In Continuum.

Rat Within The Grain

This would not have happened
If I hadn't missed my plane
I've would have been there when they told you
I’m the rat within the grain

Within this big misunderstanding now
I’m being misunderstood
I'm thinking someone's trying to fuck with me
And set fire to my wood

I wouldn't want you to want
To be wanted by me
I wouldn't want you to worry
You'd be drowned within my sea

I only wanted to be wonderful
And wonderful is true
In truth I only really wanted
To be wanted by you

It’s a stupid situation now
Where everything goes wrong
If you can't tell if I am lying
Then you do not belong

In my bed
Go rest your head
Upon the bones of a bigger man
He can cover you with rock wool
And you can close up like a clam

I wouldn't want you to want
To be wanted by me
I wouldn't want you to worry
You'd be drowned within my sea

I only wanted to be wonderful
And wonderful is true
In truth I only really wanted
To be wanted by you

So go play with your piano
Write a mediocre song
Out the shell of mediocrity
And pretend there’s nothing wrong

I never thought you where a chicken shit
I never thought of you at all
Until you asked me to be part of it
Now you're showing me your wall

I wouldn't want you to want
To be wanted by me
I wouldn't want you to worry
You'd be drowned within my sea

I only wanted to be wonderful
And wonderful is true
In truth I only really wanted
To be wanted by you

In truth I only really wanted
To be wanted by you

U.F.O.

The breath of the morning
I keep forgetting
The smell of the warm summer air

Everybody has stared up into the night sky for hours, trying to count the stars peppered into the black wallpaper, and the stars in between them. Imagining yourself lying on a heal of molecules, and then you start to picture just how big you really are. If the nuclear of an atom is the size of a football, then the electrons that circle the nuclear are revolving at an orbit the size of a football stadium. And this supposed football stadium can't even be seen by our naked eyes, which goes to prove just how big we are to the rest of the world. However, if you change to a different perspective and compare yourself to the vastness of outer space, it becomes a little daunting somehow, a little frightful all of a sudden. The universe is expanding at the speed of light, and new planets and galaxies are formed all the time, beyond the reach of our telescopes.

Other than the beauty of those twinkling stars, we tend to think about the darkness in between them, untouched by their radiance. At least for me, it is inevitable that my mind would stray to the lands of a distant planet, with civilization just like our own and aliens flying around in flying saucers. The big question about space really isn't about what is beyond the milky way, or the last planet in the Solar System, but rather this: Is there life out there? Ever since humans discovered the planets out there in space, we've always wondered about whether or not we are alone in this vast space of vacuum. And let's be honest here, either answers can be a scary thought - if you know what I mean.

I live in a town
Where you can't smell a thing
You watch your feet
For cracks in the pavement

As a child, I was infinitely fascinated with the space, and especially in extra-terrestrial lifeforms. My parents were the wisest people I knew back then, and even they didn't know much about what laid beyond the stratosphere. I forced them to buy books for me in the past, books that were related to aliens and spaceships, and my favorite movies were mostly sci-fi and action related. Being an avid fan of aliens in the past, it was a must-watch for me when they showed Ridley Scott's Alien for the first time on television, and I thought it was actually a documentary some astronaut filmed in outer space. The thought of human eating aliens scared the living daylight out of me, and I dreamed about those aliens crawling under my feet on an abandon spaceship for the next three weeks or so. My first true encounter with an alien was in my dreams, and it didn't end on a high note at all.

In books however, the aliens portrayed were totally different. Instead of sharp claws and fangs, they looked somewhat like humans, but a little different at the same time. They are naked most of the time, and they have eyes bigger than a computer monitor. Their heads are usually huge, probably to accommodate their brain, and their limbs are tiny in relative to their heads. Tucked between those hand drawn pictures of aliens were pictures taken by humans from Earth, of mysterious shapes and lights in the skies that were never fully explained by scientists around the world. Hundred and thousands of sightings have been reported over the years, but none of them have been proven to be real flying saucers from a civilization other than ours. Still, people believed in the existence of those little green men, and craved to one day photograph the same amazing pictures with more definitive evidences.

Up above
Aliens hover
Making home movies
For the folks back home

From then on, I become obsessed with the existence of aliens and flying saucers. I read more and more books about them, and each shadowy shape of an U.F.O became the medium of my seamless imaginations. I'd picture windows in those flying saucers, aliens driving inside and looking down on humans with their curious big eyes. I had a dream once after falling asleep in a pile of those books, about one of those aliens visiting me from the other side of the bedroom window. The multi-colored lights filled the room and made it seem like a disco, with the lights spinning round and round until I was on the verge of being hypnotized. Then an alien stepped out, and it had tentacles for fingers. It opened my window and stepped in with a laser gun, and he slowly carried me into the flying saucer. I was terrified then, and I remember calling out for my mother back then. I told her about people who wanted to kill me outside the bedroom window. All she said then was," We live on the 19th floor, they must be aliens to be able to climb this high."

The dream was too real for comfort that night, and the next morning was a day of transformation. At that age, a lot of kids had role-playing games with themselves. Some were knights with white shiny armor, while others were samurai warriors from the Meiji era. I was - at a point in time - McGuyver's sidekick. Anyway, I switched roles to being an alien investigator, and I needed a false name to act under, in case I get abducted by aliens. I went with the name of Agent OP, and roamed around my estate to catch pictures of aliens in the sky with a pair of binoculars hung around my neck most of the time. Neighbors saw me and chuckled under my breath, but I cared little about their ignorance. After all, one good alien picture would be able to earn me a million dollars, and I'd be able to get the last laugh at the very end of it all.

Of all these weird creatures
Who lock up their spirits
Drill holes in themselves
And live for their secrets

They're all uptight
Uptight...

But the searches were most of the time in vain. I did however, try to catch those alien sightings with the worst drawings possible for a nine year old. I remember the first time I caught sight of 'space ships', they were sighted on the way back home from my tuition class over at May Chong's. I was stepping out of my mother's car when I saw three green shapes hovering above the estate just next to ours, and they were looking very suspicious and threatening for some reason. I exclaimed to my mother about their existence, all the while shouting," UFO! UFO!" My mother played along, and addressed me as Agent OP for the rest of the night.

The next couple of sightings were in Taiwan, and they all happened within the same holiday trip back. The first one was spotted on an expressway home from my grandmother's house, and I was jumping up and down in the backseat, all the while trying to jot down the sightings on a piece of paper. The third time it happened was when I saw a ball of fire - literally - in the sky right before our dinner. We were traveling down this long stretch of road, and there it was in the middle of the sky, falling with a trail of fire behind. Once again, Agent OP leaped into action and noted down the sightings - since I didn't have or knew how to use a camera. I was proud of my reports, but everybody else just laughed. I told them that they didn't understand the importance of the research I was doing, and they laughed even harder.

I wish that they'd swoop down in a country lane
Late at night when I'm driving
Take me on board their beautiful ship
Show me the world as I'd love to see it

In retrospect, those lights that I saw above the opposite estate were probably just giant search lights, or security guards playing hide and seek on the rooftops. Even the latter now seems like a more probable possibility than extra-terrestrials visiting the tiny island of Singapore. Those lights that I saw on the expressway were probably the lights from an airplane, and the fire ball was probably a crashing satellite of sorts. They could have been a million other things rather than an alien spaceship, and it was perhaps the craving to see them that drove me to those rather ridiculous conclusions. In truth, I probably never saw anything more than the tricks of my eyes, and they worked so efficiently on my young mind back then.

A couple of days ago, my mother bounced in the room like the time she found my kindergarten school shorts, and revealed to me a tattered piece of paper. Torn on one side and the ink already faded a little, my childish handwriting could still be seen. The pictures even had an index finger pointing to the sky at strange shapes passing by, and that really tickled my laughing bones. It was embarrassing to see my childhood catching up with me like that, but it was a pleasant surprise anyway.

I'd tell all my friends
But they'd never believe
They'd think that I'd finally
Lost it completely

I miss those days of utter innocence, when running about with a pair of binoculars was normal for a child like myself. Try doing that now, and people are going to think that there is a geek on the loose, and SPCA might be alerted to throw a noose about my neck. The truth is, with ourselves growing older one second at a time, we see the past leaving as well, one step at a time. With our maturing; with our growing up, we sacrifice our innocence, and those harmless stupidity along with it. Somewhere down the process of growing old, we tell ourselves just how much we miss those days - like the way I held that piece of tattered paper in my hands and smiled from ear to ear. Times have changed, and I am no longer interested in UFOS - though the big question mark is still pretty much there.

