die when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

There's no place in this world where I'll belong when I'm gone
I won't know the right from the wrong when I'm gone
You won't find me singing on this song when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

-Phil Ochs

To feel like the world is crumbling down
And there's nothing you can do
But so sit in a corner and cry
To wake up in the morning and sigh
As a brand new day begins and you wish you didn't have to

Step out into the light of the sun
And let her rays hit your face
And you're trying not to feel disgraced
And you know you look so out of place
Just turn your back and run

Spread your wings and fly away
To a place where you call home
'Cause there's nothing here to keep you
All this pain and hurt will eat you up inside
Those wings now they will fall from your shoulderblades
And bring you back down to where you don't belong

First Time In A Long Time

Dominic Wong - Folk Singer

After 4 years of searching through tonnes of music to find out what kind of singer I am, I have finally found it.

I grew up listening to Bon Jovi (thanks to my brother) and I absolutely love all of his songs be they 80's ROCK or the typical Bon Jovi love ballads. After all, they don't call JBJ the king of rock ballads for nothing. So naturally, I entered the music world telling people that I am a rocker. So it's love songs and ROCK. But then they gave me a band, leather pants, shades and a microphone and told me to rock everyone's socks off. I couldn't. I had neither the stage presence of a rock star nor the voice of JBJ.. heck I didn't even have the sexy slur of W.A.R.

So this year, when I started exploring Folk, it was the best forray ever. It was only then that I realised that I have always been in love with Simon and Garfunkel. The simplicity of the orchestration (maybe not Bridge Over Troubled Waters), the way their voices blended so sweetly, the guitar being plucked. Then there was Suzanne Vega. The powerful lyrics that she writes and the raw quality of her voice accompanied by the guitar which she plucks so well just took my breath away. Bob Dylan, though I've known of him (who doesn't), suddenly seemed like a huge inspiration not only because his songs were so filled with meaning but because his attitude has never changed. While Simon & Garfunkel split up and came back to gether and then split up over the past 4o years, Dylan has just been Dylan - grumpy, foul-mouthed and resentful of journalists.

Of course this opens up a fresh can of worms because I don't write lyrics like Dylan or Suzanne Vega. I don't churn out melodies as sweet as those of Simon & Garfunkel. What I do know is that Folk music originally referred to traditional songs (House Of The Rising Sun etc), most of which don't even belong to anyone. Dylan changed that. Dylan applied present day concerns to traditional songs.. to traditional form. That is the singer that I want to become.

I am still very much a person in love. I love soap operas, love stories, teenage dramas. But at the other end of the spectrum, the study of law has made me become a person who simply cannot bear to turn my back on what should be.

So Dominic Wong will continue to write love songs. But he is slowly trying to recognize the wind around him and what is blowing in it.

Looking Between The Crevices

I've been back a day short of two weeks today. All i feel over here is the suffocating humidity, the bright, hot sun that has been shining down ever since I came back home.

Things have changed since I left. Surprisingly though, that time-difference I was expecting with my closest of friends wasn't really there. But things have changed. We're all looking for things to dow ith our lives before enlisting; we're thinking of what to do with our lives after we're done with NS; all this while we're wondering what the next two years are going to be like for us.

While most of the girls are working their butts off in some law firm or another, one girl's ass is sitting at home every single day, wondering what to do with her life. Should she fly? But she missed the interview; should she take up a sponsorship in teaching; should she take that job in Dubai; should she actually be working while thinking through all this? But her priority right now is getting her driving license. The rest can wait.

Wait. That's what I do every single day. I wait for One Tree Hill to load on my computer. I spend hours doing nothing but watch One Tree Hill.. and sometimes send the odd resume out. I'm broke financially and on top of that I'm an emotional vacuum. I thought that Japan had done me good. I watched dramas and started crying again. I heard music that sounded so romantic everything before me just faded to a blur (with the help of some beers of course). But the moment I'm back, I slip back under the covers of being a cold, hard person that I really am not.

