I've moved on to http://overtureforandromeda.wordpress.com

This blog is now pronounced dead and will only serve as a memorabilia for my old self.

Thanks for all the support over the years.

Kenat Bread

I was never an outdoor person to begin with, but at least I liked al fresco dining, chilling with friends at the parks at night, and reading at the balcony. This killer haze which has annihilated the blue skies and fresh air that I've taken for granted all these years, is going to turn me into a bedroom-dwelling hermit who will grow to be undetachable from dark corners and slowly dwindle into a misanthropic troglodyte, forsaken by myself and forgotten by the world, until de-evolution occurs and I become a two-limbed creature crawling backwards into the ocean. It has been a week of suffocation already; PSI's hit a record high of 401, and I believe I'm going through a kind of depression somewhat similar to winter blues now. It is extremely frustrating and I really do hope it will all end soon.

Chop me up into 16 sets of skeletons

When I passed by a gachapon machine on my way home, I thought to myself, isn't that like, lottery for kids? Maybe everyone was born as adventurous risk takers but we slowly dwindle into boring, fearful adults who want to make sure that all things in life go according to our plans. The question is, is everything that happens, meant to happen? If we think about causality, where a cause consequently leads to an effect, and you traced back the steps of human history based on that concept, all the mess in today's world will eventually boil down to its very origin that we all began with. Maybe it's an microorganism, maybe it's Adam and Eve (although I personally do not find it a sensible explanation), maybe it's a pile of dirty mud that Nuwa molded us from (also highly illogical, although I love the story of how Pangu burst out of this cosmic egg, divided the earth and the sky with his axe, and eventually laid down to rest where his body became the mountains, his breath became the wind, and his eyes the sun and the moon). Our own lives are just a beautiful explosion from the clashing of thousands and millions of people's lives. If you look at every human being on the street, they're all made out of a sperm and an egg. They are the outcome of love-making. And if you think about it again, their parent's parents must have also copulated to birth the parents. To put it in a boorish manner, your earthly existence is the result of your 4 grandparents having an orgy party. Or 8 great-grandparents, or 16 great-great-grandparents. You get my point. But isn't it weird? How many of our ancestors had to fall in love to create us today? Can you imagine, bringing these 16 great-great-grandparents back to life, sitting them down at a long meeting table with you at the very end of the table like a boss? Then you snap your fingers and go like "MUSIC!" and some epic song comes on,



you cast some stage lights from your back, throw in some dramatic smoky effect from dry ice, slowly rise on your feet and tell them, "You might not know each other, but me, look at me, this solid body with a mind, a soul and a voice, I am 1/16 of each one of you. Like 16 of you having sex together. Or 16 of you packed into a sardine can and compressed by some special technology from 2051 to become one body. All of you live on as one embodiment, and that is me."

Bali – #wherethepaddyat

It seems my blog has turned into a travelog, but I don't think I would be travelling again anytime soon. The 3 days in Bali was very enlightening and spiritual for me. Away from the cityscapes, away from shopping malls, and closer to nature and all its wonder it has to offer. It's almost as if, maybe, maybe I've been wrong all these while about how the world works in its so-called 'mysterious' ways. I realised. There is a god. But not an anthropomorphic one. No stories to tell, no doctrines to abide to. It has no identity, it has no physicality. It's just this all-embracing, far-reaching, commodious entity, a sense of harmony, a presence that holds you tight yet sets you free, and puts your heart at ease. And it can be found within you.































 

I saw silence. Time was orange; and if fast forwarded, a bright, blinding, jagged yellow. 10,000 years later, an eternity later... you find that there's no time. Pyramids made of words. Gliding snakes that turned into a flock of butterflies. A giant version of your lover lies by the pool. A little monkey whispers careless thoughts into my left ear. I felt sweetness as grand as the deepest canyon and as humble as the tiniest hummingbird drifting by a flower. I lost myself completely. There was no "I". I was the universe. I was a petal. I was a lake and I was the marvelous sunset setting over it all at the same moment. I was in an ocean, a deep, vivid hue of amethyst and mulberry wine, surrounded by candlelit lily pads. Slowly and gracefully, a row of deities fell like dominoes to sleep along the horizon. The veneration, the numbing augustness. I understand now. I have awakened. Life is but a consciousness lived in slow motion, like grains of sand sifting through your fingers. This is samsara. This is moksha. And it was all flowing within me.

"There is not the slightest difference
Between Samsara and Nirvana."
– Nagarjuna

New York City

Just some of my favourite photos from my 2 weeks at NYC.

