What Superheroine Are You?

You Are Lara Croft

"Everything lost is meant to be found."

What Superheroine Are You?

Blogthings is fun! There's all this silly quizzes you can do to find out if you're a shoe, what kinda shoe you'd be ? i.e Prada, Manolo's...? If you're a Smurf character, which Smurf would you be...etc.
Today, I went to Blogthings and found out I"m Lara Croft! How utterly silly, and cool is that? I woke up a Fazi and within a day i've turned into Lara Croft! Sweeeeeeeeeeet.....
Now, if only my bra size will change

Snapshots at Dempsey Road - Part Deux

Snapshots at Dempsey Road

The Husband and me took off to Dempsey Road for our weekend shooting ritual today.

Our main subject was a white deserted old church, in the style of medieval english churches, with its black wooden beams and high vaulted ceilings. The windows are long, narrowly formed. The ironwork on the windows and elsewhere in the churches are exquisite and gives it this gothic soulful air. Peeping into the front windows, I saw the words: Ego Te Baptizo in elegant scroll ironwork above the back windows. I think the literal latin means, "I christen you". Its easy to imagine as i'm peeping through broken windows and overgrown trees, a ghostly white face suddenly popping out of nowhere and screaming "BOO!" Well, honestly it was creepy. When we got round to the back of the church, there was a broken fountain (fountain removed, not sure why?) and the inscription on the base of the fountain says "In Memory of John Bath, a little boy who died in 1944". Who was John Bath? And how did he die? Tried searching the Internet but so far no answers.

Our appreciation was spoilt by the mosquitoes swarming hungrily around our legs. We must be to them what food is like to marooned and starving humans. I told The Husband not to stand too long in one place while composing his shot. I counted about 2 new mosquitoes hovering around his legs every 4-5 seconds. The bastards bit us in a dozen places by the time we were over. And the bites really stung!

Ok, will post the photos once i get them processed! Rushing off to supper now. Ta!

The Interview (a draft)

I had an interview
last week
at an art gallery

I think it went well

She asked me
if I know Cubism,
Impressionism,
Surrealism-
and whether I can
intelligently converse
about them

And how about Da Vinci…
Titian…Botticelli…
The Old Masters...
what do I know of these?
Can I talk about the Renaissance
like I had been there?

Do I know the difference
Between Chiaroscuro
And Sfumato?

My body propped on hard chair
as a product on display
My answers were scrutinized,
measured,
held to light
for authenticity
She smiled, and continued
The friendly interrogation

My answers were composed,
gilt-framed
and served
to her in careful swashes
and brilliant blending
of knowledge, wit and recounts
of my experience.
I hope
she was impressed

snapshot

Conversations with Nature...at Macritchie Reservoir

Yesterday, I requested The Husband to bring me to a new restaurant or food place. I also gave him a deadline to do so. This came about because i have been complaining that we keep going to the same places to eat. The Husband is pretty content to eat fast-food everyday. I am the exact opposite.
So today, he brought me to this chicken rice restaurant at Changi Road. Its been around for yonks and the name of the place is Jong An, if i remember correctly.

We ordered a mixed plate of steamed & roasted chicken as well as some roasted 'other parts' i.e. neck, parson's nose, feet. i am crazy about parson's nose, if roasted right, it can transport me to chicken heaven!

Verdict on the new place is good, we'll go back again soon.

We then headed to Macritchie for a walk and to snap some photos (I've posted these below). We had fun doing this together, its interesting to see the shots he takes and the shots i take. We both have very different styles, so its nice doing a shoot of a particular scene and seeing what we each make of it or interpret it. I'll put up some shots The Husband took with his film camera once its printed.

Its 4.30 am now and The Husband is sleeping so sweetly beside me. He looks particularly cute when he's in this Quiet Mode. Think i'll join him now.

Freedom

Crocs in the River!

Contemplation

Little yellow dinghy

Thoughts

I was thinking tonight if one of the many reasons why men visit prostitutes is because it makes them honest.
Let me explain; with a wife or a lover, men may feel compelled to go thru the gentlemanly niceties, buiding up the mood, laying out the compliments, attempt romantic interludes - to get sex. So much time and effort to waste for that act which average only 15 minutes. They dont like it, but it has to be done.

With a prostitute, men can dispense with the tiresome preliminaries. Charge straight to the objective.

I wanted to write a poem exploring this issue. As usual though, my thoughts and fingers have a way of changing the final course of the poem and it became 'Hey, Mister' below.
Not sure if it like it, but its my child, the product of my labours. Take it as it is.

Late nites and insecurities

The Husband and I came back home at 2am after a long-drawn discussion with some of his mates.
Lying on our cool, comfortable and well-used bed and with the lights off, we drifted in and out of conversations, not quite ready yet to sleep. We talked about some ideas for my experimental photo series which i'm going to title 'Anatomy' and fished out some words from our conversations which i can use for my poems.