One Tree Hill helps me get through the days. It makes me believe that there are things worth believing in; that there are emotions that we can and should still feel in our lives every single day. I leave you with a nice scene before I go back to wondering why the hell I feel like an emotional vacuum despite being able to relate to every single thing that goes on in OTH.

(Haley) - "You know some say that [when you're hurting] the pain and garbage is really healing and beautiful and poetic...? Well that's wrong. It's just... PAIN and GARBAGE. You know what's better? Love."

and she goes on to say,

"The day you think that love is overrated... is the day that you are wrong. The only thing wrong with love and faith is not having it."

So sometimes I think that if I just bothered to look between the crevices and not just brush over the surface, I might actually find some kind of companionship that I've always been looking for...

... but then again, who am I kidding?

We're Better Than That

I've been away from home for more than a month. I miss home. I miss my own bed. I miss my family, my friends. I don't believe I' actually saying this but I actually do miss the humidity.. just a bit. I miss everything back home. But I think I'm going to miss my life here more when I'm back.

Being away has been a good thing for me so far. I've been able to look at everything that has been happening in my life from a distance and I really need to do that right now. Some of the things that were weighed a ton in my heart when I left don't weigh that much now.

But I'll admit it. I don't have much of a life here. It's a quiet city that sleeps at about 10 pm, and the people out on the streets after that are either prostitutes or businessmen out for late night drinking sessions with their clients. Of course, there're the homeless people too. My point is, I don't go to school here. I don't go to work. I wake up in the morning and wonder what the hell I'm going to do the whole of the day. Some days I write songs. Some days I watch TV. Some days I go out and try to be who I have imagined myself to be but never had the courage to be back home. Some days, I do absolutely nothing. I don't belong here. And yet, I don't want to leave.

If anything, this place gives me the occassional inspiration to write. The parks are beautiful; Sunport is breathtaking and there's always the pub downtown that I play at sometimes. The thing is.. freedom here really is freedom - without the suffocating atmosphere that seems to always loom over my head when I'm back home. Writing songs then seems just like another normal thing to do rather than a desperate, attention-grabbing attempt at fame.

The amateurs on the streets here play their originals - for the most part. For some it just isn't realistic to play 100% original sets so they blend it in nicely together with their originals and I must say.. a lot of them sound really good. On the other hand, Power 98 - the only station that features local music slaps a 80% cover, 20% original thing on their acoustic hour programme. So much for creativity in Sinagpore.

See the thing about it is this. Earlier today I went on youtube and checked out the videos of a few local musicians that I usually check out back home. For the first time, I felt rather disappointed at the lack of original videos that were up there. You see.. I have NEVER thought that we lacked originals AND it wasn't the first time that I was on youtube watching local musicians. My life in Singapore flashed before my eyes once again. And you know what? I don't want to go back to a life in someone else's music anymore.

It's not that I'm a superb songwriter. I can barely weave lyrics through a melody... and that's when I actually do manage to write some decent lyrics. But I want to write songs. I want to write better songs. I want my songs to be heard. But when I get back home, I'll probably slip back into the same routine that I used to go about: listen to covers, check out one or two local songs, then go back to practising some American band's songs. Originals? Well.. they can wait till I do the covers well. After all... covers are what everyone wants to hear, right?

At the risk of sounding like a stubborn, egotistical artiste-wannabe.. here's to all fellow aspiring musicians in Singapore - We're Better Than That.

Way better.

A Long Overdue Confession

########################################################################
The is the Dominic Wong that I now know. He loves his cigarettes, his beer, and sex.. whenever he gets it. Sure, he loves his music and he'd tell you that one of the things that he lives for. True, to a certain extent. A certain amount of musical ability runs through his veins, making him quiver at the thought of a performance coming up soon and making his legs shake incontrolably before, during and after the actual show.

He hurries through life the typical Singaporean way. Rush, eat, rush, complain, rush, try to write some songs, rush, eat, rush, sleep. Of course, at the end of the day when he stares at his ceiling and reflects on what came out of the day, the conclusion is that all the rushing really wasn't worth a dime.

