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.