I still dreaming about flying away from Earth, still dream about life from the other side of space. But they are no longer about man-eating aliens or the ones that abduct humans for scientific experiments. To me, there is something else out there just waiting for us to find out sooner or later. It is going to be a perfect society, a place that we'd never want to leave once we reach there. Heaven, probably lies at that end of space, a place so away that we are going to reach it with the end of our lives. Till then, I am going to admire the stars from where I am, and continue to wonder about the question about aliens while listening to Radiohead's Subterranean Homesick Alien. This is Agent OP, out.

Movie Monsters Club #4

It is happening again guys.

My parents will be out of town from the 8th of August till the 11th of August. That's Wednesday to the following Monday, actually. So I was thinking, perhaps we should have another round of our gathering, and this time it will be held at my place with the usual suspects. The same old rules apply this time as well. Snacks have to be present at the club meeting, with quality movies and also good company - which I doubt is going to be of shortage. No boyfriends are going to be allowed at our meeting, and please be prepared to stay at my place till late. As for transport home, I am hoping that Ahmad will provide it, but we will see about the availability of his car first.

Anyhow, it is going to happen in the evening of the 8th, and it would be nice if we can start as early as possible. If you guys have movies of your own that you'd like to share with us, just bring them all and we will pick the best to catch. If not, we'll just sit around and bitch about life and death, and everything in between. I'm sure that's going to be a blast by itself, anyway.

Confirm again with me at a later date guys. For now, hope to see you at my place that night.

Channels 11 and 12

If you are going to tell everybody at school that you spent your whole weekend watching MTV, you are not going to be labeled as being 'cool' anytime soon. If you are going to tell everybody at work that you spent your whole weekend watching ESPN, you are not going to be address as 'the main guy'. There are channels out there which are better than the others, more informative and educational. Very much like your favorite movies or your favorite books, the kind of television you watch tells a lot about who you are and what you are made up of. If you are going to tell people that you favorite channels are MTV and ESPN, then people are probably going to see you as this TV junkie who sits in front of the television with a tub of ice-cream or popcorn all day long, watching random sports on channel 23 or 24, then switching over to MTV during the commercial breaks.

Strangely enough, the rainy season seems to have arrived a little earlier than usual. Ahmad calls this weather as being 'awkward', while I am calling this weather as being 'fabulous'. Sure, it brings along some unnecessary moisture and memories, but nobody is going to argue with me when it comes to having quality sleep on a Saturday afternoon. The truth is, nothing beats tucking yourself in on a rainy afternoon like that, or just spend the weekend watching Discovery Channel and National Geographic, like myself for the most part of this day. And people are not going to point their fingers and say," Oh my god, you spent the entire weekend doing what?!" Though it was tempting when my friends asked me to join them for a game of Mahjong over at April's, I still elected to stay at home with myself. I did mourn for the loss of my social life, but I am predicting this weather to last as long as August. Friends are still going to be around afterwards, anyway.

There is something about the two channels that never seems to bore me. The makers of the documentaries on those channels should be given some kind of awards, because they have this ability to make even the most boring subjects interesting. There was a documentary on rocks this afternoon, and they actually managed to have me glued to my seat the whole time. I mean, they were just talking about boulders and rocks, how this granite boulder ended up at the side of a cliff. Then they started talking about the portholes in the ground that weren't natural, and how a giant flood might have sweat through the area in the distant past right after the ice age. Yeah, in text, I must have bored you out right there. In fact, I am boring myself to tears right now just typing everything out. But for some reason, National Geographic was able to make it seem like some murder mystery of sorts, and I am still trying to find how just how they did it with simple documentaries about rocks. Mr. Ng from my Junior College should really take their methods into account when drawing up his next lesson plan.

Those two channels are probably the only channels that have yet to loose their cool on today's television. Forget about news channels, because they are always broadcasting news for entertainment instead of news for information. Forget about the music channels because they are all loaded with reality shows and more of those reality shows, coupled with bad music and mediocre music videos. Forget about non-cable channels because Mediacorp spurts out the worst trash over the airwaves, and forget about movie channels either because they are greatly dependent on the quality of the movies - which varies from time to time. Switch to channels 11 and 12 for a change, and see what I mean when I say that they can turn a documentary about rocks into a murder mystery even more intriguing than a CSI episode.

I love to watch Mythbusters, because there is something about Adam and Jamie busting myths that interests me. It is always interesting to see them sink a ship, blow up a car, collect their own farts, or bury the corpse of a dead pig under layers of concrete. The funniest part is always the the result of the experiments when they don't work out as planned. I still recall vividly the faces of Adam as the cement was drilled opened and the liquidated body of the pig flowed out. On this show, you get to see myths being busted one by one, and it is always an interesting topic of conversation over the coffee table at any one time. Besides, if you are not going to watch the show for all the experiments and all the comedic elements, Kari's pretty damn cute for a 32 year old.

When it comes to censorship, it all goes out of the window for these channels. Because the nature of these programs is educational, there are times when the censorship board would allow certain images to slip by without ratings or warnings. You shouldn't be surprised if you are having your lunch before the television, and then see two lions mating in front of you. Naz - being the innocent victim once - actually saw a documentary about homosexuality, which actually featured two male lions getting it on in the middle of an African grassland. That's something I have yet to witness myself, but I have had my fair share of animal sex on the show called "Wild Sex". They feature anything from fishes to corals, from snakes to giraffes. Not exactly the kind of thing you would want to watch over lunch, and not any time of the day for me either.

Other than strange animal sex, you get to see breasts rather frequently as well. There is a strange rule that I observed about both channels as of late. You are not allowed to show the breasts of white women, or rather women that are living in civilized countries. Like, if you show breasts that belong to an American or an Italian, then you are probably going to get into big troubles. However, if you are going to show breasts that belong to a woman in an unknown tribe in Kenya, or perhaps an uncharted island off the coast of New Guinea, then they are going to give you the green light without much hesitation. For some reason, full frontal nudity seems to be allowed on channels that are educational based, and you see a lot of those in shows like Tribe. I don't have a problem with seeing them of course, but it's just a rather curious observation that I made over the days that I've been watching the programs.

My English teacher from school told us a story about her wonderful son once - whose name slipped my memory. The only channels her son is allowed to watch are channels 10, 11 and 12. Animal Planet, National Geographic and Discovery Channel. Of course, when you are a parent, these would be the obvious channels for your child to watch. You wouldn't want your son to be exposed to sex and violence on HBO just yet, and you also wouldn't want your son to cultivate a bad taste in music on MTV either. Oh, and you definitely want your children to stay away from the Teletubbies. They are aliens with dildos on their heads, and they are - evil.

Anyway, so after watching a documentary about breast implants, he went up to his mother and asked her about silicone gel, and the mentality behind women wanting to enlarge their bosoms. Being embarrassed by the question, my teacher told her son that some women need their morales boosted through various physical means. From the same documentary, her son also learned how to tell real breasts from fake ones, and he kept that in mind until the day when guests were invited to their house and had a dinner party together. Her son went around the table examining everybody's breasts, and actually told the women straight in their faces," Fake! Fake! Fake! Fake!" The guests were never invited back.

The spirit of the Mythbusters must have spurted her son on, when he saw a used condom in front of their house one morning. The following conversation ensued:

Son,"Mama, what is that?"
Nina," That's a condom."
Son," Condom? What's a condom?"
Nina," For protection."
Son," Protection for what?"
Nina," For your wee-wee."
Son," For my wee-wee! Mama, I play soccer at school, I need a condom! Can you buy me a condom!"

She has an interesting child, as you can see. The condom incident remained in his mind for a long time, and it was late one night when it was brought up again in the middle of a convenience store. It was late at night, and Nina wanted to pick up some loaves of bread for breakfast the very next morning. So her husband drove to a nearby convenience store and dropped Nina as well as her son off to pick up some bread. In the convenience store, her son spotted rows and rows of condoms stacked up at the counter, and immediately demanded her mother to buy him a condom. Here is what happened.

Son," Mama, I want a condom."
Mama," You don't need a condom."
Son," Mama, I play soccer at school. My wee-wee could be hit by the ball at any time. I need protection!"

Still, the inquisitive son was refused of a condom in the middle of 7-11. So he decided to ask his father when they were back in the car. The moment he jumped in, he scream at the top of his voice, the following.

Son," Mama wouldn't buy me a condom to protect my wee-wee!"