Around him are some very close friends. Two are fellow musicians bound by nothing more than minimal knowledge of the law just enough to scrape through our diploma. One is a girl who's almost like a mirror image of him where the only difference is their skin colour and the length of her hair. He once had a person who knew him more than he knew himself always by his side to tell him that that new song he wrote sucks. Now she's no more there. He once had a person who danced her way through Secondary School and ended up being slightly more distant than he thought she would end up. Of course, there's also this girl who is his convenient substitute for a best friend gone missing (but she know's she more than just a substitute).

The Dominic Wong I once knew was a very different person. He was a vehement supporter of Communism; mainly in its belief that all men were born equal and that we should live in a classless society where everyone gives according to his ability and receives according to his needs. Now, he believes that since no system is perfect (or is going to work perfectly), there really isn't any reason to discriminate between ideologies - in short.. he doesn't care anymore.

He used to watch love dramas and read love stories - and believe in them. Now, he watches love dramas and reads love stories - and finds that its a fantasy world not dissimilar to one that Tolkien created.

That Dominic Wong loved once. Perhaps, he fell in love so deep that when he realized that he would never get out of that hole he had fallen into, he decided to dig himself a hole horizontally and hide away. Now, he's grown comfortable in that space where he s no longer in danger of falling nor subject to any attack from above; for it is a cave that he lives in and in that cave, no harm can reach him.
#######################################################################

Sometimes, when I sit back and think of how I have changed over the past few years, I feel emotionally paralyzed. I have learnt to keep my emotions in check so that I never ever put my heart on the table for someone again. Three years ago, I gave my heart to someone; and though I may tell myself that I am over the pain and anger and frustration that I felt, the truth is that I can never get my heart back from her no matter how hard I try.

I won't lie and say that we didn't have our good times cause we did. I will always remember the times that you cooked for me - even though most of the time it was instant noodles with some extra goodies that even I was capable of making by myself, nothing can and will make me forget the look on your face as you watched me eat; the totally random kisses that you would give me even though my mouth was full of maggi me; the way you would wink at me whenever I looked bored.

More than anything else, I will never forget the times that we spent on your couch watching TV. Days Of Our Lives suddenly became interesting to me.. but not more interesting than you. The times we spent in your room doing nothing but each other will probably never be erased from my memory no matter how hard I try.

We had our good times, baby. You and I both know that we could have been something more than we turned out to be. But the fact is, we turned out to be nothing more than a big mess. You messed up my life for a while. Heck, I guess I'm still trying to get better now. But you know what? Even though I may be better off right now if I didn't get to know you at all, I probably woudn't want that for me.

You let me experience love for the first time. How much it hurt after that is irrelevant. Whether it was also the last is left to be seen.

Two Men

Some years ago, someone I got to know for barely three months told me," Dom, you were not born for a normal life." I shook it off as any normal person would and was challanged by him," Come and see me 10, 15 years from now and you can tell me how normal your life has been."
Subconsciously, his words ring inside my head everytime I run my head up against a wall - especially when it comes to my music.

That man was and is still a musician. One who I try to hunt down at every opportunity I can because I never fail to learn something new from him everytime I do meet him. He was the man who told me that there is no such thing as right or wrong - just different angles from which to view.

When I complained to him about a girlfriend at that time, he told me to treasure her because she was a good girl and he liked her. When I insisted that he was wrong about this one, he looked me straight in the eye, cigarette between his right index and middle fingers and told me, "Dom look at it this way.. I'm either wrong about her, or I'm wrong about you." We then finished our cigarettes in silence.

Four years from when I first met that man, I find myself now in Takamatsu city. And yet last Saturday, I met someone who not only looks like him but also talks like him. They share no common language and would probably not be able to communicate with each other if they ever crossed paths. Despite all of that, this Japanese man provoked my mind in a way which no one else has ever been able to do other than his lookalike back home in Singapore.

Sitting backstage in his pub after a gig, he asked me what I want to do with my life. I said that if I had my way, I would like to be a professional musician. He gave me a stern look before branching out into many other irrelevant topics, probably as a kind of a test, before asking me with the same seriousness, "Why do you want to be a professional musician? I don't like people coming in here and screaming out to the world 'I want to be a pro' without even knowing why they want to do it."