Suddenly in my head popped a nasty thought. Its one of my famous insecurity-driven kind of thoughts, of which I seem to have an entire filing cabinet in my head packed full of.

I asked The Husband; do you think i'll ever amount to anything? do you think my entire life will sum up to something...significant?
He thought for awhile and tried the assuring tack by saying he hopes i will eventually amount to a happy person.
But i dont think happiness is a relevant equation in this issue. For me, happiness and fulfilment is separate for I can imagine that i may be happy yet, unfulfilled.
I'm not satisfied with his answer, but there's another day, a better time to argue over this issue than 2am in the morning. I didnt wish to spoil this peaceful mood we were enjoying.

I'm not sure why i need to feel like my life has to be worth something.
It seems tragic to not leave a lasting impact on anything or anyone.
After i'm gone, will i just be as forgettable as dry dust?

Hey, Mister!

So I stumbled into an area
Rank with stench
of sweat, seductive
sex and squalor

A plump old pimp sings to me:
Hey Mister! look see;
Pretty girls so young,
don’t worry, don’t worry…

He didn’t have to
be in suit and tie
It seems to me
he didn’t need
a Marketing degree-
for men to flock
to him. This Pied Piper
who trolls this street-
his song is wanton-ness,
Sick and sweet!
This ill song so tempting
I fight for my betraying body not to turn weak

Ladies of the night
in this glare of bright lights,
wait with glassy eyes,
with hungry sighs
But listen, their wait will not be long
Again I hear the Pied Piper’s old song…
Sick and sweet…
Sick but sweet…

Introduction to Haiku

Been playing with the haiku poem forms and last nite, i finally came up with this. Its abit unconventional in subject matter but anyway, my objective was simply to see if i can, as one good soul in DPS advised, rein in the flow of ideas and temper it with classic poetry form and structure.

A haiku is a a Japanese-originated principle of poetry utilising 17 syllables in a 3-line stanza.
The lines conventionally has to be in a 5-7-5 syllable order.
Also, a good haiku poem must ideally be experienced by the poet himself in a spiritual moment.

Ok, if all this is pretty uh-oh to you...(i can imagine some eyes rolling uncontrollably there) yeah, i thot so too...i mean...the japanese must be the worst pain-inflicting race in the world..as if life isnt hard enough rite; you have to impose stupid rules on a frigging poem. But i must say that after i've read some haiku masters, some of the poetry are really beautiful.

By the way, a 'red moon' is actually a natural phenomena which happens when there is an eclipse, turning the moon blood red in colour. The normal haiku poems dealing with seasons and nature are so explored and used already that i dont know what else to write about seasons, therefore i chose this subject instead.

Anyway...talk more later about the moon and the stars...for now, me must leave poetry and go eat...


Once In A Red Moon

Once in a red moon,
the land below dark shadows
shifting; grasping, blind.

Holy Smokes...

We were at Meng's place aka 'The Sheesha Bar', enjoying an apple-flavoured smoke. It was sweet release.

Havent smoked in gabazillion years so even sheesha smoke felt like heaven that day.
Nowadays when i do get hold of the odd cigarette stick or two, I feel like the squirrel in Ice Age (the movie); the temptation to caress the stick lovingly gets a bit strong sometimes, i'm almost overcome by the feeling *sniff*
Well, its good tho that i stopped, or rather, The Husband forced me to stop.

Sukri, a good friend, recently told me his father has been diagnosed with advanced stage of lung cancer. The prognosis isnt good. When i heard, it made me sick with myself then that i'm taking my health for granted.
But old habits die hard; i've kicked it, i cant say for good, cos when the craving hits, i long for selfish escape and release in the soft, warm, fuzzy swirls of cigarette smoke.

The Husband is patient with me when i get the craving. Smoke lah, he says- as long as you dont do it everyday its ok with me.
Such a sweetheart he.

CocoBean's Cat Shower!

Meng and Romain, my friends, have just recently adopted a hyperactive little kitten - Coco.
Its a very french name for a stylo-mylo cat! This photo shows him with black eye-mask. He's inspired by the movie 'Eyes Wide Shut' by Stanley Kubrick. Arty-farty cat this!

Anyway, i think there should be more Mengs & Romains around to save little kittens who would otherwise die from being suffocated in boxes - yup! that would have been the grim fate of this small cat.
It assures me that there are good people like my friends in this world. There are evil people, but it kinda balances my perspective to know that God also puts in place human angels around us :)
Here's a pix of Coco-Bean and me. Coco has just accidentally farted from the excitement of me carrying him, thats why his paw is covering my nose.