Operation Negative Positivity

Optimism is not my forte. I vehemently deny and reject all traces of hope and positive encouragement by personal choice. I've learnt to expect the worst from everything in life. It makes things easier to accept, no matter good or bad. No time for overreaction, darlings, there's only 24 hours a day. I go to work, ready to stay pass midnight; I walk the streets, ready to be robbed. It's okay, you can rob me. I have nothing much left inside. We're never made to own anything permanently, anyway. Sometimes I look at my friends, or even Jean, knowing they'll be gone one day. Not taken away by sickness or death, but just, gone. Into the cold wind of the night, when you realise loneliness is your only best friend who has never left your side and will accompany you to chew on tasteless carrots and smoke till your lungs turn into ash. The saddest reality is that most of us never know when our relationships with people have reached its peak. There can only be one highest peak on a mountain, you know? Everything goes downhill from there. So when you feel that you're constantly descending, then just accept it, and let go. Do a somersault. Prepare for the worst landing.

Back at Marine Parade I used to have a neighbour whose family was also a nest of chaos. They had a daughter my age, and a son 2 years younger. Their mom was from Taiwan, a failed celebrity who clings on to her glorious past like a dog to its treat. The father was a son of a rich family who squandered everything away by gambling. He comes home drunk and occasionally takes the chopper and chases his wife all around the kitchen. My mom on the other hand was almost abandoned by my father for good, so she didn't have to deal with any potential physical abuse. You know that famous line from Anna Karenina, "Happy families are all alike; but every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way"? This is a perfect example. Obviously we were both very unhappy families, but my mom came up with a plan together with their mother to make their children feel better and mitigate their agony of fatherlessness. Operation Negative Positivity. Basically they turned their situations around by consoling themselves with other people's misery. Their mom tells them, "Count yourself lucky that you guys at least have a father who comes home regularly. The Zhou family? They haven't seen their dad in 6 years." And my mom tells us, "Hey, look. At least you don't have to deal with a crazy abusive drunk father!" Well, thankyou very much, I'm eternally grateful for that.

The year is coming to an end, and I don't feel like I've accomplished anything this year. Just trying to make a living, very honestly. If I had the choice to delete 2012 from my life and never live it I would gladly do it without a second thought. I know, Adam Sandler regretted fast-forwarding his life in Click. But I'm not Adam Sandler.

Nevertheless here's a little quote from Bukowski to give myself a gentle tap on my shoulder for working so hard this year:

to be completely alive every moment
in spite of the inevitable.

we can't cheat death but we can make it
work so hard
that when it does take
us

it will have known a victory just as
perfect as
ours.

I'm flying to New York in 3 days' time. First travelling trip in the past 21 years of my life. I wish the doomsday apocalypse would happen for real so I can at least end my pathetic life at a lovelier city. I won't even wish for a happy new year. It's so silly to give yourself false hopes. Ciao, my friends.

Untitled: I

October doesn't even feel like a month.



Max Richter has recently done a recomposition of Vivaldi's Four Seasons. If I'm not wrong it's one of the most performed classical pieces in history, played to death over and over again. But there's something about it that enchants me ever since I was a kid. During primary school days, when everyone else was crazy over Britney Spears, I used to go around proudly proclaiming that I'm a fan of Antonio Vivaldi. Yeah, I've been a hipster since 9. My first email was vivaldi91@hotmail.com. When school ended I would run home just to sit in front of the hi-fi system and put on those huge headphones, blasting Vivaldi's Four Seasons at max volume 30. (There weren't mp3s or iPods yet.) My mom would nag at me, warning about my impending deafness, but I'd tell her that music only sounded good when played as loud as possible.

I remember I had a neighbour named Samantha, she was one or two years younger than me. Frail, skinny, delicate little fairy. Pampered only child. Fell sick all the time. Carries a pink sling bag and wore a pair of grandma glasses, those held by strings on the sides. Generally polite and kindhearted. We always played together, and honestly speaking I can't understand why she would have wanted to be friends with me because it's in my nature to be a bully, always dictating over my playmates and making sure that they play by my rules. "You, trade me that pokemon card." "But, but it's a rare one..." "I don't care, I want it." Or "Do you wanna play Bishi Bashi?" "Actually I want to play Bomberman" "Okay we play Bishi Bashi!" I was a monster, and I still am, only slightly subdued by the heaviness that came along with growing up. One day I asked Samantha, "Why not we listen to our favourite music together?" So I brought my Vivaldi CD to her house and I made her sit down and listen to Concerto No.4 in F Minor, Winter Movement 1: Allegro non molto. When the chorus came on I started headbanging and air-conducting like a complete nutcase. When the song ended I returned from the other realm and found her staring blankly and nimbling at her fingernails.