He had me stunned. No one had asked me that question in a long time. But despite that, I told him almost immediately that at whatever cover gigs that I have done in Singapore, I always feel happy whenever I play songs to people. I added that I was not the kind of music lover who is satisfied with sitting in his room and playing to himself. I want to sing to people, for people. To let them know that no matter what troubles they have in their lives, if they just put them aside and have a pint of beer, a short cigarette and a good relaxing listen to live music, life might just turn around when they're done with it.

This lengthy post that seems to revolve around my fascination with two grown men with rough faces and long hair is really not about the two men, but how they have helped me, in some way or another, to find myself whenever I lose track of where I'm heading. That being said, external navigation can only work if the internal compass is in tune with the earth's natural force of gravity.

At this point, I don't think I even know my bearings.

Loneliness

寂しくなった。俺が外国に住んでいるのはもう一ヶ月ぐらいだけん、国にいる時と同じぐらいな寂しい感じする。

最近友達と会いに行って、本当に楽しかった。けど、何でこんな感じをするの？自分でも分からんで。

勝てに他の人の生活に入っちゃだめやんか。だけど、本当に入りたいのに。。。

今どうするつもり？いつまでも女性の仲間になっちゃだめだろうと思うけど、しかたないのか。

(untitled)

これ日本に作ったの一つ目でする。よろしくお願いします。

Sit beside me now
Watch the sun go down
Don't you worry now
We will make it somehow

Even if God don't give a damn
Even in he don't really care
I will always be your friend

Lay beside me now
Watch the world go round and round
Nothing matters now
I will never let you down

If you feel you've reached the end
Close your eyes and take a breath
Lay your head upon my chest

Even if God don't give a damn
Even if he don't really care
I will always be your friend
Now that you have reached the end
Close your eyes and take a breath
Lay your head upon my chest
And leave the rest to me

Time to leave this place

So I'm in the middle of my exams now and while I'm supposed to be studying really hard for a very heavy paper tommorrow, I can only think of the days that I will spend away from home.

I've been waiting for an opportunity to leave for a long time. Don't get me wrong, I love it here. The people I love the most are here and that's more important than anything else. But at some point, I just have to move out of what I'm comfortable with and move on to something that I'm not. My last trip to Japan lasted 16 days and at the end of those 2 weeks I was literally jumping in front of the Imperial Palace because I missed home so much. I called my mum after I got myself firm on the ground and her voice sounded much sweeter than the sound of birds chirping in Chuo-ku and trust me, I'm not someone who usually says that my mum's voice is sweet. The kicker was that it was Easter Sunday that day and I didn't even know....

This year I will spend my birthday away from home. It will be the very first time that I will very likely have to buy my own mini-cake, light my own mini-candles and sing myself a very mini-birthday song in Japanese. But there's always a brighter side to sad, lonely things; a person's 20th birthday is a very important event in Japanese culture so why shouldn't I be happy about celebrating it in Japan? For all you know, my 20th may not turn out that lonely after all.

But that's just one small aspect of being away. Being away also means that I won't get to disturb little Nicolette and roar at her on the weekends; it means that I won't come back home every evening to the sound of mimi running back home from wherever she is to greet me with an adorable purr; it means that I won't be able to walk into my front door at the end of a long day and tease mummy about watching Korean dramas all day and not doing any housework (that's totally not true of course);it means I can't call papa and ask him if he could pick me up; it means that I can't sms Stefie to come out for a meal at any time of the day nor watch Gilmore with her; it means that I won't be able to go for open mics at SAC on Friday evenings; it means that I won't be able to call Radah and ask her if she wants to have a night out promising each other we won't leave any club without at least getting a couple of numbers; it means I can't lead Mato into weird situations that would get him into trouble with my mum; it means that I won't be able to get annoyed with little Damien for taking thosuands of photos of the fan with my phone and yet still find him so adorable; most shockingly, it means that I will be a 7 hour plane ride away from the little island that I grew up in and have also grown to love so much despite all her idiosyncracies.