The Road Not Taken

Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

(Extracted from 'The Road Not Taken' by Robert Frost)

A Blank Puzzle

I was taking some shots along Clarke Quay when i came across a woman selling these blank puzzles. They're $4 a piece. quite good for:
1. puzzle fans who want to try something different
2. kids who can draw on the puzzle and then take it apart
3. minimalists

Different Responses

Last night was spent hanging out with some folks at a coffeeshop.

Before that, bumped into Mengster, Fanxi, Francois & Romain at Holland Village.
Considered the group's offer of swimming/ jacuzzi at Francois's but decided nah; its not a good day to offer my rolls of fats up for public display and consumption, especially with Fanxi there; she spoils the market with her bod.
Fanxi has fruits for dinner and swimming after. I have one big dinner and 2 suppers after.
Conclusion: Fazi is a pig, but an extremely happy one!

At the coffeeshop, one of the guys was experiencing post-traumatic breakup.
The 3 other guys were concerned but refused to bring up the topic to him. Someone commented that the onus is on the heart-break-ee to confess he is in need of support, before they jump in to help.
Its strange, i'm not aware until then that there are proper protocols to observe in male friendship. In female friendship, typically friends would ask the other- are you okay? and rally support.

Anyway, the male response left me with some nagging questions. Which response is more correct? Which response is more sensitive?
i still dont know. But i know it felt strange to be sitting in close proximity with someone who's suffering and pretending i am not aware he's drowning in the deepest depths of heartbreak hell.

And i wonder if in a situation where the person with the problem is too shy to confess his problem, and his friends are too polite to ask if there is a problem - wouldn't there exist a yawning void in between the two, with no connection possibly for infinity?

And that makes me sad.

The Marriage Bed

In my marriage
the bed,
is the political centre
where administration
and Intelligence takes place,
not to forget
cultural exchanges
(and more)
of course

The exchanges
are always friendly
but--
a Berlin Wall separates
his space
and mine
by his preference and my
..................superficial
assent


That half space on the right
of the bed-
his last strong-hold
A place which Is his alone
I cannot intrude
a friendly arm or
stray a careless leg
to steal some warmth
left on the sheets;
for fear my actions be labelled
a violent incursion

In a Box

Of late
I have felt the pain
of loneliness in a throng.

How strange,
This feeling
of being mute and voiceless
even while in mid-conversation

Disconnected
From everything
And everyone

Lazarus was resurrected back
to life from death
I am suffocatingly
Awake in the land of
the dead,
There is no
Escape

Of Rainy days & forgotten cigarettes

Its been raining non-stop now for the last hour.

Thrice today i had to listen to thunder and rain sloshing when all i really want to do is go for a quick run outside and sushi afterwards.

I'm stuck at home, and with not much to do but finish reading Paul Theroux's "My Other Life" and get some really overdue accounting task done. The novel is good, but i'm somehow feeling restless and not in a reading mood. As for the accounts-thingy, sigh....i'm just procrastinating, maybe its the rain.

Rainy weather ALWAYS has this power to make me remember old memories, days of being free and restless, days of searching and never knowing exactly what it is i'm searching for. Days of piles of cigarettes in the ashtray; smoking one stick after another and burning my lungs away slowly and somehow liking the feel of it.

Anyway, here's one sweet memory for today.

The Old days

Going home,
I took your offer
Of a sharp ride
on the back of your bike

In the sudden lashing of
rain, I turn
to the blackening sky, icy
drops needles my face and busy
wind touches me with
rough fingers;
she rushes past
loathe to linger

When cold turns
to freezing, I press
my face onto soft warm leather
on your back,
its musky scent a familiar
dark comfort

my hands circle your waist-
a protective charm
against bad luck

The light turns red
Time stills as you press both
my hands against yours
in a brief morse code
of understanding

Central Library (Musings)

You can find
In between Victoria Street
And North Bridge Road
the re-born
Central library

Birthed out of
an architect’s
dream
A nation’s proud
Symbol of
an intellectually
Advanced island

Its sterile and strong
All steel walls and glass
A chain restaurant
Fronts the entrance
Selling cheap, palatable
Asian and western fare

A 24-hr automated
book-bin stands
mutely/ efficiently
In replacement to
Yester-years'
Librarian aunties

Security-protected glass doors
opens to more
modern wonders...
motion-detecting escalators,
electronic check-out trays
to replace the old
human-to-human type
Transactions

The study lounge
is fully wireless
So you can
Go virtual
with a swipe and click
of the mouse

A girl slumbers in a corner
Over a textbook while
Across the floors
Laptop wires snakes
and hooks
to a hundred power-points
On the walls
Like a surreal scene from “The Matrix”
come to life
the machines
Sucking life from the humans
Feeding itself

Outside the lounge
disenchanted students
Pass by the locked
“Imagination Room” and
“Possibility Room”
the irony in the names
lost to many