I don't suppose there are any adverse effects for watching these channels. You do get to see breasts, and you do get to see rib cages being sawed opened on television without mosaic whatsoever. I guess the only side effect is a child's questions, the darnest ones at that. I've been spending time in front of the television today, watching latex men being blown into shreds and full automated artillery tanks in the US army blowing walls into smithereens. I guess when you run out of things to do on a fine Saturday afternoon, there is no harm watching channels 11 and 12 for the whole day. Of course, be wary of your child. He might start asking you questions that you might not want to be answering at this point in time.

At any rate, these channels are not going to grow old any time soon. They are the kind of things that are only going to get better as the years go by. There seems to be an engine of inexhaustible ideas in the minds of the creators, they almost always know what the viewers want. That is definitely something the other channels should be working towards. Instead of making shows for the ratings, how about making shows for the audience for a change. I know that is what you guys have been claiming to do, but do it for real this time and see what happens. It'd be nice to see somebody on Channel 5, holding a piece of limestone in his hand and still have the audience engaged in what he has to say. It'd be a great day for television, though it may only remain in the realms of my wildest fantasies.

Paris, Je T'aime



Like Children of Men, this is probably one of those movies that I missed in the theaters without knowing that I missed it altogether. There are movies out there I miss intentionally - like the third part of the Matrix series as well as the Pirates series - simply because they were not worth my money. Then there are the movies I missed in the past because of unforeseen circumstances. Seldom do I allow movies to pass me by like that, to slip by my attention and hit the shelves of various record stores for me to find only months later after its release. Paris Je T'aime is such a film that I missed in the theaters somehow.

It was released in the States in the early days of May, and was released here in February. That must have been why I missed it in the first place I suppose. I'm usually in tune with Hollywood, and not so much for European films such as this one. European films tend to take a longer time to reach the shores of America, as do most foreign films around the world as well. Which is why by the time I learned about the film through American websites, they've already shown it in my country and probably forgotten by most viewers altogether. However, due to the wonders of the internet, I was able get the film - through various means that shouldn't be publicized so blatantly. And I must say, that this is the kind of film that we need in the film industry today.

The film is not exactly one film, but the compilation of eighteen different short films, directed by twenty-one different directors. These directors aren't just any other directors fresh out of a film school, but the ones who already have their reputations in the world of cinema. Wes Craven(Scream, Music of the Heart), the Coen Brothers(Fargo, The Big Lebowski), Alfonso Cuarón(Children of Men, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban), Alexander Payne(About Schmidt, Sideways), and so many other directors from all around the world. It was interesting how all the different directors came together, and told eighteen different stories with the same theme: Love. It is perhaps the most overused theme in all movies, with elements of it injected into every genre out there possible. We see romance in thriller, horror, action, and comedies as well. Even films about 'love' have been cliche as of late, with the same old storyline told over and over again - with different characters in a different city.

This time, the directors elected the way to focus in one intimate relationships that lasts for no more than six minutes on screen. It was interesting to see various characters falling in love, falling out of love, falling back into love all within a short span of six minutes in a dozen different storyline. Like I said before, this film is truly a breath of fresh air in the film industry, exactly the kind of film that we need in this mediocre society as of late. With eighteen movies, you would expect yourself to be emotionally detached from the characters initially. After all, the route that conventional movies take would be to take you into the lives of the characters one minute at a time, until you begin to get involved with the plot yourself. With six minutes for each storyline, it is hard to imagine yourself being emotionally invested in any of them at all. However, that is not the case for Paris Je T'aime at all - at least not for me, anyway.

I cannot say that all eighteen movies appealed to me. While some were incredibly outstanding, others were just plain weird altogether. In particular, Vincenzo Natali's piece with the vampires was just as strange as it can possibly get. The thick style of classic horror films is evident in this part, but I didn't exactly like the supernatural element that he added to the story itself. That is not to mention Christopher Doyle's piece at the Chinese barber shop. He is probably another reason why I dislike a lot of Asian arthouse films. They almost always tries too hard to be artsy, tries too hard to be unconventional. The end result is probably something like the segment by Christopher Doyle, which makes no sense at all. It just seemed really out of place in the whole film, which slowed down the plot a lot.

However, the rest of the segments were enjoyable to say the least. I think the fact that the stories come in short segments, really forces you to dive into the story fast and get involved faster. And the stories themselves are not difficult to excess too, and it is easy to relate to all the characters. Whichever stage you are in a relationship right now, you are bound to be able to relate to most of the stories, because you see them laid out in the most elemental and raw form possible.

Unlike the conventional films about romance, this film is straight to the point and short on the bullshit that comes along with it. Very much like the film "Love, Actually", this film explores the different aspects of love very thoroughly. Be it the love between a father and his daughter, the love between lovers, the love for a stranger, a passerby, a broken love, everything is examined within those short six minutes. I liked how it felt like a giant vitamin pill of sorts, as if by watching the film you are going to know all there is to know about love. Of course, love is much more than those fabricated storyline along the streets of Paris, but at least it brought smiles to my face as I watched those films, and how some of the scenes reminded me of myself, merely a few months ago.

The segment called Quais de Seine was beautiful in a familiar sort of way. This story tells of a teenage boy who hangs out with his horny friends all day, until he meets a Muslim girl on the streets and fell in love with her right away. I mean, how many times have I blogged about random strangers on the streets who have had great impressions on me? So many of them gave me the very same emotions that ran through the head of the character, as he picks her up from the ground and tries to put back her Tudong. It was the kind of blind love for a stranger that attracted me to the story I guess, the kind that strikes you in a split second; the kind that forces you to do crazy and stupid things at the very moment in time. I like the simplicity in this piece, the innocence involved in the kind of love that is forbidden due to a person's religion. Despite that however, the boy still ran head on into things - something that I admire very much.

Then there is the segment called Place des Fêtes, which is probably the most heartbreaking piece in the entire film - which has a rather optimistic view as a whole. It begins with the main character - whose name I missed - lying with his back against a pillar, talking about a mosquito bite he sustained. Before him was a girl whom he has met a long time ago, and fell in love with at first sight. Initially, we have no idea what the man is talking about. But then we get to see how he met the girl, and how he ended up wounded by a 'mosquito bite'. It doesn't have a happy ending, but it was beautiful to say the least. Like before, it was the kind of love for a stranger that attracted me as well. Despite everything, the main character fought his way through the odds, and that touched me - really.

Next we have Faubourg Saint-Denis, the bit in the film with Natalie Portman. This one is probably one of the best in the film, in my opinion. It tells the story of a young actress in Paris, falling in love with a blind French student. This clip alone, singlehandedly took all the best lines in the film, combined and weaved them into this little story amongst all the others. I have never heard of the director before watching this, but he has definitely left a mark in my books. I loved the way he portrayed the evolution of the relationship in a forwarded fashion, and we got to see the slow degradation of the relationship as the time passed. The clip begins with a break up phone call from Natalie's character, Francine. We get to see how the couple drifted apart throughout the six minutes of film, mainly because of the fact that Francine was always busy with her acting job, and he was always busy with his school work. I'm not going to spoil the last line of the clip for you guys, but it is probably one of the most beautiful - though abstract - lines ever. The writers really left a lot of space for interpretations, and to me it just seemed that the blind student realized her true identity through the phone conversation.

My favorite part of the entire film, was by Alexander Payne called 14th Arrondissement. I've admired his work with About Schmidt - which brought me to tears - and Sideways - which brought me to tears for other reasons. His style is so evident in this clip, that is becomes impossible to ignore. It tells of the story of a middle-aged American, wandering the streets of Paris very much alone. Along the way, she talks about how much she loved Paris, and how she wanted to travel by foot since she works at as a mailman. As a person who is very much single right now, I was able to relate to Carol's emotions, as she sat there in the park and teared to her loneliness. Like she mentions in the film, it wasn't a terrible sadness that overwhelmed her then, but a sort of joy and sadness mingled together at the same time. It was the realization that she was alive then, despite being alone, that brought her to tears. And that is something that I can relate to very well in this life of mine, right now. It is the sense of being alive, being surrounded by the rest of the world and not bound by anything at all, whatsoever. Being away from the familiarities and plunged into a foreign city, that is exactly the kind of feeling you get. Alexander Payne captured that aspect of singehood so well that I applauded in front of my computer at the very end.

There are other clips in the movie as well, but I don't suppose that I should mention the other fourteen clips. You just have to check out the film yourself to find out what kind of brilliance you have been missing in the theaters. I don't think the current audience are satisfied with the conventional kind of love story that involves a boy falling for a girl, a girl falling for a guy and happily ever after. Things do not work that way anymore, and people are just more difficult to satisfy these days - at least I am. So with a film like that, there seems to be a small glimmer of hope after all. The faith and hope in films has been reignited, and I am off to watch the film all over again. Paris, Je T'aime indeed.