It means that I need to come back here. Someday. Someday soon. But for now, I want nothing more than to leave.

I Need To Get Away

Every day longer that I spend here, i let myself fall further and deeper into a pit called mediocrity. Mediocrity is like a spec of dirt on your shirt and it never comes off. Such a pit is not as hopeless as a bottomless one, and yet it is not shallow enough for you to climb up to the surface easily, or at all. No. The pit of mediocrity is neither too deep nor too shallow; just the right size and depth for a mediocre person.

God never made man a perfect creature. God made man, then woman out of man. Then, he bestowed gifts upon them. Every single one received gift, but not all received the same amount of gifts. Some were born more academicaly inclined than others; some were born with the natural ability to dance; some, like me, were born to sing and learn languages.

While I'm thankful to God for bestowing the gift of music on me, I also wonder why I was chosen to receive these gifts. If I had the power to give someone musical ability, I would expect him to be able to conduct an orchestral; or else to sing a song so natually so as to move the hearts of those in need of emotional comfort; or else to create tunes that touch the lives of others. I have none of these. I can sing. I can learn languages fast. That's all.

I have major problems with dynamics. Music, as I see it, is almost like a paved road. Through months of training and experience I have learnt to see it as the ocean: sway and bulging and bursting before laying back and relaxing only to form an even larger wave the next time round. But that's all that I can do.. to see it that way. And that is the least of my problems.

I thought God gave all artistically inclined people the ability to recognize emotions that other could only feel and not realize. Lyricists arrange words in such a way that can make people cry upon hearing or reading them lyrics; composers set words to melodies that tug directly at the heartstrings of the common person; singers become the powerful living vehicle to convey he emotions and stories behind a song to people who need so badly to know that their lives aren't as bad as they think. Singers like Justin Timberlake, Maria Callas, Jon Bon Jovi, Bono, Randolf, Zul, Hady Mirza undoubtedly have the ability to feel a particular emotion, recognize it and then most importantly, convey it to their audiences.

As I angrily direct my cursor towards the 'x' in the top right corner of a window still playing a youtube video, I cannot help but wonder what emotion I am feeling, why I'm feeling that way, and how I can convey such an emotion to the next person who steps into my room.

An artiste can be defined as a person who takes charge of his emotions and presents it to the public for a living. An artiste who has grown to lose control of his feelings to the point where he cannot even be an actor on a stage he once dreamed of living his life on is someone who has lost himself; a walking shell of human flesh with neither heart nor spleen.

Fat Man's Act

The following is prima facie evidence of the utter lifelessness of a friend we know by the name of Ashwin. His current state of mind is unknown but he was last seen making out with a monkey and later hanging out with someone who was chasing a cat while it was taking a poop so it is assumed that he is at least mildly deranged.

This post is entirely fictional and is in no way a personal stab at obese people.

FAT MAN’S ACT
(CHAPTER 23)

Short title.

1. This Act may be cited as the Fat Man’s Act.

Being or attempting to be fat.

2. —(1) Subject to any exception referred to in Chapter IV of the Penal Code (Cap. 224) which may be applicable (other than section 95), any person who becomes or attempts to be fat shall be guilty of an offence and shall on conviction be punished with death.

Presumption3. Where any person is found to be with the company of a fat person, he is presumed to be fat until the contrary is proven and shall be guilty of an offence and shall on conviction be punished with death.

Abetting
3. Any person found to be giving or feeding a fat person is deemed to have committed an offence under Section 2, Subsection 1 and shall be guilty of an offence and shall on conviction be punished with death.

Trafficking in food for the purpose of fattening.

4. —(1) Any person trafficking in food for the purpose of fattening shall be guilty of an offence and shall on conviction be punished with —

(a) death; or
(b) imprisonment for life and with caning with not less than 6 strokes.

(2) Any person proved to be in unlawful possession of more than 2 bags of fattening agents shall, until the contrary is proved, be presumed to be trafficking in food for the purpose of fattening.