"Isn't it soooooooooo nice?"
"I... I..."
"Huh?"
"I...... think................. it's a little............ boring"
"BORING?! HOW CAN IT BE BORING?! DON'T YOU FEEL THIS... THIS... INTENSE WRENCH IN YOUR HEART DURING THE CHORUS?!"
"Uh..... no?"
"... WHAT."
"Why not I let you listen to my favourite music?"

She proceeded to eject my Vivaldi CD and put in her Westlife one. "My Love" came on. Now it was her turn to dance around like a complete nutcase. OVER SEAS AND COAST TO COAST, TO FIND THE PLACE I LOVE THE MOOOST. Actually I did I like the song, but I felt too insulted by her disregard for Vivaldi to give a shit about it.

That was how important Vivaldi's Four Seasons was to me. Listening to the recomposed version by Max Richter is like bringing my childhood and my new found adulthood together, and mixing it in a salad bowl. Topped with extra Italian dressing.

Anyway my friendship with Samantha officially ended when I was training her for her first NAPFA test under the sun and she kind of, well, fainted after that. I was merely trying to... un-frail her. The next day her mom came over and demanded for an apology from me and since then we never played together again.

☂

There...

Quickview+

2: Raskalnikov felt sick
But he couldn't say why
When he saw his face reflected
In his victim's twinkling eye
Some things you do for money
And some you'll do for fun
But the things you do for love
Are gonna come back to you one by one
 
4: And way out in Seattle
Young Kurt Cobain
Snuck out to the garden
Put a bullet in his brain
Snakes in the grass beneath our feet
Rain in the clouds above
Some moments last forever
And some flare out with love love love


August 21st, Tuesday



Passion Pit, seaweed dances. Don't try to argue with me, Gossamer is better than Manners.


September 2nd, Sunday





Dear Mag

I'm sorry we couldn't make things more romantic for you, the fucking wind kept blowing the candles out. I'm sorry I didn't get enough lightsticks. And I'm sorry we didn't get to party in the blue box. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you all the time, when sadness consumes you, or when you needed someone to gaze at the stars with, along with The Antlers playing softly beside our ears. I can't be there for anyone, anymore. Albeit my longing for deep and special relationships close to the heart, I find a sense of heaviness that comes with them. Dependence, expectations, and the mere fact that I don't think any human can completely understand another entirely - they make me prefer to be alone.

 
September 8th, Saturday





Dear Chia

Thanks for ending my nightmare of 21st birthdays on a beautiful note. Fairylights are like, one of the best inventions on earth. Truth to be told, I hate birthdays and I hate parties, but well, I don't hate you at all. Welcome to legal adulthood.


September 9th, Sunday 



(Mogwai vibes)
Silly (polar) bear, are we only beginning to realise that we've held each other tight and dived deep into an invisible quicksand? Are we ever gonna survive this and grow stronger from it? Or are we just unknowingly being swallowed up, losing our identities once and forever? I don't believe in compromises. I believe in joining of forces in commonplaces, and letting go on the opposite side. Sometimes two is not better than one.


September 10th, Monday



I was their only audience that night. Dying traditions are heartbreaking to watch.


September 12th, Wednesday



Took a random day off work so I can be one of those irritating jobless people hanging around cafes and bookshops at Duxton Hill or Tiong Bahru in the middle of a weekday. It was one of the happiest times I've had since I turned 21. The night before, I watched a Richard Galliano concert at Esplanade (there were 3 rounds of standing ovation, I swear that guy's amazing) and then had supper at Makan Sutra, followed by a glass of green tea mojito at Orgo rooftop bar overlooking the cityscape, while enjoying a cigarette. No worries about going home late and getting enough sleep. I woke up at 11.30 the next day and had nasi lemak at Wok & Barrel, got a book from Littered With Books, had Lao Ban tauhuay at Maxwell, and then a piccolo latte at Group Therapy cafe while reading 1Q84. Then I had a simple bowl of chicken noodles for dinner and caught The Campaign at Lido, and then an episode of Adventure Time. And I also bought tickets to New York (!!!) at the end of December, for my first overseas holiday ever. Wednesday leaves are great because it's like having a mini weekend in between two mini work weeks. You get 2 Monday blues, but 2 TGIFs in return.


September 14th, Friday



Ikissyoukissme


Today



Latest sightings have revealed that butterflies have a predilection for baby parsley plants.