Quais de Seine


Place des Fêtes


Faubourg Saint-Denis


14th Arrondissement

Bound



The way of the world
Has taken it's toll
Ravaged my body
And bitten my soul

I am ruined by rain
Weathered by wind
I've been invaded
Without and within

And I ask
I am asking you
Asking you if you
Might still want me.

Once you said
I'm made of fine stuff.
But I've been corrupted.
And taken enough.

Now you appear.
Making your claim.
Inside my heart
Is the sign of your name.

And I ask
I am asking you
Asking you if you
Might still want me?

All these words
Like darling and angel and dear
Crowd my mouth
In a path to your ear.

The way of the world
Has taken it's toll
Ravaged my body
Bitten my soul

And I ask
I am asking you
Asking you if you
Might still want me?

When I said:
I am bound to you forever
Here's what I meant:
I am bound to you forever.

Knocked Up



When approaching a film by Judd Apatow, a few words should appear in your mind very naturally: Rude, vile, crude, and probably any other words along the lines of the previous three. Judd Apatow doesn't hold back when it comes to comedies, and he certainly does not aim to be politically correct in any form or way. He is not going to go the traditional slapstick humor and expect you to laugh, nor is he the kind of writer that goes for pure-wit related humor either. He puts forth the kind of humor that we experience in our everyday lives, but not exactly the kind that we receive in the theaters. Judd Apatow takes those little conversations that we have over a couple of cold beers and flashes them out on screen in the most raw, unedited version. The result is the kind of comedy that relates to everybody and yet, amidst the humor a kind of subtle message that gives warmth to the viewers.

I've been wanting to watch Knocked Up ever since the trailer was released on Apple.com. Putting Seth Rogen and Katherine Heigl together as a couple on screen is just the weirdest thing I've ever seen. Besides, it is from the same writer and director of the 40 Year-Old Virgin which I had a good laugh out of, so why not? It was a great day to begin with, with much of the music presentation nailed in and settled. The weather was great, and Jeremy rode Joyce, Chonghui and myself down to town to catch the film.

The plot is really about two people who are poles apart in terms of everything. Katherine Heigl plays Allison, who works at E! and gets a promotion from her boss. As a form of celebration, she goes clubbing with her sister and wanted to have some fun through the night. At the club, she meets Ben Stone - the fat, unattractive, doped and average looking guy - whom she sleeps with that night and had a one night stand. Little did they know that during the intercourse, an accident occurred and Allison was unexpectedly, pregnant. So the decided to come together, get to know each other, and see where the relationship goes before the child is born. Along the way, we get to see both parties trying to get used to their new lives as parents, as well as each other. Alison is the kind of character with goals in her life, and a light at the end of the tunnel. Ben is the owner of a porn website along with his friends, and that is basically his job scope. He lives off the compensation money that was paid to him a few years ago after a van ran over his feet, and he has been eating spaghetti ever since.

It was hilarious to see how the two interacted with each other, and tried to get used to the fact that they were attached to one another. Being poles apart, it almost looked like a herculean task, and it didn't start out smoothly at all. They went through fights, they went through arguments, and Alison had to get used to Ben's creepy friends while he had to get used to her sister's dysfunctional family. It was interesting to see the relationship break and then patch up over the course of the film, the way it resonated my own relationship in the distant past. The way they argued was so similar to my own that I couldn't help but laugh in the cinema itself. The way the girl would always use their hormones as excuses to be irrational, or the way it'd seem inappropriate to dissect a problem and to list out the solutions. Oh, those days, those days. Those hellish days.

Like I mentioned before, Judd Apatow doesn't hesitate to be crude about his humor. He is not going to censor certain words, or images, or lines that are going to bring blood shooting to your face. These are the kind of things you hear only over conversations in bars and pubs, and rarely to you hear them spoken so blatantly like that. Initially, you blush at the stuff shown on screen and heard over the speakers, but then you think to yourself and realize that these are exactly the things that happen in our own lives. That is perhaps the best part about Judd Apatow's film making, and that is the fact that he does not hold anything back.

Another aspect of his film making that is rather admirable is perhaps his ability to weave messages into the comedy seamlessly. This movie - as mentioned - is about unplanned pregnancy, and you really see how people react in such situations. From the first time you vomit to the moment you reveal the truth to the child's father. All of those emotions are real, and those are the kind of things you experience in real life as well. I've been through some of those myself, though that is not to say I have knocked up anybody in my entire life. I can only imagine how it'd be like to have a woman come up to me after our one night stand eight weeks ago, and tell me that she is pregnant with my child. The mental image of me jumping into a car and then driving all the way to China would ensue after the confession for sure, followed by a momentary blankness in the mind perhaps. It's just not the kind of situation you would want to land in, with the kind of unnecessary responsibility resting on your shoulders.

I'm sure Ben felt that when Alison told him across the dinner table one night. It just sort of popped out, and I don't suppose there is a better way in telling people that you are pregnant. It'd be a test of character I suppose, to say that you are pregnant and see how your male partner would react. It was nice of Ben to actually take responsibility of the situation, actually. I mean, you wouldn't expect a character like Ben in real life to take any responsibility for this girl that he slept with for one night. It was fun, and not exactly passion or love involved in their love making, so it wasn't exactly a great thing to make her pregnant altogether. However, I thought he did a great job at trying to fit into the role as a father, and it certainly shone through the film very well.

Like I mentioned before, so many arguments in this movie reminded me of how I was like when I was with her. It didn't matter too much about the presence of strangers on the street, because we would just argue in front of everybody. She would use the 'irrational' card, very much like Alison in the film, and say that it is OK to be unreasonable and irrational because she's upset and pissed off. And of course, the times when you have to agree with her even if she is obviously in the wrong. These are the little things that I went through - that we all go through - as a fraction of a relationship. It was pleasant to see somebody noticing that and writing it into a script; that amidst the laughter and the breasts, there's something to be taken away from this film rather than an aching stomach at the very end.

I read in an article this morning, and the statistics were shocking to say the least. In Singapore, 13% between 16 and 23 have sex, but only 36% of them use contraceptives regularly. 13% is probably a pathetic figure compared to the statistics in the Western world, but to see that merely 36% of them uses contraceptives regularly is as good as a slap in the face for all the sex education the school ever tried to implement. You start to ask yourself what those teenagers were thinking when they decided not to use a bloody condom in the case of sex, when it is more than just STDs you are preventing but also unnecessary responsibilities. There are times when you become ashamed for the youths of your own country for how ignorant and stupid they can get sometimes. If you are not going to use it for the diseases, then use it to prevent accidents. It is worth doing, so why the hell not.

Perhaps schools should start showing Knocked Up to the students. Unless they are ready to take up such responsibilities as accidental fathers, then go on ahead and not use contraceptives the next time they have sex. All I am saying is, there are things that are worth risking and things that you shouldn't try at all. I wouldn't go against anybody who decided to leap off the top of a roof into a swimming pool for example, but definitely not sex without condoms. It is just stupid for you to try something as unsafe and unpredictable as that, as the characters of the movie can justify.

So, at the end of the day, Knocked Up is not only a good film to watch over the weekend for a good dosage of crude humor, but also a great educational movie. I feel that students should be shown this video, instead of those gory abortion videos they still show in schools. Seriously, would you rather watch a movie with two characters trying to take responsibility for each other, or videos of babies being ripped apart in a woman's womb. Yeah, I know. It's not a difficult choice. Now, take out that ten dollar note and go to the nearest box office now. It is going to be worth your money, and with the remaining money go buy a condom - just in case.

Sicko



Ever since Michael Moore's first documentary was released a few years ago, he has single-handedly generated enough haters to occupy a small country. This country of haters have different reasons for hating this hundred kilogram filmmaker. All of them dislikes the fact that he is dissing the very country that he grew up in, the country that he received his education in, and some are even calling him a traitor of the country. True enough, Michael Moore is a true blue American who grew up in Flinn Michigan, and is also a person who has more than a little thing for his government - particularly the Bush administration.

There are a lot of people out there who dislikes Michael Moore, and there is even a website dedicated to people who hates him as well. However, if you think these websites are going to stop Michael Moore from dissing the very same country that he grew up in, you are wrong. Because he is back with yet another film called Sicko, this time targeting the American health care system, and he is going to cause the membership at the Anti-Moore website to drop drastically. Here's why.