Power to amend Schedule6. The Minister may at any time by order add to, amend or vary the Schedule.

(untitled)

There hasn't been a single moment when my life was not filled with music.

When I was a little boy and Sonic the Hedgehog was among the most important things in my life, I remember struggling through the different stages of each Sonic game on my 16bit megadrive while a familiar funky sounding music played in the background. Turns out, that was the msuic of The Beatles, whom my brother was extremely fond of in the 90s.

Downstairs in the hall (or sometimes kitchen), I would watch TV while the tune of "long see wee tio lee" and "ai bpia jia eh ee-ah" played softly (sometimes, not so softly) in the background. Turns out those were Hokkien songs my mum never stopped playing ever since she was about 18. And you don't even want me to get started on the countless Mandarin and Cantonese casette tapes that she had (still has) in her cupoboard. Funny choice of music for someone who grew up in a Eurasian setting but well, I guess the concept of 'identity crisis' as a genetic transmission isn't a new discovery after all.

In the car, I'd play with my handheld games (I never had a gameboy back then, just a gamegear which melted out after only a few months) while lyrics like these vibrated the membranes of the rear speakers uncontrollably, thanks to my father's music collection:

"Blue eyes smiling at me
Nothing but blue eyes do I see"

"Lai la lai.. lai la lai la lai la lai"

"Before those funny, familiar, forgotten feelings
start walking all over my mind"

"There must be peace and understanding sometimes
Strong winds of promise that will blow away the doubt and fear"

And of course, who can forget my sister's choice of music that ranged from 80s electropop for one period, then emo-emo Chinese pop the next. Her favourite singer that left a deep impression on me (probably scarred me for life) was Jeff Chang.. he sounds like a girl!

As for me, I grew up listening to the different kinds of music that I listen to today. I love radio friendly hits (anyone who tells you that they hate such songs is lying through his teeth), classic rock, ballads, classical music, opera, indian classical music, tribal melodies (drones usually) and basically anything that can vibrate my eardrums (eventually) in a pleasant way.

Which brings me to a rather self-indulgent ending to this article. There have been many ways that I thought I would have liked to end my life: in the presence of my children and grandchildren all weeping for me to have a peaceful passing; jumping off a cliff; carbon monoxide; in an explosion; in a gangfight; after being mauled by a lion and many many many more gruesome yet exciting ways. But I still come back to one most romantic fantasy that I have always had: to get hit by a car travelling at 150km/h while crossing the road with earphones stuck deep inside my ears playing a very melodic song like "Honey" by Bobby Goldsboro or "Cancer" by My Chemical Romance or even "Always" by Bon Jovi... while I slowly but surely slip into an eventual and eternal darkness.

Only then can I truly say that there hasn't been a single moment when my life that was not filled with music.

Everyday From Today

Many photographs
They’re the only way
I got to know you
Now some time has passed
And still I wait for you
To see my heart

I’ll turn away for now
And wait for you to say these words

I’m ready for you now
Please keep me safe within your warm embrace
Promise me you’ll have and hold me everyday
Everyday from today

My God you look so beautiful
In your wedding dress
Walking down the aisle

I wish you all the best
And yet there’s a pain inside my chest

Girl don’t get me wrong
I’m happy that you’ve found
Someone you’ll love for life
Now I’ll have to carry on
Knowing you are gone
Everyday from today

So there you are
My life is gone
What have I done
Can I say I’m satisfied
You and me we could have been
But we never were
Any day of our lives

You’ve never seen me in your life

Free

Dom 27/09/2007

Again, the same place where we’d meet
Before, I left to search for more

Greener pastures
A lake where we could swim
So freely
I long to be free

So then, have you become a man
Pretend, that everything would end

So long to the days that we spent together
So long to the nights
When I could be free
In this life its hard to choose
Who we want to be
Forgive me now my friend
I’ll be someone I know I cannot be
It’s a game
Just pretend

So long to the days that we spent together
So long to the nights
When I could be free

So long to the tweeting of the birds above me
Someday I will find a way up to those trees
Sometimes I still think about how you are doing
Some days I believe that we were meant to be