In the past, Michael Moore had his barrels pointed towards the White House most of the time. In Bowling for Columbine, he blamed the government for the weapon policy in America. In Fahrenheit 9/11 he blamed the government for the tragedy that happened on that very day. People got sick of all his procrastinations, some calling them half truths and whole lies. To most, he wasn't much different to the kind of storyteller that Dan Brown was. Both of them took facts from history and weaved them together in a fictional way to work for his cause. He was just a fat white man out there, speaking his mind and a lot of people were unhappy with him - though a lot of people were encouraged by his courage as well. However, though the aim of Fahrenheit 9/11 was to work against the Republicans in America, Kerry lost the second election to Bush after the documentary was released. It was quite a slap in the face from the White House in a way, but that wasn't enough to reach the ego that was within this fat white man.

You can always argue that you have nothing to do with politics, that Moore is just another left wing procrastinator trying to bring down the government based on unsubstantial evidences. However, Sicko has a totally different story to tell, though it still has a lot of elements to do with the government. Bush appears for less than a minute in this documentary, significantly less than Moore's last outing. However, lesser screen time doesn't necessarily translate to less anger and frustrations by the end of the movie either. This movie dealt with the health care problems in the States, and how it has affected various people throughout the documentary. Health is something that has got to do with everybody in a country, and it is something that you cannot run away from. As true as it is that we are going to die someday, it is also true that we are going to fall sick sooner or later. So what happens when the people that are supposed to aid you when you are sick, turn their backs on you and deny you a place in the hospitals because you are not properly insured, or if you don't have the money to pay to medical bills?

The documentary begins with an amateur video of Adam, a man with a deep and nasty cut in his right knee. Then you see Adam picking up a needle and a thread, followed by him sewing up the wound one stitch at a time. Then we meet Rick, whose middle and ring finger got sliced off by a table saw while working on carpentry. The first thought in his head when the tips of those fingers flew off the table were not about how much pain he was suffering, or how he was going to live the rest of his life without the tips of his fingers like normal people would. Rick is not covered by insurance, and in his mind at that split moment was how much it would cost to attach his fingers back, how much money would he have to pay for the hospital bills. In the end, Rick was given a choice at the hospital: Either attach his middle finger back for $24000, or attach his ring finger back for $16000. Being the hopeless romantic, Rick chose his ring finger and had to live with the fact that he had to choose between parts of his body to save for the the rest of his life.

We then meet Becky, who worked as a phone operator of sorts at a major health care company. People call in to inquire about insurance policies, and there was this once when an old couple called in to ask about whether or not they were eligible for the insurance coverage. Sending their medical history over, Becky knew that they were not going to get the insurance coverage, and was sure to be rejected by the company via a phone call. However, she didn't have the heart to tell those old folks that they were going to be rejected, because the old man sounded too happy on the phone that they were going to be insured. So she remained cold and laconic to most callers afterwards, getting in and getting out. She didn't want to be involved in the callers' lives, so as not to have any emotional attachments with them. When asked about the criteria of rejection, there was a list of illnesses that would get you out of the insurance coverage consideration right away. That list is about 37 pages long, and it even involved diseases like "Burger disease" and "Yeast Infection" - whatever they are.

Of course, there are a dozen different stories throughout the documentary that is going to cause your jaws to drop, simply because it is hard to believe such things actually happen in the richest country in the world. You would expect and believe that such a country would have the best medical facilities for its own people, but the truth is every American - on average - forks out $6000 on medical bills alone. And it is not like it is making their medical system any better from where they now stand on the WHO world ranking list - just slightly ahead of Slovenia at 37. That is aside from talking the story of Tracy, who died from cancer because the insurance companied refused to pay for the supposedly experimental medication that had a high possibility of curing the disease according to statistics. Also, the eighteen month old Mychelle who died from a high fever because the nearest hospital to her placed wasn't affiliated to her mother's insurance company, and thus refused to treat them.

As before, Michael Moore asked more questions than he answered in this film. You are going to say that this is the view of one man, that is he merely a pot calling the kettle black. Like before, many people were unhappy that he dissed the government all over again, that he is making a mockery out of everything. However, when it comes to health issues, who is to say that they didn't have their own medical horror stories? Everybody had their stories to tell, debts unpaid and bills owed because of whatever reasons their insurance companies decided to throw at them. They almost seem like they are always looking for a way out, that they cannot care less about their clients at all. In fact, as an employee, if you are able to deny a client of their medical coverage, you are going to get a pay raise in the company simply because you helped the company to save money - which is in a way, earning profits.

There are going to be people out there also, who are going to be skeptical about this whole issue. After all, they've never seen or heard the stuff that was shown on the screen before. So if seeing is believing, and they have never heard of such stories in their lives, then how can Michael Moore be telling them truth at all? Besides, this is America, how is it possible that the hospitals are dumping people at the side of the streets when they cannot pay their hospital bills. These are the kind of things that happen in third world countries, or at least not in that country anyway. They can also argue that the crying beggars and the lady who was thrown out of a cab were paid to act as pathetic as possible before the camera. It's just difficult to imagine such a thing happening in that country, when everywhere else in the world is doing much worse than America - theoretically.

Michael Moore made visits to Canada, England and France. In those countries, he was shocked to hear about universal medical care, where people received absolutely free medical services in hospital. It'd be free if you give birth to your child in the hospital; it'd be free if you call an ambulance to your house if you broke your ankle; it'd be free if you have to attach all your fingers back onto your hand; and it is also free to have doctors come to your house in the wee hours of the morning - for reasons as trivial as abdomen pains. The truth is, all those countries seem to have way better medical care than America - or at least much cheaper ones to say the least. I especially loved the part in the documentary when Michael Moore visited England and France.

In the hospital in England, Michael Moore was determined to find a billing department, where the bills of the patients would be stored. He couldn't find it anywhere in the hospital at first, and were laughed at by the people working there because nobody ever talks about money in a hospital. So he decided to visit the more expensive part of the hospital - the E.R. - since that is where most of the expensive equipments are. Even there, there isn't a billing department anywhere to be seen at all. When Moore finally found a counter that said 'Cashier', he asked the Indian man behind the counter if that was the place where people paid for their hospital bills. That man said no, and people don't pay for medical bills in England at all. That counter was meant to return money to the patients, in the events that they actually had to take public transports to the hospitals. So let's get the facts straight now: Instead of money going into the hospitals in England, we have money coming out instead. Brilliant.

In France - the number one country in terms of health care - things became even more amazing. Like before, everything is free. A man received a three months paid leave to Southern France after his brain tumor operation. Not to mention the fact that you can call up their service hotline to have doctors visit your home in half an hours time at any time of the day, to check up on your aching stomach or you son's aching penis. It works at any time of the day, with absolutely no charges whatsoever. That is not all the French are enjoying on their side of the world either. If you are busy with your work, if you have no time to stay at home for the kids and do household chores, you can hire a maid - who works for the government - to come to your place and do the job for you four hours a day. She does anything you want, and it is completely free in France as well. Which is indirectly saying that the government of France is actually doing the laundry for their people - and no, this is not a fairytale, it's as real as it gets.

Coming back to America, the situation is not getting any better. Escalating medical bills aren't helping the people out of their health problems at all. Moore focused on several 9/11 rescue workers, and how the dust in the air caused permanent damages to their lungs after their heroic efforts six years ago. However, the government has neglected them altogether, and provides them with $1000 social medical care every month. So Moore was eager to have these heroes treated with the best medical care there is on American soil - for free.

So he bought a couple of boats, loaded these 9/11 rescue workers onto them, and sailed through the seas to the island of Cuba where Guantanamo Bay is located - it is also the place where the 'evil-doers are being locked up, the same place with the best and the most up to date medical facilities. Screaming through a loud hailer, Moore demanded that the guards at Guantanamo Bay to open up its doors to these 9/11 rescue workers, just so that they'd be able to receive the same medical treatments that the terrorists were getting. Of course, they were denied and chased away by the sirens that rang out from the military camp. They had to retreat from the high seas, and they were forced to evacuate back to mainland Cuba.

In Cuba, one of the rescue workers found out that a bottle of inhaler that would normally cost $120, cost only five cents in Cuba. Hospital registrations there needed only your name and birth date, and even Cuba - the mortal enemy of America with their Communism rule - has universal medical care for their people - for free. These ene...I mean, Americans, were treated for free and were given prescriptions as well. So you start to wonder if it is possible for the richest country in the world to do just the same, if they are able to treat the group of lower income people in the country just the same as everybody else. After all, a society is judged not by how well the upper class people are treating themselves, but rather the way the upper class people are treating the lower class people.

Like the post on Fahrenheit 9/11, I am not supporting Moore's claims or disagreeing with him either. This man is biased, and as do all arguments we read or watch, they shouldn't be fully trusted. However, this is the man with a lot of guts, the same man who dares to ask questions like," What are you going to do about this problem?" He does not answer a lot of questions, but then he asks questions that reach deeper than the bones. You start to look around you room, your house, your neighborhood, and you start to ask yourself about the kind of stories that you have heard. They all add up one way or another, even if it isn't half as bad as the victims shown in the documentaries itself.

People shouldn't be afraid of their governments, the government should be afraid of their people. There are times when we can do something, or at least protest our dissatisfactions. When the powers at be are doing things that shouldn't be done, we have the ability and right to stand up for what we believe in. Democracy is probably the best creation of mankind, and this is the sort of time that we should fully utilize it. After all, if we are not going to give a shit about our medical health care, what is going to happen when we are sick?



Hear him out. He has a point.

Absurdity

There are times when people do something in life; people do something which they think is right. Logic and common sense tells you that everything is going to go wrong from the very start, but you haven't the ability to tell that person to do otherwise, because that person has absolute power. So you watch this train bear its way down the railway track with a crack in the rails, and you await helplessly as the passengers close in on their impending doom. It's not like you could have stepped in with your bare hands to stop the train, and that person we mentioned is standing at the head of the train and smiling at you. He wants you to have some faith in him; he wants you to believe in whatever he is doing. However, how do you believe in a person when he toys with this little thing called 'Politics'?

As much as possible, I try to avoid the evening news. If news are supposed to keep us up to date with the latest happenings around the world, is it really necessary for us to know that there is another family killed in a raging fire, another man murdered for two hundred dollars by the side of a petrol station, or even a father who raped her daughter for the past fourteen years? There are news that we need to know, and then there are others that should be kept under wraps altogether. I'm not saying that we should be ignorant to our social conditions, but there's always the power of media at work, whereby the viewers are cultivated to think that our society is worse than it actually is. After all, the nature of a news is like a capsule of sorts, whereby the information are all crammed up into the one hour slot and fed to you like pills. With the bulk of news compressed together, we tend to think that our society is going to hell with all the kind of images we see. However, with every twenty percent decrease of crime rates in the States, there is a three hundred percent increase in news coverage. So you see, the news isn't really the news anymore.

Anyway, as I was saying, I try to avoid it as far as possible. The family turns on the television and switch it to the news channel for the sake of background sounds, because there are times when the family becomes too engrossed in the meals and forgets to have conversations over the dining table. Once in a while, our ears catch news that interests us, while there are the other times when they make you choke on your rice. Two weeks ago, I heard a piece of news from my homeland Taiwan that caused me to throw a slipper at the television screen despite that absurdity of the action. However, compared to what was going on on screen, my slipper-throwing stunt could have been seen as being civilized.

The newscaster was going on about the release of prisoners in Taiwan, not because they have finished their sentences but because the government took their time to revise all the sentences of the current prisoners in Taiwan, and have decided to release three thousand odd prisoners prior to their release dates. So there they were, walking out of the prison with their hands carefully shaved and walking around in flip flops, cheering and laughing at the top of their voices. Some of them praised the incompetent president, shouting into the camera about just how lucky they were to have such an idiotic president managing the country. But most of them took cover behind the mosaic, unable to face the lenses of the cameras and the rest of the world. So these people are back on the streets, roaming the dark alley ways with their thirst for drugs, money and blood.

Just yesterday, a college professor was on his way to school when he was stopped by a man by the side of a road. When he wasn't able to produce enough money at hand, he was beaten up and bashed to death by bare fists. There the professor laid by the side of the road in the early hours of the morning, until motorbike riders found his battered and bruised body. It was already too late when he was sent to the hospital, and her smallest daughter was the first person at the scene, making frantic phone calls and waiting outside the emergency room for a sign of miracle.

But the miracle never came, and the college professor whose passion was in biology, died under the bloody fists of the person who assaulted him. Pictures of him was plastered all over the television screen, pictures of him wandering through the forests and studying life samples of animals and plants. He was smiling in those pictures, and it was difficult for me to imagine that same man by the side of the road. For some reason, I thought about Stanley laying in the drain at four in the morning, perhaps in the same battered and bruised manner. Only, the man who ran over Stanley is still very much at large, nobody ever caught that man for what he did to the dear friend of mine.

The man was caught in the end, and he confessed to the murder of this teacher. Driven by his need for drugs and without money to purchase them, he tried to get it from the poor professor who just so happened to be in his path when the need came along. This same man was part of those bald headed criminals that was released earlier than their original release dates. Two weeks on, and the first innocent life lost because the incompetent government made a mistake that could have been pointed out by a five year old as being completely stupid. I mean, they were in prison for a fucking reason, you don't just get their asses out behind bars just because you deem their sentences to be too harsh all of a sudden - as if the laws in Taiwan are too harsh in the first place.

In the course of four weeks, fourteen of the three thousand prisoners have already died - believe it or not. Most of them died from drug overdose, alcohol overdose or natural causes. Another dozen already committed crimes like armed robbery and others. Most of them did whatever they did because they didn't have money, or the ability to find a new job in the society. Either way, they were all desperate man running about on the streets, and it's not like it was a mistake that could have been mended at all. It is not right to release these men and have them arrested all over again because you made a mistake in the revision. How many more innocent lives like the professor must be lost before somebody comes up on national television and apologize for their stupidity? I know that an apology is not going to bring the dead professor back, nor is it going to bring the other two thousand odd prisoners back into custody. But that is the least that the people are asking for right now, and I don't see anybody doing anything on the news as a form of apology at all.

It is easy to put the blame on the criminals that roam the streets now. It is easy to say that these people are the culprit, these people should be the ones at fault. However, put yourself in their shoes. With a mistake once committed in your life, how easy do you think it is for them to start all over again? Crimes are the kind of stain that can never be washed off, and you don't expect yourself to come clean on paper once you step out from the prison cell. It remains with you for a long time, and it is probably not going to go away anytime soon just because your mentality has changed - if it changes at all. It is hard for these people to fit in, and most of them are definitely going to commit the same crimes or worse, once they are released.

As they always say, a desperate man is a dangerous man. You can never expect what they are going to do to curb their desperation. You don't expect a man that is on the verge of his desperation to have any rational thoughts, because that is not going to happen at all. So they resort to stealing, robbing, or even killing to temporarily satisfy themselves. We condemn such acts in our society, we do not encourage the above mentioned crimes and so much more. However, we do understand why they did it, we know why they were driven over the edge to do the things that they did. It's like a man killing his wife for cheating on him, and is being sentenced to death in the newspapers. It is easy to understand why the man did it, while at the same time condemning such acts altogether.

The true villain in this picture is the government, the party that did whatever they did with no apparent reason at all. It's not like their revision of the sentences were logical in any form or ways. There are no excuses out there that could have justified what they did in the first place. I think there was somebody on television one day, saying that the prisons are running out of cells, so it'd make sense to decrease the sentences of the prisoners. That is probably the dumbest thing ever to have been said on national television. There is something about politicians that disgusts me - and probably a whole lot of other people as well. They have the ability to say the dumbest things and get away with it. Corruption is one thing, but outright lies are worse. With their idiocy, they have the ability to look into the camera and say the most preposterous things possible. Like the act of reducing the prisoners' sentences, you just have to ask yourself," What the hell for?"

There are times when I am proud of my roots; when I can tell people where I came from. I love my homeland, the culture they have and the kind of upbringing that I received from the people who was immersed in that very same culture. However, there are times when politics are brought up in a conversation, and you can't help but to run away from everybody and dig a hole in the ground for you to hide in it. When your country is governed by people who are dumber thank donkeys, proclaiming the love for your country is probably not the best thing in the world to do.

There are a million different ways to run a country properly, but there are a million more ways to ruin the country altogether. I am not going to tell anybody what to do with a country, because I am not in the position to give such suggestions. However, the thing that I am certain of is that releasing a bunch of criminals back into the society and have them slaughter innocent civilians to gratify themselves is not what a good government should be doing. The right winged people are going to argue that it is not as easy as the ABCs to run a country proper, and it is easy for them to point fingers at people such as myself, and call us the procrastinators. However, it doesn't require basic kindergarten common sense to know that it is not the right thing to do, now does it?

If you are going to be an incompetent government, fine. You can sit back and not do anything for the country, sure. But let's not worsen the situation by making retarded decisions all the time. You are not going to gain any respects by doing so, and it is certainly not going to help when your support is sinking below twenty percent in the country. If election is all that you care for, this is not the way to do it at all. If you are going to pretend to care for the country, pretend. If you are going to act as if you are doing something for the people, act. Stop putting up a half-fuck job and expect us to think that we are going to be blinded like fools. The twenty percent of the country supporting this retarded president may be blind, but the other eighty percent have our eyes sharper than hawks and ears sharper than foxes.

If the next election comes up and ruling party is going to win again, I am going to stop telling people of my nationality altogether. It brings shame not just to the country but to myself as well. I am not a person that is particularly interested in politics, but when it spills into the lives of civilians, you just can't help but protest. This is my protest, this is my voice. It is not going to be heard by anybody, but at least posting it made me feel better about the country of mine that is going to hell one step at a time.

Normalcy

"You are not yourself today."

"How would you know if this is not my true self?"

*

The truth is,

I'm not too sure either.

I wonder how you determine one's normalcy,

if what you see is not just another made-up story.

It begins to confuse even himself,

like the characters of a novel revolting against the author.

Perhaps the characters are tired of the personalities they have to put up with,

or maybe they are just tired.

Of the number of pages they have to appear on,

of the story,

of their lives,

of the world.

I apologize for my strange sort of mood today,

I guess there are times,

when I am just not myself.

I wonder if anybody would wait it out while

I am someone else.

Essay #4: Obscenity

Previously, I posted my second essay on bathroom habits a while ago on this blog. That was essay number two, and I understand that you guys might be wondering what happened to essay number three and why I skipped to the fourth one just like that. Well, the third one was actually an edit of an entry I typed before, so I figured there isn't a point to post it here at all. Besides, I wasn't exactly too proud of the end result, despite the approval of the teacher in class. I am going to write this next essay as I blog this, instead of editing it in Words and then pasting it here. So here we go, never mind the mistakes you might spot along the way. This is going to be a rough edit of everything.



In every culture or society, it is almost impossible to detach a person's wedding from the traditional grandeur imposed in the most conventional minds. Money is often part and parcel of this 'grandeur', and therein lies the problem. People like to splurge obscene amount of money on their weddings by focusing on the littlest of details that are more often than not - trivial. This money could have been spent on your dream honeymoon or your new apartment; at least the satisfaction involved is going to be more prolonged than an extravagant wedding.

You can always argue that because weddings are supposed to be an one-time deal, it is reasonable to empty your bank account just to make everybody happy. After all, everybody wants to look pretty on their wedding night, and everybody wants to have their weddings look good on the videos taken by their families and friends. It is also desirable to have the most expensive wedding, especially when you are sitting around a coffee table at forty-nine, comparing with your other middle-aged girl friends - if you are the kind who gets a kick out of cheap thrills like that.

Remember how you dreamed about those fancy honeymoons when you were a child? The way a pair of newly weds would hold each other at the tip of a cruise ship as it sails through the Mediterranean Sea in the middle of nowhere. All of those could come true if you actually kept a close watch on those climbing bills. It is not a tradition to go on a honeymoon after a wedding of course, but it'd be nice to have one anyway. Bring your partner to exotic places, places that not every married couple goes to, normally. If you are going to spend an obscene amount of cash on the wedding itself, whatever that is left is only going to allow a trip for two to Bangkok, Johor or Sentosa - if you are lucky enough. There is nothing wrong with having a honeymoon in those places, but it'd be better if you can tell your friends at the end of the trip that you went to further, more exotic locations like Vienna or even the Maldives.

Imagine yourself in the shoes of the bridegroom as you read this paragraph. The wedding bell still rings in your head, and your last kiss was hours ago, after communion and before the priest. Carrying your wife through the front door of your brand new apartment, you look at her with your dreamy eyes and the smell of the partying that ensued after the lavish ceremony still linger between the folds of her expensive silk gown. Kicking the bedroom door open, you prepare to serenade her body with your hot, wet lips. With that notion in mind you throw your wife onto a bed and prepare for the wild night ahead.

The thing is, the bed that you supposedly threw your wife onto does not actually exist. That is because you have spent so much money on your obscenely lavish wedding that you have nothing left in your bank account to purchase new furniture with. Your wife now moans in agony from the pain of her broken waist bone as she curses your sheer incompetence and stupidity. This marks the perfect beginning of the end.

The question arises as you sit on the cold floor of your empty apartment - what could have been done with all that money if it had not been squandered on a wedding celebration that lasted barely a day? So many newlyweds start out their lives from scratch, and the economic pressure alone is enough to doom the marriage from the very start. Although the above example is quite the hypothetical situation, there are still cases where newly weds live on the verge of poverty after their weddings. You begin to ask yourself if that money could have been used to buy furniture in the first place.

At the end of the day, there is nothing wrong with extravagant weddings as long as you can afford one. However, it shouldn't be considered a norm to splurge your money, the way some people do despite their obvious financial constraint. The next time you throw a party, pick a Sri Lankan crab rather than an Alaskan crab. If Lumpsucker caviar would suffice, forget about the Beluga Caviar. Think about the life after your wedding; think about the honeymoon that means so much more than the ceremony itself. Less is more, even in the case of a wedding. Think about it.

How Much It Hurts

Speak. Speak your mind
You're always telling me I need to open mine
And wait, wait your turn
Then shut me out cuz' you've got nothing left to learn

You say there's nothing wrong with being proud
So, tell me what you love and say it loud
Now here's the dose that you've been dishing out:

If you're listening this is how much it hurts
If you're listening this is how much it hurts

Oh, I'm wrong - I'm wrong again
But not because of where I stand but where I've been
And it burns, you know it burns like hell
To know there's nothing left to do but wish you well

You say there's nothing wrong with being proud
So, tell me what you love and say it loud
I've been good enough to stay and hear you out

But you're wrong - You're never wrong

You say there's nothing wrong with being proud
So, tell me what you love and say it loud
I've been giving you the benefit of the doubt

If you're listening this is how much it hurts
If you're listening this is how much it hurts
If you're listening this is how much it hurts
If you're listening this is how much it hurts

Decadence

Heaven bend to take my hand
And lead me through the fire
Be the long awaited answer
To a long and painful fight

It was midnight by the time it was over, the lavishly dressed crowd flowed down the curved staircases and the doorways below, in their eyes a glimmer and hint of the play that they just witnessed before, as I have only moments ago before the stage. As the cast bowed and left the stage, the applauses died down into quiet murmurs of shoes rubbing against the carpeted floor, as well as the soft exclamation of amazement all around. The air of excitement lingered in the air still, the kind of air you smell after a life-changing experience of sorts. At least for me, the play last night had that kind of quality inside of me, and the air I breathed was different from the moment it ended and I exited the building itself.

Memories attacked my head once again, as I made my way through the crowd and out into the midnight air. The rain in the afternoon made everything seem a tad bit different, with the puddles of water dotting the gray-tiled atrium, the night sky was cloudless and almost infinite. Making my way along the side street, an Indian woman embraced her husband who complained about her delay, and the cold of the city air was terminated as they warmed each other up in each others' arms. But there I was, staring at the couple like a stalker of sorts, with my hands shoved deep into my pockets and dreamed about the warmth that came and went at the very same place only months ago. It was the last night of everything, the first night of a new beginning. The thought plagued my head once more as I made my way down the sidewalk, with other couples closely cuddled with one another, as if to mock at my lack of warmth and the thoroughness of loneliness.

Truth be told I've tried my best
But somewhere along the way
I got caught up in all there was to offer
And the cost was so much more than I could bear

We crossed the road with the traffic police just on the other side of the lights. Their red and blue lights flickered quietly in the night, as they watched these lavishly dressed people crossing the road before their eyes. The Caucasian man pulled her oriental wife along, while the other couple way in front braved the oncoming traffic, with the wife screaming her head off in excitement. I was there alone, my hands still in my pocket, with my shoulder leaning against the lamp post. I didn't see the need to rush home for anything, or the need to get out of town at all. The sights and sounds at that time, the way the street lights turned red and green again for invisible cars was quite a sight indeed, and I stood on the curb - just breathing in everything there is to breathe in.

I wondered about the situation then, how it'd be like to have somebody to tell my excitement to. It'd be nice to have somebody on the other side of the line then to listen to my excitement, to know how I felt like at that very moment. Like the time after my camp's farewell function, the lonely walk to the train station was made less so because I had a person on the other line to spend my time, to accompany, to love. Those were the days, as I recalled, when I was happy for no apparent reasons, when my mother would smile at me and tell me that I looked contented, that I looked genuinely happy. Those smiles are gone these days, the kind she'd curve her mouth for me for no apparent reasons either. It is perhaps the state that I am in now, the state I am in right now without a partner. To tell you the truth, walking down the sidewalk and sandwiched between couples who were chattering nonstop about how good the play was just minutes ago, made me think about the past when I had somebody to spill my heart out to as well - for a play or for a woe.

Though I've tried, I've fallen...
I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...

The midnight crowd in town has scattered, and understandably so as it was a weekday night. It'd be quite different on a weekend, with the striking of the number 12 on the clock to be the start of everybody's night out. The streets of town on a Thursday night however, was a quiet and lonely. Despite being outdoors, my footsteps could almost be heard echoing off the walls of the Recreation Club. Finding my way to the nearest taxi stand where a queue was already building up, I tried to focus only on the music that was running through my head and not the thoughts I conjured while being sandwiched by two walking pieces of Post-its, trying to remind me of unnecessary memories of the distant past. Running across the street despite the light, I came to the end of the queue and waited for the cab to arrive. I was eager to stay, but more eager to leave at the same time. It was a mental contradiction I wasn't too sure about, and allowed my legs to take me home instead of my logic and emotions. I had a wild thought of staying in town till the morning breaks, to watch as the roads get filled with cars once more. However, that thought was rudely interrupted as the sound of metal tapping against glass invaded my mind.

Next to me, a middle-age man in a light blue button-down shirt was tapping his lighter against the glass wall of Prestat Bar over at Raffles' City. He was kneeling on the sofa then, in between two of his friends and gazing in my direction. Initially, I thought he was calling out to me as I made my way to the end of the line. However, as I looked at his blood shot face and studied the look of his friends, they were all clearly drunk and was probably halfway to the moon by then. He wasn't calling out to me at all, but a lady who was in line with me at that time. The lady however, paid little attention to the drunken men in the bar at that time, though the man who was tapping the glass clearly attracted the attention of everybody else at the scene.

We all begin with good intent
Love was raw and young
We believed that we could change ourselves
The past could be undone

The lady, she was beautiful. Her golden brown hair rested upon her shoulders, those smooth curves like a waterfall was broken only by the contours of her shoulder bones, as they continued their flow down to the fabric across her chest. She was well-prepared for the night, her eyebrows carefully tended to and a subtle layer of makeup enhanced the beauty that was standing before my eyes. She was in a small yellow dress, a dress that reached just below her waist and barely covering her thighs at all, and the cut at the front reached almost to her belly button. Her full breasts revealed themselves under the yellow dress, as they winded around the back of her neck and made a beige-colored oval in between. She was well-endowed, and was clearly somebody of some social class, for her purse and shoes were expensive and branded goods not everybody can afford. The man in the background continued to tap his lighter on the glass, trying to catch her attention. All the time, he muttered something through the class, some drunkard language perhaps, only to be bounced back into his face by the impenetrable glass. But it's not like it would have made a difference if he was standing in front of the lady in yellow as well, for she clearly was in ignorance of his public idiocy.

Her arms were folded across her chest when the cab came, and she bent ever so slightly as she opened the door at the back. Her hair fell to either side of her head, framing it up like a priceless picture in an art gallery. The men in the bar moaned and yelled, and through the glass of the bar I could hear them still trying desperately to catch her attention. However, as the tail lights of the cab disappeared around the corner, so did the hopes of the drunkards fade into the night. The man in the blue shirt sank back into the red sofa, while others took their sips of the spirits that lined the table in a circle. They were dismayed and perhaps disappointed as well, but I wondered to myself just how long those emotions were going to last under the influence of those alcohol. It'd be temporary, it'd be ephemeral. With their sorrows drowned in the drinks, nothing was big enough to trouble their little minds no more.

But we carry on our backs the burden
Time always reveals
In the lonely light of morning
In the wound that would not heal
It's the bitter taste of losing everything
That I've held so dear.

The lights were dim and the bartenders behind the counter were chatting away into the night. The music played softly through the glass, late night customers hung out and were unwilling to leave. Who were to ask them to anyway? They were there not to show off their fancy cellphones or watches, nor were they there to talk politics over a couple of drinks. They were there for company, and they were there for the atmosphere. To be away from their parents, their wives, their children, or their homes, whatever. They were all there to allow themselves to be detached, to forget, to be ignorant for those few brief hours hidden amidst the dim lights from the rest of the world, the same world that reminds them of their own failure, or their own shame. Those men at the table, they talked under their breaths and sulked about the lady in yellow that went away in the cab. A few more bottles of drinks were ordered, and it was clear that they were in for a wild night ahead.

I wondered then, if they thought about the people waiting at home for them, if there were people waiting for them at all. Perhaps those same people gave up waiting a long time ago, because these men never came home as promised. Drinking their souls and conscience away, cup after cup and bottle after bottle. Stumbling out of the exits like half-dead soldiers in a war, only less than a tenth of their bravery and valiance. Those nice suits and their nice ties would smell of alcohol by the end of the night, as they stumble back home through the front doors, wasted and drunk. Someone would welcome them at the doorstep, someone would take them into their arms and hope that the same thing would not happen again. The same kind of love for the man that stumbles through the door as before, though not knowing the kind of thing he does outside while he is away. The same men that the receivers take into their arms, were the same men that tried to grab the attention of an attractive lady on the street with a lighter tapped at the glass window. The same men, who out of desperation, wanted more than what they already have, but the kind of affection associated with disloyalty. They could argue that they were under the influence of alcohol, but no reason could justify the sort of decadence that I witnessed that night.

I've fallen...
I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...

The cab sped down the midnight streets like a straight arrow. Taking the easy way down, the stores were all closed on both sides, and the radio was blaring a familiar Chinese classic played on a saxophone. Thinking back on the scene I just witnessed, I thought about how low men would go in the case of desperation, or the lack of affection. When driven to that kind of mental state, how low would one go to satisfy their own beastly needs? People go out and get drunk, people try to buy their way into the pants of strange women on the streets, hoping to get a one night stand and be done with it by morning. I saw it in the eyes of those men, huddling around one another and were lonely at the same time despite all the company. It was a pathetic sight, but a sight that deserved little pity. I feared, for them and especially for myself. This is the first steps to the last step, this is how the end begins for anybody like myself right now.

To have our hearts hardened to the world, to have no room left to be broken, isn't that a sad thing? I've been thinking about that for the past few days, and placed a measuring tape around the remainder of my heart. To measure what is left to be broken, to see how much hope I still bear within my chest. There is a handful left, still beating to every second of my life, and still moving on until the next great love. However, this issue of being alone has been bugging me for a while now, despite being trivial just next to Samantha's own relationship dry-spell. It is the thing that troubles me the most these days, but the thing that matters to me the least. I am a man of much contradictory, don't mind me.

Heaven bend to take my hand
Nowhere left to turn
I'm lost to those I thought were friends
To everyone I know

What would I become, if I were to take the same route as those men? I fear for myself, to see myself in the future in one of those shady bars in my working clothes that smell of cigarette and alcohol. The passing of a lady would be a small excitement for me, but an excitement nonetheless. To prey upon strange women, hoping that one would provide enough warmth for me to go through the night until the next night of heavy drinking. I feared for my fate to turn out so, though deep inside this conscience remain clear and true. This is how men can sink into their own decadence, the kind that comes along with prolonged period of loneliness. It has only been a little more than four months, and to compare myself with others would be preposterous. However, like I said, I fear for myself ten years down the road. If my heart is going to be worn out and toughened to the elements or reality.

Truth to be told, though it hurts so much, I still want room left to be broken. I still want things to be able to shatter in my chest when the time comes, instead of filling the empty spaces with alcohol. I shan't be the kind of man who pries on lady in yellow at a taxi stand. Deprived and desperate, angry and frustrated. It is a human right to be able to love, and be loved. But do we still retain the right once we sink into the human decadence? What comes of us when we degrade ourselves to such low creatures, like dogs or rats? Do we still deserve, to be loved? Is there hope yet, if I end up like those men one day, preying on random strangers from this side of the glass window?

This is taking too long to heal, far too long for comfort with everything fallen. It isn't hard to pick myself up from the ashes, for I have already done so with my chin held up high. But how long is this going to last, is the question that bugs my mind. The most troubling of thoughts, the least important of thoughts. Together they work against my sanity, eating away until there is nothing left for me to salvage. There is an urge within that wants to be rescued, to be saved from myself. But this road is so long and so limitless. Whence is the end of it all? The warmth that we seek, the one that came and went?

Oh they turn their heads embarrassed
Pretend that they don't see
But it's one missed step
One slip before you know it
And there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed

Though I've tried, I've fallen...
I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...